“Do we call the Vet or the Butcher?” That was my question to Todd after watching Danny – our newly acquired five year old wether – hobble around on and off for over a week. Several days earlier we had done the dance of getting Danny isolated so that Todd could literally wrestle this 225 pound sheep to the ground. This enabled me to take a close look at Danny’s foot, his hoof to be more specific. I only knew what the books said to look for, Hoof Rot. It’s stinky, visibly painful and very contagious. A sheep’s hoof is actually two toes and I looked closely at both his front hoofs, sniffed and didn’t see a thing wrong. Of course I can’t say what “right” would really look like either. Just to pretend like I knew what I was doing, I also pressed around his lower and upper legs to see if anything I did would make him squirm, a sign of pain, right? Nothing.
What to do. Danny and his sister Daisy were freebie sheep we acquired from a farm about an hour from us. We wanted to hedge our bets and get another ewe to breed, but if we wanted to take Daisy, we had to take Danny. These siblings are a mixed breed – Polypay and Merino – that we would not normally seek out but, we’re in training and we were hoping to go to school on Daisy’s lambing. Now, it’s Danny doing the schooling. In our go- to instruction books, basically five or six versions of Sheep for Dummies, they make clear that the business of sheep is a scrappy one. Hard decisions have to be made. Be prepared to cull (that’s code for kill) sheep that don’t have the traits you want. Be prepared to part with almost all your ram lambs because who needs more than one ram? Nobody. Don’t breed sheep with irritating temperaments. Well, we’ve already skipped over that rule. Dolly, one of two 4 year old ewes, is out there right now being courted by Calvin our ram. We have so few ewes to breed we’re not prepared to knock Dolly off the list just because she’s willing and able to jump over a three and a half foot tall fence when stressed.
Danny’s another matter. He’s big so he’s eating a lot of grass and his fleece is okay, but not what we’re striving for. Do we invest in a farm visit by the local vet or acknowledge that Danny is really not a keeper if he’s injured.
Let’ hope Danny’s hoof is healing!
Before we made the decision, we went on line and posted our observation on the Vermont Sheep and Goat Association list serve. In less than an hour, we had several suggestions including two that encouraged us to examine just above the front of the hoof. There might be a swollen gland that often gets infected and can easily be remedied by squeezing it like an oversized pimple. A waxy substance will ooze out, they said. Cleaning and applying an antibacterial ointment will finish things up. What the heck? It won’t cost us anything but some time and the willingness to try something new.
Todd brought the lambs and wethers back up to the barn yard and we easily separated Danny by coaxing him into the small barn with the promise of grain, the crack cocaine of sheep. Once again, Todd wrestled Danny to the ground, this time without falling hard on his butt. With bright blue rubber garden gloves and a spray bottle filled with 20 parts water and one part chlorine bleach I went in search of a giant pimple. Bingo! On both of Danny’s front legs, just above the hoof were two giant pimples tucked under some wisps of fleece. Alas, the garden gloves had to go as I just couldn’t get my fingers in place with the added padding. Each gland yielded the goo I expected, Danny was clearly in pain as I continued to press, but the job got done.
We suspect his sister may have the same problem and we don’t know if Danny will need more attention, but we’re pretty certain we now know the source of his troubles. For now, neither the vet or butcher will hear from us.
Peggy