Another year, another lesson (or two, or twenty) in self-taught farming. The Sheng Xiao says this is the year of the Tiger, but on the Star & Sparrow zodiac it is the year of the Sheep.
At some point in my early days of farm fantasizing, it occurred to me that sheep could be the perfect farm animal. It probably started with one of my favorite farming writers and his praises for sheep and pasture. Then like most things left to simmer on the back burner of the brain, the thought grew to mythic proportions over the years. Since grass seems to be what we grow best here (probably because it requires little to no interference from us — that’s a lesson in and of itself), adding sheep to the mix seemed like a good fit. After getting our feet wet with poultry and pigs, we are now attempting to raise our grazing game and get into some serious multi-species pasture rotations. We took the plunge four weeks ago and now have two self-guided lawn mowers working away on the north pasture.
This was 3 days after arriving on our pasture. It only took another week or so for this sweet face to discover the joys of mischief and head butts.
Sheep seem to get a bad rap in some circles. I was told often when making inquiries (mostly by cattlemen) that sheep are dumb. Others warned that they are high maintenance. The how-to books tell you 57 things all have to be done just right, and there are 86 more things that will go wrong, making you feel the need to spend more money on equipment and first aid supplies than you do on actual sheep. Sometimes knowing too much can be detrimental to your dreams. I will probably always be an amateur farmer, but I have learned a few things over the last few years and most of them can by summed up by this: worrying about everything that can go wrong in life is not good living.
Bear, an Australian ‘Shepherd’, is still leery of the strange grass-eating dogs in one of her pastures.
So now we have two Dorper boys, recently weened and already teaching me new things. Turns out they are not so dumb. In fact, they seem quite smart when it comes to being sheep. They are also fast learners when it comes to manipulating humans —just the right amount of cute combined with the emphatic pleading “baaaaaaaahhhh!” sounds and I find my feet turning away from the task at hand and wandering directly over to our little Bah-bahs. They learned fast to avoid the hot wire, but once the grass was greener on the other side, they learned just as fast how to get over the hot wire. So much for the simplicity of single-strand fencing.
This is me, the overbearing new sheep daddy, telling them: “Remember - no bloat, no worms, and no hoof rot!” as I turn them out onto damp, lush spring pasture.
Whatever trouble they might bring, it will be of short duration — both are freezer-bound sometime this summer. We thought it best not to make too long of a commitment without first seeing if we like the work. We’ll have to do the final job ourselves since processors in our area are booked out into next year, so I’m trying hard not like them so much. Dumping their mineral feeder on the ground, chewing on my boots, and practicing their head-butting technique on my knees are all helpful in this regard. Still, it’s quite satisfying to look out your kitchen window and see them, munching away on free food. There’s a good chance you’ll see sheep featured here again, and again, and again...