We lose an elder...the beautiful Assumpta

I had to go work on a downed wire in the field this morning. It was only 70 but ninety percent humidity so I was focused on getting done as soon as possible. I had let the sheep and Birdie out of their paddock where they stay at night, and fed the equines. It was all routine. I wasn't paying too much attention to anyone, and then I realized,

There is a sheep missing...Assumpta...

I figured she was hanging low back at the barn due to the high humidity. In the past year, I've noted she is laying down longer, and more. Sometimes she doesn't get up to eat her hay as quickly as she used too. I knew her life was probably more like months versus years. Sheep are very good at carrying on until one day, they don't. It would be a deadly thing for a sheep in a flock to act sick. They are programmed to stay alive, and stay with the flock for security from predators.

I headed back to the barn to check on her, Martyn was close behind working on other projects. And then I saw her lifeless body in the distance. I knew she was gone. I cried out to her, and ran, but she was dead. By her appearance, we think she died early evening. There was no sign of distress from her body, and there were no marks on the ground indicating she had been pawing the dirt. I like to think she went to the back corner to be on her own, to sleep after the sun went down, the ground was probably cooler in that area. Maybe she just dozed off, and never woke up.

Just last night when I brought the girls up from the field, they were panting. Sheep can't sweat, so pant. Assumpta was there and I scratched her chin and told her to hang in there, the weather was supposed to be cooler in a day. I'm so glad I had that brief interaction with her. Assumpta was not one of the more personable sheep, she was like a stern but fair matriarch that didn't need a lot of hands on attention. She was a Blue Leicester cross and had the most beautiful wool. I have yarn from last season, and still have to skirt her fleece from this year. I will have to do something really special with it.

I let the sheep wander over before we dug the grave. They of course already knew she was dead, as did Birdie. As Martyn dug the hole, I picked her a bouquet, and White Dog examined the dirt and hole. We laid her body in the grave, covered her eyes, and buried her with earth. And White Dog sat with me the entire time. Martyn placed one large rock on top, and White Dog marked it as we were leaving.

Don't worry, I'll keep my eye on the grave, was his intention.

I was sad, but also relieved for her. I knew this winter would be hard on her, and she picked a good time to die. She won't have to deal with biting flies and heat, and we could bury her quickly so she could be on her way. I always feel the burial is an important part of the spirit's journey, it is the final goodbye of those of us left behind, and until we let go, they can't totally be free for the intensity of their next journey. That is what I believe.

I went back to the house to cool off, and came back out about an hour later. White Dog was in the shaded barn, and I sat with him, we did our eye to eye conversation without words, and I took the photo of him you see below. I started to leave, but he put a paw up to hold me in my position. I took this to be a simple statement from him,

It's all okay, she's gone now, it's all okay.

And of course, it is.

Thank you for your beautiful wool, Assumpta, I am honored we could care for you in your final years.

Flock of gratitude

If you follow along over the past 14 years you know I put a lot of thought into names, but also, into listening for the right name over time. Some animals come on board and their names just scream out at me, others are quieter but clear. And then some are very guarded, or perhaps not ready to have a more long term relationship with me [or maybe vice versa at times]. I imagine naming a newborn baby must be really hard-you have ideas on what to call him or her, but then you meet them and they just don't fit that name. I was to be named either Mary or Bridget. I am not a Mary. Bridget is actually my other self that lurks in me-she is a tough cookie. But then my father's mother died the day I was born, and I became Katherine.

I'm so grateful I found this breed. I knew nothing about them, or most wool breeds since we raised Katahdins, a hair breed. I loved the Katahdins, but raising wool just makes sense to me here. I'm so excited to share the fiber with you next year. I plan to add to the flock and am unsure if I'll breed, but want to get through a winter first before I make that commitment. This breed is regarded in critical status, so breeding does appeal to me. When we started with Katahdins, they were near critical status, and we happy to be part of bringing back such a great breed even in a small way.

Assumpta and Calla -the elder matriarchs of the flock-came with their names. They are fitting to both of them. Little Sylvia Pettini's name came pretty quickly. But the other three were stuck. Part of it was they do look similar, and I had to get to know them enough so I could tell them apart in the field, and see their personalities emerge, which they have. These are very personable sheep-as was my old flock-but for lambs these girls are really calm and people oriented.

Of course Lillian has the most striking markings. I kept thinking of names of women who had such strong features and none of them did her calm demeanor justice. But Lillian seemed strong and bold. The yearling ewe I named Velma, after a woman I knew in my childhood who lived in North Dakota up by my mother's clan-we would go see her every time we went up there and she lived in what to me was a doll house, out in the country, where cookies and breads were always baking. Louisa has a beautiful face too, and it has been a name I return to over and over-my father's middle name was Lois, my old terrier was Louie...it just has a light and happy sound to me, somewhat harking back to another time when fresh pies were sent along in school lunch baskets.

I'm very happy with my flock. And they are happy here, with Benedetto and Birdie to watch over them. I love being a shepherdess, all of it, from trimming feet to herding to...just sitting around with them as they graze. And wait until we get some of that fiber.

Annah Assumpta's wool

Isn't it beautiful? She produces locks of silvers and grey and muted ivory white. I am so excited to be able to share some of her fiber with anyone attending the September workshop [see new pricing]. I will also have lots of other fiber, some from The Misfits themselves.

Martyn also reminded me as we were peeling cedar posts that the  Indians used to make clothes of those wood shavings so I will have some of that too–and any other treasures I find in the woods or land.

Visit the workshop site to read more about the class here at Apifera, directions and all that good stuff. There's no experience needed for this class, and if you sign up with a friend there is a break in the price.