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Author & Sheep Shearer

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Stephany Wilkes

March 18, 2020 by Stephany Wilkes

A Persistently Prepper-Lite Life

How To Be Mostly Prepared All The Time, With Low Stress and Low Expense

Over the past few weeks, folks who know Best Husband and I have asked, “Is anything even different for you? You’re probably fine, huh?” or said “I imagine this is just another day for you.” They are mostly right, aside from constant worry and periodic crying about our family member with Coronavirus in an ICU.

Since I have some extra time, I figured I would explain what our normal is, which made our panic-free, “we’re fine for a few weeks” condition true. I thought some of these may make for fun quarantine projects, too.

First, a few disclaimers: This post is not intended as either advice or smugness. This is simply the way we live and what works for us, in our region, with the types of emergencies we have to prepare for. We have had three, very terrifying, traumatizing wildfire seasons to literally light a preparedness fire under our butts.

What we do is not very intentional, but an automatic side effect of frugal living. You will find no signs of Doomsday-Prepper hoarding at our house. Our house is 860 sq ft. (twice the size of our last apartment). We have no basement or attic; we have no pantry aside from some very limited, shallow space beneath our stairs; and we actually park our car in our barely-one-car garage, so there’s not much storage in there. You should also know I’m as lazy as they come about food preservation, so you won’t even see walls lined with jars of food. What we do is not expensive and it’s not time consuming.

The things for which we prepare in Nor Cal are wildfires and earthquakes. Wildfires mean smoky air, N95 masks, staying inside, air filters, possible evacuation (full gas tanks, etc.), and power outages as a wildfire prevention measure. These preparations turned out to be helpful when a pandemic hit. (We’re still not up to speed on the power replacement stuff but I’ll get there.)

So here’s what we do in simple alphabetical, not priority, order.

Air Filters: We have acquired two, small cylindrical ones over the past three fire seasons. We don’t have a lot of space, so these are a nice size. We move them around to the rooms we’re in at the time.

Bees: None. I am allergic to them so HUSBAND has banned me from bee keeping. I know, I know. The worst guy alive, right?

Cash: This is for power outages more than anything else. A few months ago, when power was out for days and days, many businesses were open but couldn’t run credit card transactions. I was astonished because, in this case, the power shut-offs were preventative and we had advance warning…and people still did not have cash on hand. Have some cash on hand.

Chest Freezer: Ours is more than 10 years old, 8 cubic feet, and at the time we purchased it, cost a bit more than $200. I think the smallest ones are usually 5 cubic feet. Here is a similar one (slightly larger and more expensive). In pre-pandemic times, you could often find chest freezers on Craigslist for free, or near to it. I’m not sure about right now.

We bought this chest freezer when we were renting a small apartment with no outdoor space or parking. Our landlady at the time let us keep it in the garage, thankfully. About 11-12 years ago, we started buying whole and half animals directly from farmers to save money (a lot of money, like the difference between $4/pound and $19/pound on grassfed beef), and we still shop that way.

Which brings me to a digression on being a lazy food preserver. I keep everything in the freezer. The chest freezer is my Laziness Enabler. Anything with oils or fats that can go off/get rancid goes in there: butter, leaf lard, coffee beans, flour, cheese. Likewise all kinds of garden bounty, because I don’t always have time for canning. I’ll dice and freeze our tomatoes, and freeze servings of mashed potatoes. If I pick 40 pounds of potatoes out of one garden bed in one day (and is not even our total haul for the year), that is more than we can use quickly. Instead, we make a massive stock pot of mashed potatoes, and freeze them in small containers for easy dinner sides.

I freeze chopped rhubarb, and some greens like collards (another massive garden haul item that comes in all in one day). We flash boil them, chiffonade, and then wind them up in little nests and set the nests on a baking sheet. We place the sheet in the chest freezer and, when the nests are frozen solid, we put them into containers or plastic bags so that, when we want greens in our soups and such, we just toss in a collard nest and call it a day.

