Wild Fibers Summer 2011

2 Wild Fibers Magazine

©Steve Tracy

As few as 3,500 snow leopards remain in the wild, sharing their native habitat with people who depend on sheep, goats, camels and yaks for their livelihoods. The Snow Leopard Trust has united with Central Asian communities through conservation projects such as livestock insurance programs, which help compensate families for losses of livestock to predators. In return, villagers agree not to hunt snow leopards in retaliation for attacking livestock.snow leopards in retaliation for attacking livestock.

To increase household incomes, the Snow Leopard Trust helps sell products from local artisans who work with traditional materials, techniques and symbols. When you choose an item from the Snow Leopard Trust, the money goes directly to the woman who created it, providing money for food, medicines and education. This also helps prevent the hunting of wild snow leopards for their pelts.

Saving snow leopards one village at a time

Photos: Kyrgyzstan Baby Booties and Kyrgyzstan Runner Rug, Kathryn Barnard; Mongolian Boy with Camel, Shawna Peckham.

Summer 2011 3

6 Baa-Baa Test Tube, Have You Any Wool?

SVF Foundation in Newport, Rhode Island, keeps its pastures and its labs full of fiber for the future.

18 Rare Breeds on Both Sides of the Fence

America’s rarest sheep is at home among a rare breed of dedicated farmers.

22 Rabbit RichFrom the walls of the monastery, to the banks of the Mekong River, the Angora rabbit has had an unusual journey into modern day fashion. 40 Cochineal, Catching Mexico Red-Handed!Torie Olson travels off the beaten path in Oaxaca, Mexico, to learn how colorful life is on the nopal. 58 Genghis Khan Runs AmuckChris Devaney tries a new type of yak therapy to helpalleviate the winter doldrums.

ild Fibers

Features2

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Departments 5 Editorial34 Reflections66 Pattern Passion

72 Farm Guide74 Breeders Guide80 Wild Tales

Summer 2011

Cover: Bungalow Farm’s Klaudia, 2-year-old German Angora doe. Photo by Erin Maclean.

The Lovebug!

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Luxury Dances With Extinction

40

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Lind

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Chr

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Torie

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22 Rabbit Rich

©Steve Tracy

As few as 3,500 snow leopards remain in the wild, sharing their native habitat with people who depend on sheep, goats, camels and yaks for their livelihoods. The Snow Leopard Trust has united with Central Asian communities through conservation projects such as livestock insurance programs, which help compensate families for losses of livestock to predators. In return, villagers agree not to hunt snow leopards in retaliation for attacking livestock.snow leopards in retaliation for attacking livestock.

To increase household incomes, the Snow Leopard Trust helps sell products from local artisans who work with traditional materials, techniques and symbols. When you choose an item from the Snow Leopard Trust, the money goes directly to the woman who created it, providing money for food, medicines and education. This also helps prevent the hunting of wild snow leopards for their pelts.

Saving snow leopards one village at a time

Photos: Kyrgyzstan Baby Booties and Kyrgyzstan Runner Rug, Kathryn Barnard; Mongolian Boy with Camel, Shawna Peckham.


Subscription rates are $30/yr. for four issues in the U.S. and its possessions, $42/yr. Canada, $58/yr. international. Please send payment to: Wild Fibers Magazine, P.O. Box 1752, Rockland, ME 04841. (207) 594-9455 or online: www.wildfibersmagazine.com. Contributions: Address all editorial com-munications to Editor, Wild Fibers Magazine, P.O. Box 1752, Rockland, ME 04841. We consider contributions in the form of manuscripts, drawings, and photographs. All material must be identified with the sender’s name and address. Material returned only if accompanied by sufficient return post-age. Care is taken with contributions, but we are not responsible for damage or loss. All contents of this issue of Wild Fibers are copyrighted by Grumble Goat Productions, 2011. All rights reserved. Projects and information in this issue are for inspiration and personal use only. Exact reproduction for commercial purposes is prohibited and violates copyright law. Wild Fibers is published quarterly by Linda Cortright at 20 Elm St., Rockland, ME 04841 (Issue 8, Volume 2). Periodical postage paid at Rockland, ME and other mailing locations. Postmaster send change of address to Wild Fibers Magazine, P.O. Box 1752, Rockland, ME 04841.

ILD FIBERS Summer 2011 wPublisher and Editor

Linda N. Cortright

Contributing EditorsChris Devaney

Torie OlsonAnne Hanson

Ad DesignElizabeth Nelson

Advertising SalesLinda N. Cortright

Copyeditor and ProofreaderSheila Polson

CirculationSuzanne Lacasse

Subscription ManagerJanice Campbell

Summer 2011 5

Somewhere must be a manual about how to be a mag-azine editor and in it there are undoubtedly numerous in-structions for being witty, informative, engaging, and gram-matically unassailable. Perhaps I should search harder to find it. But even in the absence of this valuable handbook I have learned – and at times painfully so – that my idea of witty, to say nothing of unbridled hysteria, doesn’t even make some folks crack a smile. It’s that horrible silence that follows after you’ve told a joke and are then left to explain the punch line. And with that I present “Looney Tunes.”

At one time every issue of Wild Fibers was perfectly chronicled in my mind. Someone would ask, “When was that article about wool and the White House?” Then as quickly as I can recite my own name, I would answer, “Spring 2006, Volume 3, page 47.” Nowadays, the precision has waned and whether it is age related or merely a reflection of the number of issues to date, I am more apt to pause and say with vague certainty, “Oh yes, I think that’s in the same issue as weav-ing in Bhutan or growing organic cotton.” Then I pray they don’t check. It’s that crazy mental Rolodex we all possess that works with varying degrees of accuracy.

