Taking stock

On the day our dear, old sheep Speri'ment lay down and died, our lone apple tree burst into leaf.

- Michele Hewitson

That is life in the country in a sentence.

There is a saying among farmers that where there is livestock, there is dead stock. Which is both brutal and honest. I have seen many dead sheep in our eight years at Lush Places, and I have mourned each one.

But Speri'ment was my sheep. She was born as the result of an implanted embryo. Animal breeders are always looking for ways to produce better sheep, but she was born crippled. Miles, the now retired sheep farmer, spent two weeks teaching her to walk. She learnt to walk, but she never “looked right”. He had been breeding East Friesian milking sheep for 20 years. The best of those he bred had long elegant faces, long elegant necks, straight backs and they stood “square”, which means their feet were in perfect alignment.

Speri'ment had no neck, a crooked back, and when she ran, she looked like an out-of-alignment washing machine. She was the nicest of sheep. She had a sweet nature and would follow me around the paddocks, nudging me gently from behind to let me know she wanted more pats.