ARIZONA'S SHEEP DRIVES

Arizona Sheep Drives

Since before the days of Abraham, in desert and semidesert regions, man has driven his flocks of sheep to the mountains in the Spring and in the Fall has returned them to the valleys. Perhaps nowhere in the world, however, is this man-controlled seasonal migration of the “flocks of the field” more gigantic, colorful and romantic than in the State of Arizona. Every Spring in Arizona, beginning in late March or early April, scores of bands of sheep, numbering as high as 3,000 each, begin to converge upon certain well established “driveways” that lead from the winter vegetation of the desert floor in the central and southern parts of the State to the lush pastures of the mountainous areas in the North and East. The long trek over these drive-ways, sometimes exceeding 200 miles, is beset with great hazards. Lack of water, poisonous weeds, and the depredations of the coyote, the mountain lion, and the bear, are constant threats that make the life of the sheepherder one of constant watchfulness, arduous labor, and at times high adventure.

The term “driveway” is somewhat misleading. A driveway is not a clearly defined roadway. It is only a narrow strip of the prevalent terrain, varying in width from a mile to two and a half miles and marked at intervals along its borders by heaped-up piles of stones. These markers were originally set up by the United States Forest Service to minimize the conflicts between the cattle-men and the sheep raisers which resulted from rival claims to the grazing lands along the route, the land between the lateral markers being reserved exclusively for the sheep raisers.

A sheep “drive” in Arizona is no hurry-up affair. As a rule the bands make progress very slowly. Some days a band of sheep will cover only three miles while on other days they will cover as much as ten. Progress differs with the pasture along the way, the available watering places, and the condition of the sheep. When a band has travelled over scanty pasture or has gone without water for a considerable period and the sheep are tired, thirsty, and hungry, they are allowed, on coming to good “SHEEP DRIVE” BY MAX KEGLEY. Photographer Kegley who took the color photographs to illustrate this feature knows the desert and the desert country as well as anyone could. He came here desperately ill, spent two desperate years convalescing in the desert, during which time he took up photography as a hobby. His book of photographs, “Loot of a Desert Rat,” is a superb volume. His book, “Rodeo,” is the best pictorial presentation of the bucking sport there is. Max says the sheep drives in this state are the most interesting subjects he has covered. He has followed them for several years.

The sheep at Salt River have last drink for two days.

Sheep thrive on summer range in the White Mountains.

pasture, to graze leisurely for a number of days until they are again in condition to go forward. The bands of sheep using the driveways are usually made up of only ewes and lambs, together with a few wethers. Lambing time in Arizona is during November and early December. Thus the sheep raiser sorts out his flock before starting the drive in the Spring. He usually keeps the male lambs at home, fattening them for the immediate post-Easter market. The bucks are shipped by train or truck to the summer pastures and are not allowed with the flock until around the 15th of June.Watering places are exceedingly important along the drives. The sheep do not thrive well unless these occur at fairly frequent intervals. Not more than a very few days should elapse between one source of water and the next, and where natural streams and generously flowing springs are not to be found at such intervals, artificial means are generally provided for storing such water as can be collected from sporadic rainfall and slowly flowing springs. These artificial reservoirs usually take the form of small ponds or "holes" hollowed out of the ground in some "draw" or natural depression. The Heber-Reno driveway, however, is famous for its "Australian tank." This is a form of reservoir modelled after those found in Australia. It consists of large sheets of metal laid over a considerable area which catch any scant or flash rainfall and direct it into a large tank. From this tank pipes run to a number of watering troughs from which the sheep drink. By means of this device both absorption by the naturally thirsty earth and evaporation caused by large Surface exposure are prevented. Sheep, of course, in time of emergency, can go without water over long periods, especially if they can pasture on vegetation that has a heavy moisture content or is covered with heavy dew. In 1941 one flock of 20,000 sheep was pastured near Yuma, Arizona, for a period of sixty days without a drop of water, the natural need being supplied by a luxurious crop of sand verbena in that year. An increasing general drought condition, however, has prevailed over the lands of the public domain in Arizona ever since 1850 and the herbage has suffered a general decline of fully fifty per cent.

One of the greatest hazards encountered by sheep while being driven to and from the summer pastures is the prevalence of poisonous weeds. In the years 1934-5-6, in spite of careful herding, 30,694 sheep and goats perished in the National Forest areas alone from eating poisonous herbage.

In Arizona, the loco weed offers by far the greatest hazard, since it is the only poisonous weed that is really palatable to sheep. Its particular hazard lies in the fact that it produces a "drug habit," so that the animal refuses all other foliage. At first, when a sheep has eaten of the loco weed, it loses its muscular coordination, begins to stagger and limp. Later it stands in the midst of the weeds in a sort of stupor, and finally it starves to death. Moreover, one locoed sheep will teach other sheep the habit. Locoed sheep are generally given up as lost. Sometimes, if green alfalfa is available, the animals are purged by it and recover, but on the drives green alfalfa fields are out of the question.

