Nothing is Set in Stone Sheep part 3

We had a rough end to summer and beginning of fall.  This post was a hard one and will lack pictures.  One morning I went out to feed the animals and all was well with the tiny flock of sheep and the rest of the critters.  I had chores to run in town so took the littles, had lunch, grabbed groceries and came home.  It was about two on a particularly hot day, hotter than usual.  I went out to let the horses back out onto the pasture and noticed that we lost one of the black ewes.  Not lost as in ran away or stolen but she was laying there in the middle of the pen motionless...unnaturally fat. 

I was shocked and sad and panicked.  The rest of the sheep were fine, I checked and looked for injuries half hoping to find something but half terrified I would.  Nothing. No sign of a struggle.  Just death.  And she was my favorite ewe Rosie.  There's no way to really describe the situation. I was baffled and then immediately began to try to think about her body and what to do.  I was home alone, me and the two girls and this was a 120lb ewe at least.  I told my husband who commutes an hour each way to work.  He was sorry for my loss but, understandably, he was unable to do much.  It was all up to me, at least to drag her body out of the pen.  I still am not sure how I managed to muster the strength but got it done.

That evening we wrapped her up in bags and sent her to the dump. 

Moments like this create all kinds of internal struggles. Worry that it was an illness or toxicity that the rest of the flock may succumb to.  Shock that it happened at all, she was her healthy fine self that very morning. Then comes the self doubt, wondering if I did it because I'm just a bad shepherd, I let her down by missing something.  How could I have missed something?  

Once one processes the loss, one of the hardest ones with a favorite animal on the farm etc... it seems pretty normal to start to wonder and ask yourself.  Is it worth it?  Chores in the dead of winter when the wind chill is -20.  Fixing fence in the heat or cold.  Is it worth the worry that sits in my belly when I hear coyotes howling at night.  After all, it's not like I even get a good cuddle out of the deal.  They run away from me unless I give them treats and even then only get close enough to take it from my hand and then run away.  To medicate and worm and trim feet is a fiasco of a wrestling match.  We don't even have a tractor to dig a big enough hole for them to be buried in...  Is it worth it?  Thee were all the thoughts that went through my head all the rest of that afternoon while I waited for my husband to come home and help me with the rest of the job of disposing of my favorite ewe's body.

I'll spare you the details but I will say, disposing of the body of a farm animal who laid dead, exposed to the sun on a hot hot day is not an easy task.  It's smelly and frankly terrifying if you're like me and have seen the internet's coverage of a particular whale in Japan, in the summer.  It got done.  She was heavy, awkward, gross and loved.  She was ultimately wasted.  One fleece, maybe three "cuddles" and a few hours of joy at watching them on cool mornings run and jump around excited about feeding time. 

The decision was easy after the work of disposing of her body.  No more.  I love the fiber but not enough to keep the sheep that average 120lbs. who run away from me at first glance.  Not enough to spend $40 a head to have them shorn so I can show the wool because they're too big for me to shear myself.  I wanted Shetland sheep to begin with, the smaller breed but because they are generally dual coated it's a big investment to get into the sheep that are fine fleeced and/or guaranteed to be.  It was worth it for me.  Mostly worth it. 

At the urging of a good friend of mine I waited a week or so before I listed what was left of my flock for sale.  I visited a local Shetland breeder who registers her sheep and does micron tests for all of her breeding stock yearly.  I met her sheep, spun some of the wool and knew what I'd known to begin with.  These guys are for me. 

I listed the three remaining sheep and got a few leads but transport was a problem.  Three weeks, maybe four, later I did my morning chores.  It was the morning after an early freeze. The day before that it was 78 degrees.  So, I checked everyone two hours later to make sure they were handling the crazy weather okay.  There was Purl, Rosie's twin.  She was laying motionless and unnaturally fat in their pen.  JUST like her sister.  I did some research and found that bloat can occur due to weather stress.  I also found that it's widely believed that genetics play a role.  Some sheep just have genes that make them more prone to stress bloat.  The instances of stress bloat were exactly like mine.  I had a culprit for why this happened to these sheep.  I also now only have two sheep in their pen.  A very precarious number considering sheep NEED a flock so one loss could be disasterous.  

Back to the Drawing board.

Check back soon.  BIG changes for the fiber farm looking ahead.