The Business of Sheep

Breeding season is well underway and the business side of sheep is too. We have such a small operation that by business I just mean trying to eek out the different options for doing a little better than break even because while I love the fiber, the roving and yarn, what I sell doesn’t begin to cover the cost of hay, grain, minerals, and the occasional Vet bill. For us that leaves lamb and sheepskin rugs. I know a lot of folks who love lamb meat, I don’t know many who want the details on how it becomes, well dead meat.  In fact, we’ve taken up a few practices to steer clear of the whole slaughter side of the story.   Only lambs who will be taking up permanent residence are named – this year the naming convention is Disney princesses including Belle, Ariel, and Jasmine – and the day our transient ones depart we refer to as “go to market” day rather than “Chet’s arriving to slaughter the lambs” day.  Recently we got an additional tip: remove “name” from the cut sheet order form! One female customer did not want to be reminded that her meal might have had a name or even a number.

Last year we sent four lambs to market. This spring we had eighteen lambs including 12 boys and we don’t need boys.  We decided to hold on to one because his fleece is really lovely and we also decided not to keep the bottle girl as she may be as bad a mom as her own.  No sense breeding for trouble.  November 20^th eleven lambs were slaughtered on property by the very skillful Chet Miller and his assistant, Kenny.  That’s about 800 pounds of live weight. The morning was mild, the work was swift and the roles Todd and I played clear. I spread out used pallets in the driveway and as each hide was removed from the carcass I’d lay it out, wool side down, skin up and rub about four cups of salt from a 60 pound bag I bought at the local feed store into the skin being certain to get the salt to the edges.  In no time my work gloves are wet, caked, and slimy. The pelts are heavy with water and in about ten days time, the salt will help leech out the water making it lighter and thus cheaper to ship to the tannery.

While I salt pelts, Todd lifts the forks on the tractor so that the carcass can be hoisted high, gutted and bagged in plastic with the lamb’s tag number written on the outside.  He brings them out of the barn yard and loads each into the back of the truck.  Todd also empties out the plastic lined garbage bags that fill quickly with parts.  At one point a bag breaks from the weight and the site of the organs overwhelms me.  I’m willing to be part of this scene but evidently not able to really stomach the site of a pile of shiny, wet innards.

As soon as Chet’s work is done we climb into the truck and head for Green Mountain Smokehouse with individual cut sheets in hand.  Chet’s work and securing “hooks” for the carcasses at GMS both have to be scheduled the same day, so I started in late June to find a common date. It’s about a 20 minute drive and we know what to expect this time.  Jake will review the cut sheet for each carcass, whole leg or butterflied, individual chops or a rack.  We then drive around back where each carcass will be secured on a hook that glides along a track through the slaughter house.  All we see is the room just inside the door. As the carcass hangs, we’re told the weight and the next one is hooked up.  Year two and we’re feeling like veterans to the process.

Just after Thanksgiving the carcasses have all been cut and frozen solid. I drive down, pick up 391 pounds of meat individually wrapped and boxed by the sheep’s tag number.  We sort through the orders, hand deliver neighborhood orders and then I drive to the parking lot of Dan & Whits, the general store in Norwich.  There I work in the dark with a flashlight and list ready for customers to come by to pick up their orders.  One and a half lambs are in the freezer for my family down in New York.  For nearly a full day, I’m a full time lamb meat purveyor! 

The pelts are the remaining chore.  I shake off much of the salt, fold the pelts lengthwise in half and then roll them as tight as I can, tie them with hay bale twine, bag them in plastic, and press each into a corrugated box.  Once loaded into the back of Moby, the giant white truck, I head to UPS to ship them off to Stern Tannery in Milwaukee.  I won’t see a rug from them for at least four months.

Between the meat and the rugs, we’ll more than cover the cost of the hay required to winter over 29 sheep.  Part of me would love to expand this little business but the reality is that wintering over more sheep means a lot more physical work which can only be done by Todd.  Switching out jackets, trimming hooves, checking for worms all takes more muscle than I’ve got.  Maybe I need to start lifting weights in order to improve the P&L statement.

Peg