Category: Wool

Next month I’ll be shearing the sheep.  I’ve already talked to Ian McRae, our shearer about it and he’s ready to come when I ask him.

I’d like  the sheep to be off hay and grazing for a while before I do.  That way there will be less hay in their wool when it’s shorn.

Issachar and Asher’s wool is the most sticky.  By that I mean it’d dense and thick with lanolin.  So the hay clings to it more than with my Romneys.  They are a mix of Romneys, Blueface Leicester and Cormo.

As you can see they are messy eaters.

I opened the gate and the sheep came running.

They were at the feeders eating their hay, I never expected them to leave the hay for the back pasture. Constance and Merricat came first.  I tried to get them to leave,  walking behind them with my arms out as usual.  But this time they ran right past me and up the hill.

It was one of the few times when I wished that Fate actually herded the sheep.

I gave up quickly and soon the rest of the sheep followed.  Asher and Issachar jumping and kicking as they ran.

That told me that the grass is beginning to sprout and the sheep smell it.   That’s the only reason they would leave the hay.

So I followed them, walking the fence line to make sure they were secure.

I found a place where some branches had pushed down the fence and deer have been using as a path.  I pulled at the broken branches and laid them across the fence line.   A quick fix, that I’ll need to revisit later in the day and make more permanent.

For now, there’s nothing green growing on the other side of the fence yet, so I’m not worried about the sheep getting out.

Also the roosting bar on the Chicken Coop fell off this morning, so I’ll have to fix that too.  I might even rake out my back porch garden.  There’s still a small pile of snow in the garden, but the purple and pink Lungwort is flowering. It easily survived the last snowfall and I’m curious to see what else is coming up.

When the sheep come back to the barnyard I’ll close the gate and be more careful about keep them out.  I don’t want them eating the new growth before it gets a chance to establish.

When I had more sheep we needed three feeders.  Now we only need two.  One for the donkeys and one for the sheep.

But sometimes I still split up the hay into three feeders. When I do the ewes eat at one and the wethers the other.  It’s not because they’re paying attention to gender.  It’s because the boys are taller and it’s easier for them to reach the hay in the feeder that is off the ground.

By the time I shear them, the sheep will be grazing on spring grass.  I’m hoping that most of the hay that has settled into their wool over the winter will with have fallen out, or been eaten by one of the other sheep.

Soon the grass will start growing so I’ve closed off the back pasture. It won’t come back so well if the sheep and donkeys are eating it as it sprouts.  Also the soil is so saturated right now,  all those hooves can damage the roots.

Also soon it will be time to shear the sheep.

I want to keep their wool as clean as possible from the brambles that get stuck in their wool when they forage through the trees and dried grasses.

But the sheep and donkeys still get to roam, the barnyard is big enough for that.

Even so, they are a little more impatient when I bring out the hay.  The donkeys start calling to me an hour before feeding and Asher and Issachar gather at the gate.

I wish I could make them understand that soon the grass will green and they will be grazing again.

But then, they probably already know.

My new flock of sheep.  That’s how I’ve been thinking of them.  Seven sheep, Kim is the oldest at 11, but they are otherwise a young group of ewes and wethers.

It does feel like something new.

As if I have gone from one phase to another.  It’s not that my learning about sheep is over.  I don’t think,  as long as I have sheep, it ever will be. It’s more like I’ve  graduated after living and learning for 12 years with Suzy and Socks.

They were my teachers along with all my other sheep who have been born, lived and died at the farm.  But it is Suzy and Socks passing that marks the end of one period of my life with sheep and begins another.

I’m still getting used to the idea that there are no sheep missing from the flock.  I think it will take a bit more time to see my seven as whole.  But every morning when I put a little less hay in the feeders I get a step closer.

In a way, that I will be taking this years wool to a new fiber mill seems like another sign of the shift.

Socks died this morning.

I wasn’t expecting it, she’d shown no signs of not being well.  Old, maybe, she was 13 but yesterday morning she was in the barn as usual waiting for her grain.  Last night she was eating with the rest of the sheep.

