"Gotcha Day" for Babydoll Ewes

Yesterday was “gotcha” day for our three babydoll ewes. Hopefully they have been bred, and I will be watching for lambs starting in early April.

I had only seen the ewes twice before, and had forgotten/not remembered how very much larger they are than the little half-year lambs we have. Apparently, the babydoll sheep are the original Southdowns, from England, first registered in 1780 and reaching America in 1803. They are, apparently, hardy, with tender meat and good flavor.

Around the time of WWI, the Southdown breed was bred for larger, quicker growth. In 1986, Mr. Robert Mock went around and found all the old Southdowns in the world that still looked like the Southdowns of the early 1800s. In four years he found 26 sheep; a longer search finally turned up 350 (some with papers that went back to 1780!). These few animals became the foundation of the breed he renamed “Olde English Babydoll Southdown Sheep.”

Phil would like to point out that adding the name “Babydoll” effectively rules out the breed for half the population: the male half. What man really wants to have a babydoll? For female hobby farmers, though, the breed appears to be popular enough. And, as I suppose I am a female hobby farmer, I was not immune. I own babydolls.

The main website, despite mentioning the taste and quality of the meat, markets the babydolls as mostly good for companionship/pets; for grooming an orchard or vineyard (our main purpose: they both trim and fertilize, and, supposedly, do not harm trees; they are too small to eat the fruit, too, apparently); and for their wool. The wool has “more barbs per inch” than any other wool type, which makes it “ideal for blending with other fibers.” I’m more impressed with its 19 to 22 micron diameter. It is soft stuff, but pretty dirty at the moment.

The chickens love to sit on the ruminating sheep’s backs. This is pastoral, but also crappy (the chickens poo on the sheep’s backs).

One book I read suggested putting jackets/covers on the sheep. The fleeces are worth twice what an uncovered sheep’s fleece sells for: it is premium quality and delightful right away. That does sound pleasant. But, as Phil said, it’s not very natural. Do we really want to look over at the flock and see a lot of vinyl jackets? We haven’t decided yet. Will economics or aesthetics win the day? For this year’s wool, it’s too late to make a change, so we’ll enjoy the natural look for now.

I arrived home with the three ewes in the back of the minivan. I like the smell of sheep, but these poor stressed animals had kicked the tarp I had laid down, and then made the back of my van dirty. We’ll see how much I like the smell of sheep next time I get in the van.

Phil put the halter on the ewes, then lifted them out of the car. He could not believe how heavy they were. And stubborn! I led the sheep and Phil pushed them from behind. Eve (from the Bible family) stamps her feet when she is frustrated, which is very dear. Isabella (from the Royal family) lays down if she doesn’t want to move, and a limp 100 pound woolly animal is not easy to steer. Tsarina (or Zara, from the Russian family) is the best mother, apparently. She is also the most dutiful: first to catch, easiest to get to the paddock. (In the photo, left to right: Eve, Tsarina, Isabella, the black ewe with sunbleached wool.)

They appear to be adjusting well, and I enjoy the larger flock. It feels more full, more natural to have nine sheep. More like a flock and less like a dabble.

We also opened stuffed stockings, courtesy of Phil's mom Cheri.

Phil has spent several hours closing the books for his engineering firm (end of the year taxes and paperwork—blah). Consequently, he hasn’t been able to work as much as he would wish on the fencing. He has put up nine 16 foot cattle panels, which is about a quarter of our road fenced. A bit less than 4% of the project. The boys are helpful: they hold the flimsy fence and he pounds the T-posts.

The older boys spent much of today playing with one of our family Christmas presents, Piano Wizard. I am pleased that they are getting a bit of music instruction in our teeny trailer, while our lovely piano remains in the storage section of the construction trailer. After five or six hours, I had them put it away.