On Being a SHEPHERDESS
My SHEEP Owned ME
Once upon a time, I owned three sheep which soon became six.
Let me correct that — they owned ME.
Needless to say, they ate but I would be the one who needed to drag some hay into their pen and also provide grain. They couldn’t just trot out to get it for themselves when it was winter.
Not only did I learn about sheep, but I learned about being a shepherd.
Many of us memorized Psalm 23 as a child. When was the last time that you looked at that Psalm? Now might be a good time to do so in light of what I will share with you and my life with sheep:
The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name sake.…. Psalm 23:1–3
Please meet Sarah. I loved that sheep! Always so stubborn, maybe she reminded me of me. Friends had wanted to re-home three female sheep. Sarah was one of them….with her baby.
Please meet Snarl. Technically my son’s sheep, he was just plain cute and not stubborn like his mother.
It was fairly easy moving the three Moms and Babies since wherever the Moms went, the Lambs were sure to follow. Into the horse trailer they went from their old home and, a short drive down the road, they went to their new home, my barn.
The small barn had been prepared as well as a small fenced in area for their first few months. I would be able to watch them right out my kitchen window and enJOY them and their Lamb antics. The Moms, of course, were sedate, busy eating — all day, it seemed. The Lambs reached the stage where they sproinged all around the pen. What fun it was to watch!
Since my family and I lived and worked in a living history park, I had a dream of owning sheep and taking wool every step of the way from sheep to mittens.
In the Spring, we hired a shearer, an Amish man from nearby. He did a great job!
After the shearing, each sheep’s wool was stuffed into a large burlap bag to keep the fleeces and their colors separate.
Next, I would wash the raw wool in an old time basin outside in the fresh air. The wool had quite an aroma to it so fresh air was best.
Finding a flat surface outside, like the bed of our truck, the wool was spread out to let the sun dry it. When dried, I would card (comb) the wool with special carding combs.
The carding combs have metal teeth, as you can see.
Then it was time to spin the wool into yarn so that blankets, ponchos, mittens, and scarves could be created by knitting, crocheting, weaving, or felting.
For me, I preferred using my Navajo spindle to turn raw wool into yarn. Many enjoyed using a spinning wheel but I preferred sitting outside on my porch since the spindle was so portable.
The result should look like this:
It was quite a long process but well worth it to have warm and cozy items as a result!
Please note that Sarah was WHITE, which resulted in a warm pair of knitted mittens.
Now meet Mary. Her wool was gray-beige and was quite thick at the end of winter, ready for the shearers.
Mary was, technically, ‘my’ sheep. I don’t know what I expected — a bouncy personality like a dog? No, Mary was as bland as her wool with hardly any personality. Her daughter, Petunia, was such a sweet girl.
After sheep shearing was completed, it was time to move all six sheep out to a larger pasture. That meant the nail-biting trek from the small barn out, past the woods, to the new pasture. There was no fencing from barn to pasture and I was petrified that I’d lose my sheep.
That is NOT a day that I would want to re-live. I did not sleep well the night before. I had nightmares of all six sheep running into the woods before they ever reached the pasture. Thankfully, a farmer friend suggested filling a grain pan and shaking it as I walked them the quarter mile to their new space. Of course, the sheep followed the food and NOT the shepherd as we see in the touching photos hanging on farm walls.
Because sheep aren’t too ‘smart’, sometimes they get stuck in strange places. One day Mary got ‘caught’ in the corner of the sheep shed which was in the pasture. Her daughter, Petunia, called for me to come to free her mother. Sadly, it was too late and Mary was gone. I was comforted, though, that Petunia recognized me as someone who could help. It was heart wrenching and touching all in the same moment.
Out in the middle of the pasture, my son dug a grave for Mary. The other five sheep grazed nearby, not seeming to care at all. When the grave was dug, to my surprise, the 5 sheep all walked to the edge of the grave, peering downward as if to bid Mary goodbye. Silence reigned and I marveled at the moment.
The sheep wandered off to graze again. I wish they could have spoken that day to tell me what they were thinking.
After a few years, as my sheep began to turn into a ‘herd’ with more babies coming, the price of hay rose. It was time to find a new home for my sheep — a place where they would be well taken care of with plenty of grasses and hay. Thankfully, a friend of mine agreed to add them to her alpaca herd and they all lived happily together.
One amazing moment, about a year after we moved them — my daughter and I went to visit my friend and took a side trip into their barn. There were ‘our’ sheep. To my surprise, the sheep who we had raised actually walked up to the fence to visit with us for a few minutes. Those who didn’t know us did not come to visit. It was an awesome moment between friends!
As we started this ‘story’ at the beginning of Psalm 23, let’s finish with the end of that Psalm: Even though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me… guarding, guiding all the way. You provide delicious food for me in the presence of my enemies. You have welcomed me as your guest; blessings overflow! Your goodness and unfailing kindness shall be with me all of my life, and afterwards I will live with you forever in your home. Psalm 23:4–6
We are like sheep in so many ways!
Thank you for reading!
Dawn Ulmer is the author of ‘365 Practical Devotionals for Anxious Women’.
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