"Efficiency be Damned" -- that's our motto, I joke in my book Where the Blind Horse Sings. At the time the book was written--I handed in the final draft in March--we had twenty-one free-range animals--assorted ducks, pigs, chickens, sheep--all of whom, for one reason or another, needed to be free during the day in order to truly thrive. Rambo the sheep, for instance, has intense claustrophobia after years of confinement in a tiny stall with 17 other animals. Hannah, his pal or paramour, depending on the day, was found in a Brooklyn cemetery, and was so terrified of humans that she needed to be a barn sheep, both to maximize her contact with humans and to take her cues from the extraordinary Rambo.

Members of the "Underfoot Family," as well call our free-range menagerie, change constantly. Animals are adopted; others arrive to take their place. Today, our free-range family is comprised of two roosters, one hen, one turkey, two farm pigs, seven potbellies, and four sheep. Its newest members are Jack and Lama, a blind sheep and his friend. (See Zoey and Paulie, two founding members of the family, in photo)

Jack and Lama arrived at Catskill Animal Sanctuary four years ago this month when Eddie Lama's (of Tribe of Heart's The Witness fame) Oasis Sanctuary was forced to downsize. We took their farm animals: a dozen chickens, two goats, seven sheep, five rabbits, and five huge pigs. Until recently, Jack fared just fine in our sheep flock on top of the hill. But as he aged and lost his vision, Misha, a giant Hampshire sheep with a "bull in a china shop" mentality, was too much for him, so we moved Jack and his friend Lama to our "special needs" sheep field to live with Noel and her son Christopher in their roomy digs.

11 a.m. I was cleaning the special needs house, tossing pitchfork after pitchfork of bedding into the manure spreader, when Old Jack stood up from his spot in the corner, hobbled up to me, and gently pressed his head into my thigh.

"Hey, old man. Hey, sweet old man," I whispered as I knelt down to look into his cloudy eyes and kiss his woolly forehead.

"Take me inside," is what I felt he was saying, and while it was probably not that precise, I do feel the gentle animal was saying that he wanted more than he was getting in the sheep barn with two roommates who wanted nothing to do with humans.

So we made a space for Jack, who was accompanied, of course, by his friend Lama.

We wondered if they might be overwhelmed. Tractors and horses and large and small pigs and staff and volunteers and a free range turkey and two roosters nearly as large as she and so much commotion at mealtime and Rambo--oh yeah RAMBO--how would the king of the castle react when two more sheep entered?

He would protect them. Yes, of course.

Jack and Lama settle into their cozy stall near the kitchen. For two days, we leave them in, allowing them to adjust safely to their new surroundings.

On day three, we open their door. Like the other Underfoot family members, they'll come out when they're ready. But the free range pigs see a new food source!! "Aaah," Millie's eyes light up as she spies the newly opened door and anticipates another opportunity to root around for any dropped grain, any tiny morsel remaining in a food dish.

But Rambo is there. In the doorway, standing guard. For a brief moment, Millie and Rambo face off. "UMMPHHH," she grunts.

Rambo lowers his head, showing the base of his massive horns. This is all he ever needs to do, for strong and willful and food-obsessed though they are, pigs are also smart enough to know that they have no chance with Rambo. Ozzi, Charlie, Zoey...I delight as pig after pig approaches the entrance, seeing the opportunity, then again as each one turns around, cowed by the strength and stature and power of a sheep who knows his job and does it well.