A Move With the Flock

We are receiving a fair share of swings in the weather. From brittle dry to rain received. from sizzling hot to breaking a weather record for cold in August. Overnight temperatures dipped below one degree but not quite to zero. A week later hot weather brought a thunderstorm that dropped two inches of rain in one stint.

The flock has been moved to the far south east pasture. The same pasture they were in when I wrote the second post of this Wool Stone & Prairie blog. I’m enamoured by the notion that sheep like particular places more than others. It leads into my thought that places have a purpose; that land creates intangible connections to animals and to humans.

It was a long move to get the flock to the new pasture spot. The Kelpies, who have not been worked nearly as often this year as in previous years, were keen to take on the work load. Their retained ability for the work is amazing and makes me feel deep gratitude that they are here. How would I get on without them?

Moving the flock is pretty commonplace for me now. It used to be a task I approached with great anticipation. Now familiarity has brought on a slight sense of annoyance about the job. Blessedly, this always disappears when I get out there and it’s just me, the dogs, and the sheep, in this landscape of prairie with all its itchy grasses, birds and bugs. I do enjoy pasture moves with this flock, the ewes knowing the land better than I and sometimes challenging the notion that they should go where being sent to – until they get there – then they’re all eager for it.

Some moves are more challenging than others due to difficulties in terrain or fence lines. And on occasion the livestock guardian dogs provide a challenge as well. At a halfway point during this move Coyote Mic and BJ were moving the flock toward a second gate. I moved up ahead to control flow through the gate. The front of the flock was just approaching the gate when our young guardian dog ran in front of the sheep, alerting to something suspicious up ahead (it was Allen coming to see if I needed a hand). All movement at the front end of the flock stopped as the sheep slowed up to check in with the white dog.

The stock dogs were still bringing sheep along, however, their job just got a whole lot harder as sheep began to stall. The young guardian realized the perceived threat was non-existent. Once he settled I was able to coax him through the gate and the flow of sheep resumed.

As a general rule, guardian dogs don’t show eye, or stalking presence. They don’t herd livestock like stock dogs do, they live with sheep. And by some intangible token of trust the guardian dogs are able to stop and resume the movement of a thousand animals. In this case stopping the flow was a minor hiccup but at other times stopping the flow of a large number of animals can cause great frustration for the shepherd.

But whether the moment is one of ease or of great frustration, of a win or a loss; whether in a moment of trust or a moment of wariness and danger, witnessing such linchpins of nature is a very fortunate experience indeed. Each time it taps into my own senses of intuition and natural intelligence. I feel very strongly that to witness this on such a frequent basis is to live a very rich life.

The remainder of the move was across a weedy patch with new growth alfalfa and I was glad Allen showed up to help. We seeded this area with alfalfa and the lack of moisture in the spring resulted in a flourish of opportunistic weeds but little else. The sheep love grazing this patch of weeds but when rain came mid June the seeded alfalfa began to grow. The ewes were eager to dine on the young legumes and it was an effort and a half to keep them moving across this piece to a safer one. Allen kept the ewes in the lead from dispersing in all directions and I put two fresh Kelpies onto the ground which provided the moment forward to the next gate and the final destination.

The ewes have ample space in this pasture. It’s open grassland with tame forage, slough bottoms and marshy flats with juicy weeds, mixed prairie scrubland, plus several areas of bush and an abandoned yard sight to camp out in. The ewes are not bored, something I think happens when they stay in same spaces for too long. One of the hidden blessings of even moderate rotational grazing is the natural stimulus of going to different places, for us and for them. It’s a rich life indeed.