“Watch out for the ram.” Surrounded by sheep, I turn quickly, trying to find the one ram among the twenty plus ewes in the pen. They all look alike in their thick winter fleeces on this January visit, dashing away from me when I approach like minnows in a pond. I move closer to Bridget Kavanaugh, the owner of Happy Goat Lucky Ewe farm, to make sure there isn’t enough open space for the ram to follow through on his name. Sheep bump against my thighs, and I feel like I’m being hit by toddlers with pillows, their fleeces are so thick. It’s a barnyard comedy show: I’m darting after the sheep to see how long their fleeces are, they are running away from me while chasing the hay that Kavanaugh is tossing to them for their late morning feed. Finally, I spot the ram, fortunately across the pen from me, horns hidden by fleece, leaving the black straps of his chest harness the sole identifier.