I'll admit - after reading James Rebanks' book The Shepherd's Life, and after looking at social media posts from shepherding colleagues from the UK, Europe, and elsewhere, I'm a bit envious of folks who come from sheep-raising traditions that are measured in millennia rather than centuries. We don’t have a thousand-year history of grazing sheep here in the Sierra Foothills. Even so, I believe we can (if we pay attention and make good decisions) create a flock that fits our particular environment. We can breed sheep that fit our land.
The Sierra Foothills, where I grew up and where I still live, is one of the few places on the planet that has a Mediterranean climate (characterized by cool, wet winters, and hot, dry summers). Prehistoric and historic evidence suggests that our foothill rangelands were once home to a mix of perennial and annual plants. Today, thanks to the Europeans that brought livestock to California more than 250 years ago, and thanks also to drought, disturbance, and other factors, our foothill rangelands are dominated by introduced annual grasses and forbs (broadleaf plants). Despite this transformation, the annual rangelands where we raise our small flock of sheep are tremendously productive - we grow nearly a ton-and-a-half of grass per acre in a normal year!
My part of the Sierra Foothills northeast of Sacramento also receives a goodly amount of rain in a typical year. Normal precipitation for us is around 30 inches per year (falling mostly between November and March). Two years ago, we measured more than 60 inches; two years before that, we received just 21 inches. In other words, our rainfall can also be highly variable. Since we don't typically get rain in the summer months, we rely on irrigation to keep green grass in front of the sheep from May through October.
These forage, rainfall, and temperature regimes dictate the kind of sheep we should raise. We're typically wet enough in the winter than fine wool sheep (like the Rambouillet sheep raised in more arid parts of the West) won't do well here - too much moisture can cause a variety of health problems in fine wool sheep. And we've found that white-footed sheep tend to be more prone to foot rot on our summer irrigated pastures.
We also need sheep that can fend for themselves - our ewes need to be good mothers who deliver lambs without assistance and who can keep track of at least two babies. They need to be able to thrive on a varied diet - on everything from soft chess and annual ryegrass to burclover and vetch to coyote bush and poison oak.
I suppose I should pause and discuss the important of domesticated ruminant animals in our environment. Much of the land we graze can't be cultivated - it's too steep or too rocky, and we can't get irrigation water to it. This land does, as I've said, grow a tremendous crop of grass and forbs almost every year. Ruminant animals have the miraculous ability to convert this forage into protein, milk and fiber - products that feed and clothe folks in our community. In the process of making this conversion, ruminants like our sheep also help reduce weed infestations and wildfire danger. Small ruminants - sheep, in our case - are a great fit for a landscape that is increasingly fragmented.
Based on our specific conditions, we utilize a breeding system that emphasizes hardiness, variety of diet, and the ability to produce a quality product mostly from grass. We use breeds that have coarser wool and black feet - breeds from the UK that were developed in areas with similar rainfall amounts. Our sheep produce a decent fleece and vigorous lambs while grazing our annual rangelands and irrigated pastures. Through breeding trial and error, we've begun to develop a flock that fits our environment.
Just as our environment has shaped our sheep, I suppose our grazing management has made small changes in our environment. In places where we've timed our grazing perfectly, we've been able to reduce invasive weeds like yellow starthistle and medusahead. We've helped protect neighborhoods from wildfire by removing flammable material in the process of converting grass to meat and wool. My family hasn't grazed sheep here for centuries, but I like to think we might (if my successors can persist that long).
Ranching - all agriculture, really - involves a daily conversation with the land. If I pay attention, the land that we graze with our sheep will tell me something about the kind of sheep it will support. The sheep that thrive under my management and on the landscapes I manage are the kind of sheep that stay in my flock. For me, one of the greatest satisfactions in my work is seeing our flock continue to evolve - to continue to improve in it's ability to match our landscape. Agriculture has always required resilience, flexibility and adaptability - attributes that give me hope in the face of a changing environment.
As I consider the small accommodations that our sheep make to our landscape, I wonder if we (or at least our sheep) can persist long enough to make a difference. The little year-to-year changes that I observe in our land and in our sheep leave me in awe of the thousand-year livestock systems that have shaped landscapes. The impact of these small year-to-year improvements, multiplied by several thousand years of pastoral evolution, are breathtaking.
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