The progress of our farm has had ups and downs over the years. Not everything and not all the time, but for most of our 17 years, we have been working to grow the farm. Each piece of the farm has gone up and down in different rhythms. We've tried different things, we've added gear to make our lives easier. We've added different species, and removed some species. We focused on poultry processing, we've sworn off beef, only to get more beef. The farm has had its own peaks and valleys.
Livestock farming has it's own emotional peaks and valleys as well. There's nothing more beautiful than your favorite ewe lamb growing up and becoming a mother. Or a bird hiding a nest and coming out weeks later with a clutch of babies. But with life there is death, and with death there is the quiet heartbreak. And there are different types of death. A ram lamb that was born to become food to nourish an entire family. It's planned, done quickly, and his life honored and valued. Then there are those that may fall ill, and we can not resolve the issue. We've lost animals to tetanus, bloat, copper toxicity, and more. It's been 17 years of losses and gains. 17 years of chores. 17 years of lambs being born, and chicks hatching and the joy of baby animals in spring. 17 years of managing pasture. 17 years of butchering poultry.
After so many years of looking for ways to grow the farm, we know now that we are no longer looking to grow the farm. We are looking at reducing the chore load. We have come to the realization that we can't keep doing all of this forever. So we are coming down the other side of the peak. Heading to the last valley.
One of the effects of our intention to reduce the workload here on the farm - is that I need to reduce the head count of livestock. I've said it before, some items are a switch I may or may not flip. Examples for 2025 will be running 2 batches of meat birds instead of 3. We will likely get piglets in spring, but instead of 6 or 8, maybe we will only get 3 or 4. But to reduce the workload, and the strain on the pasture - we need less sheep. This is definitely an emotional valley.
This has been very challenging for me. Now, mother nature, unfortunately, always chooses to help. I lost some amazing ewes last year. Some, I don't even know how. Snowdrop, Ellen - two of my best producers. We lost Hattie and Ash. To reduce the size of the flock, I have chosen to only keep a ewe lamb if I have lost 2 ewes. I have some girls approaching old age, and I do have to make choices.
This is the heartbreak part. Over years of butchering, I somehow harden myself to the part where the animal dies. I don't even talk about it. I used to cry often. Now I swallow it down, or don't even process it. It's not good for me. I'm feeling raw today. Part of that challenge of reducing the flock means specifically taking ewes in to be processed. I took in a sweet older girl today. It just feels like a betrayal. She was chosen because she had a set of stillborn triplets last winter, and then had one tiny runt of a ewe lamb this fall. I do not want her to lamb again. So I took her this morning. My Princess Leia, the one who loved to get her head scritched right between the ears. She was a sweet girl. But her time has come to an end, and instead of being buried underground, her body will nourish our family.
But prior to taking Leia in today, we lost Mara. Mara was only 5. Something happened, and Shannon found her with a prolapsed rectum. We had the vet out, and before he could suture it into place, she died right in front of us. We presumed she had some sort of blockage. When we opened her up, her intestines were empty. All the way through. This is rather odd. So the vet assuming there was a twist or a blockage (and her stomach was FULL of grass) was likely correct, and there was nothing we could have done to save her.
And it was too soon to save her lambs. She had two beautiful ram lambs, the vet said stood no chance of making it. That was just so very hard for me. We lost a good ewe, and her two beautiful boys that never got a chance.
That is a valley. And I have tried for weeks to step around it. To avoid walking through it. I buried that sadness deep. I hate the feeling of helplessness. I hate knowing an animals under my care has suffered. I hate the loss of baby life. She was a good ewe, and we'll never know how it happened.
So today, a standard delivery of lambs (and one ewe) to the processor just hit me hard. It feels like such a betrayal sometimes. I think I took the grief of Mara and her lost boys with me, when I said goodbye to Leia, Delilah, Layla, Merry and Varda. Layla made it even harder. She was born with a neuropathic shiver. I thought she was freezing when she was born (even though it was a warm day), but it got better with time, unless she was very stressed out. Like today, being dropped into a strange place, she laid down to shiver. I went around back to say goodbye to Leia. And I didnt want to leave. I didn't want to leave any of them today.
So this is the valley. The valley of making my sheep flock smaller. I have to say goodbye to ladies I have spent 5-10 years nurturing and loving. This is why it is so hard for me to reduce my flock. This is why this is the hardest valley for me to cross.
This is Mara, with her first lamb, Willow, born in May of 2018. She was a doting mother and Willow was a tragic loss. It took 3 weeks for CSU to determine that he had a fungal infection in his abomasum. We took him to CSU when he would go off feed and start losing weight. He also had worms, but we kept deworming and killing them, but the fungal infection made him too weak. He was a sweet boy and it was a sad loss for all of us. Mara gave us 13 lambs with her time on the farm, and was known as a steadfast ewe, calm and attentive to her lambs.
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