"Cooter! Cooooooterrrrr!," the distant voice cried worriedly, carried on the increasingly cooling wind in front of a nearing storm. We boys had taken a hike together after supper to get a good look at the lunar ecclipse before the storm hit. We were trekking across open grass land, rolling through terraces of limestone, as we gained more and more elevation to get a better view. "Coooooter!", came the call, still over the next rise. Soon we were able to catch a glimpse of the faint ecclipse, behind the thinnest of clouds. What a sight! Another quality ecclipse such as this wouldn't be seen for another some two thousand years! It was obvious we were not to enjoy it for long, as thick, black storm clouds quickly marched in to block our view. The wind picked up, bringing an icy chill to the air. Suddenly, eerie, white fingers of clouds came over the cliffs above us and quickly descended down the chimney formations to the steep, grassy slopes. It was spooky! Lightning popped on the ridge. Thunder boomed immediately, echoing off the box canyon walls. I gave a shudder. It started to sprinkle just as we spotted the man dressed in shepherd clothing, with his hands cupped around his mouth as he turned his head in all directions. "Coooottterrrr!", he hollered. We hailed him and approached. Even the subtle slope was enough to make us winded at this elevation.
"Hey, how ya doin?", we greeted, almost having to shout in the rising wind. The rain started to fall now in large drops.
"Got a sheep that wandered off and got himself lost," the shepherd replied. "Got all of his brothers and sisters accounted for and being watched by my hired hands. They are way up high in a secluded canyon, settled in for the night. But Ol' Cooter aint got a lick o' sense in his thick skull. It's a game he likes to play with me, I reckon. You boys see anything on your way up here?"
"No, I'm sorry, we haven't," I replied. "But we'd like to help. Besides, this storm's gonna be a douzzie!"
We followed the shepherd on down, calling out for Cooter along the way. The shepherd picked his way down through the rocks into a drainage that led to a small hollow out of the wind. We could hear a faint cry of a lamb in trouble. Baaahhhh!!! The lamb was down on his back in the tallest grass on the mountain, beside some ponded water. He could not get up on his own power. The shepherd gently spoke to the lamb as he approached and then wrapped his arms around him in a giant embrace. He righted him onto his own four feet and supported him while he spoke reassuring words and gently rubbed his legs to regain circulation. Every few strokes the shepherd would squeeze out loads of water from the thick wool coat by running his hands down his back. Then he slowly lifted the stunned lamb up on to his shoulders and turned to face us in the pouring rain. "You boys must come and take shelter in my camp tonight. Follow me up this ridge."
We arrived in camp after a long, soggy ten minute climb. It was impressively protected by the chimney crags and cliffs above and nestled in a nice cavern against the rocks. There was an ample pond and plenty of grass. A ring of natural protruding stones lined the camp like a fence boundary. Two large tents dotted the backdrop. We all piled into one of them to take refuge from the storm. A lantern lit the large room. Two soggy shepherds tended a meager fire in the stove and stirred a pot of steaming soup. We all doffed our cloaks and shook off what moisture we could. It was warm and cozy in the tent. The other shepherds greeted us and served each of us some piping, magical smelling soup.
"Ol' Cooter has a mind of his own, you see," the shepherd we had followed began. "He points his snout downhill and just eats his way towards taller and wetter grass. This usually leads him to a low hollow where the grass is very tall and soaking wet. His coat gets heavier and heavier, bringing him to his knees. Soon he is on his belly, then rolls over onto his side. The heavy coat turns him over, down hill to where he is on his back. He loses circulation in his legs and is practically drowning from not being able to get up. He is rendered completely helpless and is vulnerable to any predators or weather events- not unlike this!" As he started laughing, we joined in. The shepherd threw his head back and let out a huge belly laugh. It sounded strangely familiar. With a giant shake of his head, like a dog shaking off excess water after a satisfying swim, his turbine launched off and we watched as his face transform before our very eyes! His elderly, creased face stretched into the familiar countenance of none other than our good friend, JC! His recognizable deep belly laugh was evidence enough for all of us to know it was him, even in the dim lantern light. We all exchanged hugs and slaps on the back in the welcomed reunion.
Not to be outdone, the wet, forlorn Cooter stood meekly in the corner. He tilted his moppy head back and let out a miserable cry. "Baaahhhhhaaaahhee-e-e-e-e-e-i-i-i-eee!!!!!"
You could've heard a pin drop in that tent as we all turned to look at Cooter as his little lamb bleat had completely changed into a long, drawn out whinny! There, in the corner where Cooter was standing just a second ago, was none other than Whitey, JC's trusty steed!
"Man, that is just too good!," I jabbed at JC, who was still chuckling with a sly smile. "You got us good with that one!"
"Well, boys, it is good to see y'all again."JC responded. "Don't let anyone tell you this sheperding life is easy! Man, it is work. Especially when you gotta leave a nice warm, dry camp and search for a renegade outfit like Cooter, over there! Ha! That remind you of anyone you know?" He probed, scanning each of us.
"I figure we have all been Cooters at one time or another," John piped in humbly.
"I know how I can be," I agreed solemnly. The others chimed in as well.
"Thanks to Whitey, here, we were able to pull this thing off. This story will be told for ages to come and be used for all of mankind to understand the Shepherd's heart when it comes to His sheep going astray. He cares so deeply for His sheep, it is difficult for humans to fathom. He wishes nothing but the best for each and every one of them and is burdened when they wander off on their own. He would even give His own life for them if need be. But when He finds the one who is lost, there is but one tradition that must be followed without exception...."
He kept us hanging, waiting for His next words. We watched him step over to Whitey and overheard His whisperings, "Thanks for being such a good sport, Pal. Couldn't have done it without you. I know it was miserable. Whose idea was that storm, anyway? But they will never forget it." He gave several reassuring pats on Whitey's neck and then turned back to face us.
"Celebrate!" He exclaimed, lifting His hands to the heavens.
And, that, we did.
