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.