During Charlotte’s recent bout with mastitis, I saw more evidence of how the flock has changed since the death of Queenmere, the ubermom who used to watch over them all. She was one of the three sheep who were the first ovines on the sanctuary. Wonder was born to Charlotte not long after their arrival and it was these four who taught me the Way of the Sheep. I hadn’t lived closely with sheep before and I assumed that the way this flock behaved was how it was among sheep, but now I know it isn’t so.
Queenmere (Franglais for Queen Mother) was an exceptional leader. I gave her that name soon after she arrived because it was clear she was a wonderful mother to her daughter Chloe and her granddaughter Charlotte. I didn’t realize at the time that the name suited her way beyond that (though the part of me that receives names knew).
Charlotte developed terrible hoof problems one winter, to the point that it was painful for her to walk. One day I noticed that the flock was not going down to the far pasture as was their ritual every morning. When I thought about it, I realized I hadn’t seen them down there at all for days. Wondering if there was something dangerous in the area, I walked the land but found nothing. In the next week, the sheep continued to stay away from their usual haunts.
Watching them, it suddenly came to me that Queenmere was keeping the flock in the upper pasture near the shelter. It was too difficult for Charlotte to make their daily rounds and for her healing she needed to give her feet a rest. Queenmere knew that she would try to follow the others and it wouldn’t be good for her. A good leader does not abandon a member of the group, even when the grass is greener somewhere else.
All this was confirmed in the weeks to come as the flock gradually widened their roaming range as Charlotte’s feet healed (with major hoof care). In fact, I could gauge the state of her health each day by how far the flock roamed. They did not return to their favorite field until Charlotte was able to go. The day I saw them down there, I knew that the hoof care had turned her serious condition around and she would be all right.
Queenmere’s control of the flock was not apparent, to my eye anyway. She did not behave aggressively toward Chloe and Wonder to get them to stay in the upper pasture. I never saw her herding them or doing anything else physically to keep the unit together. The consummate leader, she had only to stay with Charlotte herself and they did the same. She was the one who led them wherever they went and they trusted her completely, gave her their allegiance without pressure or coercion. They simply recognized her as the leader among them, even though she was the smallest. And unlike in many human groups, leadership is not an ego thing among sheep. The leader is the one who is best able to care for the flock—not necessarily the largest, but the wisest.
If any of them were out of sight, Queenmere baaed until they found her. None of them liked being out of sight. They would just sometimes get distracted in their grazing. Then raising their heads to see where the others were and not seeing them, they would start to panic, running to find them and baaing to them for their location. Sheep know they are easy prey if separated from the flock. Queenmere would answer them immediately and keep calling until they were reunited. She was also always checking on the flock, raising her head from grazing to see that everybody was together, and calling if they weren’t. Again, I thought this was typical behavior. Not so.
Queenmere died a natural death at the grand old age of 14. As with so many deaths of loved ones, she chose to leave when I was away from home. The dear friend who was animal-sitting for me found her lying peacefully dead in the lower pasture. (Queenmere couldn’t have been in better hands because this friend is a hospice nurse.) The flock seemed lost without Queenmere. I think it was both grief and losing their leader. Even in the weeks that followed her death, no one stepped into the leadership role and I wondered if they would be an egalitarian flock. They were all related and so attuned to each other that I thought perhaps they didn’t need a leader.
A shepherd I met in New Zealand who had only 60 sheep, compared to the sheep stations with tens of thousands, told me that sheep people who came to his small farm asked him why his sheep were so different from other sheep. The people were referring to their bonded, affectionate behavior with each other. The shepherd answered, “Because they’re all family and they’ve been together their whole lives.”
A new member joined our flock not long after Queenmere died. Isabel was not family, but she was soon welcomed into the fold. Still the flock did not seem to have one leader, and this remains true even a year and a half after Queenmere’s departure. They roam together, but when one gets separated, the others don’t even bother to answer the frantic baaing. On numerous occasions, hearing the worried calling, I’ve gone out and showed the straying one where the others are.
And Charlotte was left to fend for herself in her recent illness. When the three able-bodied ones were back at the shelter, they would be near her, but they roamed far from her whenever they felt like it. The three of them traveled as a unit but were willing to leave Charlotte behind. As I watched them head off for their autumn morning ritual of checking under all the apple trees for fallen fruit, with Charlotte looking longingly after them after having attempted a few steps, I thought, “Queenmere would never have allowed this.”
I bring Charlotte apples to at least release her from that part of her longing. The flock soon comes back. It does seem that they cut their wanderings short because she is not with them. And maybe they don’t have a leader because they know none of them have Queenmere’s leadership skills. I kind of like it that theirs is an egalitarian flock, trading off the lead position in deciding where they will go to graze next.
But theirs is now the individual versus community dilemma that faces humans. Individuality is great for creative expression, but when a community member is lost or sick, it’s best to have a Queenmere around. Now I know that superb leadership ability is not a given in every flock, just as it isn’t in every human group. And now that I recognize what a truly great leader Queenmere was, I find myself, when faced with a community issue, asking, “What would Queenmere do?” The answer is always in the best interests of the flock.
P.S. Charlotte is back to visiting the apple trees.
© Stephanie Marohn, 2007