The view of the Akron skyline is what I see outside the window of my studio. Initially I thought I should choose a flower that I would actually see in downtown Akron on my way to the studio. A dandelion growing between the cracks of the pavement struck me as an appropriately scrappy and scruffy, tough little plant. Later through a long circuitous route I learned that, in Russia and East Asia, people are growing dandelions on an industrial scale as a new source of rubber.
The horns were actually growing into the ram’s face, creating deep infected wounds. My mother constructed a metal framework using two muffler clamps and some sort of pipe to push the horns off his face. Then she could treat the wounds. I don’t know exactly how this worked, but the muffler clamp is a vestige of that structure.
The horns of sheep are alive, with living bone and blood vessels running all through them. The outside part is a layer of keratin, which is the same as hair and fingernails. You can trim that. But like accidentally cutting into the quick of a dog’s toenail, you can’t cut all the way into the horn without hurting the animal. This is why my mother just tried to trim and redirect the horns.
Ramses did not live a long life, though. In addition to chronic infections on his face, his horns blinkered him. The other ram, Rambo, constantly attacked Ramses, butting him aggressively and doing real harm. Even after they sent Rambo away to the auction, Ramses had a lot of health difficulties and died young. I’m happy, at least, that I can admire the amazing horns he left behind.
