The World's Worst Lawnmowers
but I keep them around any way.
Our sheep-keeping journey started on a dark Winter’s night when my friend Angela knocked on my door unexpectedly.
“You know how you said you wanted some Soay sheep?”
I followed her out through the dark courtyard to the side of our field where her jeep was pulled up alondside the fence. Her partner Colin was unloading a handful of tiny sheep over the electric and into the dark of our pasture.
And in the blink of an eye, we owned sheep.
I loved those Soays. There was something so incredibly wild and delicate about them. I loved rooing them (puling the wool off as it released naturally). I loved their tiny babies. I loved getting them to trust me. I loved the incredible taste of the meat.
I didn’t love their ability to jump over every single fence and into my neighbour’s field every single day.
I would see my neighbour’s/the Laird’s/the factor’s name come up on my phone and the blood would drain from my limbs, knowing what was coming next. “Kat!! Your sheep are in my field eating my grass again!!” the neighbour would say. Guilt and responsibility would drag me out to the field with a bucket, day or night, trying to persuade them that the grass was greener on my side of the fence. We put a few commercial breeds in with them to see if they would be more inclined to stay with them. They weren’t.
Eventually, we sold the sheep upon accepting that no amount of love would balance out the stress of those sheep jumping every wall and the anxious phone calls that would come after.
After a few years off, last Spring we got a call from our Laird about a sheep that needed rescuing from a farm on the other side of Stirling. We were sold a story by the farmer that she was destined for the market, but his friend loved her and was there any way we could help out?
Soft-hearted and gullible as we are, of course we said yes. Thorn arrived in the back of Lucy’s truck - as cute as anything to look at, but the stompiest, grumpiest young lady to grace our fields.
Too rotund to jump the fences, Thorn has spent the last year being everyone’s favourite “Looks Like A Cinnamon Roll But Will Kill You”. She was joined by a few of our friend Irene’s Shetland sheep for company, then by Greg Brown, a neighbour’s tup.
For months they stayed in place. The shetlands and Greg Brown are perfectly able to jump the dry stone dykes, but can’t really be bothered to - lacking the innate drive for wilderness of the Soays. We were smug. “Look at us,” we preened “such expert shepherds now.”
And then a few weeks ago, while out at a friends, Kevin and my phones started going off with messages from every single neighbour down the lane. The sheep had decided to take a trot down the road, their little sheep bells ringing, to go see what greener grass might be available.
By the time we got back, they were about a mile away, being slowly herded back by Ellis on his bicycle.
It took an hour to get them back, with help from the laird, Ellis on a bike, Kevin on foot and me using the car as a sheep dog. As we locked them back in the field, it was a good reminder to #stayhumble and not count your shepherding skills until you go out for the day for the first time in 9 months.
And just as I was about to swear off sheep forever, four beautiful bags of knitting yarn arrived back from Uist Wool. We’d sent off the last two year’s clip in the autumn - combining our remaining wool with the much larger flock Irene keeps on the hills above the lake. The lead in times for these things are long and I had almost forgotten about it.
As I unpacked the wool bags, I was reminded that while they can be annoying, ultimately I am so grateful for our sheep. Few creatures could thrive in our wet pasture alone (spoiler alert - our goats need a fair bit more input than the sheep), cut my grass, full our freezer and give us beautiful fibre to boot.
So I resolved to keep them (it wasn’t a hard sell). This week they are popping out lambs as well!
FIBRE + FARM - 4PLY - YARN
Our wool is listed for sale on the Fodder + Farm website. It is a 4ply and comes in 50g hanks at about 165m-170m per 50g. Dana from Uist has said it is the finest wool they have ever spun on commission, grading it as merino-type. I know I am biased, but it is so beautiful.
It is available now.
Also, the YouTube channel is BACK. This time with our head chef Lucy in tow. This week we have been foraging Chicken of the Woods mushrooms.
That is all from me today. Two newsletters in two weeks, crazy stuff, I know. Possibly, maybe, I am out of a year-long creative block.
But maybe not, so lets not make any plans, ok?
Kat
A farmer friend once told me it’s easier to fence them out than fence them in… alas, not a fair burden for our neighbors 😆 Thank you for sharing—this was a fun read and especially with the cute pictures 🧡