Sunday, December 31, 2017

Good Riddance! And Thank Goodness for Sheep!

At the risk of sounding melodramatic, 2017 seemed at times to have an apocalyptic feel to it. We experienced extreme political dysfunction at home and abroad. We saw Nazis marching openly in American cities. We watched the world inch closer to nuclear war. The natural world, in which many of us (myself included) find solace, joined in the "fun" - from extreme storms to extreme wildfires, earthquakes to mudslides, volcanic eruptions to drought. In California, we had one of the wettest years on record - and one of the worst fire seasons. We also had one of the hottest summers in my memory, and one of the driest Decembers. I'll admit there were times during 2017 when I wondered when the locusts or raining frogs might appear. I'm glad it's nearly over!

I suspect that the political upheaval we experienced here in the United States - and elsewhere around the the globe - is at least indirectly related to the changes we're seeing in our climate and environment. The climate is changing. I believe that these changes are largely related to human activity, but regardless of the cause, change breeds uncertainty. And uncertainty, in human communities, seems to breed chaos.

For me, this external chaos stood in contrast to positive milestones in my own small world. I finished graduate school. I was hired for the job that caused me to go back to school (and for which I finally feel suited). My oldest daughter completed her first year of college and discovered that she's interested in many of the socio-scientific topics that drew me to work in rangeland management. My youngest daughter graduated from 8th grade, started high school (and worked hard in all her classes), and became an anchor on her junior varsity soccer team. I turned 50 (which is not nearly as depressing as some predicted).

The craziness of 2017 also reinforced the importance earning at least a very small portion of my living from raising sheep. Our small flock represents a minor part of our family's income, but it contributes tremendously to my own sanity. The fact that these animals depend upon me - and I on them - is comforting. The fact that my work with our sheep - despite our many modern "conveniences" - would be recognizable to shepherds who lived thousands of years ago, is reassuring. The fact that I contribute - in a very small way - to the well-being of my fellow humans (through the production of fiber and meat), is humbling. In the midst of my busy life this past year, I found myself enjoying the time I spent building electric fence; using my dogs to move the sheep; and working with friends at shearing, lambing and weaning. Caring for sheep, in many ways, kept me sane.

And so despite the ugliness of this past year, on this New Year's Eve, I'm hopeful. I'm hopeful, in part, because hanging a new calendar with blank spaces seems like an act of hope to me. I'm hopeful, too, I suppose, because as Will Rogers said, "A farmer has to be an optimist or he wouldn't still be a farmer." My work with our sheep at this time of year is a case in point; I can't help but noting the progression of our ewes' pregnancies as we approach our 2018 lambing season in 7-8 weeks. And finally, I'm incredibly grateful that I can say "shepherd, among other things" when someone asks what I do for a living. Happy New Year!

Friday, December 29, 2017

New Normal?

If the weather forecast for the rest of the month is accurate, we'll receive less than one inch of precipitation this December when the month ends on Sunday. Since we live in a Mediterranean climate in the northern hemisphere, we expect December to be one of our rainy months (and in the 16+ years we've lived in Auburn, we've averaged nearly 7 inches of rain in December). This average, however, masks the variability in our December precipitation - in 2011, we measured just 0.10 inches; in 2005, we had 13.48 inches. During our recently concluded (?) 500-year drought (2012-2015), we received between 0.50 inches (2013) and 11.62 inches (2014). Extremes, it seems, might be our new "normal" weather.

As a rancher who relies on the grass that Mother Nature provides, this variability presents challenges for grazing our annual grasslands. For a variety of reasons, we don't (can't!) irrigate these grasslands - the grass we harvest with our sheep from November through April needs rain to grow. December and January, with their short days and (relatively) cold temperatures, are our dormant months in terms of grass growth. Even so, the rains that fall in December and January are critical for the soil moisture that will support the forage we need (and expect) when our ewes enter late gestation and begin to deliver their lambs in late February.

December is also a critical month for building the Sierra snowpack that will fill the High Sierra reservoirs that store and supply our irrigation water during the summer months (we need irrigation for the green grass our sheep need in the summer). While these reservoirs are far above their seasonal averages (thanks to last year's record setting precipitation), there is very little snow in our high country. Usually, rain in the Sierra foothills becomes snow in the high mountains - no rain means no snow, either.

I'm not a climate scientist by any stretch of the imagination - but I have paid close attention to the weather for more than half of my 50 years in this region. While variability has always been a feature of our foothill climate, the extremes (of dry and wet) seem much more pronounced to me. The climate also seems warmer, in general - snow days were not uncommon when I was a school kid in Tuolumne County; my parents have not had much snow at the home I grew up in during the last 10-15 years. The climate, it seems to me, is changing.

All of this brings me to my point, I suppose. Politicians can debate about whether our climate is changing (and, more importantly, about whether human activity is responsible for this change). Overwhelming scientific evidence suggests that the climate is changing and that humans have contributed to this change in significant ways. These debates don't help me address the realities of grazing sheep on annual rangeland in the Sierra foothills. The challenge for me, on a daily and yearly basis, is to adapt to these changes. The challenge for me is to increase the flexibility of our sheep enterprise. The challenge for me, ultimately, is to adapt to this new normal - to this new variability.