For chicken stock, we are bone savers. Yeah, that’s us, the people at the Indian restaurant who finish the Tandoori chicken and then say we need a to-go box for the carcass. On stock-making days, we do the Julia Child method: We reduce the big vat of stock way down (so it’s stronger and more intense), and pour it into several ice cube trays so that we can just grab a cube or two when making soup, polenta, or rice…or when we just need a mug of stock and some good salt. Plop a stock cube in a mug, dissolve in boiling water, and drink up.

Chickens: None.

Coffee Beans: Don’t judge. I love coffee, and it will keep any emergency much more bearable. I usually have 2-15 pounds of beans in the freezer, and 100-200 coffee filters. I am watching my quantities during this pandemic and not wasting a drop. Is there half a cup left in the carafe? Then it’s going on the stove and being reheated and not wasted.

In case of power outages, I have my grandma’s percolator and a French press. The back-up coffee is the backpacking instant coffee stored in — you know it! — the freezer. Starbucks Via is pricey but tasty.

Cold and Flu and General Crappy Feeling Supplies: We keep one container of powdered Gatorade or other electrolyte mix on hand. One small container can make you gallons of the stuff. We keep Ibuprofen (though anti-inflammatories make COVID-19 worse so you don’t want ’em here!), Tylenol, aspirin, cough drops. That’s pretty much it.

This includes first aid, of course, but I’m a sheep shearer so there’s always a good box of that. We have just a few N95 masks left from wildfire times because those are for health care workers and we don’t hoard those – RIGHT?! Right.

Dog Food: Two 40-pound bags of kibble type food. After that he’s subsisting on rice and scraps like the rest of us.

Dude abides, even in these pandemic times.

Farm Box and Buys: We loaned a farm CSA money over a decade ago and get paid interest in fruit, vegetables and eggs ever since. We are very glad to have this right now. I also have a whole lamb coming in a few months. This is more normal stuff that turns out to be an exceptionally great thing right now. I also know a few farmers I can all if we really need more meat, but we still have plenty of that in the… CHEST FREEZER, YEAH!

Food Staples: I keep 25 pounds of flour in the freezer (20 pounds of organic all-purpose from Costco, sold in 10-pound bags), plus 5 pounds of heirloom grains like Sonora Wheat etc. from local farms. There is also 35-40 pounds of rice, a combo of white and whole grain, and several pounds of dried beans. We use this stuff all the time so I scoop smaller quantities into jars and keep those in the kitchen. We also have sugar, nuts, tuna, dried fruit – not too much, just some.

Garden: I am unspeakably grateful to the earlier selves who prioritized the garden we now enjoy. Even though it’s a slow time of year and has been cold, we have rhubarb, chard, spinach, some lettuces, and lots of miner’s lettuce (an edible weed that the gold miners ate). We grow every kind of vegetable and berries and got our first few apples last year; pears are coming we hope. Is it enough to live on? No. Does it supplement the staples nicely? Yes.

These are just the “surprise” late autumn potatoes…

Gas Grill: We keep two tanks of propane at all times, so we have a full back-up to cook with if we need it. This is how we cook if the power is out. Our grill has a burner we can boil things on, like water, so we can do coffee in a percolator. A camping stove would be a fine, affordable substitute.

Line Drying and Laundry Rack: I have a folding laundry drying rack to keep everything consolidated, and some outside lines. We don’t use the dryer much in general, and couldn’t during a power outage, but we also don’t want to dry things outside when there is wildfire smoke. The rack plus some hangers is nice to have.

Menstrual Supplies and Birth Control: If either or both of these apply to you, consider (in the spirit of my toilet paper points later in this piece) Party In My Pants cloth pads and a long-term birth control solution, like an IUD. Our for-profit medical system gives various types of IUDs 5-10 years, but in most other countries, they are approved for much longer use. Whatever your practice here, you may want to check in with it for any supplies you may wish to have on hand.

Minivan: This is a new addition. We bought a lightly beaten 2008 Toyota Sienna with 72,000 miles on it in January. There were a lot of reasons for this purchase (shearing trips, 90-pound dog transport, hauling bags of wool and fiber goods around), but wildfire evacuation is one of them. We can live in the Sienna if we need to. Nor Cal people know I’m serious and how nice it is to have a liveable vehicle when there are fires in every apparent direction and you have no idea where you’ll end up.

