Apparently, we haven’t learned our lesson.
For the past two Julys, we’ve tried breeding a group of ewes for December lambs. Sheep can be bred during the summer, but extreme heat makes the job much more difficult. The rams become less active, and the heat can also affect their fertility.
In simple terms, when the temperature climbs into the thirties, romance falls fairly low on the sheep’s list of priorities.
For the past two Julys, our results have been what you might politely call disappointing.
Zero pregnancies.
So naturally, we decided to try it again.
Now, before you conclude that we’re complete fools, there is a reason. We need December lambs to keep a steady flow through the system, followed by a planned break in January and February to avoid lambing during the worst of the winter cold. Then we begin again with another group in March.
So, hot or not, we really had to try.
And for a brief moment, it looked like we had finally timed it perfectly.
The temperature dropped into the low twenties on Monday, the very day we were starting the breeding group. Anne and I were excited. The stars had aligned. After two years of failure, this was going to be the year we finally cracked the code.
Then Tuesday came.
The temperature climbed right back into the thirties, and any romance that may have been developing in the sheep pen came to a fairly abrupt end. The ewes and rams were lying around, barely interested in getting up to eat, let alone anything else.
I stood there looking at them and started lamenting about how we apparently hadn’t learned our lesson.
But the more I thought about that, the less certain I became about what the lesson was supposed to be.
When I ask myself, “Haven’t you learned your lesson?” perhaps I’m being a little too hard on myself.
Learning the lesson doesn’t always mean walking away. Sometimes it simply means going into something with your eyes open, accepting that it may not work, and deciding the chance is still worth taking.
I think we all face decisions like that. We make the best choice we can, knowing there are no guarantees, but sometimes we forget that we also need to be okay with whatever answer comes back.
That’s where I was with the sheep this week. But after giving it some thought, I don’t think we always need to beat ourselves up for trying.
For now, the rams remain employed, the weather forecast remains under close supervision, and hope—although slightly overheated—is still alive.
Farmer Rod