If you are unfamiliar with the Target Dress Challenge, it’s worth reading about so that the rest of this entry will make sense to you.
It all started when someone pointed out that a bunch of long dresses at Target look like “people just lost the farm after locusts ate their crops” but in the pandemic world. And this is where it got fun.
So my friend Betsy decided that we should take the challenge ourselves. She had a nearby Target and I had a farm.
Again, credit to Lee for distilling all of the good advice I’ve gotten about how to really share my farm with others into one useful phrase.
We spent Wednesday evening setting up for shearing. We have learned that if we set up morning-of, the sheep get all nervous and suspicious. Nervous sheep do not go into pens willingly. So we set up the pens the night before so that the sheep can inspect them, grow bored of them and move on. At 4pm, we rolled out the last bale of hay for the ewes to gorge on. The ewes will breathe much more comfortably during shearing if they don’t have full rumens.
Yesterday morning, we penned up the ewes first-thing. I tripped and fell carrying the grain bucket. Not a good idea! Before I was crushed by a stampede of hungry, grumpy ewes, Matt took the bucket from my hand and distracted the horde. Thanks, Matt!
Once the sheep were tucked into their pen to await shearing, we added three fresh bales to the barn. That way, freshly-shorn sheep could head straight for the buffet and fill up on good, tasty hay.
Mary, our shearer, arrived and set to work. Matt encouraged sheep to enter the sorting chute, and each sheep dispensed leapt straight into Mary’s waiting arms. I am often asked why I don’t shear my sheep myself. Shearing takes real expertise, skill and physical strength. Mary has all three in spades. She’s taller than I am, which helps, but more critically, she has shorn thousands of sheep at this point and has the skills necessary to restrain the sheep humanely, shear carefully, and carry on a partial conversation all at the same time.
Shearing is a time to evaluate sheep health. Shorn of their wool, we can finally see if a ewe is thin or fat, pregnant or potentially open, healthy or ill in some notable way. We noted that Chloe’s udder has a bad side. We can plan to have her only raise one lamb. Most ewes were quite fat, we noted, but a few of the yearlings could do with some more chub. We’ll make sure that we make it easy for the littlest sheep in the flock to get their fair share of feed.
I’ve buried the lede a bit here, but we had a guest of honor at shearing this year. Laini Fondiller, from Lazy Lady Farm, came to shearing this year. An artisan cheesemaker and goatherd, Laini is solidly the busiest person I know. She has been running Lazy Lady Farm for 35 years now, making some of the finest goat cheese to ever grace the counters at Murray’s Cheese and other fine establishments. We’ve been friends for a decade now, collaborating on dairy goat genetics and commiserating about running small farms. It was really a treat to get to spend a day working together – we so seldom can find that kind of time.
This year’s wool varied in quality. The BFL was clean and lovely. My only concern is the prevalence of some felting in the longer locks. We have a few BFLs whose wool is not quite up-to-standard. We’ll make sure that such ewes meet a ram with amazing wool every time. The Borders were more of a mixed-bag. Some ewes had lovely fleeces, others were rough and matted. Several fleeces had to be rejected outright due to cotting and felting, which is always a disappointing outcome. We have some amazing jet-black Border Leicester fleeces from our lambs. I’m going to make something really, really special with that wool.
After shearing, we enjoyed some homemade seafood chowder outdoors together. Mary and Laini departed, and Matt and I picked up the sorting pen and then stowed the wool, which will wait until I can make a trip down to Battenkill Fiber Mill.
There’s nothing better than a farm friend when you need one!
January is conference season, even in a year where all conferences are virtual. I was lucky enough to attend a sheep chat hosted by Cornell discussing small ruminant management. While the content of the conference itself varied a bit, I was lucky enough to meet Lee, who runs a dairy and multi-species meat operation. He comes from the entertainment media world, and we had a long discussion about current thought in marketing. Marketing always sounds so cynical to me: I hate feeling like I need to convince people to buy yarn or lamb. Some of my hesitation comes from my own shyness and my cultural background of humility and modesty. Lee understood this and managed to convince me that bringing myself into my marketing doesn’t have to be pushy or obnoxious. It can look like opening up and inviting people in more. Mind, this is not easy for a repressed Yankee like me, but I think that after nearly 10 years raising sheep, I’m ready to welcome you all into my world a little more.
