Our Pasture

Every morning (mostly) from mid-April through mid-October, I start my day changing water on the 15 acres of irrigated pasture we lease near Auburn. When everything goes well, this process takes about 40 minutes. When it doesn't go well (when one of our K-Line sets pulls apart, for example, or when the sprinklers are clogged), the process takes much longer. Regardless, this daily investment of time means our sheep have green grass to graze when our annual rangelands are dried out (depending on the year, from late May through November). Our irrigated pasture is obviously a critical part of our annual forage calendar.

In times of drought (which seem perpetual in California at the moment), irrigated pasture is often criticized as a waste of water. And I'll admit, our hillside pastures aren't as productive - or as uniform in their vegetation

- as the pastures I see in the Sacramento Valley. A century ago, our pasture was an orchard - and we still see resprouts from pear rootstock throughout the pasture. We have other weeds, as well - summer weeds like smutgrass and broom sedge, whose seeds are transported on the irrigation canals that deliver our water. Since we're irrigating hillsides, our soils aren't uniform - which means the tops of the hills dry out and the low spots stay wet too long. But productivity isn't the only measure of the value of our pastures.

We manage our irrigated pastures to provide more nutrition to our sheep than our annual rangelands can provide during the summer and fall. We bring our pairs to the pasture after shearing in late April - at a time when our annual grasses are declining rapidly. We graze our feeder lambs and replacement ewe lambs on these pastures during the hot summer months. Most importantly, from a production standpoint, we try to manage our irrigated pastures to maximize forage production for flushing and breeding the ewes. By putting our females on a rising plane of nutrition just before the rams join them, we increase their conception rates - and the number of lambs they'll deliver next spring.

But last week, as I was counting the days until the end of irrigation season (26 days as of this moment, to be exact), I realized that our pasture is an island of biodiversity and fire safety in an otherwise dry (and increasingly developed) landscape.

Last weekend, I brought the sheep into the corrals to sort off the lambs before we started feeding the ewes (frugality, at least when it comes to the sheep, is part of my nature). After I put the ewes back on pasture, I walked by a small patch of narrow-leaf milkweed - and spied a monarch caterpillar munching away! I’ve since discovered another. Later in the week, I found pacific tree frogs near the K-Line pods and irrigation risers, along with spiders, crickets, and praying mantises. During the course of the irrigation season, I regularly see mocking birds, black-headed phoebes, mourning doves, scrub jays, and goldfinches. This year, we’ve had a pair of red-tailed hawks hanging about, and more recently, an American kestrel has been hunting along the ranch road. We see deer, jackrabbits, raccoons, skunks, and bobcats with regularity; coyotes and mountain lions are less frequent (thankfully) visitors to the pasture. Several years ago, we even found a river otter in the pasture (more than a half a mile from live water). Indeed, one of the things I enjoy most about the drudgery of irrigation is the life I see every day!

Beyond this biodiversity, however, our pasture serves another important role in our arid summer landscape. The 15-acre patch of green - even if it’s not the best irrigated pasture - serves as a firebreak in our community. A fire that came from our south would slow down when it reached our pasture - as it would regardless of the direction of its origin. These patches of green in an otherwise brown landscape are important from a fire perspective, as well.

Grasslands - rangelands and pastures - also serve an important carbon sequestration role. Our annual grasslands, which grow from October/November through May/June, sequester carbon while they are green; our irrigated pastures continue this sequestration through the summer and early fall. Photosynthesis requires carbon dioxide and sunlight - and water! - our 15 acres wouldn’t be sequestering carbon at the moment if we didn’t irrigate!

In the 20-plus years I’ve raised sheep - and in the 15 years I’ve irrigated this particular pasture - I’ve learned that every year is different. Some years, like 2022, I fear the grass will never grow. Other years, like 2017, I fear the rain will never stop - and that we’ll never catch up with the grass. But every year - whether drouthy or wet - I’ve learned to enjoy the oasis that is our irrigated pasture. I love turning the ewes back into green grass in August. I love seeing the wildlife that benefits from my efforts to move water.

I just have to remind myself about this in early August when I’d rather sleep in….