Paper Goods: We buy in bulk so we generally have at least a few months worth of toilet paper on hand. But I will take this opportunity of cultural toilet paper hoarding to share what I’ve learned in travels all over the woods (weeks alone in the back country) and in many parts of the world where toilet paper isn’t a thing. If you’re squeamish…read on!

First, there are bottle bidets (a squirt bottle with water inside), the right kind of leaves, and a shovel. A hole in the ground is always cleaner than a public bathroom, my friends. You’ll be fine.

Second, there are places on this very planet where people use scraps of cloth like toilet paper, which is conceptually not so different from cloth diapers and the way people used those for ages: 1) wipe your butt, 2) immediately scrub out the cloth in the sink with soap and water, 3) hang that up to dry, 4) wash your hands real well, and 5) that’s that. You are still alive!

Northern Michigan outhouses also showed me the massive Sears catalog and outdated Yellow Pages work real well as a 2-in-1 reading material and toilet paper. Perhaps you’ll see those weekly circulars in a whole new (moon shaped) light now, eh?

Pellet Stove: Like many Nor Cal houses, ours is not insulated save for our roof. We have a pellet stove, so I start out winter with about a dozen bags of those at $5/pop. If you had a wood stove, you’d be covered with your cords of wood, hopefully.

Radio: We have an inexpensive, battery powered radio and a hand crank one that came in an earthquake kit.

Seeds: Obviously. We save these and keep them in a seed box, labeled.

Soap: Everyone has a vice, and mine (now MORE than justified) is farm soap, and goat milk soap in particular. This is my big treat THING. Shampoo bars, bar soap, the nice thing about all of it is that you can use it in your washing machine if you run out of detergent. Grate a little bit of your bar soap using a cheese grater, add some baking soda or washing soda to the grated soap, put it in the washer as normal, and all will be well.

Solar Panel: We have a tiny, portable solar panel (like this one) that I take to charge my phone on extended outdoor trips. I needed my phone to facilitate a self-evac out of Utah once, and was SO glad I had charged via that panel, crawling around on the ground with a 104-degree fever in October. It also works at home in an emergency, of course. It’ll keep our phones going, that sort of thing.

I have already explained my (over) reliance on our chest freezer. That is the one thing I want to keep going during an extended power outage. Now, on its own, the chest freezer (full) will stay cold for at least three days if we don’t open and close it willy nilly. My next preparedness project will be to purchase a larger solar panel with an inverter, so we can plug the chest freezer directly into the panel during the day (when there is sun), and then it would stay cold all night. This would also work for laptops, etc. If you’d like to learn more about this approach, check out the CheapRVLiving channel on YouTube. There are many examples of solar panels mounted on vehicles and stories of how folks use their inverters. This is much more affordable and feasible than a Tesla house battery or something.

Water: We have two, 50 gallon rain barrels (free thanks to the city of San Francisco Public Utilities Commission!) that get water via our garden shed roof (6’x8′). Obviously this won’t work in a zero rain year, but that is rare. Even in drought years, we salvage the little rain we do get and fill them. If I needed to use this for drinking water, I have my Sawyer water filters from backpacking.

The type I have are bags you fill up (from the rain barrel spigot, in this case), and then you squeeze the water bag to push the water through the filter. It’s lo-fi and works all over the world in rivers, streams, etc. Alternatively, we can boil rain water on the outdoor grill, if the power were out for wildfire prevention.

Plan B is our water tank. When our last water tank failed, we opted not to go to tankless so we would also have our water tank to tap if we needed it. We also keep a few gallons of distilled water in our tiny under-the-stairs pantry area.

Wipes: I take these shearing as well, but we did buy a few more packs of hand sanitizing wipes than usual in February, in anticipation of a virus and using these out in the world more than usual. We always have two small bottles of rubbing alcohol around (which seems to solve a lot of problems, like mystery hives and garden irritation, and it sure helps after my arms are shredded after shearing sheep laden with burrs or cheatgrass). We also have a small bottle of bleach. Diluted bleach in water makes a great disinfecting spray.

