Eighty-four stories ago, I wrote “The Neighbors Think We’re Crazy.” I told about planting a new pasture on what’s typically highly fertile land used for crops and vegetable production. That field grew into a beautiful mix of alfalfa and grasses, but there was one big problem: I massively underestimated the investment needed to install fencing. Classic rookie mistake.
So, for the last two years, that beautiful pasture didn’t see a single hoof. Instead, I cut and baled the hay. It worked fine, but this fall, things didn’t quite line up. My last chance to cut hay passed, and the field was left untouched, just sitting there—a green buffet waiting to be grazed.
Now, here’s where things get interesting. Every morning, as I feed bales of hay to the sheep, I count the bales. Then, I count the days to spring. And no matter how many times I run the numbers, the math isn’t good. At this rate, we’re not going to have enough hay to make it through the winter. And buying more hay? Let’s just say my wallet is not a fan of that option.
The answer seemed obvious: get the sheep out on that lush pasture. But one thing stood in my way—fencing. What’s a farmer to do?
Well, I had some ideas. The cheapest one? Buy a comfy lawn chair, grab my thermos of coffee, and sit in the field all day playing “sheep bouncer.” Economical, yes. Practical? Not so much. The most secure option? Take out a bank loan, install a proper permanent fence, and call it a day. Fancy, but let’s be honest, I’d need to sell a lot more lamb for that.
After weeks of fence-related debates and wild ideas (none involving duct tape, thankfully), I landed on a middle ground: a temporary electric fence. Still an investment, but at about one-tenth the cost of a permanent fence, it felt manageable. Sure, it’s not the most secure setup—more like a suggestion to the sheep than a solid boundary—but it would have to do.
With a couple of warm days last week, I grabbed everything I needed from the local fence supply store and spent a full day getting it all set up. And just like that, the pasture project I started two years ago was finally a success.
I rounded up the girls and led them to their new grazing ground. They loved it, of course—why wouldn’t they? Herding them out there was way easier than hauling hay to them, and watching them graze was one of the most satisfying things I’ve done in a while.
That evening, I walked them back through a little maze of pathways I’d set up and into the well-fenced area where they’d spend the night.
The next morning, instead of waiting by the hay feeder as they usually do, there they were, all lined up at the gate, ready to be let back out to the field. They’d already figured out the routine—smart cookies, those sheep.
I’ve got to say, this is incredibly satisfying. Pasture grazing feels simpler and better for the sheep, even if the economics of it are still hard to make work. But this week’s success has me feeling optimistic—like maybe I’m finally on the right side of the fence.
A final note: If you’ve visited our website recently, you might’ve noticed that we’ve temporarily paused new subscriptions to catch up with the incredible demand for our lamb. This support means more than I can put into words. Your belief in what we do gave me the courage to finally move forward with this pasture project. So, from me and the flock—thank you. This week, as I watched the sheep grazing that lush field, it felt like a shared win—for us, for the animals, and for the land.
Here’s to more green fields ahead.
Farmer Rod
