The Unsung Hero of the Sheep Flock

 

The wether, center, is the decision maker when in with the ram lambs.

Imagine your only purpose in life is being a friend.

That's the role of our wether.

The castrated male sheep moves from pasture to pasture, offering friendship and comfort.

As herd and prey animals, sheep find comfort and safety in numbers. One of the worst things you can do to a sheep is isolate him or her. Yet, sometimes a sheep must be kept from the flock.

Because Katahdins can breed year-round, and we don't want lambs year-round, the ram must be separated from the ewes for several months of the year. But isolating a ram for months on end is cruel, and leads to an aggressive (or even more aggressive) animal.

Thus, the wether and ram spend months hanging out together, usually in a pasture far away from the ewes. When with the ram, the wether grazes by his side and ruminates next to him.

On our farm, the wether's social circle changes several times throughout the year. Now, that it's winter, and we don't have a breeding ram, the wether hangs out with the ewe flock. He bellies up to the hay feeder with the ewes, and says nothing as they have their ewe squabbles.

In the summer, when we wean the ram lambs, he'll move over to the ram lamb flock. Lambs are horrible decision makers, and having a calm adult sheep  helps them negotiate those big decisions in life, like whether to go through the gate opening or try to run through the fence, or whether to run at the sight of a dog or turn and face it. Our current wether is a mellow fellow and brings a calmness to the ram lamb flock.

When we get another breeding ram, then the wether will move in with him.

The wether does this without complaint or protest. Maybe, he realizes that being a friend is not such a bad lot in life.

The Two-Fence Rule

 

The ewe lambs with their two house mothers.

As the days get shorter and the nights colder, our sheep care not about pumpkin spice, camp fires nor elections. For them, it's breeding season.

For me, it's strict adherence to the two-fence rule; two fences must separate the groups of sheep.

On the farm, unlatched gates happen. They don't happen often, but they do. When ewes or rams discover unlatched gates during breeding season, pregnancy happens, and it happens fast. One year, a ram impregnated three ewes in six hours. In another, an eight-hour party resulted in four pregnancies. The two-fence rule is meant to prevent that.

During the summer months and early fall, it's easy to adhere to the two-fence rule. We have two groups of sheep: the girls (mature ewes and ewe lambs) and the boys (mature ram, wether and ram lambs). Because we have several pastures, it's fairly easy to ensure that the girls and boys are not in adjacent pastures.

Now that it's breeding season, we have three groups of sheep: the ram lambs that will go to the butcher in November, the ewes lambs and house mothers that I'll use for working dogs on through the winter and spring; and the breeding ewes and ram.

Sticking to the two-fence rule becomes a three-ring circus. But breeding season is only for three weeks, and then we'll be back to two groups.

Two fences and 40 feet may separate the rams lambs from the ewes, but they're still drawn to each other.

In other farm happenings: Fall cleaning is beginning. A frost killed everything in the garden except for some chard and snow peas, so I'll be cleaning out the garden this week. And, then my attention turns toward field edges and fence rows.

Sheep Math

When asked how many lambs we're expecting this year, I pause.

It shouldn't be a difficult question. We consistently have a 200 percent lambing rate. That means if we breed 10 ewes, we expect 20 lambs. Most ewes have twins; a few may have a single or a lamb may die; others have triplets. It averages out to two lambs per ewe.

So, to answer the question, all I do is multiply the number of bred ewes by two.

And, that's where it gets tricky.

I selected 15 ewes for breeding in the fall, marked their backs with a grease marker, and turned them out with the ram. The rest of the flock (the extremely young and the cull ewes), I kept separate for sheepdog training.

A few weeks after doing this, I went to a dog trial. Some unauthorized mingling went on while I was away. Upon finding three delinquents with the ram, I marked them. Past experience tells me they're most likely bred. Because grease marks fade, I re-marked the ewes several times through winter.

Pregnant ewes need extra nutrition during their last 7 weeks of pregnancy. So, last month I separated the "marked" sheep from the unbred ewes. Nineteen ewes looked at my, licking their lips in anticipation of corn and second-cutting hay.

Where did the extra ewe come from?

 In the low winter light, did I mistake dirt for grease markings and mark an extra ewe?

Or, had a clever ewe marked herself, hoping for some better food in late winter?

As I walk through the flock of pregnant ewes, I look for the imposter.

"Not me," these girls say.

No need to ask these two.

I'm sure the answer will be revealed in another month or so.

Good-bye Bon-Bon, Hello ...?

Years ago, we discovered the value of a wether (castrated male sheep).

Katahdin sheep can breed year-round. Because we don't want lambs year-round, the ram is only allowed to be with the ewes for a month in the fall.

So, what do we do with the ram for other 11 months? Being a flock animal, he's nervous and stressed if left alone. Put him with ewes and he breeds. Put him with rams, and he fights. The wether as his companion is the solution.

But here's the problem with wethers. If their only jobs are to eat and to keep the ram company, they get quite large. This fall, our 4-year-old wether, Bon-Bon, was as wide as he was tall. I was unsure how long he'd stay sound--and I certainly wasn't looking forward to trying to trim his hooves. It was time to send him to the butcher and get a replacement.

 Bon-Bon (on left) with Apollo, the ram on the right.
 In this photo, Bon-Bon is not quite a year old.

Hoping the new wether would stay on the small side, I selected our smallest wether to keep.

He's the one in the photo with the hay in his mouth. In the past month, he's been grazing with the unbred ewes and eating like it's his only job. Yesterday, though, he was introduced to his other job: keeping the ram company.

