I’m very happy to write that reports of Lefty’s demise were greatly exaggerated. Last night, Bravo was slow coming down for dinner, and when he showed up, his legs were covered in blood. The last two times this happened, it meant the demise of a lamb, and when I took an inventory of the flock, I couldn’t find Lefty and assumed that he was the third to fall. This morning, though, I found him in the field with his mother, alive but missing the bottom part of his lame leg.
I bandaged him and shot him up with some penicillin, and he didn’t seem too much worse off than before — he’d been unwilling to use that leg since his encounter with Bravo on the day he was born. My charitable interpretation of what happened is that the leg had become necrotic, and Bravo felt compelled to do something about it; the medical repertoire of a Maremma is understandably limited. Regardless, I don’t think I’ll give Bravo another crack at Lefty any time soon, but I’m a bit reassured that, absent extenuating circumstances, Bravo will probably behave himself with the rest of the young lambs.