Do We Love Nature?

Musing / January 25, 2019 / By

An animal died yesterday. A runty lamb born last summer but never quite keeping up. And two weeks ago a ewe ended up cast in the tire tracks made from the tractor. We barely have enough snow to make a snowdrift and she tips onto her back in the depression of a tire track and cannot get herself back on her feet, therefore suffocates with the weight of her rumen pushing air from her lungs. Talk about bloody unfair, talk about a moment of hating sheep, of hating Mother N.

In this lifestyle I get so many chances to love nature, and to despise her. And I do both wholeheartedly. What is emerging now is an awareness, a small acceptance of nature as whole. That the good gains AND the ugly losses each build us up to be part of this whole – if we choose to be part of it.

We tend to love nature in seasons, especially our favourite season.
We love nature when she’s easy on us.
We’re happy when there is calm lakes, rosy pink sunrises and brilliant orange sunsets.
We’re pleased when mother nature works with us and gives us a good year however we determine that to be.
We love nature when there is flow in our lives; we need nature to create that flow.
We need nature as a soul recharging station.
We’re fixated on a display of nature as a calm meditative state with pink sunrises as the backdrop.
In agriculture we love to tell a story of loving nature meanwhile treating it as a commodity that must meet our bottom line.

But nature is a seer and a lover of the whole. There is a totality to this, a sum of parts that is absolutely necessary for nature to exist. Parts that build and parts that tear down, parts that are bliss and parts that burn. No matter, every part contributes to the whole.

We don’t want to meditate on the ugly side of nature though, we’ll take just the good bits, thanks. We have forgotten that we are nature and therefore part of this whole, ready for it or not. We are shocked each time we discover there is guts and suffering on the other side of the sunset glory. We are shocked that we got no warning of what came about.

So do we really love nature and the natural of ourselves, or just the sunset story? My struggle and frustration over losses has not lessened, there is still deep hurt/anger/sadness with each experience. But growing alongside the emotions is a small nugget of wondering about the whole of it. If we are seeking to exist in this land and livestock life with nature alongside, and not just as commodity, then there is something deeper, something entirely natural, that we must reach for.


When The Day Ahead Is A Cold One

Sheep / January 19, 2019 / 2 Comments / By

We recently started feeding hay on a regular basis, up until now the weather has been agreeable enough to allow for grazing stock piled forage with occasional hay feed offered.

When I know the day ahead is a cold one, I’m eager to get at the chores. My bodily self has little desire to step out in that cold but that cold is what pulls me to get outside and confirm that the animals are okay and to do what I can to feed and shelter for another day.

Today’s cold weather has no wind, it is crisp and clean and sunny. It is beautiful, albeit still damn cold, cold enough that only a brisk walk is doable with the kelpies. While I’m on the tractor hauling bales out to the flock, I feel every bit of that cold (tractor has no cab, so no heat). I begin unrolling the round bales using the tractor but always finish manually and the physical effort unrolling bale cores and forking hay where needed has me warmed up enough to unzip my outside layer of winter clothing. Cold days without wind are stunners and more pleasant than hearing the actual temperature makes you think they can be.

Cold weather is also when any number of things can act up and make it difficult to get the chores done. This morning’s hiccup was having to work the tractor to get the hydraulics working – things were moving slower than molasses in the month of January – which is to say they weren’t moving at all at first. Not a major deal but a slow one. When things go this smoothly I feel particularly grateful. I can return to indoors, let my body warm up and let my mind off the hook until the evening round begins. No feeding hay in the evening but a thorough check to be sure everyone is tucked in for the night.

Wetland Bowl

Artwork / January 11, 2019 / By

Wetland Bowl

felted wool vessel

Winter is not the usual time to think of wetlands, everyone of them being frozen at the moment, no life seeming to be there at all. But this year the ewes can still travel through them on their grazing forays and they nibble on old grasses they find there. Some of the dried out slough bottoms are well sheltered from winds by their boundary of tall, dry reeds.

Approximately 185 acres of our total land base is wetland, just over one quarter section of land worth. When we arrived here we didn’t pay much attention to the wetlands. Then when our pursuit of crop farming fell to its knees and we switched to grass, the wetlands became important and we took notice of what was here. This area of the province is a seasonal home to some of the largest migrating waterfowl populations and we partnered with Ducks Unlimited Canada to return the land base to grass and to repair wetlands drained by the previous owner. Whatever plants that wanted to grow back were left alone to do so.

Today the sheep use the wetlands, our guardian dogs too, and wildlife comes to drink from them. Bird life thrives because of them, and insects are abundant. While we do not intentionally alter the course of the wetlands our quiet presence here undoubtedly still has some affect. An affect we try to keep to a minimum.

When dealing with fence and fence lines wetlands are a big headache but oh the number times I have watched waterfowl fly into these wetlands and listened to prairie songbirds flirting and singing in the reeds.

Ringed with tall thick cattails and cool earth guardian dogs rest at the edges to cool off on hot summer days. And in years when the wetlands dry back the broad leaf plants that turn up present another food source for the ewes. They also nibble the earth at the shores, finding natural trace minerals.

We are small time ranchers with an uncommon approach but when I pause and take in the scene around me, even in the dead of winter, I am grateful to be reaching for a way of agriculture that is also profitable to the soul.

prairie wetland