Content warning: death of an animal.
There’s an easy rhythm in knitting that I haven’t yet found in raising sheep. Most days are pretty straightforward. Other days, it feels like I’ve reached for a garter-stitch dishcloth project, only to find myself in the midst of brioche cables.
This is the story of one of those times.
I have a small flock of Old English Southdown Babydolls, a diminutive, polled breed that looks like a lovely mix of an Ewok and a teddy bear. Though somewhat timid, they are always smiling. My first ewes, Leia, Rey, Rose, Soka, and Dune were named after five strong, capable Star Wars women. With time, my flock expanded and after a successful 2023 lambing season (my very first), I had ten ewes, two wethers, and a ram named Gordon.
September 4, 2023, was a spectacular late summer day in west Québec. The sky was clear, and it was unseasonably warm. It was my three-year anniversary as a sheep farmer, and I was happy.
Images by Karri Munn Venn.
