Search Results for: izzy

Our old Romney sheep, a sweet and beautiful rescue, took ill last week, she was wandering alone in the pasture, had stopped eating hay and seemed bewildered. We realized she had Huntington’s Disease a genetic disorder that occurs in people and sheep.

She seemed to know why I was in the Pole Barn with a rifle (for the worriers out there, the rifle in the photo is not mine, it was an old rifle in the barn, plugged and no longer usable. I’m giving it to an old gun lover.)

Izzy stayed still while I shot her in the heart five times at close range, she dropped instantly and was gone in seconds. She was getting sicker by the day.

Interesting, we just got two new sheep from our shearer Liz, and we just lost two sheep The wheel turns and turns.

Izzy seemed to be waiting for us.

We took her out by the pasture gate and covered her with a tarp, a friend is coming with his pickup to take her far out on his property and into the woods. When we can, we return our lost animals to nature.

Izzy’s death seemed to  hit Maria hard, harder than Zelda. She wrote about it on her blog. She sat with Izzy and cried with her for awhile.

As I’ve written before, and as people with farms know, it is often more humane to shoot a sick animal than have a stranger, a large animal vet come with IV’s and syringes. Izzy would stay still for me, but she would have fought a stranger with a needle.

This is quicker, and I’ve done it enough to feel confident that I can do it quickly and as humanely as possible. I think it is literally true that Izzy never knew what hit her, she just topped over at the first shot and never moved again, aside from the twitching that is part of an animal’s death.

I’m happy to report – although sad a bit, too, I suppose – that this is the first post written on my spanking new computer/ I’m very happy to get it. There is enough memory on it to last a lifetime, or at least my probably lifetime.

I am very glad to have my own computer, although I have a lot of sorting out and learning and organizing to do with my photographs.

It’s good to start feeling whole again. So long, Izzy, your were a good sheep for us.

Izzy is one of our biggest and most idiosyncratic Romney sheep. These days, she is often out grazing in the pasture alone, an unusual habit for a sheep. Maria and I went out to the far pasture this morning, Red walking behind us.

Suddenly, he perked up and saw Izzy grazing alone. Red went into his crouch and started creeping towards Izzy, who was wolfing down some fresh grass from the pasture.

It’s very unusual to see sheep alone. Maria thinks Izzy is just expressing his individuality, I think she’s gone bonkers and has dementia.

There’s still some juice in the old boy, though, as Red advanced towards Izzy, he just took off, heading fast for the pole barn and his brothers and sisters. He wanted no trouble from Red.

Red was pleased, and we slowly walked him back to the barn.

 

Zelda spends most of the day lying by the pasture gate. I admit I would have put her down by now, Maria isn’t ready, and Zelda is still eating and grazing with the flock when she can. She doesn’t seem to be suffering.

We both agree we won’t put her through any more winters up  here. It is powerful to see that the sheep make sure one of them is always with her. I’ve noticed before that sheep don’t die alone, but Zelda’s spot – by the gate – makes it easier for me to see their affection and commitment for one another.

Today it was Izzy’s turn to sit with her. Zelda won’t die alone.