Everyday thousands of sheep are
slaughtered, destined for the meal table, or to become pet food.
Nobody notices their lives. These sheep are born specifically to be
killed. A few lucky ones will be used for breeding but they too are
usually killed, shipped to slaughter later in life, very few sheep
get to live their natural lifespan. Favorite sheep was a beloved
pet, but her life was somewhat complicated by a problem, as such when
she died, it was also premature, but at least it was not at a
horrific slaughter house.
You may have read aboutFavorite sheep before.
When we moved to the farm in 2005 we
needed some sheep to keep the pasture grass down. It was May and the
grass was already knee high. We decided to purchase four ewe lambs.
We picked out the four we wanted from a larger flock of about 20.
The seller delivered them to us (with two llamas) later that day. We
agreed we would not name the sheep.
Fate had other plans; the lamb my
daughter had picked out, became very friendly, she had a unique brown
spot on her back which was why my daughter had chosen her from the
flock. She was a Suffolk Dorset cross (as were all the lambs we
bought that day), and because of her friendly nature she became my
daughter's favorite sheep and was soon referred to as “Favorite”,
which soon became her name; Favorite Sheep. The other lambs got
names too, Diamond, Speckle, and Teardrop, all names relating to
their appearance.
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| Favorite Sheep at a year old, before her stroke |
Favorite sheep had a pretty good
life, grazing on 10 acres, she had lambs. But one summer, she had a
stroke. I had noticed one of her ears was floppy, and something was
not quite right. I later realized she had suffered a stroke, her
tongue hung out and she got a fat cheek as she would have problems
eating and her food would build up inside her cheek. When sleeping
she would have great globs fall out of her mouth. She had a constant
smell bad; a result of food in her cheek and drooling.
That year we did not think she was
pregnant, but she surprised us with lambs, lucky lambs in fact. It
was January (in Canada) she had given birth and wandered off. My
daughter and I happened to be going out to take pictures of other
lambs and found them, still wet, one still in the sack, with
temperatures below freezing they would have died if not for the
timing. We realized it was Favorite sheep who had given birth,
she had blood on her rump, but was not producing milk, so we had to
bottle feed the lambs. We did put Favorite and her lambs in a stall together for
bonding, and she did look after them as a mother, with the exception
of being able to feed them. When we let them outside she kept them close to her. We kept one of these lucky lambs, and named her
Blackie.
Over the next couple of years we had make sure Favorite sheep had enough to eat especially in the winter, and had to watch her carefully at lambing.
Most “farmers” would have culled (slaughtered)
her long ago, but our sheep are more pets than livestock. Although
she was a burden in some ways her sweet friendly personality was also
treasured. As much as she was not the brightest sheep in the barn
she still seemed to be the leader.
She had two more years of having
lambs, twins each time, each time having one lamb with a spot on its
back.
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| Favorite sheep with her 2011 lambs (after her stroke). |
Last Sunday I went out to feed
dandelions to the sheep, they grow tall next to the house where the
sheep cannot get them. I noticed Favorite sheep was missing. This
is not unusual sometimes she is off by herself sleeping. But upon
walking around the pasture I knew something was wrong, and I would
probably find a body. There were piles of wool strewn across the
pasture, often a sign that predators have been dragging a body. Sure enough I found her partially eaten
remains.
I am guessing that she died rather
than been killed, a predator would have been more likely to kill a
smaller lamb, but of course I have no way of knowing.
Her this year lambs (born in March) are old enough
to be without her but it was sad, I saw them standing in one of the
piles of her wool calling for her.
I write this to share her memory.
Many sheep go through life with one destiny, to be slaughtered for lamb meat. Favorite was lucky to be female, and lucky
to have ended up on a hobby farm of soft - hearted fools, who could not slaughter their
own animals. She may not have known it, but she was loved.
