The Soay Sheep Chronicles

Yesterday one of our neighbors knocked on our door, distressed that a pregnant Suffolk ewe on his nearby farm had become lame about four days earlier and, instead of getting better, she has declined to the point of not eating.  The neighbor was hoping our experience with Soay sheep would carry over into helping him diagnose his sick ewe.  We did the best we could to help him narrow the possible causes and evaluate whether to send for the vet.  I share this with you because we would use the same thought process were the sheep a Soay ewe rather than a big hulking Suffolk.

Symptoms:  pregnant, lame in front right and back right legs, ate and drank adequately for the first three days of lameness but then stopped eating and drinking water.

Steve and the neighbor talked through all of the following:

1.  The ewe did not show signs of scours or other intestinal issues (no yucky stools dribbling down her back end, to be precise), so no need for ProBios.
2.  The neighbor vaccinates his ewes annually for tetanus so that’s not it.

3.  The fact that the two right-side legs were lame seemed to rule out a rock-in-hoof cause and also probably ruled out spinal injuries.  We have had two Soay sheep who bashed so hard into fences or gates in unavoidable fright that they apparently did injure their spinal cords, but the symptoms in both cases were a single dragging rear foot that eventually healed just fine.

4.  There has been no change in feed source (grass, hay, and grain) for the last several weeks.

5.  Probably not an internal infection because no sign of fever or generalized overheating, no panting, no flailing.

6.  But … our neighbor is not diligent about putting mineral out for the sheep, so the ewes are either getting no selenium, or they are pilfering mineral from the black angus who share the pasture.  If they are getting no selenium, that’s a good bet for a diagnosis, especially in pregnant ewes.  Our ewes gobble down their mineral in the weeks before lambing.  If the neighbor’s sheep are eating the cattle’s mineral, they almost certainly are getting copper, which is in virtually all cattle mineral and which is highly toxic to sheep.

This particular ewe regularly delivers two big healthy lambs destined for market, so we’re guessing the neighbor will spring for a visit to the vet for a professional diagnosis.  Given the dangers of selenium deficiency and copper poisoning, we sure are hoping the vet finds something else, less serious, that is causing the ewe to decline so alarmingly.

Reminder to Soay breeders, especially in the weeks before lambing:  be sure your animals have round-the-clock access to mineral specifically designed for sheep.

For now . . .

Anyone learning about Soay sheep for the first time and who embarks on a literature search commonly will encounter numerous references to the Soay ewes’ legendary ability to lamb easily.  In fact, if you find an article about Soay sheep that does not remark about how easy lambing is, I would be surprised.

The good news: it’s not just easy at lambing time.  During the final weeks leading up to lambing, the pregnant ewes loll about, sleep, eat then ruminate, and generally do a pretty darned good imitation of furry blimps.  We hear no demands for trips to town to stock up on chocolate chip praline meringue ice cream, no extra manicures, and no natural birthing classes.  If we give our girls plenty of good quality grass hay to eat, and an occasional scoop or two of COB (a mix of corn, oats, and barley with a smidgeon of molasses thrown in for good measure, should be readily available at your local feed/farm store), they quietly gestate and then effortlessly (on our part, not theirs) produce irresistible lambs.

Pictures tell the story.  Look at our pregnant girls yesterday afternoon out in the sun of an early spring day.  Lambing has not started here yet, to our dismay, but as you can see, it cannot be far away. 

Carolina is one of our original ewes.  We did not breed her last year, which explains her thick, rather unkempt fleece.  In our experience, ewes that do not lamb often do not shed their fleece that year.  When Carolina does cast her fleece this spring, it should be quite a spectacle.

Next comes one of our British ewes, Catalaya, lying in the barren wasteland that is our young lamb playground.  We long ago despaired of keeping grass in this area, what with all those little rambunctious hooves racing around pounding it to pulp.  We are hopeful that Catalaya is carrying twins, but we know better than to count on it.

