Rural Intelligence bloggers Peter Davies and Mark Scherzer are the owners of Turkana Farms in Germantown, NY. This week Peter writes: We are not in any way experts on animal behavior, by no means, but we have had lots of opportunities these past ten years for keen observation. We are constantly surprised by the complex array of behaviors exhibited by our livestock. There is far more to animal life than one ordinarily assumes. One question that constantly arises: how much of their behavior is instinctive, how much learned—that old Nature vs. Nurture conundrum. The only breed we have gotten a slight handle on thus far is our sheep. And this is because we have had to deal so far with three abandoned lambs. Orhan, our nine year old wether, a twin rejected by his mother, Kybele, who suffering from an udder infection, sensed at some level she would only have milk enough for one. She chose to suckle beautiful Osman, leaving homely Orhan to his fate (that is, us). Sultana, I found about four years ago abandoned in the middle of the pasture, bleating pathetically, still for the most part wrapped in her birth sack. When I presented her unwrapped to the herd, all seemingly complicit and silently huddled together, not one of them would step forward to claim her. Several years ago Nilufer slowly emerged from her dying mother’s womb with the help of lots of pulling and tugging by me and our vet, Elaine Tucker. The next morning on my round of chores I found poor Nilufer in the birthing stall suckling on her dead mother’s teat. As a result of these different forms of abandonment, we ended up nurturing these tiny lambs: bottle feeding them five times a day, cleaning up after them, taking them for walks, and, of course, petting and cosseting them. It is now obvious to us that our nurturing not only saved them but had profound effects. All three have established a strong human bond, much in contrast to the rest of the skittish herd, whose behavior varies from absolute avoidance of all contact with us to grudging tolerance. In contrast ,Orhan, Sultana, and Nilufer, without reservation, trot up to be petted, and separate from the herd to seek us out just to say hello. Also, like pet dogs, they have no reservations about sniffing us in the usual intimate places. In contrast to the rest of the herd, which seems to have a short memory for relationships, all three show no signs of forgetting who we are. As reported on BBC several years ago, a scientific study established that sheep are capable of recognizing 10 human faces (and 50 sheep faces). This may be, but this capacity for recognition does not appear to be the basis for a significant relationship for any but the three we raised.
Orhan, Sultana, and Nilufer show much more inventiveness and independence than the rest of the herd. Orhan is quite adept at unhooking doors and gates and nosing them open, especially if it is the stall where the grain can is stored. Sultana, who spent the longest time with us and required, because of her chronic diarrhea, the most attention, is probably the most independent and resourceful of the three. She knows to wait near gates as someone is maneuvering a cart through, using the opportunity to dash through into a forbidden area. She knows, when we are trying to clear the barn, to hide silently in a dark corner to escape detection. And she knows how to deftly plunge her head into the grain bucket as you try to pass by. We have come to think of her as the herd juvenile delinquent. Whenever there has been some kind of misbehavior, we are certain to find Sultana in the lead. And she is also the one we are most likely to find alone, not typical behavior for a herd animal. Mercifully, Sultana has not yet topped the behavior of an infamous herd of free-roaming sheep in Yorkshire, England. As reported by BBC a few years back, the village of Marsden, to protect its residents’ gardens from the predations of sheep, installed a hoof-proof metal cattle grid 8 feet wide at the entrance to the village. The villagers were soon stunned by the sheep’s inventiveness. As one resident described it, “They lie down on their sides, or sometimes their backs, and just roll over and over the grids until they are clear.” Nilufer, while sweetly loyal, shows less independence and much more loyalty to the herd. In fact, to my amazement, it was actually her decision to rejoin the herd. With both Sultana and Nilufer, it was our practice, once they were strong enough, to allow them to trot beside us as we went to do chores up at the barn .One day as I was leaving the barn, I was surprised to see Nilufer suddenly turn back and rejoin the herd, and that is where, even though no one would suckle her, she remained, prematurely weening herself. Sultana in contrast had no interest in the herd, seemingly regarding them as alien beings. It was our decision finally that she rejoin the herd, something she resisted strenuously, repeatedly trying to follow us back to the house, bleating pathetically. She had learned to bond with humans, but would have to learn to bond with sheep. Species by Brain SizeSpecies/Encephalization quotient (EQ)Human 7.44 Dolphin 5.31 Chimpanzee 2.49 Rhesus monkey 2.09 Elephant 1.87 Whale 1.76 Dog 1.17 Cat 1.00 Horse 0.86 Sheep 0.81 Mouse 0.50 Rat 0.40 Rabbit 0.40 It is obvious to me that a sheep can in some ways reach a higher level of being through close interaction with humans. While the herd, of course, nurtures its lambs, it is a much more restricted kind of nurturing, seemingly consisting more of lessons in grazing and herd loyalty. Our mudroom lessons seem to have been much more complex. It has been scientifically established that brains (ours included) grow and shrink depending on how they are activated or exercised. For instance, squirrels, as they bury nuts in the fall, experience an expansion of the brain activated by the need to commit to memory their winter food sources. In the spring as these memories are no longer needed, the brain of the squirrel shrinks. Likewise, it has been established that domesticated versions of a breed experience a significant shrinkage of the brain, something like twenty per cent less than their wild counterparts. With everything done for them—food, water and protection—the domesticated animal, obviously, has much less need for brain power. The Marsden sheep, living in a semi-feral state as they do, evidenced a resourcefulness unimaginable in any but the threesome in our herd. It is interesting to speculate whether Orhan’s, Sultana’s, and Nilufer’s short residency with us may not only have taught them certain behaviors, but actually altered in some way the composition of their brains. —Peter DaviesFor the complete archive of past AgriCulture blogs, click here.