A hastily-composed bio:
My name is Katie Sullivan. I’ll turn 38 in October. I was born and raised in NH, went to college in Massachusetts, and then settled in Vermont after graduation. I came with dreams of working in non-profits. Though my dreams lay in working in social justice organizations, my skillset and personality didn’t fit in that world. I gave the field two solid attempts before quitting for good in 2010, heartbroken, traumatized and looking for a different path towards making a better world.
In 2011, I began an internship on a goat dairy farm that became a job, and that job turned into a new career in value-added food production. In 2012, I got my first sheep and began blogging. In 2014, I went through a divorce, left the goat farm, met Matt and moved in with him. My sheep were fostered that winter with neighbors back at the farm- I still feel tearful when I think of the generosity of the friends who kept my sheep dream alive during that difficult time. The sheep followed me in spring to Williston, VT from 2015-17. In 2017, with some inheritance money of Matt’s, we quit our regular jobs and bought our farm in Albany, VT.
More fun facts:
My favorite color is red, even though our home interior, cars, sheep trailer and one tractor are all blue.
People think I look just like my mother, but if you saw a picture of my paternal grandmother, you’d see the resemblance.
I am a former vegetarian/almost-vegan who made a full 180 shift into raising animals for wool and meat.
I am preoccupied with the flavors and textures of East Asian snackfoods. I can eat Gochujang until I breathe fire but I don’t love jalopenos. HMart is my happy place.
I speak France-French, but I am not always effective understanding spoken Quebecois-French. I am working on this issue.
I’m not a skillful knitter (all the good stuff comes from my mom!) but I’ve been knitting a bit more lately because I love the texture experience of yarn.
I have fine motor skills deficiencies, Sensory Integration Disorder and some other ASD goodies, so when I say I love wool and yarn, I mean REALLY LOVE. Unsurprisingly, I have a big chip on my shoulder about people telling me to “try harder” at things that I simply do not have the mental or physical ability to do. You asking me to write it again, more neatly = me asking you to flap your arms until you start flying.
I love most cats and some dogs. Matt has a parrot who mostly hates me.
My biggest strength and biggest weakness is that I am always intense, singleminded, and determined about whatever I am focused on, to the detriment of other activities and needs.
Matt has taught me a great deal about engines and electronics.
I enjoy casual birdwatching. I would like to improve my auditory birding abilities.
I’m a Public Radio nerd and a big nerd in general, so no one should ever feel bashful about demonstrating their passion about obscure topics around me.
Nothing better than exploring an old barn!
My favorite TV show is Rick and Morty, followed perhaps by OG All Creatures Great and Small or Law and Order. I enjoy Star Wars and Star Trek equally.
I can be very, very funny.
I normally swear a lot but I can clean up nicely.
I am the rare Millennial who likes mayonnaise.
Southern New England aggression is my native tongue, but Vermont has taught me to be nicer and kinder.
I speak with a strange mixture of Eastern New England R-less-ness with some adopted Vermont pronunciations so people here can understand me.
I read the entirety of Emily Posts’ 1967 etiquette guide, so I know what I *should* do but I don’t always behave
I don’t enjoy smoothies.
Several people have told me that I am the most “internal” person they know.
I do not know how to apply makeup.
I wish I could dance but I have zero rhythm.
I am uncomfortable with hugs or touch from strangers, so please ask first.
I have not had many opportunities to travel and haven’t really left the Northeast much.
My only “bucket list” task is to swim in a warm ocean before I die.
If you have enjoyed this list, thank Lee at Moxie Ridge Farm in NY. You can stay tuned for a bit more “personalized” experience of Cloverworks Farm going forward, and I sincerely hope that you’ll enjoy it. I’m also happy to get to know you. What do you want to learn about, or see more of, or dive into more deeply, or share about your own experience?
No matter how much I pet them, my sheep crave attention. I have several who will stop at nothing for shoulder-scritches, up to and including the yearling ewe from my last blog post who now will try to stand on your chest for attention. Needless to say, but we are training her not to do that.
We have a little over a month of petting to distribute equitably before lambing begins right around the end of February. Already, the ewes are waddling more and standing less eagerly. We are expecting anything from 70-90 lambs in 2021. That’s a whole lot.
PET US NOW!
Not only do my sheep want attention and socialization, but I also do. I’m strongly introverted and happily go several days talking only to Matt. But even I have limits. It would be grand to have some visitors at the farm, socially-distanced of course. The barn is pretty open-air, so having visitors in the barn is at a comparable risk level to two masked, distanced people talking at the park. We also recognize that people NEED interaction of some kind to get through this terrible year. Sanity has value, too.