This morning Socks wasn’t in the barn, baaing impatiently as she has been all winter waiting for her grain.

So I knew something was wrong.

I went looking for her and found her lying on her side in the back pasture.  I helped her up, but she had a hard time standing.  There was something wrong with her front and back leg on her left side.  With my help she was able to make it back to the barnyard.  I thought at any moment she might find her footing and be okay.

But that didn’t happen.  Without me to lean up against, she couldn’t stand.  She couldn’t even sit up and soon Socks was lying on her side again.

When Jon saw her we both agreed that it was best to euthanize her.  Jon said he would do it and came back with his gun.

After Socks died, I started to second guess myself about making her walk all the way back to the barnyard.   But a friend reminded me that it’s aways easy to second guess looking back on something.

That made me think that even though I saw myself as responsible for Socks, we were in it together.

Our relationship, just like the relationship with all my animals is not one-sided.  We exist together and do the best we can.  I don’t know what Socks was thinking, but I do believe she trusted me as much as I trusted her.

When I texted my friend Suzy and told her about Socks and how strange it was that she died so soon after my sheep Suzy, she wrote back that Socks probably missed Suzy.

I know what she means.

Socks and Suzy spent their whole lives together. They came to the farm when they were a year old and lived for another 12 years together.   Jon and I often say that when one of the donkeys die of old age, the other probably won’t live long after her.  So why wouldn’t it be the same with Socks and Suzy.

Jon called Mike to come and take Socks’ body, but he was on a job and couldn’t come right away.

It’s all about feeling.  On Sunday I wrote that I didn’t have it in me to cut Suzy wool after she died.  But today, the idea of cutting Sock’s wool felt good to do.

So I got my scissor and trimmed a small bag full of Socks soft gray wool.  While I did Constance and Issachar came by.  They sniffed at Socks then walked away.

There was something cathartic about cutting Socks wool.  It was a way of saying goodbye.  It was a tribute to our relationship and what we each brought to it.

I’ve noticed lately that Kim is spending a lot of time around Asher.

Kim has always been my most skittish sheep.  We got her from the same farmer who gave me my first three sheep, Tess, Suzy and Socks.  She came to the farm shortly after we moved. We didn’t know she was pregnant when we got her and she delivered a lamb who didn’t survive.

Kim is my only Karakul sheep.  Her long wool is good for felting or mixing with my Romney wool.

She has never been comfortable around Zinnia and it’s only because she runs when Zinnia does, which gets Zinnia chasing her.  Then Kim runs even more and so on…

I feel like Asher and his twin brother Issachar have taken over as the leaders of the sheep.  They are gentle leaders who often break up head butting and seem to keep an eye on things.

And now it seems that Asher is protecting Kim.

Not that she really needs protecting.  Zinnia wouldn’t hurt anyone.  But she startles Kim and often I see her hanging around Asher, or even putting him between her and the rest of the world.

It’s kind of sweet actually, they make a nice couple.

Suzy died this afternoon.

When I went out to feed the animals Suzy was laying on her side near the fence.  I thought she was already dead, but then her eye fluttered open and I could feel she was breathing.

She couldn’t get up.  She was laying at an awkward angle on some rocks, so I moved her as best I could to get her more comfortable.

I told Jon and he called Mike.  We weren’t sure at that point if he would need to help her along but he said he would bring his gun.

Before Mike got to the farm Jon and I went to say goodby to Suzy.  She had gotten up after I helped her and was sitting on the hill, the other sheep grazing around her.  I  was surprised to see a  raven standing on the ground next to her.   Such a big bird, its shiny black feathers glistened as we got closer and it flew away.

We needed to separate the Suzy from the rest of the sheep.  Either she was going into the pole barn or the rest of the animals were.   For some reason when I closed one of the gates to the pole barn the sheep came running.  Suzy slowly got  up and followed them.

We let the rest of the sheep out and Suzy stayed inside the barn.  As if she knew.

