There have been some hard seasons of shepherding over the years, but none compare to the last few months. The irony that these difficulties arrived precisely when I decided to re-dedicate myself to flock management and get serious about growing my fiber business is not lost on me; and I’ll be honest, it’s hard not to take it personally when an outpouring of care and devotion (and time and money) are rewarded with one disaster after another.
I won’t go into all the details. It’s too depressing, and ultimately not that interesting, but the bullet points include: Predation, fly strike, an abundance of “open” ewes (aka ewes that don’t have lambs). Worst of all, the deformed, premature lamb I wrote about a few weeks ago was not an isolated incident, but the harbinger of four more similar births.
I’ve spent the last two weeks agonizing (and Googling) what could possibly be causing this, and all evidence points to a virus that must have infected the flock at a crucial moment in gestation. The culprit is most likely Border Disease, which can move quickly from sheep to sheep, and has little effect on a full grown ewe, unless she’s pregnant and gets infected during the first 85 days of gestation.
During that period, a lamb-to-be has no immune system yet, and can not fight off the virus. Most fetuses spontaneously abort and are reabsorbed (one explanation for why my ewes were coming up open) and fetuses that survive the infection are fundamentally altered. Because they can not fight the virus, it becomes part of their DNA. Most are stillborn. Those that survive birth don’t usually live long. They are also usually deformed, tiny, weak and have a hairy coat instead of a woolly one.
Of course, I didn’t know any of this when these lambs were born. I researched toxic plants, heat stress, tried to decode what genetic input was causing these deformities considering that none of the ewes involved were even the same breed and the ram had given us several very healthy babies earlier in the season. What had happened? What had changed?
While Border Disease gave us some answers, we still have no idea what started the initial infection, and we probably never will. The good news is that all, if not most, of the flock has been exposed, and therefore has immunity going forward. In fact, this whole situation would fall into the category of “no-big-deal” if not for the fact that two weeks of trying to care for dying, deformed babies and their very stressed mothers has left me gutted.
But, here’s the interesting development. Calamity, both with the flock and in other areas of my life, has in the past has made me question myself. Was it a sign that I should give up and move on? Was it an indictment of my character, my work ethic, my alignment with my life’s purpose? When something went wrong, I immediately interpreted it as indication that I WAS WRONG.
Some imperceptible but appreciable shift is allowing me to not take this virus personally, even while highlighting that I want to do things differently with the flock. I couldn’t have prevented this infection, but I’ve already put into motion changes that will allow me more control. The first step has been a significant downsizing. I want to be able to keep closer tabs on my flock, and I want the individual ewes to know me and trust me, so if there is a problem I can intervene without further stressing them. I also want to be able to keep them physically closer which requires fewer head as well.
I can’t tell you how many tears I’ve shed in coming to this decision. It’s been a lot. But it also feels like I am accepting responsibility and grief as the container for joy by making these hard decisions. It feels like I am growing up. The goal is not perfection or even progress, it is wholeheartedness. It is being able to say yes with my arms flung wide, even when it hurts.
