Island views

In our quest for self suffiency, dairy production has been an important stumbling block.
When we started looking at what food we buy, dairy came up as one of our major import. This is even more of a problem on the island, because organic milk is not always available, even in Westport. And we buy large amount of yogurt, butter and cheese, as well as fresh milk.
Being very partial to goat milk, my first idea was to get goats. But Ciara, who doesn’t like goat’s milk and had goats before, vetoed it on the ground that goats would be very difficult to keep out of the garden and woodland, and would do enormous damage there.
So we looked at cows, and ended up buying 2 kerry cows. Kerry cows are an small, indigenous dairy breed, and it looked like a good idea at the time. But unfortunately, because they are a rare breed, many Kerry cows are kept solely for breeding, and are rarely handled. Suffice to say that ours only stayed on Clare island for 6 month, before being sold on to a rare breed enthusiast in Wexford. We didn’t even go as far as getting them in calf! We then toyed with the idea of getting a heifer from our friend Bernie, the only man on the island who is still milking his cows. But neither of us have much experience handling cows, and not much interest in them either and in the end, it didn’t happen, and 3 years later, we were stil no closer to being self sufficiency in milk.
Then, last year, I found out about milking sheep at Tim and Sandra’s place in West Cork (see my earlier postings on woofing in West Cork). I got to taste sheep milk for the first time in my life and realised that of all the milking animals, sheep are probably the easiest to keep. They are they are much smaller than cows, and therefore easier to handle, house and feed and a lot cheaper. More importantly, Ciara is well used to handling sheep, having kept some continuously for over 20 years . And besides, who need 10 liters of cows milk every day? In retrospect, how could we even have been stupid enough to buy two kerry cows? A good milking sheep gives over 2 liters of milk per day, enough to cover all our needs. The only questions was how they would survive on Clare Island.
I got the job of sourcing milking sheep, which turned out easy enough, just ring all the sheep cheese manufacturers in Ireland and find one who is willing to sell you a few ewes. We eventually got three Texel / Friesland cross ewes from Cratloe farm last October. We felt that pure Friesland wouldn’t survive on Clare Island, and that, although their milk yields might be a bit lower, a Texel cross would be a better bet. And although one of them died shortly after her arrival on Clare Island, the other two settled well. We put them to a local Texel ram and in March, we got our first lamb from them. It was time for me to build a milking stand for the ewes.
I had milked goats in Canon Frome Court last Autumn, and had a good idea of what it should look like, and Tim emailed me the essential dimensions: width,50 cm and distance between the yoke bars, 15 cm. With a few pieces of scrap timber and a sheet of plywood, I got the milking stand built in an afternoon. It turned out to be just as well, as the other ewes lost one of her lamb at birth and the other one a few days later, and we had to start milking right away.
Two month later, we are getting over 3 liters of milk every day from our two ewes, which is plenty: we have stopped buying fresh milk and yogurt and are even making a bit of cheese. In fact, we have so much milk that we milk one of the ewes only in the morning, and let her lamb (who will be kept as a ram) is left to suck during the day.
Sheep milk is richer than cows milk, but has a pleasant, mild taste, and most importantly, makes lovely yogurt.

Tess, one of our two milking ewes

Island life has a way of fostering self sufficiency. In matter of  hoof care, the road to self sufficiency  started for me on a windy winter morning, when our farrier rang from the harbour on the mainland, saying that, no, he wasn’t coming out to the island after all, as the sea was too rough.
Sinbad and Misty, our two riding horses, had been without shoes for a month at this stage. “When can you come?” I asked wearily. “Well, since I need a full day free to go out to you, it won’t be for another six weeks”. Ten weeks without riding. There had to be a better solution.
That’s when I started to research other options and found out about barefoot trimming.
For years, my riding horses had been shod because, like most horse owners, I simply didn’t know horses could be ridden without shoes. In my ignorance, I assumed that riding a horse barefoot was cruel, or at best, careless.
But necessity, in this case, turned out to be the mother of education. A bit of research led me to the work of Jaime Jackson and after reading his “Horse Owners Guide to Natural Hoof Care”, I knew that not only I had found the perfect solution to my shoeing problem, but that I would end up with happier, healthier horses.
Shoeing is clearly a specialized skill, but trimming hooves looked more like something that I could master. After all, I am a reasonably competent amateur carpenter, so as far as I was concerned, with the right tools, I could do it. As well as a set of farrier tools, I got a copy of Peter Ramey’s “Making Natural Hoof Care Work for You”, and a few trimming DVDs, and I was on my way.
My first attempts at trimming were slow and awkward. The hooves looked OK, much like the ones in the books, but I wasn’t really sure that what I was doing wasn’t hurting the horses, and one of the riding horses was tender on his feet without shoes. Clearly, there’s only so much you can learn from books and videos. I needed further training.
Unfortunately, looking for a training course proved frustrating. There were none in Ireland, and while I could have travelled to England every month for 2 years and become a qualified “equine podiatrist”, I could neither spare the time nor the money to do this.
That’s when an internet search found Dermot McCourt’s website. Someone in Ireland who was doing barefoot trimming! Not only that, but he had been a farrier and had twenty odd years professional experience in hoof care. He had rescued many laminitic horses including some desperate cases that were on their way to slaughter. It looked like I had found the right man. Luckily, after a couple of phone calls, Dermot agreed to come to the island to trim a few horses and show me how to do it.
Dermot’s first visit to the island was a memorable experience for all involved (including Dermot himself, who ended up travelling back to the mainland at dusk, in rough seas, in a RIB). But within the few hours he had spent on the island, he had managed not only to trim our horses, but to gently point out my trimming mistakes -the toes and the bars left too long, leading to contracted heels and bruised soles -and to show me a few tricks of the trade. Most importantly, he had proven to be hugely competent and extremely generous with his knowledge. The idea of a more formal training course was born, and while it took a while to obtain funding and organise it, this was eventually held on the island in March this year.
Ten horse owners gathered in the Clare Island community centre bar to listen to Dermot talk about why horses first got shod, why shoes are not necessary, and explain in detail the anatomy of the horse hoof. Then, after a healthy lunch, we all headed out to start trimming.