Portia gave us black twins last year.  This year we bred her to our one-of-a-kind tan ram Fenugreek, he of the gorgeous fleece.  We can hardly wait to see what their offspring look(s) like.

I cannot resist sharing a picture of Holly, a nearly-polled, beautiful ewe we bred for the first time this year.  She is so regal when she moves through our pastures –check out her other pictures on the OFP Gallery – that it is hard to believe this big lumpy thing is really our lovely Holly.

Finally, pictorial evidence that pregnant Soay ewes are a tranquil lot who will lower your human blood pressure if you spend a little time wandering quietly among them in the week or two before they lamb.  I took this last picture in the late afternoon, shortly before the second hay feeding of the day, when all was peaceful here at Saltmarsh Ranch.  I know our British ewe Sequoia is up there on the left because I recognize her white-spotted face, but I did not want to disturb the matrons’ sleep by getting close enough to confirm who the other three are, especially the one facing away from me.

Whether or not I have convinced you that pre-lambing is a special time on the Soay calendar, at least taking the photos for this post kept me from going crazy yesterday waiting for our lambs to start arriving.

For now …
 

All my life I’ve been blessed, or cursed, with an uncontrollable urge to start singing a matching song when something or someone catches my eye.  And so it came as no surprise that I found myself humming the Camelot tune as I  was out photographing lambs.  All of a sudden four of our yearling ewes who did not get pregnant came into view.  [Side note:  apparently they were too young to breed when they were with the ram.].  As you will see in the picture at the end of this post, they were standing perfectly still.  But their pose reminded me to tell you about a nearly infallible indicator that a ewe did not get pregnant, is still “in the market,” and will not be needing a room in a jug or the extra hay needed to support a nursing ewe.   In other words, in planning for lambing, it helps to know who is carrying a lamb and who is not.       

Let me set the scene, since despite my best efforts I have never been able to capture this telltale behavior on film.

It is about two-thirds of the way through their incubation period, 15 weeks give or take.  Imagine our expectant mothers lying down, hooves tucked demurely under, dreamily ruminating about winning the Cutest Lamb or Baby With Most Hair contests, when out of nowhere a crazed teenager or two caroms full tilt through the Maternity Ward kicking up her heels, shattering the serenity of her older cousins for no good reason.  I am not talking a mere flick of the hoof here.  Think track and field high jumps or a slam dunk, the kind of maneuvers Michael Jordan or the championship girls’ basketball team are more likely to execute.  Pregnant ewes never behave like this, period, end of story.

No doubt the girls’ antics have a formal scientific explanation linked to hormones, but on a family blog I will just tell you it is unmistakable and let it go at that.  Hilarious to watch, never fails to make us laugh. 

Some of you may be wondering how a Soay operation headed up by a reputable scientist can be taken in by something as goofy as a silly-looking romp.  I would be the first to admit that a review of the literature on sheep breeding might well provide more “objective” indicia of whether a ewe has settled (i.e., whether she successfully bred):  pre-natal office visits, ultrasounds, and so forth.  What about the obvious one, the size of the ewe’s belly, for example?  If you want to rely on belly size, go right ahead, and it will work most of the time, or so we thought, until we ran up against the likes of Tolcarne, our little yearling ewe who produced Otley the Noisy.  Remember how surprised we were when Otley showed up?  No way Tolcarne looked pregnant.  But we have learned our lesson.  Had we paid more attention to which ewes were cavorting like ninnies instead of focusing only on bellies, we would have known that Tolcarne was settled.  From now on, you can be sure we will watch for this simple joy of maidenhood – leaping at will – as a more reliable, free way to know how many lambings to plan for. 

Mind you, when they are not galloping around kicking up their hooves, the Soay Sorority Sisters do what any gathering of two or more teenage girls would do –  check out the boys at the dance to see which one is cutest or whatever today’s benchmark is for the one you have your eye on.  Do you have any doubt that is what is going through these girls’ minds?

For now . . .