In addition to losses from eating poisonous herbage, many losses occur on account of predatory wild animals. Chief among these are the coyote, the bear, the mountain lion, and the eagle.

In addition to losses caused by poisonous weeds and wild animals, there are many losses due to mere straying. Often a single ewe and her lamb, or even as large a group as thirty or forty, will wander away from the main flock in search of herbage and when the herder drives the flock "SHEEP BRIDGE AT BLUE POINT". "The most interesting feature of the sheep drive from the Salt River Valley to the White Mountains is the bridge crossing the Salt at Blue Point," Photographer Max Kegley explains. This bridge was built by sheepmen to prevent the great loss in sheep suffered during flood periods of the river. Here forest rangers can get an accurate count of the sheep making the drive. As many as 100,000 sheep have crossed the bridge in a year. Bands of sheep moved number from one to three thousand. Forward will not be missed and be left behind. One Arizona sheep man relates the straying of a band of 400 ewes and lambs in a single night, none of the number ever found or recovered. Usually to avoid these larger losses, the herders provide "markers" for their flocks. No herder can be expected to count 2500 or 3000 sheep and arrive at anything like a correct result when the sheep are being driven in a solid mass. But by providing one black sheep, say, to every hundred of his flock he can roughly estimate any number that has gone astray or has been killed. This is because, if a "marker" is missing, there are sure to be other losses, since usually the "marker" will be accompanied by other sheep. Good herders are careful, always, to keep the flock well herded.

A flock of sheep is something more than merely a number of individual sheep and it always displays the herd instinct. This is manifested in many ways. In the first place, each flock has a leader, middlers, and trailers. The leader goes ahead of the flock, the middlers round up the mass of the flock in the middle, and the trailers see to it that there are no stragglers at the rear. These "officers" of the flock seem to be chosen by common consent and they become very jealous of their prerogatives, insisting upon their social positions just as strenuously as the members of any "cafe society." Bell wethers, that is, sterilized male sheep around whose necks bells have been suspended, make good herders and are enjoyed by the flock.

Sheep, at bedding time, that is, when they have selected a place to sleep for the night or have had it selected for them by the herder, are very watchful. They never all lie down at once. Always a few remain standing to watch, and, apparently, this watching is done in shifts, different individuals taking on the duty at different times. A full moon always makes a flock restless and parts of the band are always wandering off to feed. In the heat of summer the herder allows this practice, and, as compensation for the night activity, allows the sheep a longer "nooning" the following day, often taking a little doze himself to make up for his own loss of sleep. Sheep, like goats, are good climbers, but follow the switchback pattern. They dislike to go over the brow of a hill, where they cannot see what is on the other side, or through tall grass where vision is not clear. When handled at night they are more frightened and timid than usual. They have a distinct fear of the unseen and unknown. Moreover, when they are frightened they become absolutely mute.

Sheep resent the presence of a strange sheep within their own band. When one is discovered, there is first a bleat by the member of the band that discovers it. Then the sheep form a ring about the stranger and butt it out of the band. Similar tactics are followed when a rattlesnake is discovered. There is first a bleat, and then the flock forms a ring about the snake, which either retreats or meets death at the hands of the herder.

It is difficult to get sheep across a creek. Confronted with a creek crossing, the herder can seldom get a band to move until he has shoved a few, or possibly only one, across. Then they all want to go.

Whether or not dogs should be used in herding is a disputed question. Down through the years dogs have undoubtedly played an important part in sheep raising.

Today, however, there seems to be less reliance upon them, especially in Arizona. Part of this is no doubt due to the inability of the modern herder to train good dogs, much of this inability arising from a mere lack of patience. The Basques, probably the greatest sheepherders in all the world, are expert at training dogs, often evolving a system of full-arm gestures by which the dog learns to connect certain gestures with certain field manoeuvres, so that even at a great distance the dog knows just what manipulation of the flock the herder desires. But while in the old days there were many Basque herders, there are now only a few here and there, mostly in the northern States, most of them being replaced, at least in Arizona, by Mexicans. With a good herder, however, a dog becomes exceedingly expert in performing herding duties. One sheepherder in Arizona tells the story of a dog who performed a remarkable feat in helping to recover a lamb. It seems the herder was driving a flock of lambs into a corral when one of the lambs became frightened and took off across the desert at breakneck speed. The dog, "an intelligent little bitch," as the sheepman expressed it, at once went in pursuit, and when she had overtaken the lamb lifted it bodily into the air by placing her nose beneath its belly, and when the lamb had fallen to the ground, lay across it until the herder arrived to carry it back to the corral.

Each band of from 1250 to 3000 sheep is always accompanied by two men, the herder himself and his camp tender. The herder devotes his entire time to the care of the flock, while the camp tender takes charge of the burros, makes and breaks camp, and does the cooking for the two.

