On Naming Them.

Remy has the uncanny ability to identify every single sheep by name. From far away. By face, color or by the slightest difference in gait. He knows them by bleat. He knows who always goes out into the pasture first and who is always the last one to get back. He knows which ewes are the better mothers and which would gladly give their lambs away. He knows their personalities and quirks.

We all claim ownership to different ewes and we each get to name our own, as well as their offspring. Remy's favorite clan is Garbanzo Bean's. She delivered twins: Cocoa & Bergamot, and the following year she had Lima Bean & Floppa. Bergamot recently delivered Licker and Ribbon, Cocoa has yet to deliver this season and Floppa will probably wait until Spring. Lima Bean and Garbanzo Bean have both passed on, but are still remembered and talked about fondly, particularly Garbanzo Bean.

And then there are those that have been destined for the freezer from day one. They have also been named and played with and chased about. They live wonderful carefree lives in irrigated pasture, with the opportunity to run around and enjoy the sunshine. They all get shelter from rain and heat. And they are all occasionally pampered with that extra ration of grain, just because it's fun for both them and the children to run about and have them eating our of their hands. We give to them and then they give to us. I think it is a fair bargain. We are currently in the process of fattening up our little ram, Banana, he is getting lots of love and lots of grain. Just like Desperaux and Jean Valjean did in their day. And we all remember how yummy those lamb burgers were!

Sometimes I drive around our edge of town, and I look into other people's pastures as I drive. Sometimes their animals' conditions are appalling. The animals have no shelter or are knee deep in mud - or worse. They live in overcrowded conditions. The animals I have seen at the auction don't seem to be better off. They are scared as they walk into the ring, they have no idea what will happen or even why they are there. The way I see it, they are lucky when they get to come with us. Although sometimes it takes a while for them to realize we are not mean people. We are not going to brand them or burn them, we will just let them be. Cows and steers run around in the pasture, calfs stay in the barn being bottle fed until they are ready to run outside. They are talked to and petted on a daily basis. Each and every one of them. From Bobo the lama to the youngest, newest addition to our herd.

As for our goats, particularly the meat goats. That is what the intention is. To have them live a peaceful, pampered existence until fair and then to be auctioned. By the pound. As meat. Without the disconnect between farm and table. The beautifully packaged meat at the supermarket used to be alive. Hopefully leading a peaceful existence. But I doubt it.

Which brings me to a confession I have to make. About Carnitas. Last Thursday he broke his rear leg. He shattered the bone. It was an extremely difficult decision and one that was not made lightly or in haste, a decision that brings tears as I write this, but we simply had to let him go. Gently, and with love and deep sorrow in our hearts.