Monday, December 18, 2017

Preparing for Christmas

Like most of my readers who celebrate Christmas, I'm in the midst of preparations for the upcoming celebration. I'm nearly done with my shopping (earlier than normal, for me). We finally picked out our tree last weekend - we'll decorate it once Lara is home from college tomorrow. We've decided on our Christmas dinner menu and begun assembling the ingredients. But unlike most of my readers, I suspect, we're also spending time planning out our sheep grazing strategies for the coming weeks. I've come to realize that these preparations are part of the traditions that I cherish.

As with all ranchers, our Christmas Eve and Christmas Day include chores - feeding the horses, mules and sheep at the house, gathering eggs, and feeding the dogs. We also must check the sheep and feed the livestock guardian dogs at our rented pastures (the ewes are currently about 7 miles from home; the rams are 3 miles away). The ewes are (hopefully) pregnant, but their nutritional demands won't really ramp up until mid January. Our grazing planning involves estimating the amount of forage they'll need and building new paddocks that will allow us to avoid having to move sheep on for a week or so - shepherds need a break at this time of year, too!

This Saturday, my partner Roger and I will build a 5-6 acre paddock for the ewe flock. We'll move the ewes onto this fresh feed; they'll stay for a week or maybe more. We'll also move the rams (who are grazing a separate property). On Christmas Eve, I'll go to both pastures to feed the livestock guardian dogs; on Christmas morning, my daughters will join me (it's a tradition we all enjoy - including Sami, who gets an hour or so to herself). On the day after Christmas, our family travels to Sonora - and Roger will handle the chores for a couple of days.

Traditions are an important part of Christmas celebrations (at least for me). I still hang the stocking my Mom made for me as a kid. Our girls (who are 14 and 20) still put cookies and eggnog out for Santa Claus. We still take turns opening presents on Christmas morning. As a shepherd, these traditions include planning out where our sheep will be (and what they'll be grazing) for the week before and the week following Christmas. These traditions include bundling up after breakfast on Christmas morning and piling into the front seat of the pickup with my daughters. And these traditions, for me, including saying a prayer of thanksgiving that livestock are a part of my livelihood - and my life. Merry Christmas!
Christmas Morning, 2016 - Merry Christmas!

Saturday, December 9, 2017

Lucky... and Worried

Another "beautiful" day in the Sierra foothills!
One of the things I enjoy about serving on the board of the California Wool Growers Association (I'm currently the vice president) is the chance to catch up with fellow sheep producers from all over California at our board meetings. And as with most conversations among ranchers, the talk inevitably turns to weather and forage conditions. Weather and grass (and their effects on the market) it seems, are the variables that unite sheep ranchers large and small. After yesterday's board meeting in Woodland, I've realized that we're extremely fortunate to have green grass in our pastures near Auburn this December; I'm also concerned that the current stretch of dry weather might be the front end of another drought.

Board members who raise sheep in the San Joaquin Valley and Central Coast reported yesterday that the grass hasn't started where they are - they simply haven't had enough (or in some cases, any) rain. These reports match my own observations from a trip south through the Sierra foothills in mid-November - the green grass seemed to peter out before Jackson. Several of my cattlemen friends have confirmed that our part of the northern foothills are unique this year - we're the only ones with green forage at the moment.

At the moment, we have enough green grass ahead of our sheep to make it through the next month or two. With the shorter days and colder temperatures that coincide with the approaching winter solstice, our green grass has now gone dormant - even with rain, it won't start growing again until February. Without rain between now and February, however, the resumption of growth will be delayed. Our entire production system centers on matching lambing with the onset of spring growth in late February. Since ewes are pregnant for approximately 5 months, we've already cast the die - we are depending on winter rain to bring late winter and early spring forage for our sheep during their period of greatest demand. The lack of rain in the forecast, and the dry conditions most everywhere else in California, have me worried.
As this map from late November clearly shows, most of
California is much drier than normal for this time of year.

Because of the 2012-2015 drought, we've made adjustments in our management to be able to cope with dry conditions. We stock our pastures conservatively, which allows us to stockpile forage. While this leftover dry grass is filling, it lacks the nutritional power required for lactating ewes - and so we've also purchased supplemental protein as a hedge against continued dry conditions. Since our flock's forage consumption increases by nearly 50 percent during lambing, we may need to move the sheep more frequently than in a typical year. We'll start planning on spending more time building fence and moving sheep if conditions remain dry.

In the meantime, I'll be thankful for the rain we've had (over 8 inches since October 1). I'll be grateful for the green grass we see in our rangeland pastures (mostly hiding under last year's growth). I'll try to enjoy these "beautiful" winter days (although beautiful December weather for a California sheepman includes rain). And I'll say a little prayer for my colleagues who are battling drought in other parts of the state.
And with no rain in our forecast, I'm starting to worry....