I want visitors to come because I want you to feel, in person, how wonderful baby lambs are. I want you to watch their spontaneous play, to coo over their snoozing, to sense their curiousity and learn to interact with them on their terms. I want children to develop a fascination with animals just as I did as a child. Nothing makes me sadder than meeting people for whom farm animals are an entirely abstract concept.
That said, news about new, more contagious variants comes out daily. Matt and I are relatively young (42 and 37, respectively), but Matt does have some risk factors for a more serious Covid experience. I am so keen to share our farm with you, but also rather anxious about it.
So I am interested in your thoughts: Should we do FB live lambing streams? Should we offer tours? Should we do both or neither? How would you want to interact with lambs and farms at this difficult time?
I’ve started taking a walk each day to try to battle my isolation fatigue.
Typically, I begin by walking north. In a few steps past the end of the driveway, I am off our property and walking on the smooth, damp sand of the road. Throughout my walk, I must listen for approaching cars from either direction. Pedestrians are not that common on our road, and many drivers enjoy the wide, open vista and straightaway in front of our property to rev up and go. If a car comes, I will wave. It pays to be neighborly.
Even though it’s now December, it’s still worth taking a look at what transpires in our fields. Commonly, I see crows and ravens. Chickadees flit around in the short trees. Sometimes, the turkeys make themselves visible as they endlessly search the fields for morsels. Two weeks of rifle season has made the deer scarce, though evidence abounds of them crossing our road daily.
Heading up the hill to our north, I start thinking about finding a good throwing stick. I’ve been visiting the neighbors’ Border Collie daily for nearly a week now, and we’ve developed a bit of a routine. I find something nice and throwable as I approach her territory. I crest the hill and I can often see that she’s in the dooryard near the road.
Our routine starts with her bow, inviting me to play. Her gaze fixes completely and resolutely on the stick. I wing it as far as I can away from the road in a westerly direction. Three years on this road and I know that this particular dog has no regard for the hazard that cars present. She fetches, makes a few chomps on the stick and returns. About one in three times, she doesn’t see where the stick landed and looks at me like I’ve deceived her by faking a throw. I shrug at her and we each go looking for a new stick. When I car comes, I try to hold her attention so she won’t thoughtlessly bolt into traffic. I often walk a little past where she will go, and then return for a second session while I walk by the house southbound. I walk on the wrong side of the road for that second throwing time just to keep her where she belongs. Stick time ends once I pass the far end of the barn on the property where the dog lives. She never passes that point with me.
I was informed of the dog’s name by a neighbor recently, but I can’t recall what it is other than that it is feminine and contains two syllables. She has never allowed me to touch her, nor has she approached me to sniff or inspect. This relationship is purely based on stick provision and throwing, nothing else. She is an older dog, likely older than 12 or so. I do not, strictly speaking, have permission to play with her, but neither have I been asked to stop. I have never been acknowledged in any way by her shy and reclusive owner. Selfishly, I plan to continue this activity because it’s really a highlight of my day, and I think the dog takes pleasure in it, too.
Once I am over the hill and out of the dog zone, I can enjoy the prettiest vista on our whole road. From the top of the hill at the Kirshner Farm facing south, I can see Mount Mansfield, Camel’s Hump, Elmore Mountain at the head of the Worcester Range and Woodbury Mountain. This view always provides beauty and pleasure in any weather.
Heading back towards my house, I usually now pass my own driveway and walk a little south. You’d think I’d just continue north to get more steps in, but the road turns to pavement there, speeds increase and the road winds around a few blind turns that I wouldn’t feel safe on. Plus, the houses are a little closer to the road and I’m not paying social calls. Heading south, I’m patrolling the lands that we manage and paying a quick visit to the quiet cemetery to the south of our property. The St John of the Cross cemetery holds several generations of French and Irish catholic families that lived in the area. The earliest graves seem to date from the mid 1850s and the cemetery is still active. It’s clear that the lives of previous inhabitants were hard and generally short. Most people born in this area in the 1870s and 1880s lived only into their 40s, 50s and 60s. As was common at those times, there are also many graves of infants and young children.
I usually turn around to walk home after the cemetery. Again, the road gets busier and blind-er, and it’s risky enough already to walk on such a fast road that doesn’t have a good shoulder. I’m usually not tired by the time I turn right into the driveway, but I’ve at least stretched my legs and gotten a little fresh air and sunshine in these dreary days. If my walk is late, I will transition directly into caring for the sheep. Chores are minimal and everyone is waiting for the waning and the waxing of the light.
