The Soay Sheep Chronicles

Not quite, but we know it won’t be long, because our Soay rams are calming down and everyone’s horns — ewes and rams alike — have started growing again.

We put our breeding groups together later this year so we are just now thinking about returning the rams to the Bull Pen.  I must say it’s not a chore I look forward to because the “reunion” between the breeding rams and their celibate brethren is always unpleasant to watch, what with all the bashing and general ill humor.  But I’m hoping the overall air of tranquility out in the breeding areas, and even in the Bull Pen where the unlucky bachelors have been duking it out for two months, means that by waiting to breed later in the year, we will have less chaos when we break down the breeding groups next week.

Ordinarily, I would use the occasion to write about this chore, but not this year.  It seems Steve has taken a notion to writing his own stuff, and darned if he didn’t take my “Ram Class Reunion” post idea right out from under my nose and put it on our farm website.  You can read what he has to say about safely reuniting rams by clicking here.

Another sure sign that spring is on the way is the spurt in horn growth, a subject I managed to write about last year before you-know-who could trump me.  It almost hurts to look at new horn growth on a Soay sheep exhibiting white spotting on the head.  Because the absence of pigment extends up into the horns, the new growth is translucent and the active new red blood vessels feeding the new horn growth fairly gleam in the sun.  It’s a time of year when we are relieved to observe the winding down of aggressive behavior, what with the soft new horn growth right next to the animals’ heads.  Although a broken horn usually is merely an aesthetic nuisance rather than a genuine health issue, the Soay sheep’s graceful horns, and the fact that Soay ewes have horns, is one of the hallmarks of the breed and it always seem a shame when a horn breaks off.

One way I know spring is almost here is that Steve shuts himself in his office and goes into a frenzy of updating our websites, hoping against hope to get it all done before lambing starts.  This winter his efforts have focused, at least so far, on a series of short essays he has wanted to write for a long time, each having to do with one of the discrete aspects of lambing:  managing ewes in late gestation, assembling the right supplies to have on hand before the lambs arrive, and actually working the new lambs.  When we first started raising Soay sheep, reading other more experienced breeders’ websites and talking with them about how they manage their flocks was invaluable.  We hope our experiences also will help newcomers to Soay sheep.  Equally important, we hope putting our experiences out there for everyone else to use and/or take shots at will contribute to the ongoing robust dialogue among Soay breeders that benefits all of us, no matter how long we’ve been at it.

And finally, the annual egg update.  Last year we got our first oval harbinger of spring on January 5.  As you can imagine, I have been watching the nests in the henhouse like a hawk (oh, sorry) for the last two weeks.  And sure enough, the first little bitty egg arrived this morning.  Better two weeks later than never.  At least until I decide what to do with just one precious homegrown egg, it will occupy the place of honor in my grandmother’s egg basket.

Time to go load up the tractor with a pallet of hay for the Bull Pen and count the weeks until the boys can live on new grass.

For now …

Several readers have commented on the notion of “normal” Soay sheep temperature mentioned in the recent post about using temperature to diagnose problems in Soay sheep, specifically, whether there is any difference for Soay sheep because of their small size.
As all Soay breeders know, a lot of lore about the bigger varieties of sheep – the hulking Suffolks and others — must be adjusted when speaking of the hardy, but diminutive Soay.  What about body temperature?  Is there a size-correlated difference, or a difference perhaps based on the Soay’s primitive status?  Or no difference at all?

The sheep books suggest that sheep generally have normal temperatures in the range of 101 or 102 up to 104F, and that anything higher than 104F indicates a problem.  These numbers provide a benchmark for figuring out whether Soay sheep are different.

We take the temperature of every Soay lamb born live on our farm within hours after birth, well over a hundred lambs so far.  We also had the opportunity last fall to record the temperatures of 33 adults, yearlings, and 6-month old weaned lambs during the vet inspections required to ship them interstate.  The results confirm that at least on our farm, the normal range of temperature for newborn Soay lambs and for older lambs and adults is not significantly different than for other varieties of sheep.  For all but the data geeks, you may stop reading now.  For the numerically curious, here’s a summary of the data.  We will be pleased to share the animal-by-animal numbers with anyone who still hasn’t gotten enough of numbers.

Although the “average” Soay temperature is about the same as the normal temperatures reported in the books about the big commercial sheep, there is a small, but noticeable decrease in average temperature from newborn to older lamb to adult.  So far, we have not had occasion to worry about or even take into account these small differences, but just in case any of you can use the information, here’s the data.

Newborn lamb temperatures:

102.7 the mean temperature of 107 Soay lambs born in 2007 and 2008
102.7 the median temperature of the same group
99.3 – 104.3 the range of temperatures in this group

We have had just two lambs with temperatures at or above 104 shortly after birth, a big North American Soay twin ram lamb who came it at a steamy 104.3 and obviously had been hard at his mother’s bag, and one of our AI ram lambs from last year, a big single named Emmett who showed the same single-mindedness about eating.  Neither of these boys was in any way sickly or running a fever; they simply had digestive systems that were at full throttle.