I’m sure there are dozens of things I’ve forgotten, but I’ll update this as a remember them.

Filed Under: blog, Emergency Preparedness, Prepper

January 7, 2020 by Stephany Wilkes

New Year, New Pricing, New Services, New Everything

It’s 2020, and — when I wasn’t fighting AB5 tooth and nail, to save my business — I took some time over the holidays to figure out a better way to get compensated for the totality of the work I do on shearing jobs. To that end, I have completely overhauled and reworked my pricing for 2020, and added some new services and policies. These are the first major changes I’ve made in over seven years of shearing, and long overdue. I haven’t raised my shearing rates in that time.

Full of stickers, but cute.

New and cherished clients alike, please read this so you can decide whether or not to hire me accordingly.

Super-short version of this post: I have a flat, hourly, on-site rate of $100 no matter what we’re doing that day, whether it’s building a catch pen, teaching a school workshop, or actually shearing. It’s all the same. This is as honest and simple a formula I could create, to reflect what my shearing jobs have actually been like since 2013. The fact is, much of what I actually do is not shearing. I also have two new policies (no more post-job payment, and a new full-sheep policy), and one new service: private and small-group shearing instruction.

2020 Pricing Details

This new flat-rate model includes everything. There is no more customized ranch call based on distance, time, and mileage calculations, and trying to price all that out separately; no more per-head shearing plus per-hoof and/or horn trimming; no more piecemeal anything.

This new model doesn’t change much for most people. A $100/hour flat rate sounds like a lot, but interestingly, when I looked at my shearing spreadsheet from 2018 and 2019, I realized that most of my customers would not see a substantive jump in price. Most folks will see a $25-50 increase (for the first time ever), and a few folks will see an increase of $75, but in the latter cases, I honestly wasn’t charging enough to begin with. Of course, as a self-employed person, about 50% of anything is taxes.

I charge by the quarter hour (in 15-minute increments). This way, if we use only 15 minutes of one hour, you don’t get charged for a full hour.

This pricing model does not apply to commercial shearing, which is not most of my shearing. That is an entirely different context: $3-5/head until however many of us finish shearing the 3,000 or 10,000 or however many sheep.

Why I Changed My Pricing Model

I write this less to explain myself (never feel obligated to explain the decisions you need to make for your business, folks), than to shine some honesty and transparency on what small-flock shearing and running a business is really like.

My prior pricing was extremely inefficient: it required a lot of time and ultimately produced little difference. I had a minimum charge of $150, but spent unpaid hours on the phone, on email, and driving, and then created custom estimates that considered the entire time a job would probably take, including drive time, set up, break down, and so on.

It took a lot of time to put together all those custom quotes, broken down by every tiny thing and going back and forth, but in the end, when it all shakes out, everybody ends up paying about the same anyway.

And those were just the estimates, which rarely matched reality. Now, before you think I’m complaining, I am not: Unpredictability is simply the way of sheep things. It’s like the Law Of Sheep — and, by the way, has done wonders for my willingness to roll with the punches. I no longer believe I can control anything or anybody; the best I can do is guide it sometimes, and it’s really only a matter of how gently or roughly I do so.

Oftentimes, I’d shear a few sheep, and then maybe some lost goats showed up from somewhere, or perhaps the power went out so I had to find a fuse box, or a fire started and shearing day turned into load-up-and-run-like-hell day, and so on and so forth, according to the Law Of Sheep.

In order to have a business, and stay in business (which the federal and California state governments make harder by the year), I have to price my work fairly to account for all of it, and lo, I have struggled with how to do that. I have struggled because a fair price requires admitting a not fun, not cool thing, which is that actual shearing is not what I do most of the time.

Shearing is the fastest (and best, and most fun, and SUPER RAD) part, in the way that 90% of life is just showing up, and 10% is shearing. On most jobs, for instance, I spend far more time driving and getting set up than I do actually shearing. (This is why I’ve come to love commercial jobs, because all we do is shear all day, yeehaw and AMEN!)

What am I doing for all these hours when I am not shearing? I may be effectively building a permanent shearing area, especially on my initial visits to new customers: drilling and hanging a 2×4 at the right height and correct distance from a wall for my machine; buying and mounting some big lights to shine on the shearing floor in a dark barn; all sorts of things.

