Back to square one

Well now the rest of the sheep saga.

The next morning, I drove over to my neighbor’s place to help him catch the sheep. I was like a kid going to pick out a new puppy. I thought we’d walk up to the sheep and I would pick out a couple of cute ones. Then I imagined we’d hoist them into the back of my pickup and deliver them to their new home, the sheep ark. They would blissfully browse between the vine rows manicuring the grass down to an even golf course like turf.

I really didn’t know much of anything about sheep.

First of all, sheep are not naturally docile. My neighbor just runs them from one pasture to another every once in awhile. So they are not accustomed to human contact. In order to catch the sheep, we do our best sheepdog imitations and try to herd these very quick sheep into a small pen from a larger pasture. The sheep are not cooperating with our efforts. After about 30 minutes of chasing sheep, we finally manage to divert one into the pen. The rest follow like…, well like sheep.

It is becoming clear to me that these sheep might not be as easy as I had imagined. So I pick out the shortest ewe and her twins. My neighbor lassoed the ewe and tied her to the wall of the pen. Her twins will not leave her. They huddle behind her. I grabbed one of the twins by the back leg. She struggles mightily for such a little critter. I managed to pick her up by her legs although she gets in a kick to my cheek before I roll her into the back of the pick up. As I am putting the other lamb into the pickup, she almost makes a break for it, twisting herself out of the pick up. Luckily I snag a rear leg before she hits the ground. Momma gave my neighbor more of a wrestling match than he cared for. He was breathless by the time we clapped the canopy door shut.

When we arrive at the vineyard, my neighbor very tactfully suggests that the pen I’ve built might need “a little reinforcing”. He stays for the next three hours “reinforcing” the pen. I try to be helpful and hand him tools and the like. He tells me that this pen will likely make a very good chicken ark. This is foreshadowing. Another wrestling match ensues before the momma and her twins are stashed in the sheep ark.

My neighbor suggested the purchase of some sweet grain to placate the sheep.

Sweet grain was not enough. The momma repeatedly rammed herself against the sides of the now fortress-like sheep ark. She would not eat; instead she would pace around nervously or stand poised to flee terrified at the sight of me. Of course she could only get to the other side of the pen and flail against the wire fencing.

By the next day, the babies were eating cautiously. Momma stood watch. Soon I realized these babies were capable of eating the grass inside the ark down in a matter of hours. Still Momma wasn’t eating, but if she were, the sheep ark would have to be moved several times a day to keep up with these sheep that had become an anxious eating machine. Maybe the ark needed to be longer.

Day three I needed to spray sulfur on the grapevines. Sulfur prevents powdery mildew, the bane of southern Oregon vineyards. The ark is difficult to move by my power so I hitched the sheep ark to the tractor and pulled them ever so slowly out of range of the sulfur. It was here that I realized that if I made the ark longer, it would be too long to negotiate the turn at the end of the vine row.

And the sheep were so unhappy. Momma looked like she was losing weight already. Sadly, I came to accept that the sheep ark idea, while nice on paper, was not working. So I called my neighbor and humbly asked if I could return the poor traumatized sheep back to their flock. Momma and her twins returned home the next morning.

Sustainable vineyard

First steps with sheep

Back in ’99 when Matt and I were researching the whole vineyard/winery thing, we visited the Burgundy region in France. It was poetic, beautiful; each vineyard charmed me completely. In one vineyard, there were little short black sheep eating the flora between the vine rows. They were adorable. Since then, I’ve pictured short little sheep grazing among the vines.

I grew up on the Westside of Indianapolis, hardly country living. So I don’t know anything about raising sheep. But then I didn’t know anything about growing grapes either. I figure I can learn. The whole idea sounds great. The sheep keep the vineyard mowed. They spread a little fertilizer while they are at it. Besides, the sheep are so darn cute.

Fast forward to late April this year. There is a farm down the road from me that has sheep. I have passed them many times as I traveled into town. Well, a gentleman stopped by the vineyard one afternoon to ask me about growing grapes. He was wondering about whether his property would be a good vineyard candidate. As we got to talking, he mentioned that he had the farm up the road with the sheep. My ears pricked up. I asked him about the sheep in the vineyard idea. He felt the sheep would eat the tender grape shoots.

Now, I’ve thought of that. There are things called ‘chicken tractors’ or ‘chicken arks’ that are mobile, floorless pens. The chickens are confined from desired plantings, but can eat the bugs and weeds. When they finish with one area, one moves them to the next patch of bugs and weeds. So the gentleman and I discuss using this same idea for the sheep. He thinks it just may work. I agree to construct a ‘sheep ark’, he agrees to let me test run some sheep.

So a week or so later, I decide to construct a ‘sheep ark’. I have lots of old trellis posts, hog wire and plywood scraps. There are a number of websites that show chicken arks of many designs. I am not a carpenter. But I figure I can pattern after some pictures and cobble something mobile that will hold sheep. Five hours later, I’m not a quick carpenter; a 7’x10’ pen has materialized. I put 2 wheels on one end so that the entire contraption can be moved like a wheel barrel.

So I call the gentleman up the road to say that I’m ready for sheep trials. We agreed to meet the next morning to catch a momma and baby.

Frosty Mornings

Frosty mornings

Here in southern Oregon, the weather has turned from rainy to clear skies and sunshine. The grape buds have burst and are growing quickly. They already have shoots about 4” long. With the clear skies comes danger of frost damage to the tender shoots. This time of year, despite daytime highs in the 70’s, nighttime lows can easily dip into the 30’s.

And so it has. Three nights in a row, I’ve been awakened by the ‘beep-beep-beep’ of my temperature alarm. I set it at 34 degrees so if there will be frost, I’ll have time to pull on my boots and hurry down to the river. There I start up the 65 hp pump which feeds the overhead sprinklers in the vineyard.

It seems counter-intuitive, but to prevent frost damage, one puts water on the vines so that ice will form on them. As it turns out, a small amount of heat is released by the water as it becomes ice. The plant absorbs this heat. So the plant stays at or close to 32 degrees while the temperature outside the ice gets colder. This buys you 4 or 5 degrees of protection. If it drops lower than that, there will likely be crispy leaves in the morning.

So far (I say this with fingers crossed) the lowest temperature has been 29 degrees. When the sun comes up over the hills, the valley warms ups nicely. Afternoon temperatures have been in the upper 70’s. Spring is here.