A week or so ago, we brought the sheep down from the mountains southeast of our home place where they spent the summer months, keeping cool under the tall aspen trees and munching their way through the undergrowth. As the autumn months come, the daylight wanes and the air smells faintly of snow in the early morning hours; there’s less feed available for our flock up in the high country, so it’s time to come home for the season.
Moving at sheep-pace through the New Mexico countryside provides an entirely new perspective on the lands we call home. It’s one thing to see the rugged beauty of this part of the country at 60 miles an hour through your windshield as you whiz along a winding mountain road with your mind on your destination and the radio; it’s another to see it unfold at your feet or over the ears of your horse as you make your way, working back and forth behind the sheep to push them on, guiding them over the winding course toward their winter pastures in Tierra Amarilla. The vast landscape takes on a whole other meaning as new vistas open out before you as you round a bend through the trees or come upon the crest of a hill. It’s an awe-inspiring and humbling experience, reminding us that we’re only a small part of this wide world full of wonders.
The sheep, of course, are not much concerned with scenery. They’re largely content to move along at a good clip, grabbing a nibble from a mountain mahogany bush or tuft of crested wheat as they pass, or drinking deep at a water hole or creek in their path. The Navajo-Churro sheep are always out front, leading the way home. It can take some doing to keep the whole band together - slowing down the front ranks while urging the back on so we can make it to our stopping place by nightfall.
Make no mistake – the trek is hard work. Feet get weary, saddles wet, bellies hungry, tempers short, and even the dogs are glad to rest at the end of each day of travel. The last day of our journey is always the most nerve-wrecking because it’s on this day that we emerge from the forests and backcountry and travel down the highway for a few miles to make it home. Fortunately, most motorists we meet are patient and good-humored, more excited by being suddenly surrounded by hundreds of sheep on the road than they are annoyed at the short delay from our passing.
Now that the sheep are home, we’ll begin the process of settling into the rhythm of winter time on the ranch. Soon the snow will fly and we’ll be out feeding in the cold, bright mornings. But for now, the end of our journey gives us a moment to pause, to take a breath of crisp fall air and enjoy the low slanting rays of the afternoon sun as it shines down on the ranch.
