I was expecting my flock to chew through the grass at Eric and Deb’s place in about a week, but the big bluestem pasture had so much forage that the sheep were still going at it 2 weeks in. At that point, I thought maybe I could stretch the grazing session to 3 weeks, but they ate through the last of it yesterday. I brought them a round bale of fermented hay that should have lasted hungry sheep 2 days or more, but it was completely gone by this afternoon, so I delivered a second bale.
They attacked it like they hadn’t eaten in weeks.
In a perfect world, I’d move the flock to their next grazing spot the instant they finished their current assignment, but the move is an all-day affair, and life intervened this week. The plan is to move them across town on Saturday; in the meantime, I’ve very happy to have the baleage left over from last winter.
(I’ve often seem farmers driving tractors along the edge of rural highways, and I always wonder why on earth they’d be doing that. I was that guy today, in the breakdown lane of Route 9, transporting 1200 lbs of hay to my flock across town. As the commuters whizzed past me, I was kind of enjoying the fresh breeze on top of the Kubota. It’s not exactly like riding a motorcycle, but more similar than I would have imagined.)