Of these same 107 lambs, 13 had temperatures below 102 within a couple of hours of birth.  Those lambs were the subject of the recent post that provoked the questions about “normal” in Soay sheep.

Older sheep (adult and teenager) temperatures

The 33 animals in our flock that were inspected last fall for interstate transport had a median temperature of 102.4 and a mean temperature of 102.3.  Sorted by gender and by variety (North American vs. full British), the results were virtually identical.  At first blush, it seemed that our “adults” have normal temperatures about .3 degrees lower than our newborns.

But when we cut the “adult” data by age, it became apparent that the average Soay sheep temperature does not settle down completely until the animals are at least a year old.  Here’s what I mean.  The 14 adults born between 2003 and 2007 had a median temperature of 102.1 and a mean temperature of 102.0, more than half a degree below the average newborn lamb temperature.  But the 19 animals born in 2008, inspected when they were between 5 and 6 months of age, had a median temperature of 102.5 and a mean temperature of 102.6, closer to a newborn’s average temperature, even though the older lambs had been weaned and eating exclusively grass (with a much lower caloric value than their mothers’ milk) for at least 6 weeks and, for some of them, 8-10 weeks.

In summary, then, based on 140 of our animals, the differences look like this, with mean first and median second:

Newborn Soay lamb    Older, weaned Soay lamb    Adult Soay

(107 animals)                (19 animals)                          (14 animals)
102.7/102.7                 102.6/102.5                          102.0/102.1

With this number of data points, the small differential in temperature among the cohorts, and experimental protocol flaws I probably have not even thought of, I cannot make any definitive statements about what it all means.  And even if I tried, Steve would fuss, stickler for detail and cautious analyst that he is.  Nonetheless, as we assemble a larger and larger collection of data about Soay sheep on our farm, we will be watching for trends and anomalies just in case something pops up that might make a difference in our approach to Soay husbandry — or that is just plain fun to wonder about.

For now …

There is no more reliable way to start diagnosing a failing lamb, a sick Soay of any age, or shock from injury, than to take the animal’s temperature.  Almost without fail, if the temperature is normal, any listlessness, limping or other indication of a problem will be structural (e.g., rock in foot, temporary diarrhea caused by changing abruptly from hay to green grass) and not pathological.  An inexpensive digital thermometer is the shepherd’s best ally for quick diagnosis.

In our experience, a low newborn temperature always means the lamb has not yet nursed, plain and simple, either because it is taking its sweet time to get started or for some reason (pathological or structural) it is too weak.  The little lamb’s body is behaving as though it were in shock, marshalling all the lamb’s resources to stay warm.  In the last two years, we have had 13 newborn lambs (out of more than 150 Soay lambs born on our farm) with temperatures below 102, what the sheep experts would call “below normal,” during the lambs’ first 2-4 hours after birth.  Of those, only one died, a lamb that started at 99.3F and despite drenching and tube-fed colostrum, never had enough strength to nurse and died within ten hours.  We drenched two more of those “cool” lambs.  The remaining ten lambs each got up and nursed promptly enough that we did not feel the need to intervene.  All twelve are healthy and thriving.

Here’s one of my favorite fully-pedigreed British yearling ewes, Pateley, shown at age 12 months — in the center of this photograph — and looking none the worse for having started out chilly:

Regal and long-legged, Pateley began life quite large, but “shivering” (from my notes on her lambing card) and not very robust.  She had a temperature of only 101.2 about 10 hours after she was born in late April 2007.  We gave her a 2.5 cc dose of Nutradrench and then monitored her temperature — 101.5F an hour later and a reassuring 102.0 seven hours after that.  As I write this post in January 2009, Pateley is about to leave the breeding area she has been in for two months with Finsbay, an equally good-looking 2-year old British ram.  We have high hopes for their offspring!

The other lamb we drenched, Thirsk, had a scary temperature of only 100.6 four hours after he was born, at a time when he should have nursed and gotten his first colostrum.  That one drenching was all it took to get him jump-started.  Thirsk is in line to breed one of our British conservation groups of ewes in 2010.  This picture (Thirsk is on the left) was taken in December, when he was 20 months old, again having more than recovered from his slow start.  The green tape flopping off his right horn is part of a color-coded identification system we are trying out to allow us to observe and evaluate our rams without always having to catch them, but that’s another story for another post.

Once in a while a lamb will start out with a healthy temperature but then fail to “get it” in the nursing department, either because it is born slightly weak or just cannot figure out the nursing routine, with the result that the lamb’s temperature starts falling and it may need our intervention.  Let me give you an example:  one of our ram lambs this year started out just fine at 102.0 shortly after birth in early evening.  Here they are, mother Coda and baby Askham, about 15 minutes after he was born:

By the next morning, little Askham’s temperature had dropped to 99.4.  Thankfully, we had decided to check him because he was listless and just not behaving like the miniature gluttons we are accustomed to.  Steve immediately stripped his mother’s milk and tube fed him; his temperature returned to 102.4 in three hours, but he remained weak for the rest of the day and until late that night.  The morning of the third day, his temperature was fine, but he developed a crusted eye (often a sign of something else amiss), so we treated it with an ophthalmalic ointment.  When his temperature dropped during that third day to 101.5, we again stripped his mother’s milk and tube fed him.  By the fourth day, his temperature had dropped a little more, to 101.3, but his tummy felt full and he slowly regained strength.

