Twenty Sheep for a Truck

The realization that I no longer had the help I needed to keep the Runamuk sheep hit hard last Friday. It came with the text message from my hay farmer saying they were already cutting hay, as it dawned on me that with my sister having moved out of the area and my son now working off-farm—there was no way I’d be able to move 400 bales of hay by myself. What’s more, moving the sheep-tractors and the dog-house on the field was just too much for one perimenopausal body to manage and still tend to a half-acre market garden.

Selling the flock was not a decision I made lightly, but once I’d made up my mind, I knew it was the right move. The funds from the sale of the sheep could be put toward the truck purchase, adding a $2500 chunk to what we’ve been able to raise through the GoFundMe.

After a restless night, I listed the flock the following morning and by Sunday had a buyer lined up. This is an ideal time of year to sell livestock, when pasture is lush and plentiful. If I’d waited till the fall it would be a different story—smart farmers don’t buy livestock going into winter when every mouth is a deduction/depletion on your hay stores.

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When the Kids Grow Up

The days between the decision and the departure were difficult as I struggled with the grief of saying goodbye not just to the sheep, but to this chapter of my life. It was just last fall that I decided chickens no longer made me happy and I didn’t want to raise them anymore. Now, we would have no livestock at Runamuk—unless you count Beebe, the livestock dog.

It’s not a story unique to me. This is the story of family farms and homesteads everywhere, and I don’t think we talk about it nearly enough.

When our children are young and our communities are close, the work can be shared—you delegate a large part of the daily critter-chores to children and teenagers with the notion that we’re teaching them a work ethic. But those children grow up and move on with their lives, communities shift, and the farm that once felt manageable on a family scale has to be adjusted.

If you have the funds, you can establish infrastructure that allows you to handle more of the work with reduced hands. Or perhaps hire help. Most of us are not so fortunate to have a surplus in the bank, and we’re forced to make some hard life decisions.

So I made the call.

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Loaded and Gone

I feel good the new home I’ve chosen for my babies, too. He was a young man, late twenties or early thirties, who has stumbled into grazing solar farms down in Massachusetts. Patient, kind, and using the same electric net systems we use here at Runamuk. My sheep will know the setup. They’ll walk that fence line and it’ll feel familiar. That matters to me more than I can fully explain—that they went somewhere that will feel, in the ways that matter to a sheep, like something they already understand.

Wednesday morning dawned and I performed my final round of morning critter-chores. I kissed their noses and hugged them close. I told them I loved them, and cried on the field.

He arrived midday with the livestock trailer towed behind the truck and we were able to load the 20 sheep without too much stress to the animals. Then, because it was warm and the sheep were hot from the ordeal of loading, he paid me and was on his way. Eager to get the cool air moving over the loaded animals. And that told me this young man both knew what he was doing and cared about the animals he was responsible for, which eased my aching heart to some degree.

And then, because I was wrung out and flustered from the rounding up and the saying goodbye happening at the same time, I missed the record button. I wanted a video of them driving away—something to keep, something to mark the moment—and all I got was a brief flash of the back of a trailer disappearing down the road. Insert facepalm here, lol.

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Happenings on the Farm

IN THE GARDEN
Planting remains on-going. This week I’ve sowed beets for greens, winter carrots, cucumbers, watermelons, green beans, and fall brassicas (inside under grow-lights). My decision to plant my potatoes in a particularly weedy part of the garden has resulted in a delay in planting of my russet potatoes—the longest maturing variety, but the Red Norland and Kennebecs should go in on-time come July. And the squashes and pumpkins have nearly outgrown their hoops and row covers, which means I’ll have to take those off this weekend.

MOWING
I am not a stickler for mowing, but I do appreciate a well-kept home, and for attracting visitors to the farm there needs to be a certain level of property management. BraeTek and I have struck a bargain that he will mow the frontyard, and I will mow the back. With my preoccupation in the garden, I’ve neglected my share of the mowing and I’m trying to give time to reclaiming the backyard.

FIRST CSA SHARES
CSA members received their first access to Runamuk’s home-grown vegetables last week, with the debut of my favorite butterhead lettuce. This week, their order form boasted 3 different varieties of head-lettuce, as well as a mix of leaf-lettuce, and scallions. We’re all eating salad over here!

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Twenty Sheep for a Truck

Thursday morning dawned wet and raining, and it felt good to linger in the office late into the morning. There were no livestock forcing me to shift gears at 7am whether I was in the zone or not. No water to haul or feed to throw. Just the sound of the rain on the roof and the distinctive quiet of a farm with fewer creatures on it.

I have to admit it’s something of a relief not to have to worry about livestock. A relief not to have to be using and abusing my body hauling sheep-tractors, or worrying about keeping so many animals alive. Part of me is excited for the time freed up for other pursuits. I’m looking forward to focusing more on establishing Runamuk as a wildlife preserve where the public can come to connect with nature. And definitely [relieved] to have more time for the garden and maintaining this property.

Needless to say, I’ve been a tumult of emotion this past week, wrestling simultaneously with [grief and relief], trying to wrap my head and my heart around this sudden change in my existence and what it means for Runamuk.

I decided that since I was giving up my much-loved sheep, I will have the truck that Runamuk needs and that I yearn for. Maybe not the square-body classic I lust after, but something rugged and dependable that will allow me to move this farm forward.

By the time you read this I may already have wheels in the driveway—or I may be waiting on a bank transfer and the goodwill of a seller willing to hold it on a deposit. Either way, it’s happening. The sheep are gone and the truck is coming and I’m standing in the middle of a farm that looks a little different than it did two weeks ago, trying to get my bearings.

Until next week, farm friends.

Sending love and good juju to you and yours.

Your friendly neighborhood farmer,

—Sam