[Above photo: Res ipse loquitur. ]
19 May 2021
Ari and I have spent most of the past month, starting in late April, on the island in 3-5 day chapters. I’ve not visited it before the 1st of June previously. We left Center Harbor in Auk, our 19’ Seaway, loaded with gasoline, water, food, electric fences, metal fence poles, a large and heavy roll of welded fence wire, two dogs, and last summer’s end of season laundry, on a mission.
The sheep need shearing. And they also require containment on the meadow over the summer so they don’t poop everywhere, nibble lettuce from gardens, and upset some of the residents. I get it, although sheep poop is odorless and decomposes quickly, fertilizing the sandy, thin island soil.
Ours have been expeditionary visits, to see if they had survived the winter and to attempt to map their habitual routes so as to better trick them into a pen. It turns out, they may be smarter than we are, despite at least 37 combined years, excluding kindergarten, of high-end and expen$ive schooling between us.
We landed at dead low tide. It wasn’t planned or desired. It is just much easier to travel early in the morning before the wind and waves pick up. It turns out that landing at dead low is best since the beach then is less sloped and Ari could unload wearing her rubber boots without the water cascading over their tops.
There is no float yet, no moorings (although we set one up on a subsequent visit in anticipation of a brisk northerly), no water system, and no motorized vehicles to carry our stuff up the hill to our cabin. Still, we managed to lug everything up, even getting buckets of water from the well for the dogs and washing dishes.
The osprey, loons, crows, black-throated green warblers, eider ducks, song sparrows and hermit thrush all make a symphonious racket. Mackerel aren’t yet in the bay so neither are the porpoises.
Happily, the sheep are still a flock of 12 and look very healthy. It turns out that they are descendants of the first sheep to come to the New World—or at least this part of it—, 200+ years ago. They are North Country Cheviots, hailing (Do sheep hail?) from central Scotland. They were raised for meat but their wool is marvelous. These look like puffballs, so thick is their coat.
They sheltered under my house in the bitter of winter for quite awhile, judging from their scat. I raked out a few bucketloads and spread it on my blueberry plants and my garden patch. They moved things around under there, tossing 4 sawhorses out onto the lawn, dislocating much of the plumbing, and breaking the drain from the kitchen sink, a minor issue now repaired. We’ll build them a shelter for next winter; there is enough driftwood, including plywood, on the beaches for a mansion. And we’ll put chickenwire around the base of my house so they don’t intrude.
We ate like royalty, as Ari is a terrific and discriminating cook. And walked and walked and walked, tracking the beasties by remnants of their wool left on wild raspberry vines, low spruce twigs, and other impediments. We strategized on how to catch them. We played Bananagrams at lunch and Scrabble after supper, she winning most games. And we laughed a lot, especially at the antics of her 9 month old pup, a pure-bred Border Collie who as of now is just very excited by the sheep without the discipline or training to work them.
It is strange, because if Ari had a working sheep dog, it could put the sheep in a pen in 10 minutes. Meanwhile, we erected long swaths of electric fencing which eventually form a chute leading to a sturdy pen we built where they will be contained for shearing. If they go into it. I certainly never would have guessed my daughter would desire to be a shepherd but since she does, I’ll be supportive.
I noted to her how fun it has been to work together on the island this Spring and rebuilding her boat last Spring. She agreed and noted that, living in Maine, it was likely we’d be working together every Spring. Not bad!
I won’t explore the frightening mess the thieves and liars and rapists—Oh, shouldn’t they be heading to that hotel in El Salvador?—are making in DC. But I’ll lift my sign and my voice on June 14th , joining the multitudes. It seems like we need a nationwide work stoppage soon.
Maine weather is such a tease. When I came back from the island three days ago, it was 68 degrees and the E. Prom was filled with people at play. The past two days it has been in the low 50’s and rainy. Summer, however, will come. My tulips are up and one of my lilacs has 6 or 7 blooms, despite not getting adequate sunlight.
It’s good to be alive—and to feel alive!
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 