MELODY, OUR GUARD LLAMA

I realized that I have yet to write about Melody, our guard llama. Allow me to correct this slight. She deserves it.

This morning, while I was making my daily walk down the drive to retrieve the newspaper, I heard Melody give her alarm call. Whenever I hear her call out like that, I of course try to identify the danger she perceives, but I also try to let her know that I hear her and will respond. She gets a little put out if I ignore her and don't do my job as the flock shepherd, so I've learned to at least gaze in the same direction she is looking, and look real tough. If I have the chance I'll stand beside her and stare down the danger (even if I can't see it). We make a formidable pair! This morning she was staring something down in our neighbor's woods. That certainly made me a bit nervous since we're so close to lambing. I followed her line of sight to a beam of morning sunrise that was snaking through the woods to a freshly cut round from a felled tree. This was just about the only thing in the woods that was illuminated by the morning sun and the circle of growth rings certainly looked threatening, like a giant eye. Melody had every right to be alarmed, especially since this newly felled tree was a new element in her environment. She already had the flock gathered up and was ready to lead them back to the barn. As she watched, and continued her alarm calls, I walked through the woods to the fallen tree. Once I reached it, she must have realized that it did not present any danger and she released the flock back to their graze.

I've noticed, that as we get closer to lambing, the ewes move about the pasture a bit more deliberately and seem to defer to Melody more than usual. I'm certain that they recognize the security she provides. The Jacob ewes prefer to lamb in the pasture and will remove themselves from the flock to be alone at this special time. I don't try to interfere at this point but I do like to eventually move the ewe and her newborn lamb(s) into a lambing jug for a couple of days. The problem is to recognize that one of the girls has sneaked off by herself. However, it usually turns out that she won't be alone. I can usually scan the pasture and if I spot that long neck of Melody's I can bet that there will be a ewe in labor at her feet.

Though the ewes are settling down for their big day, last years lambs are not pregnant, and still like to play. Normally Melody puts up with this juvenile boisterous behavior, and at times even joins in. Lately however, she's quick to correct the young ones and settles them down. Its almost as if she knows that the ewes need some predictable stress-free flock behavior right now.

Melody joined our farm as a guard animal and she has more than filled that role. I often find her sleeping in the open doorway of the barn while the rest of the flock is settled in for the night well inside the barn. She's the flock mistress and I've come to the realization that our farm will be best served if I simply follow her lead. What's both maddening and rewarding at the same time is that she knows that I know that she is the boss.

Melody's humble assistant, Jeff

MEAT DELIVERY

I've just returned from delivering fresh lamb meat to a few of our customers. It was a beautiful day with a bright sun that seemed to raise everyone's spirits. Today's clear skies, my delivery tasks, the new green grass, the very pregnant ewes, and visions of the new lambs that will soon to be joining our flock, all led me to think a bit more than I usually do about that sunshine. I'll get back to the sun thing later, but first -

I don't apologize for the pride I felt today as I delivered fresh lamb meat to my customers. When we first entered into this venture, one of our objectives was to honor the small family model of agriculture that was so important in the history of this country. It simply wasn't enough to raise healthy sheep in an ecologically sustainable way, or to conserve an heirloom breed of sheep and its genetic pool, or earn show ribbons, or sell breeding stock to others that also had similar objectives. What was equally, or perhaps even more important, was that we had an end product (or products) that a customer base would be willing to fairly compensate us for. It wasn't critical that we make a lot of money, but to honestly honor the history of agriculture we had to be rewarded for our efforts. With the help from our customers today, we met that so important objective - and thus my pride as I delivered each of those boxes of meat. Its the same pride I feel when I send out bags of fleece or batts of processed wool.

Back to the sun thing. I realize that I didn't create these products that bring me such pride. The ewes and the rams certainly had something to do with it. My pride comes in the fact that I was able to harvest the sun by capturing its energy in grass and forage, and then able to convert it from grass to meat and fleece. Of course I had to be smart about it and work a bit. But with a bit of husbandry and sensitive stewardship of this little piece of the earth, I can provide a discerning customer with a product that they can be assured was raised in a ecologically sustainable manner that fully recognized the completeness of each animal. Thus my pride. And to my customers: Bon Apetit.