I felt grateful for a morning full of sunshine this morning. We’re well past our first frost and we know that snow is right around the corner, so it wasn’t surprising to step out to 35F temperatures and a crisp wind.
I usually get started by filling the water tank in the bucket of the tractor. We recently replaced our old Ford with a New Holland that’s 20 years newer. The Ford had a bumpy ride that irritates my internal scar tissue from past surgeries, so upgrading has really helped my health.
Aboard the tractor, I headed up to check on the BFLs who are in a breeding group pasture on our neighbor’s property. I spot two cyclists who are looking at me, then I see one of our off-duty rams running loose. That’s bad. Very bad. Our off-duty rams are in a horse pasture, and truthfully, they are not far enough from the BFL breeding group. We just didn’t have other options. So when I saw the off-duty ram heading for the ewes, ready to challenge the on-duty ram, I immediately worried that we would have a real ram-fight.
Fortunately, the electric fence succeeded in keeping the rams apart, so I contacted the cyclists. They told me that when they rode by, their cycles spooked the rams, causing Hermie the BFL ram to bust through the fence. They had been trying to keep Sam the Border Leicester ram inbounds while hoping that assistance would arrive. I’m so grateful that they stopped to help instead of leaving the situation.
I had some grain on hand to feed the ewes, so I tried to lure Hermie away from the girls. All amped up and nervous, he spooked at the grain bag sound instead of coming toward me. It was then that I noticed a large gash on his nose from challenging the fence. Poor Hermie! With grain-shaking getting me nowhere, I feed the BFL breeding group. That resulted in them ignoring Hermie, who responded by paying more attention to me. One cyclist returned with a bucket, and I was able to contact Matt for further backup.
It took slow, patient grain-luring to get Hermie back into his field. We were hoping to halter him, but he kept spooking and running in circles, so we concluded that our best hope was to feed out a little more grain in the field and to spray a sanitizing treatment on his wound there. Fortunately, we succeeded with that plan. Hermie now has a bold silver Aluspray blaze, and the fence has some new green stakes supporting the area where the the breakout took place.
It has been a long fall season for me. I haven’t kept up with the blog because I’ve been trying so hard to be nimble with Cloverworks yarn sales opportunities and busy with Bobolink Yarns efforts. It genuinely has been a hard year – I had hoped that this would be our breakout Rhinebeck year. We’ve learned that our yarn sells really well when people can touch it, but that we can’t rely on online sales as a substitute for in-person sales opportunities. That’s a tough realization, for certain.
Two day’s worth of preparation went in to getting 35 lambs shorn in an organized manner, but it was worth the effort for a smooth and pleasant experience.
First, a bit about why we shear lambs in the fall: Last year, we fall-sheared lambs who would be “getting on the truck,” as it were. We ended up shearing a few Border Leicester ewe lambs who, when shorn, ended up having great breed character and structure. So we kept two shorn lambs over the winter among the unshorn “keeper” lambs. We carefully observed the shorn lambs for signs of discomfort, but all of them looked perfectly content and comfortable. By October, they had a good cover of wool and by November, a thick coat of wool covered them to keep them warm. Come spring shearing, the wool from the shorn lambs was picture-perfect and clean. Meanwhile, the unshorn lambs gave damaged fleeces with excessive growth, some of which were too felted to be usable. More importantly, the huge growth of wool disguised the thinness of some ewe lambs. Not what you want to find after a winter of feeding! The BFL over-wintered fleeces were cotted at the tips and challenging to clean and use, as well. So this year, we thought we’d try shearing everyone.
The first step was gathering the materials. We have a shorting chute that uses sheep psychology to gently organize and restrain the sheep. They are inclined to follow the curve and form a single-file line to get through. It’s gentler and less stressful than grabbing each sheep one by one. We used the chute as a “lamb dispenser” for Mary, our shearer. She’d complete one shearing, tidy up, and then we’d raise the gate and the next sheep would be queued up, right there.
Mary shears gently and swiftly. She removes any belly wool first, tidies the bum, and then gets on with the work of shearing all of the usable wool. The first stroke goes up the chest, and then Mary shears the front of the sheep, gradually peeling wool away using gravity. She goes down one side, around the back, and then rolls the sheep to access the other side. We had a few naughty lambs who kicked and put up a fuss – bad lambs! Our little bottle lamb, Sausage McWiggles, kept coming by for extra pets. She sniffed and investigated Mary while Mary was trying to shear other sheep. We did have to dismiss little Sausage.
