Week 14

Welcome to the farm sheep

I’m sitting on the front porch looking down the valley.

White dog at my feet. Sun streaming unfiltered on a sea of blue sky.

No clouds, but the slightest puff of wind.

To my right are ten Aussie white sheep - five ewes, three lamb ewes and two wether lambs.

They arrived last night, delivered by Mark. Their previous owner arrived in a builder’s truck with a crate containing the ten sheep.

I imagined a look of surprise on the faces of the sheep as they were unceremoniously unpacked into the yard containing the pigs.

Low level voltage runs through the fence. Not enough to hurt but enough to ensure the animals stay where they’re supposed to.

Unless you are a sheep that has never yet met a pig.

“They won’t get out of there!” Mark shouted with a wave as he drove off in a cloud of dust.

I do my very best not to humanise animals, myself being the omnivorous kind. But if pigs and sheep chatted, I’d imagine the conversation went something like…

“OMG! WHAT ARE YOU?” Said pig, trotting up to inspect the sheep.

“Could we eat you?” Said pig number two.

“AAAAAAAAAAAGH” all ten sheep screamed in unison, crashing through the previously mentioned fence putting as much distance between them and the pigs as their hairy sheep legs would carry them.

With the help of child no. 4, we set up a new “sheep only” yard and left them to settle for the night.

Why sheep? Apart from being a very good source of protein, sheep add valuable organic matter to soil. They are ruminants - meaning their manure provides a fermented faecal power pack of goodness to soil health. They are lighter on the ground than cattle, causing less compaction which is good news if you’re a microbe living in soil.

Cue on the morning of a designated “sleep in” Sunday, the ominous barking of the Guardian dog, baaa-ing of sheep signalling break out number two. They were on the move again.

In my limited experience, sheep have two purposes in life. To die or escape. Or escape and then die.

I began to question the sheep investment.

Was meat really that expensive to buy at the supermarket?

Did I really need to re-enact my sheep keeping experiences as a youth?

As I tramped across the paddock, clad in my pyjamas, trusty Maremma by my side, I questioned a lot of things.

Moving to another country. Leaving behind my daughter and husband. My home. My business. My darling friends who kept me afloat during an incredibly tumultuous twelve months. That downward spiral so easily fallen into when something goes amiss.

I set up fence number three and sat down on an upturned bucket to admire my handiwork. Enjoying the moment. Feeling the serenity.

And then I felt gratitude. To live like this. On this beautiful land. Winter sun on my face. Faithful hairy white dog at my side. A tangle of teenagers sleeping in the house so generously provided to us by friends.

And I smiled and was happy.

Side note: This happy moment was interrupted as soon after, I watched my ten jolly jumbucks bunt their heads through fence number three. They were quickly mustered back and a more appropriate fence voltage applied. At 8:30pm they still appear to be where they are supposed to be.