Chapter Text
It was rather cold, but that wasn’t unusual for this time of year. That they’d gone several days without rain, was. Autumn in Wales tended to be quite wet overall. The sky was filled with mostly light grey coloured clouds, a small sun peeking out from behind every now and again.
Aziraphale was hurriedly debating with himself whether to wear his scarf or leave it in the pick up truck, as the owner of Fferm Gardd Eden stomped up to meet him.
“Bore da!” the farmer growled. His eyes were wild, his stubble beard unkept and his white grey hair tucked under a hat.
How the man always managed to make a greeting sound anything but welcoming, was beyond Aziraphale.
“Ah, yes. Good morning to you as well, Mr Shadwell.” He gave the man a small polite smile, as he put the scarf down on the driver's seat. It was a crisp autumn day, but he was fairly sure he could do without it for a while. And he didn’t have time to dawdle. If the farmer had been right in his assumptions, they were dealing with a bit of an emergency. He picked up his bag and swung the door closed. “You called about one of your sheep?”
The man made an affirming grunt. “Come.” He turned around and waved for Aziraphale to follow. “I’ll show you the dafad.”
When they walked up to the gate, Aziraphale saw Tracy, Shadwell’s wife, standing in the doorframe of the barn.
Shadwell opened the gate of the fenced enclosure and Aziraphale closed it behind him, careful not to step into droppings. Just because he was wearing boots, didn’t mean he’d want to step into something that he’d have to try and get off as soon as he got back into his car.
Tracy greeted him with a warm smile as they approached the barn.
“Oh, Dr Fell, I’m so glad you were able to come here this fast,” she said as she pulled her colourful shawl closer.
“Lovely to see you again, Mrs Shadwell.” Aziraphale smiled back. “Although I wish it were under better circumstances.” he added emphatically.
“It’s over there.” Shadwell grumbled as they entered the shed, pointing at a white fluffy sheep, laying in the corner on a thick layer of hay.
“Will you stay for a cup of tea, Dr Fell?” Tracy asked.
“Oh, thank you for the offer, but I have another appointment, I’m afraid.”
Tracy nodded in understanding and walked back to the farmhouse.
The barn was a rather large brick building, but for now mostly empty as pretty much all of the other sheep were outside. Except for the sick one, and three or four others who were just milling about.
Aziraphale made his way to his patient and put his bag down on the floor. The animal lay on her side and had obvious trouble breathing. “How long has she been like this?” he enquired, as he kneeled down, already opening his bag.
“Called as soon as I found her laying down, head stretched, swallowing a lot,” Shadwell grumbled. “Was afraid that might happen. Been flushing them,” he explained. “And this dafad was getting bullied; must have bolted the food too fast.”
Ah, Aziraphale nodded. Flushing meant providing the ewes with extra nutrition, to increase their weight and with it their fertility in the current breeding period. If a sheep ate too fast - especially if she expected to be chased away from the food by the others - she would run the risk of choking.
Which was exactly what seemed to have happened here.
Aziraphale proceeded to examine the sheep, to make sure. She seemed a bit dull and lethargic. And there was a little bit of swelling at the top of the sheep’s left flank.
No, this wasn’t good.
He needed to act quickly!
“Help me get the sheep in sternal,” he told Shadwell. The sheep needed to get off her side and upright so he could remove the blockage.
As Shadwell helped out with the sheep, Aziraphale put on his rubber gloves and grabbed a mouth gag, a tube and a bottle of lube from the bag.
Now, as she was laying on her belly, he put the gag in her mouth. In her condition she wasn’t capable of putting up much of a fight. He applied plenty of lube on the tube and passed it through the mouth gag down her esophagus towards the stomach. He felt a little resistance as the tube went down, so he slowed his movements but kept a gentle pressure. This way he’d push the obstruction all the way down to the belly.
With the excess food out of the way, a large amount of gas released from the stomach.
Aziraphale sighed, relieved.
He carefully pulled the tube out and removed the gag.
