Aster

Today I had the on-farm butcher come and process Aster and Sue. They have been with me for most of this adventure, the only two left from Belmont. They were supposed to stay on the farm longer – retirees with special dispensation because of their service to the farm. But alas, both of them were developing health problems that were unpleasant for them but that also could cause trouble for their flock members. They will feed dogs now. The longer I farm, the more I understand this cycle of life as a complicated thing, filled with ethical pitfalls but better to be a part of it than somehow try to pretend to step outside of it. If we eat food of any kind, we affect other life. I endeavor to respect the life of my animals even as they feed me. While they were very special sheep for the reasons outlined below, it feels better to recycle them back as useful nutrition to other life than to euthanize them with drugs and then bury them deep into the ground so that they are not a danger to the coyotes, raptors and scavengers who might wander by looking for their meal. Having someone come to the farm and quickly dispatch them seemed the right thing to do.

Sue came to Belmont as a youngster. She was a Finn sheep, a supposedly friendly breed but she failed to get the memo and remained aloof for most of her life. She gave me some nice lambs but in her older years she became an invaluable training sheep. She never lost her head. She always responded to the dogs and moved along, giving unconfident dogs confidence. 

Black Eyed Susan “Sue” and Leo taking a nap

At one Joyce Geier clinic, the “Border Collie sheep” as she was known, provided an opportunity for participants to work a single sheep. She moved for the dogs but she never panicked. She was unique looking in my flock and she was just a nice easy sheep to have around. And so she stayed, long after I decided that her propensity for throwing triplets wasn’t in her best interest or mine. She started having some health problems last year but I had hoped they were on the mend.

Aster, what can I say about Aster? She is legend. She is central to many of the misadventures, adventures and inexplicable events that transpired over the years. Anyone who follows the farm, has heard about Aster. Aster came to the “farm” in Belmont shortly after we set up the first fence there. She came with 4 other Border Cheviots, all long gone. She immediately broke rank and made best friends with a Romney. They were often seen hanging out together. From the start it was pretty clear that Aster was a sheepie Mensa member. She never met an enclosure she couldn’t figure her way in or out of, depending, of course, on her desire. But she often restrained herself thank goodness, though food of any kind was a seriously motivating factor.

Before I switched out all of my electrinet to 42 inches (primarily because of her) , I would regularly find her on the other side of the 35 inch net, a considerable feat for a sheep who wasn’t 35 inches tall herself. One day, I caught her in the act and came to understand that she had spring loaded legs. No running start for her. Thing was, she would leap the fence and then stay right with the flock on the other side. When she was pregnant with twins, just days from giving birth, she squirmed herself through a tightly bungeed gate -it is the only explanation I can think of – unless she knew how to levitate over the 52 inch cattle panel. Most shepherds told me to get rid of her. But the laughs I got from her adventures always outweighed the aggravation of corralling her. Perhaps she thought herself a security guard or hacker – always revealing the weaknesses in my systems but never causing harm to herself or others. She, like Sue, didn’t panic even with young dogs. She seemed to know that they were probably idiots and best not to feed their crazies.

She also was an ethologist.  Aster was always watching, watching, watching, humans, dogs, other sheep.  In her older years in the barnyard I often caught her just watching me clean or go about chores. She seemed to be collecting data. In her next life she will be some combination of Houdini, Jane Goodall and Patricia McConnell.

Sue and Aster gave me a deep appreciation for sheep as individuals and as creatures that are far more intelligent than we give them credit. I think they made me a better shepherd, always aware of the creatures in my charge and much more aware of our complicated relationship with livestock. But it was their time to go before they got too ill and too old. I will miss both of them. To be honest, not in the way that I miss my past dogs. But, for a few days at least,  it won’t be quite as much fun to go down to the barn. Aster isn’t there plotting her next adventure or looking at me like she is cataloging my every move for her PhD thesis.