Sheep Surprise

Because the sheep breeder lives only a half hour or so from Costco, I decided to make a large loop, hitting the organic feed store for sheep minerals, then Costco for basic necessities (we’ve been going through a pound of butter a day, and a gallon of olive oil in two weeks, so I need reasonably priced fats, as well as eggs, cheese, jam, and such). Then we’d see the sheep, drive on into Charlottesville for a Chipotle dinner, a stop at Whole Foods (for condiments, potatoes, and noodles, primarily), and on home again.

We left for this trip well supplied with new-to-us Adventures in Odyssey tapes, recorded off the radio when my siblings and I were young. I’m surprised at how well I remember them—I can quote lines verbatim. It’s a bit eerie that I remember even the proper inflection, fifteen years later!

The trip went according to plan, though all took a bit longer than I expected. We left just before noon and got home after 9pm. The Lord averted bowel accidents twice, just barely. Overall, taking five children shopping went more smoothly than I feared, and we received the regular compliments at Costco and disdainful glances from the shoppers at Whole Foods (the employees tend to be cheerful and courteous).

And the sheep? I drove up to the small farm completely infatuated with the photos I had seen. I took one look and my infatuation died entirely. I wasn’t prepared for that. I was expecting to be so bowled over by, well, puppy love that I was compelled to purchase a couple of sheep immediately, perhaps even driving away with them on top of my Costco goods. (I remember the only time I had such a complete attachment immediately with an animal: when we met our first dog, Diamond, as a puppy. The entire family fell in love at first sight. But then, baby Sheltie puppies are extremely cute.)

What caused the sudden death of my infatuation? I can’t tell for sure. Maybe a field of small sheep look just like sheep; there’s no perspective on the true size of a 24-inch ewe when all the ewes are 24-inches. And while the faces were sweet, they didn’t compel kisses. Or maybe I was just getting grumpy and tired? In any case, the death of the infatuation relieved me. I don’t usually wander around besotted, and am thankful that my brain returned to its usual practicality.

Furthermore, I was expecting them to run to greet their young owners. Instead, the sheep behaved like sheep, moving away from approaching strangers. We all went into the little sheep shed, where all the children and we two adults got to pet them and feed them. Once enclosed, they were remarkably relaxed and friendly. They calmly milled around, allowing us to stroke their heads and ears, their noses and bodies. But they weren’t overly affectionate or companionable the way a puppy would be.

And we don’t have a sheep pen yet, and since we have continued to move our sheep several times a week, a pen large enough and sturdy enough to hold sheep would be difficult (heavy!) to move around.

I had hoped the children would be overcome with enthusiasm for these animals. They enjoyed meeting the sheep, but the allure of the swing set and trampoline was even greater than that of the small sheep. So that “reason for buying” also didn’t pan out the way I had hoped.

No infatuation; no puppy-like companionship; no children begging, “Can we get one, Mommy, please?”—I left without committing to purchase.

But in our two hours there, I found new reasons to want to buy. Perhaps mostly because I loved the owner. Michelle Cude, a professor at James Madison University, adopted two girls as a single mom, and purchased the small farm in rural Virginia. She’s a beautiful believer, and has only beautiful animals: a collie and a great Pyrenees dogs; a Himalayan cat (and I got to see one of the three-week old kittens—incredible). And the seven horses they board. As she enters the final two years before getting tenure, she needs to “publish or perish,” and her parents are trying to make her cut back. “The sheep must go!” they told her, at least for the next two years.

She has about six sheep that must go. I had expected to buy perhaps two. I came away wondering if I should buy the whole flock. The economics, she admitted, are more hobby than profitable, more for the love than the money.

But my initial reason for purchasing these small sheep, to clean up the floor of an orchard, still stands. And seeing that eight sheep run year-round on less than a half acre makes me think that a small flock in a small orchard makes sense. My original vision of little fruit trees and little sheep remains.

When I left, I did not know what was in my heart to do. When I talked to Phil, I still did not know what was in my heart to do. But I think now, after several hours sleep and reflection, we should buy the flock.