Somewhere into my third year of raising sheep the ewes developed a minor epidemic evolving from my own carelessness. Many of our herd (which grew from 5 to 16 over the first three years) had a nail growth problem that was on the verge of turning into infection. This was my barn epidemic! I had let slide setting up the appointment for cutting back their hooves and when the first 2 of 16 began to limp I panicked. Bad enough were the little surprises that you learned about from hands-on training, but as this was my own error it was almost more than I could bear. I was surely always the student perfectionist, so what happened? Owning up to the fault here was not going to take care of the problem and taking care of the problem in an off season was not going to be a piece of cake.
Arranging for hoof trimming in January involved an endless stream of answering machine messages which yielded nothing positive over the next 24 hours. The snow storm did not help either. Of course, no hoof trimmer/sheep shearer was ever home during the day to take their messages off answering machines, and anyone would have to wait to hear back from them at least until they got home from their day job. That was enough to just about do me in. By 8 p.m. that night I found myself shaking. Boy oh boy, Look what I did! If I could not shear wool and cut hooves so be it, but I should have gotten the expert on time. Being a medical typist, I applied everything I knew about foot ailments to my barn ladies - sepsis, gangrene, amputation.
In desperation I bought out the feed store's supply of something called Copper Blue which would disinfect the sheep hooves and prevent infection. I did the proper dipping process on each of the 4 hooves for 16 sheep. Hey, that was okay! After all, I made this crisis myself, so whatever it took to correct it would be the lesson I had coming to me! My back hurt a little but no sheep in my barn was going to be infected by the end of the day today and that was all that counted. It would be a good thing in the words of Martha Stewart. After several more sessions of dipping into Copper Blue the day that followed just to be sure and all the ewes feet were now blue from the medicine, my last few phone messages were finally returned. It was time to come to grips with the fact that no one would come up my mountain by the private road full of ruts and ice to trim hooves for at least another month or two. This chore of trimming and shearing was to be performed in March, April and May or not at all. Crying ensued.
A friend of mine who raised horses nearby had a farrier who came to trim hooves. I asked her if she thought he could trim the hooves of ewes. She said she didn't see why not, and as he had an appointment for her horses that afternoon, she then brought him up to my farm. He agreed to try, (telling me he had not done this before on sheep … oh joy!) but as I prayed sincerely for help, I found that my friend's farrier must have been the genius of his class. I kept telling him this over and over, whether or not he appreciated hearing it, and he actually did extremely well. One by one I let each hoof-trimmed ewe out of the barn pen through the lower half of the dutch door, and scampering each one bounced into the pasture, happy as a lamb. I was grateful and the guilt was lifting .The job was a challenge because it was me who had to wrestle the sheep into place and then lift each hoof, but to be honest I was just so delighted at the outcome that I kept grabbing those hooves. I showed no physical evidence of how I was going to feel tonight in a very hot shower with Ben Gay as my friend to follow. Soon we would be done and the emergency would be over! It was all I cared about and all I wanted to know.
The problem came with the last ewe, lest the job be accomplished too smoothly to be believed. The feistiest ewe of all became my foe. I left her for last because she ran the fastest and I knew I would need extra time for her. Hey look - more lessons to learn straight ahead!
Round and round in a circle the last ewe trotted. Hard as I tried, I could not grab the wool on her back and stop her in her tracks like I had with the others. Each time I made my best grab, she would pull me with her for a few steps and then brake away. My attitude was "I'm going to get you. Why don't you just give up?" Her attitude was "Let him cut your hooves lady! You're not going to stop me, so you give it up!"
With the mind of a great engineer I devised what I thought was the winning stance that could not fail. I jumped in front of her path as she made her next orbit around the pen. With the grace of a baseball player, I positioned myself in her path, legs just a little apart and to hold my balance. I leaned forward to cut her thrust as she ran toward me. The ewe promptly put her head down, went through my legs, picked me up on her back, and in an instant I was riding her backward in her circle of choice around the periphery of the pen. It was just her and me and the big circle. Ride'em shepherdess!
My two partners in crime, the farrier and my friend, would have stopped the animal and taken me off if only they could have contained their laughter. Since laughter however was not going to be contained that day, we continued our orbit of the pen for 6 more laps.
My friend said "We're not really laughing at you!" followed by the farrier who added "Yes we are!" and no help came from either of them for yet another 2 laps after that. I finally made it off the ewe's back, I just don’t remember how. She was secured against a feeding stall and I don’t remember that either, but her hooves were cut and the job was finished. I know I was conscious, I just don’t remember much after my try out for the next production of Annie Oakley.
For those of you out there who raise sheep, remember how important it is to perform timely herd maintenance and to make your appointments early. If you are new to raising sheep, you might want to keep a stash of oatmeal raisin cookies in a tight lid tin box at the barn. If ever an unexpected crisis occurs in your barn similar to the one described above, the cookies will raise your blood sugar afterward. You could also share them with your friends who come to help you in emergencies or in a pinch the sheep can enjoy them with you too. Other alternatives to consider are having a ski lift installed or the purchase of a helicopter (not all that great in bad weather) if your hilltop farm, like ours, is located straight up the side of a mountain. Face it, your shearer should not have to travel a gravel road covered in ice to get to you in January. Pay attention to these details and remember, a little thought beforehand, well - it's just a good thing!
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