A TIME TO REFLECT

I delivered 5 animals to the slaughter house today to fill our customers' orders for meat. I suppose its obligatory that I comment on how I felt about that on this blog. In fact, I have been thinking about all the profound meaningful things I could say and how I could justify killing beings that I have named, raised, and have come to understand each of them as individuals. Each had its own personality and lived their life on Drumcliffe Farm a bit different than their flock members. I was prepared to write about how these sheep had fulfilled their destiny as domesticated species on a sustainable small family farm; how they lived a comfortable, safe, stress-free existence with dignity; how they were allowed to fulfill their potential with respect for their well-being; how they had provided us with quality fleece; and how they ultimately will provide sustenance for friends and neighbors. I pray they will be honored at a sumptuous feast and provide joy at a memorable meal in the near future. I was prepared to write all that, and more, until I unloaded them from the trailer after a short drive from the farm to a local butcher. The very same animals that would take extraordinary measures to make sure they were never within my reach, animals that would either jump over or jump through gates to escape me, were suddenly converted to animals that could not get close enough to me. If they could, I'm sure they would have jumped in my arms and would have been happy to sit in the front seat, next to me in my truck for a quick drive home. Now, in this foreign place, I was no longer the human that was important to avoid, I was the human that would correct this mistake and put things back as they were meant to be. With effort I hadn't ever expected to expend, I finally got them in the holding pen at the slaughter house. My preparation to write eloquently to express all my positive feelings as a proud farmer, fulfilling the honorable business of American agriculture, totally went up in smoke. Let there be no confusion, I still had an abundance of positive feelings and pride - but I lost the ability, or the desire, to express myself in the written word. Anything I could possibly write seemed to be so trivial compared to the relationship I had with those five sheep at that moment.

I remembered being a guest years ago at a First Foods Ceremony at a long house on the Confederated Tribes of Warm Springs reservation. At that meal we honored all the food by stating the name of the food before we consumed it: water, huckleberry, camas root, salmon, venison, etc. It was simple and done with very little flash. Just a straight-forward honest recognition of each specie and their worth. A way to express one's thanks and his or her gratefulness for their contribution. I decided to do the same this morning. After completing my business in the office with the butcher, I returned to the holding pen: "Katie, Bruce, W.B., Spaulding, James".

- Proud to be called "Shepherd" - Jeff

SHEARING DAY

I'm back from the barn after cleaning up a bit after our shearing and tucking everyone in for the night. They all look so much more vulnerable after losing all that fleece, I feel just a bit more of my shepherd self coming out on nights like this. Even Melody, our guard llama, looks more cartoonish than the grand mistress of the pasture she has been. I swear I saw a hint of embarrassment in her eye as she brought her girls back into the barn for the night. Shearing went very smooth and all seemed to really enjoy themselves. As usual, we had more people here to help with the shearing than we had sheep - and I'll always take that as one indication of our success. Most everyone had a job to do including sheep wrangling, hoof trimming, drenching, vaccinations, note taking, gate keepers, skirting, and of course shearing. To make sure the barn was completely full of activity, we had a nice contingent of young people exploring the hay stack. With only a couple of exceptions, the fleece we sacked today was of excellent quality. Some even exceeded our expectations. And after looking at the girls sans fleece, we can safely predict that all but one are pregnant. So our flock will be growing quite nicely.

After a day like this we realize what great friends and neighbors we are blessed with. Many of our shearing help are repeats and I know they would be offended if we failed to invite them to help out each year. What I appreciate the most is their pride in accomplishing the most mundane tasks and, even though they may not have an abundance of experience, their self direction in recognizing a task that needs to be done and figuring out how to do it.

Shearing was completed in time for a late lunch of chili prepared by Jan and, even though we didn't ask for it, jalapeno cornbread, fresh avocado, baked beans, home-made bread, and desserts appeared on the table next to the pot of chili. All to be washed down with smoked porter beer from the Mt. Hood Brewery. A good day, I'd say.

And the best of all - I have a fresh mountain of fleece to wash and process just as I was getting to bottom of the pile from last year. - Jeff

COMPANY COMIN'

We're getting ready for shearing day here at Drumcliffe Farm this Saturday. I spent some time cleaning up the barn, spreading clean bedding, rebuilding a few of the gates so that we can sort the animals as needed, setting up the skirting table, making sure we have the best possible lighting, bringing out chairs and a coffee percolator. We're expecting quite a crowd and I realized that so much of my preparations were being done for our guests, not so much for the function of gathering fleece. In addition to shearing we'll be skirting the wool, trimming hooves, obtaining fleece samples for registration purposes, giving vaccination boosters, drenching for worms, trimming some horns, and applying a few ear tags. My goal, and probably biggest challenge, will be to give everyone that shows up, a job to do. Some would question (and some actually have questioned) why we go to so much trouble for what could be a pretty straight-forward process. Given our farm's business plan to provide a sustainable local source for lamb meat and wool products, I don't doubt for a moment that all this effort is not only worth it, but is exactly what defines us here at Drumcliffe Farm. If we truly intend to do business with our local community, we better be ready and willing to open our farm gate to our local community. And it goes beyond that. I realize that in addition to selling lamb meat or fleece, here at Drumcliffe Farm we're selling an idea. The idea that the small farm is still a viable business model and legitimate lifestyle in America. To sell that idea we need to share that idea, and what better way than to invite our friends and neighbors to roll up their sleeves, get a little dirty, and actually touch the product. Of course this is a single well-defined, fairly interesting, event and I realize that inviting this same audience out to the farm on a day-to-day basis to help with all the mundane would not work. But it sure seems to work on shearing day. Stay tuned for a full report on our successes in my next post.

Jan and I ventured over the mountain to Dancing Wolf Ranch the other day to pick up three tons of eastern Oregon grass hay. This should last us until Spring when our natural pastures will meet our needs.