Because he isn't used to being in a flock of two, nor familiar with the ram pasture, I put the wether, ram and two bred ewes in the ram pasture. Next weekend, I'll remove the ewes.

In the meantime, I'll need to come up with a name for him. The ram is Titan.

Fun fact: This past week a friend asked if I knew of the origin of bellwether. It refers to the old practice of putting a bell around the neck of the wether leading the flock.

Meanwhile on the farm: We've already had two mornings this month when I've stepped outside onto snow. Our 15-acre pasture though still has plenty of grass for grazing. Unfortunately for me it's not near the barn. Fortunately for the Border collies, it's a trek from the barn and they get to help move sheep daily.

Searching for That Sweet Spot

Niki brings in the flock so that I could separate the flock. 

Spring is five months away, and that means sheep breeding season starts today.

Over the years, we've lambed as early at late February and as late as late April--all in an effort to hit that sweet spot when:

--Winter is over.

--The spring grass is coming on.

--Fly season hasn't started.

--The lambs are market weight by late October.

--Lambs are born before sheepdog trial season begins.

We've been raising sheep for well over a decade, and we have yet to hit that sweet spot.

This past year, we opted for early lambing, and ended up feeding hay as we watched winter hang on and on.

So, for 2019, we're aiming for the first day of spring. (A ewe's gestation period is 5 months).

This afternoon, I sorted the flock, separating the breeding ewes from the ewe lambs and dog-working sheep. I turned the ram out with the breeding ewes and moved them to a separate pasture.

In five months, we hope to have lambs born into sunshine and green grass.

Will it happen? We'll just have to wait and see.

Roxie, the mischievous barn cat,  parked herself in front of the pasture gate, making the sheep sorting process more of a challenge.

Meet Apollo and Bon-Bon

After months of calling them "the Boys," we had a naming contest for the white ram lamb and his buddy, an almost 2-year-old Dorper/Katahdin wether.

It reaffirmed what I knew: I have lots of creative friends.

Suggestions included lots of pairs: Lenny and Squiggy, Simon and Garfunkel, Harry and Lloyd, Shaggy and Scooby, Gandoff and Frodo, Woodward and Bernstein, Bill and Ted.

And then there were descriptive suggestions: Ebony and Ivory, Salt and Pepper, Coffee and Cream, Mounds and Almond Joy.

One contestant tip-toed into the political with Bernie and Barack.

Several suggested variations on the beer theme: Pale Ale and Stout, IPA and Stout, Suds and Stout.

That led to a few discussions in the household where I'm an IPA fan and my husband is a stout fan.

IPA would be a good name for the ram lamb because, like IPAs, he won't be around for long. After breeding season in the fall, he will be sold and hopefully go to another farm. The black wether will be kept to be a companion for the next ram lamb. He is like many stouts, kept around longer and getting better with age.

The name Warlock, a favorite stout in our household, was floated around, until my husband pointed out that no wether could have a name like Warlock.

And, so this was the winning entry:

Phoebus Apollo - Usually just called Apollo. A son of Zeus and Leto and Artemis’s twin, he is the god of Light and Truth, the master of Poetry and Music, and the god of Archery. His Oracle at Delphi is revered for her powers of prophecy and truth. this is for the white one. the black one I name bonbon.

This made me laugh... and I'm sure if anyone hears me yelling, "Apollo! Bon-Bon! It's time for dinner," they, too, will laugh.

That Sweet Spot

Walking into the barnyard in the morning light, I hear bleating--softer and higher pitched than the demanding ewes.

Lambs! Four of them, scattered around the barnyard.

But that can't be, I argued with myself.

October, September, August, July, June...

Counting the months backwards finally rouses me awake. But it took me a few more minutes to settle from the nightmare.

I love lambing season--but I also am reveling in these carefree November days.

We are in that sweet spot of the year when our livestock numbers are down--and I'm carrying very little hay and water.

The lambs went to market last month, and we sold the two rams earlier this month. No longer do we deliver water to the lamb pasture, the breeding ewe pasture, the ram pen, the dry ewe pasture.

The 15 remaining ewes and the llama all hang out together. With pasture still available and a warmer-than-usual fall, that means I deliver one five-gallon bucket of water to the sheep daily.

The winter flock. No, the one playing the wheelbarrow game is not a ram; she's a ewe. I checked--multiple times.

The horses, too, are able to graze the pasture at night. During the day, they receive only one flake of hay each.

Earlier this fall, we sent the young roosters to the butcher and merged the young chicken flock with the old chicken flock. We're only delivering food and water to one group.

That means chores take 15 minutes, morning and night. And most of that time is spent playing with the barn kitty.

These carefree days will end soon, when freezing temperatures arrive and I become the ice breaker. Eventually pastures will be grazed down and I'll become the hay hauler. And the 15 minutes will become 20, then 25 and 30.

For now, though, I'll enjoy it--and try to avoid those sheep dreams.

The Ram: Counting the Days

A fellow sheep farmer was commenting about his ram.

"He is so lazy. All is does is lie around and eat," he said. "I had to trim his hooves because he wasn't moving enough to wear them down."

I can't say that about our ram.

He likes to ram.

A pipe gate was his victim this week.

Apparently, he was quite offended that I'd put ram lambs nearby. So he began banging the gate, until I moved the lambs.

He is happy now.

And, he'll be happier in a few weeks when I let him out to pasture with some ewes.

And in a few months, I'll be happier when he is delivered to the butcher shop where he will become sausage.