Hands wrap around the base of my horns and give a slight tug. Being pulled from the ground is like a birth of sorts. Parts of me are stark white than have been buried and protected- but I can feel the green moss that blankets my horns dislodge with the movement. Abruptly I feel the grips of the earth loosen and I am free. I sit in a lap of crisscrossed knees and stare into a face tinged with awe and joy. I was a Rocky Mountain Bighorn Sheep ram.