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Fibre from The Living

Fibre comes from the living and where there is life there is its opposite – that and Magpie’s.

When a ewe dies the wool produced is gone with that loss of life. It’s a particularly big loss to the shepherd when the fibre produced is unique or highly favoured. The handful of Corriedale ewes that piqued my fibre interest are well aged ewes now. Three of them have died. Annie, Sable and Endeavour are still here, grazing their way through old age. Several of their offspring reside in this flock.

Wool is touted as being a natural, sustainable resource which it most definitely can be, however some awareness is warranted around the oft used S-word. Sustainable is to reach for balance so as to avoid depletion of natural resources (parsed from a dictionary definition). It does not mean a life is never-ending; it does not mean we get to skip over death. Death allows for that very necessary balance to exist in the first place.

There is wool that becomes the fibre of our making because there is an animal who grows it and (hopefully) a shepherd who cares about the resources it took to do so. The animal and the shepherd will not avoid depletion but if we’re thoughtful of our choices we will see the continuation of the nature they contributed to while they were living.

I shared the Felted Flock photo and update on Instagram last Sunday and it resonated deeply with several people. I thought to include it here as the beginning of a longer conversation around death of animals and our perception of death in general. If it stirs you to be part of the conversation, please know your comments are welcome here.

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The Trouble With Magpies

After our usual morning greeting I left four of the guardian dogs each with their respective bowl of food while I went off to feed the fifth who is situated with the rams. When I returned I watched with some amusement as this scene unfolded.

livestock guardian dog with magpie birds

It just so happens that the dog in the photo is named Birdie; a name that has nothing to do with Magpies by the way. She’s a terribly picky eater and skips as many meals as she eats, which has nothing to do with her name either. As such she will often lie down nearby while other dogs eat and then leave to catch up with the sheep. But whether or not she wants to eat it, one thing that annoys her is Magpies diving in for her food.

The trouble with Magpies is their persistence.
The trouble with Magpies is that I like them. The guardian dogs do not share the sentiment.
The trouble with Magpies is that once you get to know them you kinda have to admire them. They’re wickedly intelligent and equally determined and they have become a dependable presence in this prairie solitude. They have raucous call that drives me nuts when there is crowd of them. Then again it’s a marvel how silently they fly and how effortlessly they float on the wind or glide into a landing. In the winter they are quiet for the most part, as though they hold some regard for the hibernating state of the place. On the contrary in the summer months I’m often pleading at them to be quiet already. More often than not a gang of Magpie’s hopping about in the air in the distance is the first indication of a death that we see. With their daily presence Magpies act like a constant reminder. A reminder of how you said you would do a thing and you haven’t yet done it.

I don’t recall ever paying much attention to the birds in my youth, or even in my adult years prior to moving here. Perhaps the noticing of birds is a measure of how deeply I’ve grown into the solitude here and the length of time I have been living it. I’m now a bona fide feeder of birds throughout the winter season. I believe it all started with Magpies.

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A Dog’s Game

The flock has moved onto stockpiled forage. Where they graze is not fenced however recent snow limits how eager the ewes are to travel afar. Each evening I move them into a smaller paddock for the night.

With the limited forays of the flock and the night penning the guardian dogs have it pretty easy right now. There is a great deal of barking going on each evening but otherwise the dogs seem bored. The flock is also close to the yard at the moment and Sox, the young fellow has taken up the habit of joining the Kelpies and I for walks. He and the cream Kelpie have become quite fond of each other.

When he started showing up I was torn about letting him continue but I never did put a stop to it like I have for other guardian dogs. I prefer guardians not come for walks with us and its definitely not allowed when they are pups growing into their role, however he’s a two year old and he’s a Kangal cross, a super athlete of the guardian dog breeds, and the workload is slow right now. With dogs every choice is made on a case by case basis and in his case I prefer he expend energy running with Kelpies rather than playing with or killing sheep. He always returns to sheep and I know he’s an active guardian at nightfall so we seem to have a good compromise going.

All in all we seem to be settling into winter’s pace. The flock still feels so very small and it will take me some time to adjust to that. Outside of sheep and dogs there isn’t much that draws me away from the ranch right now. In between morning and evening chores I’m content with doing the tasks required to take care of home and person and otherwise settle into the studio to see what can be done there.

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