I had no doubt it was the right time for Suzy.  If she fell in the night or when I wasn’t around,  as she did today, she never would have gotten up without my help.  Her suffering and death would be unnecessarily long.

Suzy was 13 years old.   Thirteen years is a good long life for a sheep.  And she was a great sheep. I named her after Suzy Fatzinger,  the first friend I had who also raised animals for their fleeces.  And for the love of having them.  Just like me.

Suzy was one of my first sheep along with Socks and Tess.  Her death makes me think of how much I have learned about keeping sheep in the twelve years since I got her. I didn’t know anything about sheep before that.

Since then I experienced  sheep mating, pregnant sheep, sheep giving birth, lambs growing up, sheep getting sick and getting well or dying.  And knowing when it’s time to put an old ewe or wether down.

I didn’t cry until after Mike had taken Suzy away in his truck.  He’ll put her body in a nearby field for the coyotes.

Even though I still have eight sheep, all of them healthy and six of them young, I feel like it’s the end of something now that Suzy is gone.

It doesn’t make sense, and I can’t really explain it. I think it has something to do with her having lived 12 of her 13 years with me.   And that I’ve grown so much in how I think about and behave around sheep and animals in general. That I am much more knowledgeable about them, practically and emotionally.   And Suzy was there for all of that learning.  Her life and death has marked that time for me.

I cut a handful of Suzy’s wool before Mike took her away. I wish I could have shorn her whole fleece.  But it’s not practical,  it was getting dark and Mike had other things to do. Anyway, I couldn’t imagine shearing her once she was dead.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe I just don’t have the heart for it.

Suzy with the big round eyes, and soft, always clean wool, I miss you already.

We were getting into the car to go into town when I saw  the sheep and Fanny and Lulu lined up next to the barn, looking out towards the back pasture.

It was unusual to see them all giving something that kind of attention.  So Jon and I went to barnyard to make sure everything was alright.

They were looking at Suzy, who was laying down on the top of the hill in the back pasture.  It’s unusual enough for a sheep to graze by herself, but to be laying down alone usually means sometime is wrong.

I went to Suzy and crouched down next to her. She turned her head and looked at me with one big round eye.  I silently checked in with her.  Is it time I asked?

Suzy is 13 years old, which is old for a sheep.  She’s been having a hard time walking  for months.  I’ve been feeding her and Socks, who is the same age, grain all winter because I know they need the extra nourishment.

I know Suzy is failing, and seeing her by herself on the top of the hill, was an indication that she may be dying.

I nudged her with my foot then pulled up on wool on her back.  She got up and started to walk back to the barnyard as I trailed behind her.

Jon and I watched as Merricat walked up to Suzy.   At first I thought she was going to butt Suzy, but she just lowered her head to Suzy’s face.   They stayed like that for a while, it seemed to me they were communicating with each other. After a bit, Merricat moved away.

When we left Suzy was laying down in the barnyard, looking serenely out over the farm, the other sheep grazing around her.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if I came back that afternoon and she had died.  Jon and I talked about if it was time to put her down.  But I got the feeling that Suzy will die on her own, that she’s doing it in her own time in her own way.

Suzy has been my most healthy sheep.  She was the only sheep we had who delivered her lamb by herself with no trouble.  And her lamb, Liam, was just as healthy and strong and lived a long time for a wether.  Until the past couple of years Suzy’s wool has always grown lushly.  It’s soft and easy to skirt.  As if the things that stick in the other sheep wool just never stuck to hers.

When I came back yesterday afternoon Suzy was laying down once again.   I went to her to see how she was and she got up and walked away from me.

I didn’t need any other sign to leave her be.  Her message was clear to me.

This morning Suzy followed Socks into the barn for her grain.  Then she stopped at the salt lick on her way out.  She’s still stiff in there legs and takes an awful long time to urinate, but she’s eating and walking and as of this morning she was back hanging around with the rest of the sheep.

Maybe she’s holding on to get one more taste of spring grass.  I like that idea.  Along with the thought of her dying on the hill looking out over the farm.

When she’s ready, of course.