I have built pens, because the dimensions I give for a “small pen,” into which I can reach and easily grab a sheep, is not the same size as the “small pen” OTHER people have in mind, and then I’m running around in, say, a rather large horse pen burning all my energy — and risking injury — to catch and wrassle sheep. 

I may skirt, grade, bag and/or bale fleeces. I have provided a lot of ad hoc instruction on humane sheep handling: how to flip sheep gently (a very useful thing, when you need to get a good look at certain areas); how to halter break sheep; how to shear sheep on a milking stand. I have stitched up a variety of animals that had been bitten by dogs, or that got hung up on fence, since I had the proper tools and experience to clean the wound and do it. I have also taught farmers how to do that.

A few farmers, despite my 48-hours-ahead reminder calls and emails, are not ready for me when I arrive. I have driven hours only to arrive at an empty area with nobody around, and stood around waiting, looking for sheep. Some fine fiber and show sheep have coats that have to be removed. Lambs may need to be separated from ewes, or a farm may have two or more groups of sheep to shear that require my setting up and breaking down in different locations on the same farm, during the same job. All of this adds time to the job, and I don’t want to feel rushed.

And if I’m not paying myself enough, because I have to finish by a certain time in order to race off to another job so I can make more money on the ranch call, then I start to feel rushed and worried by all this unexpected work. With a new flat-rate model, I have no reason to feel rushed, because I’m not losing money every second I’m not shearing.

Finally, and especially in the past three seasons, I am encountering more and more sheep that are excessively large (300 pounds) or difficult to shear, i.e. with many years worth of wool growth; not accustomed to any handling; and full of food and water — hence one of 2020’s other policy changes. 

New Policies: No Full Sheep and Payment In Full

Full-Sheep Policy

This may be the least popular change, but it is something I need to take a hard line on. Why? Because shearers cannot afford to have either themselves or the act of shearing blamed as the “cause” of sheep suffering and death, when the true cause was the sheep being full of food and water.

So here’s the new full-sheep policy: If I encounter more than one or two full, struggling sheep who are in obvious distress (wheezing through their teeth, literally fighting for breath, kicking and pooping and urinating profusely, all the obvious signs), I will stop shearing, leave, and we will have to reschedule for a time when the sheep have been kept off of food and water. Before I leave, I will ask to be paid, at the new flat rate of $100/hour, for not just on-farm time (which would be minimal in this case), but for the time I spent driving to and from the farm. 

It is easy to avoid this. I always call and email people at least 48 hours in advance of the job to remind them to take the sheep off of food and water. And, if you cannot get your sheep in and stop them from eating, JUST TELL ME. No shame, no blame. We can reschedule for another day. Calling me and canceling is so, SO much better than shearing full sheep, for them and for me. It is truly no big deal — in fact, consider it a gift to your flock and your shearer.

What does “off feed and water” really mean?

It means sheep must be off of all food (all food = no grass, no grain, and no hay) for 12 hours prior to shearing, AKA, a solid overnight time period. I generally advise folks to feed the sheep no later than the late afternoon, and then take all food and water away by about 5 PM if we’re to start shearing between 8-10 AM. As I always say: We humans fast overnight without any harm, and sheep can, too. Keeping sheep off feed for 12 hours is no different then not eating before surgery or a blood test, and we do it for many of the same reasons.

95% of my customers do this already, so they are not affected. 

Grass is food for sheep.

Yes, grass counts! I have arrived to many a job — even after my no-feed reminder — to find sheep grazing, and the flock owner telling me “they are off feed because it’s just grass, not grain.” Grass is fresh in the spring, and thus hot and heavy in the rumen, so yes, being full of grass makes sheep harder to shear. This increases the time needed to shear, and — under the new pricing model — your costs.

Why are full sheep such a concern? Sheep that have food in their rumen (multiple stomachs) fight a lot more. They do this because, when we turn them over to shear them, the weight of their full rumen (which can weigh six gallons and then some) presses up against their diaphragm.

