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That will do, Wilbur.

Writing this has taken me several days; I don't know if anyone reads blogs anymore.

Wilbur never met a stranger. He was always happy to greet anyone and everyone. Being so attached to a sheep is silly, but he was a good boy. For the longest time, he was my only wool sheep.

A few years ago, a friend messaged me on Facebook and said she had some sheep on her land and wondered if I wanted them. I was pretty new to the sheep business, so I said yes. We loaded up, and away we went. He was the only sheep we could take, and the others were not friendly or catchable. He was happy to go home with us. He followed us to the car, and we loaded him up. He had not been sheared in many years. This is the day we brought him home. It took us five hours to shear him; we were all exhausted.

My favorite childhood books were Charlotte Web and Where The Red Fern Grows. I already had a pig named Charlotte, so I thought Wilbur would be fitting. I'm sure I have more than a few Templeton's running around here, too.

Wilbur loved doing herding demonstrations with us and getting corn from all the kids and some adults. He also taught people the difference between wool sheep and hair sheep. Most folks don't realize there is a difference.

I enjoyed shearing him, and I even sent his wool off to be processed and had it turned into batting. We made a blanket for my grandson with the wool batting from Wilbur. I used Oklahoma Mini Mill, and they did an excellent job.

Over the last few months, Wilbur had started laying down more, and it was hard for him to get up once he laid down. He was losing weight even though he had plenty of hay and grass. I had him sheared a few weeks ago, and that might have been too much stress for him. Wilbur passed away peacefully, with a belly full of good grass under the watchful eyes of the guard dogs. This is the last photo I took of him.



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