The Unending Circle: Embracing Life and Death on Our Sheep Farm

Sheep dot our pastures, grazing peacefully or laying about digesting their last meal, their lambs, now independent, frolicking nearby. The air hums with the gentle bleating of the flock, a symphony of life on our farm. It’s a scene of idyllic pastoral beauty, and it’s easy to get lost in the warmth and joys of everything nature has to provide.

But here on the farm, we’re constantly reminded that death is part of life, a fundamental truth woven into the very fabric of nature.

The Inevitable Cycle

Just as surely as new lambs arrive in the spring, some sheep or even lambs will not make it through the year. Whether it's an unforeseen illness, a predator, or simply old age, loss is an undeniable part of farming. It's never easy. Each animal, even those destined for the market, represents a life we’ve nurtured, a presence in our daily routine. There’s a gut wrenching sorrow when you lose an animal you’ve sat up with nurturing as they teeter on the edge of life and death and there's a quiet sadness, too, that comes with simply finding a sheep that has passed, a moment of reflection on the brevity of existence.

Nature's Rhythm

Yet, this isn't a blog about sadness, but about understanding.

The cycle of life in nature is so prevalent, so undeniably powerful, that it transcends individual losses. The grass grows, is eaten, and nourishes the sheep. The sheep live, reproduce, and eventually return to the earth, enriching the soil for new growth. Predators, too, play a role, ensuring the health and strength of the flock over generations. It’s a continuous, interconnected dance where every element has its place and purpose.

Finding Peace in Acceptance

We see this cycle everywhere. The brilliant bloom of wildflowers in summer eventually fades, their seeds falling to sprout again next spring. The majestic oak tree, standing strong for decades, will one day fall, providing a home for insects and nutrients for the forest floor. The buzzard that comes in on a helpless newborn lamb, not out of cruelty but to eat. The chickens, so susceptible to all kinds of small critters, each fox, racoon or weasel just trying to feed itself. I've even watched a spider for hours, admiring its strategic web-building, right up until it catches something. Then, as it moves in for the meal, I'm torn between appreciating the natural process and feeling like I should 'save' the poor victim.

It’s a constant ebb and flow, a testament to nature's resilience and its profound ability to regenerate.

On our sheep farm, we've learned to embrace this rhythm. We celebrate the boisterous energy of new lambs, spring and new life and the gentle wisdom of our oldest ewes, understanding that each moment is precious. When death comes, we acknowledge the loss, but we also recognize it as a natural, essential part of the larger story.

It is a reminder to appreciate the life that surrounds us, to live fully, and to find peace in the perpetual unfolding of the natural world.

John and I , thanks to life here on the farm, have learned that death isn't a cruel ending, but a vital stitch in the intricate fabric of life. Living this life has shown us that death isn't a cruel thief, but a natural horizon—the body's final rest and the quiet conclusion to a life lived…

What are your thoughts on how nature reflects the cycle of life and death?