Please consider how heavy six full gallons of milk or water are, or even fill up those containers. Now, lay on your back and ask someone to set the six gallons all over your chest and torso, for just a rough approximation of the sensation. This is not fun.

Wormy sheep will struggle even more, to handle the increased pressure on their heart and lungs, so they have a higher likelihood of dying on the shearing floor.

Full sheep make the shearing job a lot harder. They fight and kick not because they are “bad,” but because they are uncomfortable. Their discomfort makes shearing more dangerous for me, and for them. They can kick the handpiece clear off the drop (flying handpiece = super dangerous); they can thrash around and break horns (and our teeth), and hit their heads (and ours). I do my best to find more comfortable positions for them, but it’s not possible for me to make sheep as comfortable as they would be if they were EMPTY. Empty sheep are happy sheep.

Say it loud, say it proud, paint it on the barn:
EMPTY SHEEP ARE HAPPY SHEEP!

But what about lambing ewes? Do not worry about pregnant ewes, or ewes that have lambed. Keeping sheep off feed overnight does NOT impact lamb growth in utero, nor does it affect milk production in a lactating ewe.

Sheared about a month before lambing.

And, on that point, a note about timing: Shearing one month before lambing is the ideal time for most ewes. Shearing one month after the last ewe has lambed is the second-best option. In addition, I generally limit pre- and post-lambing shearing to no more (less?) than two weeks before or after delivery. I have sheared more than one ewe into labor and that’s not ideal — and no, labor-induction shearing is NOT a new service for 2020. 

Payment Timing Policy

I accept cash, check, PayPal, and Venmo as forms of payment. Payment is now due in full at the end of the job. If you know in advance that you will not be able to pay me in full on shearing day, I am happy to work out a payment program in advance.

Thanks to more streamlined/not custom pricing, I will no longer need to invoice after jobs to accurately reflect that day’s work. Now it’s just N hours on farm, x $100/hour = the total cost.

New Service: Private and Small Group Shearing Instruction

You’ve asked, I’m listening, and I’m happy to teach and support folks who wish to shear their sheep themselves and are just looking for some pointers on equipment, a safe shearing set-up, humane handling, and so on. The same rate applies, so getting a small group together to cover my rate will make it more affordable for all, and hopefully give us a few more sheep to work with.

A few notes on this (I have more details coming soon): You and/or your group must provide the sheep and shearing location. I have no sheep, nor any place to shear. My new, flat-rate pricing applies, but the things we will cover will be custom, depending on breed and size of sheep you have; prior shearing experience, if any; the equipment you intend to use; and much more.

In addition, this specific, limited form of instruction CANNOT make anyone a pro at the New Zealand method of shearing, which we do to shear sheep at high volume and to commercial wool standards. It WILL help you make a well informed decision as to whether or not you want to shear your own sheep, and the home methods available to you for doing so. It WILL help you choose and set up your equipment in as safe as manner as possible, to reduce the likelihood of injury to you and your sheep. And, it WILL help you handle your sheep more humanely, and in ways that are safer for you, your body, and your sheep.

Thank You!

Thank you, as ever, for your support and entrusting your animals to me for all these years. You have kept me out working with sheep, and out of a desk job, and for that I am truly grateful.

Stay tuned for more important posts about 2020, including 1) how to be well prepared for your shearers, whomever they are, and 2) why I might refer you to another shearer, and why that is a wonderful thing that makes the wool world a better place. Thanks for reading!

Filed Under: Animal Care, blog, Sheep, Sheep Shearing

December 7, 2019 by Stephany Wilkes

A Sweater Vest Elegy For a Shepherd

Or rather, the employment of a shepherd; Jim himself is still with us. Structurally, an elegy expresses sorrow, sings praises, and offers solace, and an appropriate format (poem, prose) is chosen. This is the letter I sent with Jim’s vest.

Dear Jim,

I was gutted to learn, in late May, about the changes at Hopland, none for the better in my admittedly from-a-distance opinion. Like most everything these days, I learned of the flock auction and the elimination of your position on social media, just two weeks after this year’s shearing school. There it was, over my morning cup of coffee: a Facebook event inviting me to a sheep sale, a flock reduction from 500 breeding ewes to 125, as if this auction were not a swift kick in the gut but an event like any other — a craft fair, a fiber festival — I’d want to attend. As if loss of vocation were not a factor.

