Its a fabulous evening for a walk on the South Downs. The balmy air is redolent with the heady scents of grain harvest, the first blackberries are deliciously ripe, deer graze undisturbed in the distance whilst beyond the peace and quiet of the rolling hills lies a far view of the tranquil sea. Walking south from Chantry Post with my good friend Gail, over Black Patch Hill and down onto and along the Monarchs Way at a leisurely pace is a real treat. Heading back north as the sun dips below the horizon its a little late, but we don't mind the dark.
We glimpse in the gloaming a pale lump that is, not as first thought a wayward sack of something, but, an eerily immobile sheep. We walk towards it - whereupon it becomes a wildly frantic sheep, thrashing around but seemingly unable to get up. Uninjured as far as can be seen but severely distressed it calms as we back off although its eyes are still rolled back in its head. I know its a fair hike to Lee Farm and lack of nearer habitation suggests the only option is to dial 999. My mobile miraculously has a signal. The police operator gives me the non emergency number for Sussex Police which, despite the lack of glasses, I manage to key into my phone correctly and get through. Giving mental reassurance to the sheep that we know she is an emergency even if the police are a bit blase about it I explained the situation to the operator who asked "What town are you in?" Police operators really need to get out more... Given the location of the nearest village, various landmarks and the facts that we are on Angmering Estate southeast of Lee Farm at the foot of Harrow Hill eventually seems to work and I await a return call. What seems an age later - by which time its completely dark - the operator rings back. They have passed on details to the manager, Dom, at Lee Farm. Given his number so I can ring him with our exact location I key it into Gail's mobile only to discover its not getting a signal. Fail miserably to transfer the number to my mobile as I just can't see clearly enough. So I redial the SP operator, ask if they can give Dom my number so he can call me - if he is in signal range. 10 more quiet dark minutes stretch to 15. No word or sign from Dom. Sheep is still breathing - just. Eventually Gail spots a dim glow moving slowly, which becomes headlights. Dom arrives and greets us. We show him where the sheep is and he strolls over to the almost dead looking animal. He grabs hold of it, rolls it over, heaves it onto its feet, holds it there a few seconds, lets go... and off it goes at a flat out gallop into the dark...
Aghast at the trouble everyone has gone through to rescue what appears to be a sheep actor of oscar winning potential I begin profuse apologies. Dom assures us, however, that the sheep would have been dead by morning if we hadn't spotted it as it had actually been stuck - in a slight depression in the ground. He tells us its something sheep are prone to, particularly heavily pregnant ewes and wet unshorn sheep. They lie down and are unable to regain their feet. When down their digestion stops which causes bloat. The consequent pressure on their heart and lungs kills them. Not a nice way to go...
We hitch a ride back to Chantry Post with a grateful Dom, as it is nearly ten and too late to continue our walk, quietly chuffed that we helped save a life tonight.
