As the tagline for my new book states, “My little pasture on the prairie started out as a borrowed strip of land at the end of a street in Bison, SD …” Thinking it would be fun to play farmer, I’d acquired two bum lambs which I was supposed to sell at weaning. Spoiler alert: I never sold either because it became immediately clear that these agricultural dabblings weren’t a passing fancy. Instead of selling them, I named them Pearl and Theo, and my adventures in shepherding began.
Suddenly, I needed a more permanent and much larger place to house my ranching pursuits than the tiny yard of a rental house in town. Lucky for me, the neighbor at the end of my dead-end street had a small pasture and an unused old barn she said I could rent for the price of the water and electricity. That was my first ‘little pasture.’
My little pasture took a different form after I moved to the ranch. My burgeoning flock took up residence in a small, fenced-off field near the house. The field had previously been used for horses, and I quickly learned that the fencing for horses will not hold sheep, particularly the small, wily breeds I kept falling in love with. In effect, my little pasture became all the pastures, including the yard and flower beds.
When we moved to a house in town last year, we left the flock at the ranch. It’s only 2 miles away, and I knew I’d be back often, but it broke my heart all the same. Two miles felt too far.
The plan was to keep at least a few sheep in town, and we’ve been able to do that since last spring. Last month, after we sold lambs, we actually brought most of the remaining flock to town, and began using an electric fence to graze them through our yard and some other open lots in town. Moving the fence nightly proved to be an interesting family activity with just enough mayhem to keep the kids engaged and definitely provided some bonding experiences (as mayhem often does). But I yearned for the rest of the flock. And with the drought conditions this summer, there wasn’t enough grass to keep even the smaller flock fed through autumn, let alone bring the remaining ewes here to join us. It seemed inevitable that we’d need to move everyone back to the ranch sooner than later.
Well, this week, we found out we could lease a small pasture less than a block west of our town house. We could bring the rest of the flock to town! When my husband pulled up with the trailer and opened the gate, I felt myself release a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. My family finally felt complete again.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand why I feel the way I do about sheep, but I do know they are an extension of my soul. Sheep are the reason I stayed in Bison, South Dakota. Because of them I met the love of my life, have two beautiful and amazing children and even started a second career as a writer. I’ll admit to being a bit of a helicopter shepherd, but giving the sheep under my care the best possible life is the least I can do after all they’ve done for me.
Ironically, the newest little pasture is directly across the street from my first little pasture. The flock and I have come full circle. Walking out into the first blush of dewy morning and the last stroke of rainbowed evening light to haul water or fork hay or offer a chin scratch or watch the lambs gamboling together through the tall grass really and truly always descends like a miracle — a peace that surpasses all understanding. The kind of peace that comes in the form of the simplest pleasures that can fill us to the brim if we can let them.