Worse, the auction was too soon in the future to stop it: in less than a week, on June 3. Everyone – the Gilberts, the Irwins, Jordan, Alex, Gary, everyone — was devastated, sick to our stomachs, furious, liberally cursing the UC Regents and Janet Napolitano. We knew that as go the sheep, so goes the shepherd and, possibly, flock quantity sufficient to field a shearing school, the only one in California. 

Shepherd Jim Lewers at work in Hopland, January 2018

Had I my own land, I would have done what everyone should have: show up and bid well over the asking price for the sheep you bred and shepherded so well and carefully for so long, because that is what people are supposed to do in such unfortunate events, and know to do in other, better-mannered sheep places (Iowa, Montana, Shetland). But I have no place, and was in Modoc County teaching 4-H kids how to trim hooves, among other things. Even so, I regret not finding a way to attend the auction to convey my sorrow to you in person, and share yours. I don’t know if you were there, though I expect you must have been. What would have been worse: being there and having to witness that sheep sale, or not being there at all? As with too many things, if you can’t fix it, you just gotta stand it, the hardest thing.

There is a great deal wrong with our culture right now, and the apparent failure of UC budget bureaucrats to recognize how rare you are — an American shepherd, practically unheard of these days!  — and how valuable your skills is among them. Now, I don’t know you or your daily work terribly well, but I thank you for your dedicated flock and grazing management that helped save the HREC campus from the 2018 wildfire. I see and count the terrible things you prevented from happening: the people who did not die in an inferno, and the lawsuits to follow; the insurance claims and policy increases from incinerated buildings; the reconstruction costs of buildings like LEED-certified Shippey Hall. 

We have not spent much time together, but you taught Hopland students a great deal in those brief windows between sheep, standing in that barn aisle between the tray of decontamination fluid, the sink, and the shearing floor. You blew my mind with stories of when non-lethal predator control works, and doesn’t, and why something that works on one county and landscape won’t necessarily work in another. Many people refuse to acknowledge and hold such complexity, preferring easy, belief-reinforcing answers to very difficult problems. I always liked your refusal to give those. 

You taught me about herding and livestock guardian dogs (Bodie!), and showed what they were capable of. If anyone had told me that one command could send a herding dog far out of view, have them return with a flock, and then split that flock into groups, I’d have called them a liar. Thanks for the show. You educated me on ​Q fever, described how bacteria spread it to humans from animals including sheep, and then appropriately restricted my access in the lambing barn. I’m grateful, because Q fever is hell for shearers who have gotten it. They describe six to eight weeks fully laid up in bed, these strong people, with a severe flu-like illness and, worse, persistent and long-term health problems. 

Please know that we all saw how you loved those sheep, even if we cannot fathom how much. You are a true steward. You helped make a lot of shearers. Your impact is lasting, not just on the landscape but on all of the people who have passed through that big barn in which you taught, helped, and supported us…and filled the pens with seemingly endless sheep, over and over again. That’s all right; it was good for us.

I wish I had more words of consolation to offer, but all I feel is outrage and frustration that I’ll just have to shear out of myself. In lieu of that, I thought I’d make something that might console better than my awkward typing ever could: this sweater vest, 100% Mendocino County Targhee like your ewes, sheared by Matt Gilbert (who I’m told was called “barefoot Matt” when he learned to shear at Hopland as a shoeless whippersnapper). It was processed and spun up the road in Ukiah, by Sarah Gilbert, and the yarn is some of the very first to come off the pin drafter and onto the spinner. 

I knit it up into a vest, thinking a sweater might be too warm, and I have no idea if the sizing is right. I tried, because I wanted it to be a surprise. Matt was my fit model, and who knows how close of one, and the rest I estimated from photos of you. If it’s too large or too long or too anything, I can easily fix it; just say the word. The wool was white, but I could see that getting dirty pretty easily knowing you, so I thought I’d dye it gray with eucalyptus and iron, to match the color of the work overalls I so often saw you in. 

