How Did We Get Here?

As a first generation farmer, all of my endeavours have come with a significant learning curve. Sheep were one of the first animals I brought to the farm, a pair of Cotswolds I had named ‘Lucy’ and ‘Tumnus’. After reading about their gentle natures and unique wool, I had decided that Cotswolds were the breed for me. But as with so many things in farming, the way things are portrayed on paper, are not always how they turn out to be in real life.

My two sheep quickly multiplied, and yet my love for the breed had begun to wane. I struggled with parasite management, slow-growing single lambs, neglectful mothers and a myriad of other problems. With the impending arrival of my first child, I made the difficult decision to sell my flock and take a break from sheep altogether.

I don’t remember the exact moment I learned about dairy sheep, but I believe it was inadvertently through another local farm. I do however, remember being completely enchanted with the idea of having sheep I could milk. Dairy had been my passion from the beginning, and milk goats were the first animals I acquired when I started the farm. I found goats to be incredibly endearing, but the typical stumbling blocks of keeping goats had tripped me up. Not having the ability (or desire) to keep my own buck, coupled with an oversaturated market for goat kids quickly brought my romantic notions of what it would be like to raise dairy goats crashing down in a heap.

For a time I milked cows. First, an ornery little Dexter cow, named Molly. She was far from perfect, but she was all I could afford, and revelling in my pure delight at having a cow to milk at all, I hardly noticed her sour demeanour and simply got on with things. With age however, she grew more unpleasant, while I grew more cautious, and Molly eventually retired from house cow life and simply raised calves for me for several years instead.

So in 2019 when I encountered dairy sheep, I was intrigued. I had stopped milking while maintaining a full-time job and becoming pregnant with our daughter, and now that my child was earthside, and I was on leave, I was keen to start again. For most of my adult life, I had never really considered farming as a full-time career. In fact, I was entirely opposed to the idea of turning something I loved so much into a business. I had completed several years of post-secondary education and done very well. I had a promising future ahead of me. The only problem was, I didn’t want it.

I’ve never been one for ‘slow and steady’ so shortly after discovering dairy sheep I made a phone call. A local cheesemaker who lived about an hour away was milking goats and a handful of sheep. He had recently posted a job listing for an assistant milker and cheesemaker. The job sounded dreamy and for a few days I performed a series of mental gymnastics trying to sort out how I could possibly make it work. In the end, no amount of cognitive cartwheels could make the commute, early morning start, and time away from my infant daughter and my own farm, make any sort of sense. So when I called him, it wasn’t to discuss a job, it was to discuss starting a dairy of my very own.