We belong to the Vermont Sheep and Goat Association, and recently received its latest newsletter in the mail. The first page was this article by the Editor, Mary Lake. We were struck by its candor, and asked Mary if we could reprint it here. She graciously said “yes” and asked us to include a link to her site:
From the Mid 2015 issue of Vermont Sheep & Goat, newsletter of the Vermont Sheep and Goat Association (VSGA)
By Mary Lake, VSGA Newsletter Editor
While I’m hanging up my shearing machine, setting my comb and cutter in place, oiling my handpiece and lacing my shearing shoes, I’m also catching up on the past year. The owner of the sheep or goats I’m shearing shares with me the highlights of the season. The stories range from their successful lambing or the ordeal of a visit from the vet, an epic injury miraculously healed or a fast-moving plague that took out half the flock. There is always a story. One of the most common lessons I’ve picked up from the tales is that some years are good and some are straight up tough.
This year was a mix of both for me. It was my best lambing season yet. All my girls had twins except one singleton and one set of triplets. I had no bottle babies, and although one ewe prolapsed, a neighbor helped me insert a prolapse spoon and she twinned on her own, no problems.
The trouble came mid July. The sheep had jumped their fence and had scattered. One sheep was limping from a previous jail-break injury, two were lagging behind looking weak and probably parasitic, several were rummaging in burdock, most were headed for their favorite apple tree and one smarty with her lambs bee-lined for the barn, after alfalfa pellets, I’m sure. It was chaos.
My own baby, who had been sleeping in a carrier on my front, started crying. I sat down in the field and nursed him. Even, my one-year-old Border collie gave up chasing and plopped down next to us. We had been beat.
I realized then that my sheep operation had changed this year. My flock had grown, but also my priorities had changed. I was spending more time figuring out how to be a mom and less on being a shepherd. It seemed like my sheep operation was in survival mode. And, I desperately wanted things to be like they were before: growing and thriving.
When I decided to have sheep of my own I promised myself I would take such good care of them that they would never want for much. I waited to buy my starter flock until I felt that I knew enough about sheep that I could anticipate what they needed before they showed signs of deficiency. I waited until I had the means to take care of them properly so as not to lose a sheep to some silly mistake I made. I wanted to honor the responsibility of a sheep owner and be an all-star shepherd. On that day in July, I did not feel like I was keeping those promises I had made to myself.
I sat there in the bristly, grazed field – probably right on a big old pile of sheep turds – feeling very defeated. I took a breath and made a mental list of the issues at hand. Dog, baby and shepherd got it in gear and proceeded to run down the list slowly but surely. It took me nearly all day to do what used to take about an hour, but it got done, and a mental shift happened: I was learning how to be both a mom and a shepherd.
During my time so far as a shearer, I’ve met a few all-star shepherds, and they really have the best stories, especially from rough years. What resonates to me in their stories is that good year or bad, you learn from your actions and try as best as you can not to make the same mistake twice.
This edition of the VSGA newsletter features articles that push or inspire us to tighten up our operations where we can, get back in line with some of the issues we’ve been ignoring or neglecting, and take an extra step – whether it be big or small – towards a more efficient and healthy flock or herd.
Many of the articles in this issue are reprinted from other publications. I hope you enjoy them and consider sharing articles that helped you or submitting something of your own in the future. I’d love to hear from you.