A Great Day - Part III

After being introduced to the Icelandic Horses, Craig and Linda DeMoss showed us their Icelandic sheep. This is Linda's gig. She describes these sheep as "primitive" meaning they possess the same characteristics as Icelandic sheep of centuries ago. Some have horns, some don't. These in the photos have all been shorn recently, and it's lambing season, so there were lots of newborns about!

From top to bottom, the photos tell these stories: When we first entered the sheep pasture, this black ewe and her day old twins greeted us. My first question to Linda was, "Will she charge and butt us?" The ewe had that sort of look on her face. Linda assured me that no, it was unlikely. She said that these sheep recognize faces, and because I was a stranger, this new mom was giving me closer scrutiny.

I think it's the sideways slant of the pupils of their eyes that make them look mean, evil even.

I noticed right away that the newborns would spin their little tails in fast tight circles, much like a dog wagging it's tail. Linda said that was the signal to mom that they're hungry and want to nurse. Indeed, as soon as they started nursing, their tails were still. Within an hour or so of birth, these little tykes are up and moving, demanding their first meal.

We saw twins that were a few days old enact their first play butt with each other! The first contact was quite tentative, just a touch, but each successive butt was a bit more forceful. They seemed to be having a blast, playing and learning.

As we walked farther into the pasture, we all - me, Kim, Craig and Linda - saw a lamb lying on its side, unmoving. Dead. It was clear both Craig and Linda were upset, having just been in the pasture three hours earlier. That particular lamb had been fine. It was a twin. It's mom is the ewe in the third picture with the cat; it broke our hearts to realize she was following the cat to see if it was her lamb. Craig picked up the ewe's surviving lamb and let Kim and me hold it (fourth and fifth photos). The lamb bleated quietly in our arms, but didn't struggle. It's coat is curly and soft, although as Craig pointed out, you could feel that it was a newborn because it's coat was stiff from the dried fluids of birth, like our hair feels with lots of styling gel.

They didn't know why the other had died. They said sometimes there's something internally wrong, maybe a heart issue, that causes them to die. Or one of the other ewes might kick it and unintentionally kill it.

I put the surviving twin gently back on the ground. It dashed to be reunited with it's mom (sixth photo). Mama ewe looked at me as if to ask what I'd done with her other lamb? It was very sad.

The seventh photo is of an ewe who had just given birth this morning. Her twins still have portions of their umbilical cords hanging from their bellies.

The DeMosses have two Icelandic herding dogs (very sweet dogs; look rather like a cross between a Border Collie and a Corgi), both of which followed us into the sheep pasture. One kept finding afterbirth in the pasture and was eating it. The DeMosses had plastic bags in their coat pockets specifically to collect the afterbirth. They don't want to leave it on the ground, fearing the smell would attract coyotes and wolves that live close by in the forest. They've put electric fencing around the sheep pasture to avoid having any negative encounters with the wolves. I wish more ranchers took that approach, rather than the usual, leaving the livestock unprotected and so killing the wolves when they do what they've done for centuries and are genetically programmed to do: eat; hunt; survive.

In the eighth and last photo, Craig is showing me how he holds a new mother still so her lamb can nurse. This is this particular ewe's first time as a mom, and she's not taking to it. She kicks and butts her lamb - she hasn't hurt him - and refuses to let him nurse. She and her lamb have been put in a small isolation pen with the hope they'll bond. Craig and Linda explained that it's not all that unusual; an ewe that's a good mom won't let any lamb other than her own nurse. But once a lamb has nursed a few times and the mom starts to think he smells like her - and so must be hers - it usually works out fine.

What I didn't think to take photos of was the bags full of raw and spun wood that Linda has from her sheep. She sends it to a place in Montana for cleaning and spinning. The natural colors - black, grey, brown, white and combinations of those - are beautiful. She also experiments with dyes. She sells her spun wool to yarn shops, and is thinking of selling through the local farmers market. She's in the process of setting up a web site. Seeing all the lovely wool, and having just met the sheep it comes from, I was inspired to take up crocheting again, or maybe learn a specific type of rug making Linda showed us.

I was blown away by the DeMosses' generosity with their time. They showed us so much, explained everything they do and why, let us meet their animals, and took us into their home to see the finished wool products. We weren't there to buy anything; they had nothing to gain from us. Just being friendly and neighborly. What wonderful, amazing people.

It was absolutely the best therapy for a tired and wounded soul.

Today was, for me, an almost perfect day. I'm finishing it by downloading these fun photos and making these blog entries while sipping a nice glass of Merlot. The girls have finally dried off a bit, they've had a rawhide chew for dessert, and are happily snoozing nearby. All is good in our world.