After shearing, all of the lambs ran off baaing. As soon as they realized they were naked, they invariably got to work grooming and nibbling the little itchies that they’d been unable to address for months.
Once the fleece was off the sheep, it went straight to Donna Druchunas and husband Dom. They removed any dirty or undesirable wool straightaway and packed the fleece up. Sending Donna home with her favorite fleece of the day seemed like little payment for such great work, but that’s what she wanted most.
In prior years, we have used fall-shorn fleece to make roving and extra yarn. This year, with no Sheep and Wool Festivals happening in-person, we are going to sell this wool as raw fleece. It’s been a little while since we’ve offered raw fleece! I think you’re going to love the tiny ringlets of the BFL and the gorgeous crimp of the Border. We have white and natural Border and we have white BFL. We did not have many natural BFL lambs this year and those we had were sold.
What a year for us to have decided to focus on getting more visitors on the farm, eh?
We’ve given a lot of thought to the risk factors in having farm visitors this year. Matt has risk factors, so we know we need to be careful. But that said, visitors will be walking outdoors with masks on in a context where remaining 6 feet or further apart presents no problems. No Covid-positive sheep are yet recorded, so there’s another worry sated!
Our plan involves showing visitors the nearest group of sheep by walking or briefly driving to their location and showing. After that, we also have an outdoor yarnshop set up on our back deck. We’ll be on break from grilling so we can have yarn out for you to enjoy in the open air. This also helps to keep product sanitary from group to group, as ultraviolet rays from the sun(the same ones that cause sunburn) are nature’s own disinfectant!
Enough about the tough stuff – let’s talk about the cool stuff!
We’ll be offering our own yarns as well as our Bobolink Yarns lines. This is your chance to learn a bit more about our new project and sample our three current Bobolink yarns side by side.
We’ll be premiering a new pattern by KnittyMelissa – the Apricity shawl is a gorgeous, charming shawl with a weave pattern along one edge. Originally made from our Greensboro Bend BFL Fingering, it would look amazing in either the BFL or the Derby Line Border Leicester Sport. Let your creativity go wild!
But Wait, There’s More!
Readers of the blog may know that we saw Meadow Moon by Jennifer Steingass and fell in love. We are offering $25 off 9 skeins or more of our Derby Line Border Leicester Sport to encourage folks to follow our lead making their own gorgeous sweater for Fall. I’m not just tooting my own horn when I say that our yarn really suits this pattern. Soft, drapey, easier to handle than the pattern-suggested two strands of laceweight: We don’t think you’ll be disappointed.
Don’t worry – if you aren’t up to a shawl or a sweater, we have some fun kits and patterns for you to peruse. And sale yarn – don’t forget the sale yarn!
So we are confident that we can invite you to enjoy our farm and our view without exchanging aerosols, and we look forward to seeing you!
And if you are not going out right now or would rather shop from home anyhow, internet visits count, too! Just be sure to leave a note or send me an email that you are part of GNYH.
We just got news that DCSWF, commonly known as Rhinebeck, will be cancelled for 2020. Clearly, this decision makes sense: Dutchess County has a high caseload of Covid-19, and a festival where 60,000 attendees walk around in close quarters could be an invitation for disaster. From a vendor perspective, Rhinebeck is an expensive and time-consuming show to attend. It would have been challenging to attend Rhinebeck in a context of building occupancy limits or limited attendance and still have made the revenue we need to cover expenses. Earlier in June, we were informed that VT Sheep and Wool Festival was also cancelled for 2020. While we have signed up for a few other shows, those were our main events and an important source of revenue .
It’s really hard to envision exactly how we will sell our yarn in a world without fiber festivals. Customers need to feel the yarn. Yarn is a tactile experience . I am convinced that exposure to natural textures makes fibercraft as relaxing and soothing as it is. Moreover, fiber festivals connect our customers to the sheep. At the VT Sheep and Wool Fest, customers would often pet our sheep and then buy the wool the sheep gave, creating a beautiful, complete circuit. If one in one hundred visitors considers raising sheep and a few of those folks follow through, the future of sheepraising is a little more secure.
Both festival directorships are currently planning a digital festival. I very much hope that it will help fibersellers salvage this year. At the same time, I worry that with online shopping as their only option, fiberists and fiberistas will not branch out from familiar vendors and yarns. It’s easy and tempting to stick to old favorites, and reassuring that superwash Merino is as predictable as the sunrise. I hope, though, that our patrons will take a little risk to try something new even when touch is unavailable. It would be a great shame to see smaller self-raised vendors die off.
