We found the collar half buried along the property line after a storm. The leather had decayed into something resembling black lace, though the brass tag remained intact. A neighbor who collected old books cleaned it with vinegar and read the inscription aloud: Swa swa sceap betweonen wulfum. He translated it loosely as like sheep among wolves and suggested it had belonged to a livestock guardian or perhaps been fashioned as a charm.
We hung it beside the back door.
The first sheep appeared three mornings later.
It stood beneath the collar without grazing, drinking, or attempting to wander. No nearby farm claimed it. Two more arrived the following week, then another five. They came clean and calm, without brands or ear tags, gathering beside the porch every evening as if awaiting instructions. Animal control removed them twice. By sunrise, the same number had returned.
Then shapes began appearing along the tree line.
They moved on four legs but were too tall through the shoulders for coyotes and too deliberate for feral dogs. They watched the sheep from beyond the fence and never crossed into the yard. On moonlit nights we could sometimes count six or seven pairs of eyes. The sheep seemed aware of them yet showed no fear as long as the porch light remained on.
Our scholarly neighbor became less enthusiastic about the collar after studying the inscription more carefully. He suggested the wording might describe a relationship rather than offer protection. Old boundaries, he explained, were sometimes maintained by obligations whose logic mattered more than anyone’s understanding of them. The collar may have marked a designated place where something vulnerable was permitted to remain unharmed because something else agreed to wait beyond it.
We considered moving the collar back to the property line. That evening every sheep rose at once and crowded against the back door until we changed our minds.
There are nineteen of them now. The shapes in the woods have multiplied as well. They remain beyond the fence, patient and remarkably disciplined, while the animals sleep beneath our windows.
Last week I noticed another phrase scratched into the reverse of the brass tag, too faint for us to see before. Our neighbor has refused to translate it. He returned the collar without coming through the gate and advised us, with unusual urgency, to keep feeding the sheep.
Since then we have begun wondering which part of the old arrangement required them to be sheep, and whether the distinction depends entirely on which side of the fence one happens to occupy.
©2013 Rhyan Scorpio-Rhys
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