Herders are not so romantic these days as they formerly were. In the old days they were the subject of much author-made glamor. Writing in 1884, a writer by the name of P. Hamilton said: "With his dog and gun the shepherd follows his bands over the grassy plains and hillsides, and at evening they are bunched by the side of a stream or spring. The herder kindles a fire, and soon has ready his evening meal. After enjoying it, as only those can who have had their appetites sharpened by a tramp over the hills, blankets are spread on the greensward, pipes are lit, and after a recital of the day's events and a mapping of the route for the morrow, the tired shepherd enjoys the refreshing slumber which a clear conscience and good digestion bring. Myriads of brilliant stars flash in the blue canopy above him; the air is soft with the faint breezes of a summer night; around his camp the tired flock forms a wide semicircle against the background of wooded hill and grassy plain. It is a beautiful picture of quiet and repose, and amply illustrates the shepherd's life in Arizona." Such writing may have been pleasurable to the unsophisticated reader of the 19th century, but it certainly does not describe the life of the herder today.The sheepherder of today, while still enjoying, perhaps, the beauty of his surroundings, has great responsibilities and his life is by no means given over entirely to aesthetic contemplation. He is entrusted with a flock valued at between $15,000 and $30,000 and with a crop of wool worth an additional $10,000. Moreover, unlike the cowboy, he is "on his own" for long periods of time. A cowboy receives his orders for the day and performs his tasks under the supervision of a foreman, but a sheepherder must map out his own day's work and make his own decisions. In the old days herders did considerable reading and one herder whose headquarters were in the vicinity of Mesa, Arizona, became exceedingly familiar with the plays of Shakespeare and could cite the play, the act, and the scene of almost any familiar Shakespearean quotation. But today not much reading is done, and, strange to say, although a radio set operated by a battery could be available to almost any herder, even this connecting link with the outer world remains unused.

Much has been written in the past about the effects of the solitary life upon the sheepherder. Most of it is mere fiction. A sheepherder does not become entirely"dumb." While lack of practice may slow his speech, and while a realistic and elementary view of life may make the greater part of civilized discourse seem idle chatter, the sheepherder is a sane man. He does not be come "locoed," as the saying goes. In fact there is no case on record of the sheepherder's going insane. All tales of bestiality, also, are probably fictitious and merely make up convenient grist for jokes at sheepmen's conventions.

"dumb." While lack of practice may slow his speech, and while a realistic and elementary view of life may make the greater part of civilized discourse seem idle chatter, the sheepherder is a sane man. He does not be come "locoed," as the saying goes. In fact there is no case on record of the sheepherder's going insane. All tales of bestiality, also, are probably fictitious and merely make up convenient grist for jokes at sheepmen's conventions.

The price of lambs has steadily increased over the years. In 1929 lambs sold for around 20 cents per pound, while in 1948 the price had risen to 33 cents per pound, the highest price on record, this all-time high being due to increased costs of production and to the fact that more people can now afford to purchase lamb for their tables than ever before. Lambing time in Arizona is November and December whereas in most other areas the natural lambing time is February. Thus the price of Arizona lambs is usually higher than that of lambs from other areas, since they come upon the market as an "early season" item. Wool is also high in price. Under the Robertson Bill, which establishes a floor under the price, wool in 1948 sold at $1.18 or $1.19, cleaned, or around 38 or 40 cents "in the grease."

In spite of the high prices for lambs and wool, however, the number of sheep in Arizona is decreasing. In 1923 there were probably over 1,500,000 on the ranges. Today, exclusive of the sheep belonging to the Navajo Indians, there probably are not more than 100,000 breeding ewes in the whole State. To this number should be added, however, about 20,000 yearlings and bucks. The recent decline in sheep population is due to increased costs of maintenance. Whereas in the old days herders could be obtained for from $20 to $30 per month and "found," today a much less efficient herder costs from $120 to $150 per month, and even at these wages herders are hard to get, since in the factories, especially in airplane factories, the same man can get as much as $14 per day, and, in addition, have the advantage of a much richer social life. Moreover, government fees for pasturing in the National Forests now amount to a considerable sum. These fees, now adjusted by the government to the price of lambs, were in 1948 approximately six cents per head per month for the time spent in crossing the National Forest area, which is usually about 35 days, and eight and two-thirds cents per head per month for the time spent on the permanent summer range. Costs for pasturing during the winter have also increased. Because of drought conditions many flocks cannot now be pastured on the native desert vegetation and must be maintained on irrigated fields. During the winter of 1948 the sheep owner was forced to pay as high as four cents per day per sheep for pasture in such fields. No doubt the grazing of sheep on the ranges is due for great reduction or even complete liquidation. Its place will be taken by the raising of sheep in small bands on small farms. These small flocks will be maintained in a self-renewing basis and thus there will be a rather steady flow of lambs and mutton to market. Prices, however, will necessarily be high.

Thus, the romantic spectacle of the great sheep drives of Arizona will pass from the scene and the seasonal ebb and flow of great armies of sheep to and from the summer pastures will be a thing of the past.