Eucalyptus leaves + iron = gray

The vest comes too late for your last day at Hopland but, if nothing else, it’s finally sweater vest weather, isn’t it? I hope your grass has germinated. The combination of late rains and cold temperatures have had me worried but, in some places, I’ve seen tiny green spikes and future sheep feed. If you ever need a hand building fence or mucking out pens, give me a shout. 

With gratitude, for everything,
Stephany

Filed Under: blog, Craft, Sheep, Sheep Shearing Tagged With: hopland, sheep shearing, sheep365, shepherd, stewardship, university of california

November 15, 2019 by Stephany Wilkes

Why the FDA Should Not Make Livestock Antibiotics Prescription Only

Hat tip to Emily Chamelin Hickman for leading the charge.

Sheep work has changed my mind about a lot of things, including antibiotics. I have sheared too many animals that were very sick, and very much in need of antibiotics like those my doctor might prescribe for an infection (the same antibiotics that are available — and cheap — over the counter in many other places I’ve traveled). I found the livestock suffering I have witnessed nearly unbearable.

As a result, I could never be “against” antibiotics, and I do what I technically should not: I administer them. As a shearer, it’s often convenient for me to do so but, more importantly, I am physically capable of doing so, safely, in a way that may no longer be possible for my more elderly customers.

The FDA wants to make all antibiotics prescription only. This shows, once again, that regulators who do not work with animals simply do not understand the many ways in which this is a terrible idea. It is cruel legislation designed to make the public feel good about “less antibiotic use,” while actually increasing the suffering of all livestock. Those of us who actually work with livestock KNOW that antibiotic withholding times are followed and enforced.

Further, I believe the FDA feels a-okay about making this move BECAUSE it disproportionately affects small farmers, per usual. The confined animal feeding operations (CAFOs), of course, can afford the vet costs. That’s what this supports, if you pause to think about it.

Let’s ground ourselves in reality for a minute. Many rural areas simply do not have vets who will treat livestock. Remember: sheep, goats, cattle and all livestock are large and often difficult to transport, most especially when they are ill. Indeed, transporting them when very ill may be a terrible idea for that animal, and worsen their condition. Sheep, in particular, are tough, and have a way of not showing anything is wrong until they’re at death’s door. Time is of the essence when it comes to animal treatment.

This FDA law does not address the fact of having ZERO access to the necessary vets to prescribe the antibiotics needed to heal what is, yes, a valuable animal, but also one who does not deserve needless suffering. Farm income will be hurt if people who are not vets cannot access necessary livestock antibiotics.

Let’s say a livestock vet IS available. Well, that presents a whole different set of problems. With small ruminants like sheep, the cost of that vet consultation to prescribe medicine will cost more than the value of the animal. Once again, animals who deserve better will suffer: people will, understandably, opt not to treat those animals because of the cost and hassle of 1) trying to find a vet willing to come out and 2) the high cost of a farm visit by a vet.

Like it or not, sometimes the lowly shearer and hoof trimmer is the one who is best suited to administer antibiotics a caring farmer was able to obtain – thank heaven.

Those of us who work like this, in places like these, have perspective the FDA does not. Please believe us.

Please do not support animal harm. Please submit a comment, and ask the FDA to toss this terrible recommendation for the sake of humane animal welfare. Surely we can do more by educating the public in regard to small farms and antibiotic withholding times.

Even if you do not own livestock, please go online and comment on this today, to this effect. I promise that, in so doing, you will help the welfare of thousands of small farmers and livestock — exactly the sort of non-CAFO animals and contexts we WANT to see more of.

Thank you.

Filed Under: Animal Care, Sheep Tagged With: FDA antibiotics

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You can buy wool cheaper in Australia; let your forty acres of sheep grazing land go to waste. You can buy rice cheaper in some foreign clime; let your rice lands go to waste. You can buy woolen goods cheaper; burn your woolen factories, let your water-power run to waste, and cease to work your coal mines. God made a mistake when He gave you these gifts.

William Lawrence
The American Wool Interest, in address of the Farmers’ National Congress at Chicago, November 1887

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