Separations

Fall brings time to wean offspring from mothers.

In humans, the weaning process is usually gradual – a teenager finally releases his

mother’s leg, learns to drive alone and gets a job.

Some – not all – even leave the home.

Weaning lambs is more abrupt.

They don’t know they are spending their last night in the security of their ewes.

Morning brings the sorting chute and separation.

Afterward, my job is to keep them fed, watered and separated.

Their mission is to return to their mothers.

I have woven wire fencing and yellow twine on my side.

They have determination and ovine innovation on theirs.

Even as my crew and I sorted lambs from ewes last week, some of the lambs attempted

to jump the chute and return to the flock.

Three made it.

But this wasn’t my first rodeo.

The lambs jumped over the chute and into a different corral, still separated.

They bleated and pushed on the fence, but the fence held.

The ewes ignored the lambs, quietly munching on hay in the manger.

Once all of the lambs were corralled, I turned the ewes out to pasture for three weeks.

I will keep a buffer zone between the lambs and ewes so they can’t touch noses and

find weak spots in the woven wire and twine.

But sometimes even a buffer zone of space and time isn’t enough.

My milk cow, Maija, and her 18-month-old heifer calf, Queenie, have grazed separate

pastures all summer.

Last fall, I weaned Queenie with the rest of the calves by separating them the same way

I separate lambs.

Like the rest of the calves, Queenie vocalized her preference for her mother’s comfort,

but the separation gave Maija a chance to quit producing milk and invest that energy

into another, in utero calf.

After a few weeks, Maija and my other cows no longer produced milk so their weaned

calves spent the winter, hay-feeding season together.

By spring, I sent last year’s calves to a different pasture so this year’s calves could

enjoy their mothers’ full attention.

A couple of weeks ago, I put Maija and Queenie in the same pasture.

Maija didn’t seem to notice, but Queenie grazed next to Maija every day and night.

Last week, I loaded 21-year-old Maija into the trailer for a ride to the auction.

After 14 years as my milk cow, Maija was leaving the ranch.

Queenie jumped into the trailer with Maija.

I sorted her out.

As I drove the trailer away, Queenie followed as long as she could.

Tears that were already threatening streamed down my face.

I almost stopped and let Maija out of the trailer.

Instead, I gritted my teeth and slipped my truck into Drive.

I’ve watched a sibling-to-sibling bond that was as strong as a mother-offspring bond,

too.

Once, I had twin lambs that needed to be separated.

One twin was healthy while the other needed my foster care.

The foster lamb stayed in my orphanage pen while the healthy lamb stayed with her

mother.

About two weeks later, the ewe and healthy lamb spent a few nights in the barn.

The foster lamb slept curled next to her sister every night.

When I turned the healthy lamb and ewe back to the pasture, the foster lamb did not cry

or exhibit sadness, but I will not forget watching her curl up next to her sister when she

had a chance.

In the bigger picture, managing the land, the health of my breeding cows and ewes, and

my finances insists on the efficient weaning system I use.

It has to be done so I’ll do it.

But I don’t have to like it.