When I was making breakfast this morning, I heard the Icies barking on the back deck and looked out the kitchen window to see Buddy with Minx’s head in his mouth. I screamed out the window for Frank to go help (he was getting ready to feed the pigs), jumped into my boots, and ran outside.
Frank had Buddy by the collar and Minx had run off. But then we saw that Fiona was down and Doppadottir was also bloody around the head. What the heck? Buddy has not shown any aggression at all toward the sheep prior to this.
We tethered him in the front yard and called the vet. The whole front of his white fur was red, covered in blood. I can still barely manage to look at him.
Fiona was still alive, but barely. We got Doppadottir in the shed with her lamb and knew it was going to take three of us to corner Minx.
When the vet got here (Steve Major from Chesterfield, as Chuck Shaw who we usually use wasn’t on call this weekend), he put Fiona down immediately. No way she was going to recover, and her lambs weren’t going to be viable if we did a C-Section. Poor thing. She was one of our first sheep and we have so many of her daughters. She was never a fence breaker so quite endearing to me. I’m so sorry she had such an awful end.
Doppadottir had the exact same kind of injury. Ears nearly torn off, deep wounds around the neck. The vet said this dog has a preferred method for taking down sheep and should never be trusted on a farm. Minx (when we finally caught her) had the same type of injury. They are both sewn up and in a shed where we can give them drugs and hopefully nurse them back to good health.
I contacted the rescue organization and told them Buddy needs to be elsewhere. Not on my farm. We had been told he was safe around livestock and we had certainly never seen any aggressiveness toward the critters from him prior to these awful attacks.
My poor sheep. I’m so sorry. I got the LGDs to protect you, not harm you. Fiona, sweetie, you were always slightly stand-offish, unless you had a problem. You thought fences were there to keep the bad guys out, and never ever went through or under them yourself, quite unlike Kaytla and her crew. You had so many daughters that I still have that I will be able to remember you for a long, long time. You were so elegant, so pretty. I’m so sorry your life ended in such a horrible fashion. You did not deserve this, sweet girl.
Doppadottir, hopefully having your lamb with you will give you the strength and will to live. Your injuries are bad. Your ears are both nearly off and the wounds quite deep. We’ll help you fight. You want to live, if only for your adorable son.
Minx, sweetie, no matter what I’ve said about you lately, this wasn’t your fault. Please don’t die. Please have your babies safely and live a long time to drive me nuts with your fence breaking. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE. Period. You and I have been through many an antic requiring vet trips during your life. Scurs ripped off, grain overload. But this, this is awful and not your fault, but mine.
I had been so hopeful that Buddy would work out. We love Maggie so much and had room for another. Other farmers are telling me that they would have gotten a gun and put him down too. Maybe I’m a wimp. I don’t know where he belongs, but it ain’t here. Just last night I had seen him play for the first time and uploaded a video and everything. He had actually walked by Bjarki without growling for the first time, too. We had hope we could get him integrated in to our happy life. Having him around was stressful because of the wanting to kill Bjarki thing, but it was getting better, damn it.
I guess it just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m so sad for my sheep that they had to bear the brunt of figuring that out. I’m so sorry, sheepies.