Trimming demonstration by Dermot

We had lined up a variety of horses. Mostly Connemara brood mares, of course, as they are the most numerous on the island, but also an Icelandic riding pony, a few of our own horses (who regularly work barefoot), and a couple of youngsters. Trimming proved to be the most instructive part of the workshop as we worked our way through a variety of cracked, overgrown or bruised hooves (as well as some healthy feet), under the expert guidance of Dermot and his son John (also a qualified trimmer). By the end of the workshop, we had seen fifteen horses trimmed, everyone had put rasp to hoof, and we all felt a lot more confident about doing it ourselves. Of course, we are only talking about maintenance trims, not remedial work or shoeing. But with a clear picture in one’s mind of what a healthy hoof should look like, as well as good hooves to start with, it is possible.

Before and after trimming

We will be running another Natural hoof care workshop at Macalla farm in September.

See also our Horse ressources web page for links to barefoot trimming ressources.

During my most recent trip to England, I ended up by a lucky accident staying in Canon From Court, a housing association and farming community in Herefordshire. The community aims to be as self sufficient in food as possible, and keeps goats, who are milked by members of the community in rotation. Not being a man to let such a prime opportunity to learn a practical skill pass by, I promptly volunteered to help with the milking of the goats, and over the week I stayed there, became sufficiently proficient at it to be left doing it on my own.
Back home, I found out that Ciara still didn’t share my new enthousiasm for goats (may be it has something to do with the fact that she did have some early on in her island life), and, since the 2 milking ewes we got in September are currently dry (and will not lamb before March), it looked like my newly aquired milking skills weren’t going to be of much immediate use.
Unless….
Yes, two of our Connemara mares have foals at foot, and therefore are currently in milk. Surely, if they milk mares in Central Asia, why not on Clare Island?
I separated Freya (a four year old mare born on the farm), from her foal for the day, putting both of them in separate sections of the sheep pen, so that they could still talk to one another over the fence, but the foal wouldn’t be able to suck, and in the evening, came along with a bucket to give it a try.
To my delight, Freya (who in fairness is an exceptionnaly quiet mare, and, being a first time foaler, doesn’t know what the “normal” procedure is), just threw a mildly suprised glance at me and stood there while I fumbled with her udder. I came back to the house with a cup of mare’s milk, and I have been milking her every day since.
As it turned out, I was lucky.
Milking mares can be a dangerous business. Their udder is between their powerful back legs, and most mares are not too happy with anyone other than their foal fumbling with their udder, kicking out at the offender. When I (half heartedly) tried with Daisy, our older mare, she made it clear to me that if I insisted, she would have to kick this stupid idea out of my head, and Bella (who isn’t in milk anyway) also objected (although in her case I had the feeling that, because we are such good friends, there could be room for negociation). But in any case Freya didn’t flinch. It probably helped that I had gotten her use to having her udder touched earlier in the year, before she foaled (this is common practice with first time foalers, as it helps to prevent the mare kicking at the newborn foal trying to suck).
Also, as it turned out, a mare will only allow herself to be milked if her foal is present (this is why, on all the photos of mares being milked, that you will find on the Internet, the foal is always near the mare), so I had accidentaly set things up right. Indeed, on a couple of occasions since, when her foal accidentaly got out of sight while I was milking her, Freya immediatly started to object.  She is not aggressive and won’t kick, but she twitches her tail and moves away from me. But as long as her foal is nearby, she stands perfectly quiet, munching at her hay. I don’t even have to tie her (I don’t like tying up horses, anyway).
For the first few days, I just brought the two of them to the sheep pen in the morning, put them in separate sections of it, and fed them both. Then, in the evenings, I would come up with my bucket, milk her, and then let the 2 of them together for the night. After a few days, I decided I would try and wean the foal completely, and separated the two for the night, but as it turned out, this was a bad idea.
Beside the usual whinnying with the 2 of them calling at one another, as soon as I took the foal away from her, Freya started drying out. I was getting less milk in two milking sessions, morning and evening, with no foal sucking, than I had with just the one evening milking and the foal sucking during the night. So I promptly went back to having the two of them together during the night, separating them (and feeding them separately) during the day, and milking the mare only once, in the evening. With this method, I am getting about a litre of milk every day, which is perfect for our needs. The whole operation takes about 20 minutes of my time every day (including the time it takes to separate the 2 in the morning).
What’s mare’s milk like, you may ask?
Well, it’s thinner than cows milk, having a lower fat and protein content, and it is noticeably sweeter, being much higher in lactose (that’s why it can be fermented). It has a mild taste, and apparently, it’s easier to digest than cows milk. I haven’t tried to make kumys yet, but that could well be my next fermentation experiment
I’d love to hear from anyone else who has experience milking mares.

Christophe