Just so we’re not leaving on such a glum note, I have two creative solutions to my worries above. One is that we offer samples of our yarn. I’m happy to send you a few yards to touch and knit up so you can touch the yarn before committing to a larger purchase. Second is that I offer simple websites to folks who need a helping hand getting their fiber flock online. I can also advise folks about setting up a webstore and choosing a platform. Get in touch if you are a fiber-seller who needs a little help getting online.
We are relaunching tours here at Cloverworks Farm! We want to share our sheep and our vision of a more sustainable food and textile future with you. Enjoy our beautiful scenery and meet our charming sheep!
We will be offering tours by appointment. Tours will be entirely outdoors. Tours will be socially distanced – visitors will be asked to stay at least 6 feet away from us. Out of state visitors must meet VT quarantine requirements to be eligible to visit. We want to share the farm with you, but we have to keep ourselves safe and healthy for the farm to function.
We get a lot of similar questions from folks about our sheep – Here are all of the questions you’ve been wondering about but haven’t wanted to ask:
How often are sheep shorn?
Some breeds are shorn twice a year, but we shear our adults only once per year in early Spring. We shear early so that the ewes are wool-less at lambing time. That helps us see the ewe’s labor, helps the lambs find the teats, and encourages the ewe to lamb in shelter rather than out in the snow!
Does shearing hurt the sheep?
Shearing is just a haircut. Once in a while, a sheep might get nicked but overall, the sheep always seem relieved of their heavy wool. Mine go straight for fence post and scratch all of their itches that have gone unrelieved for a few months.
Do you spin your own yarn?
With over 100 pounds of wool from our sheep each year, we cannot possibly hand-spin our yarn. Our yarn is locally mill-spun. We offer batts and roving to handspinners who enjoy spinning BFL and Border Leicester wool.
What do all of the sheep terms mean?
Ewe: A female sheep
Ram: An intact male sheep
Wether: A neutered male sheep
Lamb: any sheep under 1 year of age. A 9 month old could weigh 150 pounds and still be a “lamb”
Breedstock: Sheep of high enough quality for breeding. Not every sheep born meets this definition.
Flock: A group of sheep
Herd: A group of goats, cattle, or other non-sheep ruminants
How can you tell sheep from goats?
Most sheep have wool and no goats do, but some sheep have hair that can resemble the coat of a goat. Most easily, goat tails point up and sheep tails point down.
What is wool?
Once upon a time, sheep had dual coats with guard hairs on the outside and insulating wool beneath. Shepherds grew tired of having itchy hairs in their wool garments, so they gradually bred sheep not to have guard hairs any more. Wool is the insulating former-undercoat that sheep grow. It is structurally distinct from hair or fur and shouldn’t be referred to by those terms. Only sheep grow wool – other fiber animals grow fiber such as cashmere and mohair from goats or alpaca and llama from camelids.
I have a few acres that I want mowed – should I get sheep?
Raising sheep is more intensive and complicated than just putting them on a pasture and leaving them there to eat. I recommend sheep for people who are interested in maintaining open land AND who are passionate about animal care and management. Using a lawnmower is less overall work compared to an equivalent number of sheep.
Are we eating baby lambs?
Not really. Sheep are fully mature at one year old. Lambs that go to slaughter are not tiny babies -they are well-grown “adolescents” who weigh over 100 pounds.
What does a “Sheep Year” look like?
In March, our lambs are born. The ewes raise their lambs for three months. At the end of three months, most lambs weigh 50 pounds or more and are ready for independence. Remember, prey animals have to grow up fast in order to be less vulnerable to predation.
Our sheep graze on grass all summer long- we rotate them to new pastures daily. The hunt for tasty grass is mentally stimulating to the sheep and optimizes their nutrition intake, too.
By fall, most lambs weigh more than 100 pounds. We only need one ram for every 20 ewes, so we only keep the very best rams for that job. The rest go in the freezer.
Breeding season also takes place in the Fall. We separate the ewes into breeding groups and send a ram in with each group. This allows us to pure-breed our Border Leicesters and Bluefaced Leicesters for pedigree purposes.
After breeding season, the ewes go into the barn and the rams to their separate shelter area. The sheep eat hay all winter.
Sheep gestation lasts 5 months. Our sheep typically have twins, but can have singles, triplets and even quads. We prefer when they have twins because that ensures that all of the lambs get plenty of milk from their ewe’s two teats. Sometimes, one of the triplets in a set gets less than the others, meaning we have to intervene to feed the weaker lamb.