“She’ll start feeling better shortly,” he smiled, as he took off his gloves and stroked the sheep on the nose.
From the corner of his eye he noticed a black sheep entering the barn. It stopped after a couple of feet and just stood there staring at them. There was something off about it. Something slightly.. eerie. Aziraphale knew he had to focus on the sick sheep in front of him, but curiosity got the better of him and he turned to take a better look at it. The black sheep had the most remarkable eyes. Bright yellow. Aziraphale had never seen anything like it before. It must be a very rare genetic quirk he knew nothing about, or some sort of condition he wasn’t familiar with.
“I didn’t know you had black sheep,” Aziraphale said, still staring at it.
He’d been called off and on to this farm since he started working in the veterinary practice just outside of Merthyr Tydfil, about six years ago. And as far as he was aware they only kept white sheep here at the Fferm Gardd Eden.
“I don’t have any defaid du.” Shadwell said resolutely.
Aziraphale raised his eyebrows in surprise and turned to the farmer. “Well, apparently you do,” he noted. “Right over there,” he pointed with his index finger towards the dark wooled animal.
Shadwell kept his eyes locked with Aziraphale’s and frowned. “There’s no black sheep here,” he said, emphasising every word, obviously annoyed. He bristled.
Aziraphale shot one last glance at the black sheep, which according to the farmer didn’t exist, and returned his attention to the white sheep in front of him.
She was still lying on the floor, but she would be alright. Aziraphale got up and brushed the hay off his knees.
“It’s best to keep her away from the others for the time being. Let her stay inside? I would advise to feed her separately and maybe keep an eye on her when she eats. Just to make sure she doesn’t choke again,” he said.
Shadwell grumbled in agreement.
—🍂—
By the time Aziraphale had collected his things, the black sheep was gone. Even when he stepped out of the barn and looked around the paddock, there was no trace of it.
He couldn’t possibly have imagined it, had he?
Aziraphale said goodbye to Shadwell and made his way back to the truck. He could still picture those yellow eyes so clearly, but the more he thought about it the more it didn’t make sense.
The breed of sheep Shadwell kept were Welsh Mountain sheep, and they didn’t even come in black. Sheep in general didn’t have yellow eyes. And even the farmer had been adamant about there not being a black sheep among his herd.
Aziraphale got behind the wheel, putting his bag on the passenger side.
He had no idea what he’d seen, but it was best to shelve the thoughts for later or better yet, dispel them all together. He had another visit to make, at Anathema and Newton’s farm. And that injured goat deserved his full attention.
Before he pulled his truck out of the driveway, his gaze drifted to the darkening sky. They might just get some rain today afterall.
His eyes landed on the green mountains behind the farmhouse and the paddock next to it. He smiled. He was glad to be back in the country he grew up in and to be able to work here, at the feet of the Bannau Brycheiniog. It was a beautiful part of Wales.
—🍂—
He arrived at Bwthyn Jasmin roughly twenty minutes later. It did indeed resemble a cottage more than it did an actual farm. Compared to the average farmhouse, this one was small and quaint, surrounded by several modest sized barns and one large field, divided by fences.
Anathema and her partner owned about ten pygmy goats, two pigs, a few donkeys and some chickens and geese. Rumours had it, Anathema was a descendant of a very wealthy woman, who left her a substantial amount of money. The young woman had left America, bought an old run down farm, had it torn down and had built her own dream cottage instead. The animals she kept were partly bought and partly the refuges she took in.
She opened up her farm to the public on weekends and school holidays, so kids could visit. Sometimes she’d organise arts and crafts workshops in one of the barns.
Anathema was waiting outside, when Aziraphale parked his truck. She was wearing a big fluffy coat and was leaning on crutches.
He opened the car door and immediately noticed the wind had picked up. There would be no debate necessary this time. But where was his scarf? He remembered leaving it on the driver's seat at the farm. Yet it hadn’t been there when he got back.