The great news about Askham is that he turned it around and today is one of our most robust 2008 ram lambs.  Just a few more pictures tell the tale.

Here he is with mama Coda on April 11, 2008 at the age of 3 weeks.  His coat is full and clean, and although Coda looks pretty ratty from shedding her coat, she also is healthy and comfortably able to provide him with enough milk without herself becoming too thin or wasted.

A few weeks later, when Askham was just about two months old, he and his now-sleek mother posed together in the middle of this photograph to show off his continuing growth and emerging horns:

By December, the 2008 ram lamb crop had nearly finished their first rut as sexually mature rams (although still too small to try for alpha ram status against the older fellows) and Askham’s horns had grown enough to make him “competitive” with his 2008 buddies.  Here is his strutting his stuff in the bull pen, campaigning to be placed in the lineup to breed next year.  To this day we do not know what was ailing him those first few days or whether he would have made it on his own, but with his breeding potential we didn’t want to take the chance of losing him.

True to the legendary hardiness of Soay sheep, we have had only an occasional diseased or injured animal.  In each case, temperature was one of the clues that the problem was pathological, just as in humans — fever indicating inflammation or infection, or low temperature an indication of shock after injury.  When a sheep has appeared to be injured and we have taken its temperature, one of two situations obtained.  A normal temperature reassured us that the animal was not in shock and we could spend some time observing its behavior before deciding whether to seek professional assistance for broken bones or whatever.  An abnormally low temperature, on the other hand, has sent us to the vet immediately on two occasions, once for a little lamb in shock from being “played” with (an overly enthusiastic puppy simply licked and pawed the little lamb until it went into shock) and once for a ram who apparently had bashed too hard into another ram or a wooden fencepost, leaving him dazed and with what turned out to be a neck injury.

Thankfully, both of the injured animals came back to full health; these little guys really are hardy.  But if you are unfortunate enough to have an accident or sickness occur in your flock, you will have a good first indication of whether it is serious by the animal’s temperature.

For now …

Far be it from me to presume to know, actually, but I do know their shepherds see all sorts of lines and angles and curves in everyday objects that can delight the eye and provide an additional layer of pleasure to what sometimes feels like pretty humdrum stuff — feeding, watering, filling the mineral feeders.

On my way out to feed early one recent morning after a lovely big soft snowstorm — no wind, no drifts, just the fluffy stuff coming straight down — my eyes were greeted by all sorts of arresting scenery and it occurred to me that what we see, and our sheep see, on a wintery morning, is all part of the fascination in raising small livestock on a small acreage.  I hope you will enjoy these images of life in the country.

Corduroy comes in all colors, including “fence beige”

One of Steve’s dreams for our farm ever since we got serious about formal conservation breeding with our British Soay sheep has been to have breeding paddocks consolidated in one place.  He figured it would make chores more manageable, and our livestock guardian dog’s protection more effective, than having the breeding groups spread throughout the pastures.  And besides, he has had a hammer in his hand and a tool kit slung on his hip since he was a toddler, so there generally is no way to dissuade him from taking on yet another project, improving on the 4th generation of shelters, thinking up new ways to protect the mineral feeders from getting rained on — you get the idea.

This year, with the help of our trusty summer ranch hand Shawn, the breeding paddock dream came true.  I have never seen so many angles and Frank-Lloyd-Wright-like surfaces on a farm before, but I find them very pleasing to the eye.  Here is the Saltmarsh Sheraton, a four-star breeding hotel:

Let me know if you are interested in a detailed description of how these pens are put together.  On a flat surface, they actually would be quite manageable to construct.  On land as slopey as ours, that’s another matter.

Not everything at Saltmarsh Ranch is as meticulously constructed as the new breeding pens, nor as pleasing to the eye, but I thought you might smile at this picture of our sheep trailer, which I maintain must have started life as a circus wagon, parked in the snow next to our trusty old pickup Willie (as in Nelson), filled to the brim with snow-covered scrap metal, largely from the building project.  The angular trailer has its own story, but that’s for another day.

And last and most, here is the legendary Berci Box all decked out in its winter finery when it got caught out in the snow, with snags of snow hanging from the air holes on its side.

The Berci box has carried countless Soay sheep up and down the west coast, but one of its earliest and most notable uses was to carry Soay sheep into the U.S. from Athelstan, Quebec a decade ago, a story unto itself and a worthy tale for reading on a winter day.   If you don’t know Kathie Miller’s saga, I commend it to you.  It’s a great tale about legendary sheep (and their crate), and about Kathie, an even more legendary pioneering Soay sheep maven.

For now …