Over the Horizon

Fundamentally, Flying Mule Sheep Company is in the business of turning sunlight, carbon dioxide, and rainwater into meat and fiber. Our sheep harvest the forage that grows on our rangelands and pastures, and through the miracle of rumination, convert it to substances that feed and clothe us. The scale of our business is largely based on the amount of grazing land available to us - our basic equation requires us to balance our stocking rate with the carrying capacity of the land we manage. And this year, for a variety of reasons, the amount of rangeland and pasture we can graze will be lessened. On top of this, my long-time sheep partner and friend, Roger Ingram, is stepping back from the business. Roger was the cooperative extension livestock advisor here in Placer County for a long time before I was; in 2017, we switched jobs. I became the livestock advisor; Roger took on a larger role in running our sheep. Now, with the pandemic (hopefully) waning, Roger wants to travel more, and shepherd less - I can’t say as I blame him! And so, for lots of reasons, there are changes over the horizon for Flying Mule Sheep Company!

Sheep herding, I suppose, is part of my identity - I guess one can’t post a weekly Shepherd’s Log or a periodic Sheepherder’s Weather Report if one doesn’t actually tend sheep. I eat the meat I raise; I wear wool (from my sheep, and from others) nearly every day. Sheepherding, though, is my avocation - it’s what I do when I’m not working my full-time (and then some) job. The two are related, obviously - I use my real-world experience raising livestock to inform my extension work; I use our sheep to investigate production questions and teach new producers. I enjoy the work - physically, intellectually, and emotionally. But most of my income comes from my extension work. 

With less grazing land, and less labor, Flying Mule Sheep Company will need to downsize. The economist part of my nature wants to make sure a smaller enterprise remains profitable - raising sheep, after all, is more than a hobby for me. But I also need to be realistic - how much time can I devote to moving irrigation water, building electric fence, and moving sheep? Especially when I’m leading research projects, teaching workshops, and managing our local cooperative extension office?

These changes won’t officially take place until we wean this year’s lamb crop in June. In the coming months, I’ll be thinking about how much extracurricular time I have available. I’ll be thinking about the other things I might want to do with that time (like fishing, camping, hunting - resting!). I’ll be working on simplifying our sheep operation - maybe we don’t need 2 breeding groups in the fall! Maybe we don’t need to haul pairs to irrigated pasture in early April and then haul them home for shearing in early May (in other words, maybe we can haul them once instead of twice). Maybe we can look at alternative marketing opportunities that increase net income without increasing labor.

While I am passionate about grazing-based agriculture, I’m especially drawn to raising sheep. The work of raising sheep has always been more intense - and, dare I say, less ego-driven - than raising cattle. Sheepherders wear cowboy boots, after all; who among us has walked into a western wear store and asked to try on a sheepherder hat?! I suspect that tending sheep will be part of the rest of my life. The economist in me insists that it remain a business for as long as possible; the sheepherder in me doesn’t care!