He got out of the car and looked under the seat, in between the seats, even behind it, even though he was sure it couldn’t possibly be there.
Odd.
“I’m so sorry for making you come all the way up here,” Anathema said, as she walked up to greet him. “But Newt isn’t here and I’m not able to drive at the moment.”
“It’s no bother,” Aziraphale reassured her, taking his bag and closing the door. “I like coming here,” he smiled. “You’ve turned this place into a lovely..” He stopped midsentence and looked down at his foot, as he felt something nudging him. And by the looks of it, it was an overgrown potbellied pig.
“Oh, hello,” he greeted the pig, with a twinkle in his eye. “And who might you be?” The animal grunted, as if replying.
Aziraphale turned back to Anathema. “This one is new,” he noted.
“Yeah, he’s a rescue. They brought him in last week. He was raised by hand, so he basically sees everyone as a meal ticket,” she explained a little exasperated. “He’s harmless, but a little tiring. Keeps following me around.” She rolled her eyes. “But Oscar is going to have to wait outside when we get to the barn. Kelsy doesn’t need you bothering her,” she told the pig.
She made her way to the barn on the left, Aziraphale and Oscar following in her wake.
“And what exactly is the matter with Kelsy?” he asked as they reached the doors.
“I have no idea how it happened, but she’s got a nasty wound on her hind leg.”
“Oh, let’s have a look then.” Aziraphale pursed his lips in anticipation, as Anathema opened the door. He knew Kelsy; and treating that particular pygmy goat would be a challenge. Anathema closed the door right after the both of them entered the barn, shutting out Oscar, who grunted in defeat.
—🍂—
As expected, the feisty thing wasn’t going to make it easy on them. Anathema hadn’t been able to keep her still, so they’d cornered her in the stall where Aziraphale had sedated Kelsy. Once the goat was properly sleepy and he was able to get her to lie down, he first had to clip the hair and clean the wound. Luckily the wound wasn’t very deep.
He sutured and bandaged it up, leaving instructions for Anathema to change the bandage every two to three days. More often, if Kelsy got it dirty.
Then Aziraphale gave the goat a tetanus booster and some pain medication. After telling Anathema how much to give and when, over the next few days, he petted the goat, smiled contently and got up on his feet.
When Anathema and Aziraphale exited the barn, Oscar was still waiting for them.
Aziraphale petted him and the three of them headed for the cottage, where Anathema had invited him for a cup of tea.
Right before he entered, taking off his boots at the door, he noticed some movement on the other side of the cottage. When he straightened and turned to look, he could have sworn he saw a black goat with bright yellow eyes staring at him. But as soon as he’d blinked it was gone.
Inside he had asked Anathema whether she adopted a black goat perhaps, deciding to omit the part about the yellow eyes. She told him none of her goats were black. Aziraphale had brushed it aside as an error on his part, but she said she’d keep a look out in case someone had dumped a goat at her doorstep, without informing her first.
—🍂—
By the time Aziraphale left the cottage, Newt had returned and the sun had started to set. Aziraphale was on call today, but as no other emergencies had come in, he was free to do as he pleased for now. Part of him wanted to head back home straight away, another part of him feared for the weather tomorrow. If this wind kept up, he could really do with his scarf.
Maybe it would be best to pass by Shadwell’s farm on his way back, to see if for some reason perhaps it had fallen out of his car there.
He put his seatbelt on and started the vehicle. A couple of leaves blew past, highlighted by the headlights from his car.
This time Aziraphale’s eyes weren’t admiring the cottage or the view of the mountains, but they were scanning the area looking for a black animal with unnatural yellow eyes.
Seeing a sheep on one farm with yellow eyes was weird enough. Seeing a goat with the same eyes, miles further down the road..
What was going on here? It couldn’t possibly be real, though.. Was he imagining things?
He drove back onto the road that had led to Bwthyn Jasmin. Maybe he should stop reading till midnight and go to bed early for a change. It wouldn't do to get caught up in figments of the imagination.