Years from now, or even in the next two months, if some-one asks me about dyeing with cochineal or raising rabbits in China, my Rolodex is going to spin straight to Bugs … Bun-ny. Except that I’m not going to quickly shout out “Looney Tunes” because I don’t want to wade through the explanation. I’m just telling you.

Editors, like parents, aren’t supposed to have favorites. I know I am not supposed to favor goats over sheep, cash-mere over mohair (how can I not favor qiviut?), to say noth-ing of relishing one country over the next. I just don’t think I am that fair-minded, and as a result there has been a serious omission in my reporting on a critical part of the fiber world – natural dyes. Yes, I have dyed my own wool and enjoyed it immensely, but I gave it up, along with nearly everything else short of breathing, after becoming an editor.

Thus it is with unabashed glee that I have found a new favorite, largely due to The Perfect Red by Amy Butler Green-field (page 60), and Torie Olson’s dynamic prose as she rattles through Oaxaca, Mexico, pursuing the cochineal bug – in all its vermillion splendor and a la carte gooey glory (page 40). I promise you red will never look the same, either cast upon your back or on top of your dinner plate.

Similarly, our belated story on Angora rabbits does not reflect a lack of favoritism, but a geographic obstacle. I was

committed to making a trip to China in order to see firsthand how rabbits are raised by the thousands – tens of thousands! I had no idea what to expect and over the next two issues I will make up for some lost time in the bunny world by traveling among three continents while quietly whispering my solemn fiber oath (not found in the editor’s manual): “I will not bring a bunny home. I will not bring a bunny home …”

I should also confess that just as I must not succumb to bunny love, the urge to acquire a yak, or two, grows stron-ger. Chris Devaney brings another round of zany adventures from the Yak Outback. Judging by the amount of fan e-mail Chris receives, I have no doubt he could launch his own mag-azine. But for now, I am thrilled he’s an ongoing member of our herd.

Finally, as one who typically trav-els to some of the less traveled corners of the planet, where luxury is defined by a potty with a seat or by a call to room service that elicits a knock on the tent, I can think of few places as unlikely for me to find a story as Newport, Rhode Island. In a land where many were as

charming as the Great Gatsby himself, and equally beauti-ful as his adoring (and promiscuous) wife, Zelda, the SVF Foundation stands proudly at the forefront of livestock con-servation by cryopreserving the genetics of endangered food and fiber breeds. It is in the well-tended pastures and test tubes of SVF that the CVM (California Variegated Mutant)/Romeldale, the rarest fiber animal in America, lies safely en-sconced in both luxury and the future.

So from Bugs … Bunny, to Chris, who is admittedly a bit loony, along with Peanut the demonic roadrunner, I hope you enjoy the show!

Linda CortrightPublisher and Editor

Lunchtime at the pagoda.

Looney Tunes


Baa-Baa Test Tube, Have You Any Wool?

Summer 2011 7

Baa-Baa Test Tube,

High on a hill, in the heart of Newport’s high society, America’s endangered livestock breeds sail

into the future with a team of experts and tanks full of germplasm to keep extinction at bay.

Story by Linda CortrightImages courtesy of SVF Foundation


Above: Dr. Matsas uses a monitor to help guide him through the patient’s abdomen in order to harvest em-bryos that have been fertilized in vivo. Out of the 300 embryos collected per breed, all but six will be stored indefinitely. The remainder will be used for transplant.

With an eye to survival

based on food, fuel and fi-

ber, SVF selects animals that

possess an array of valuable

genetics that have nearly

slipped through the cracks.

n a modern operating room where the patient lies heavily sedated, Dr. David Matsas uses a laparoscope to help insert an embryo into the patient’s uterus. A large color monitor sits at the foot of the operating table where the rippling of lively red tissue helps Matsas find just the right spot. Soon after the procedure

is over, the patient lies in the recovery room – groggy, but now taking water and hay with ease.

Unlike some surrogate parents who have battled and waged war in the court-room, leaving hearts broken, this surrogate mother won’t be phoning her lawyer any time soon. Although it is likely her baby will some day be taken away from her, her role as a surrogate is not up for dispute. In fact, as unnerving as it may sound to some, both mother and baby will one day be targeted for the dinner plate while their fleeces are enveloped by the hands of a few fortunate knitters and hand spinners.

In Newport, Rhode Island, where the focus has historically been on ballrooms and butlers, not bovines and ovines, the SVF Foundation keeps one hoof in the past and two hoofs in the future with its genetic preservation of a diverse and changing herd of endangered livestock breeds. Make no mistake, this is not a place where above average guys with bushy blond hair and bedroom eyes come to donate sperm and then split. The SVF Foundation is the only place in the country that gathers animal germplasm from rare food and fiber livestock breeds and then thrusts it into a tank of liquid nitrogen set for minus196 degrees Centigrade.

I

Summer 2011 9

Why? To help protect the world’s food supply. And if that sounds like hy-perbole, who can forget the staggering loss caused by Britain’s foot and mouth outbreak in 2001, resulting in the death of 7 million sheep and cattle and cost-ing an estimated $16 billion? Not only did the disease suck the life out of the landscape, but countless farmers lost their livelihoods overnight. Among those who managed to survive, an aching fear lingered on that another outbreak could also capture their lives.

Although Britain’s epidemic was an unprecedented disaster, it illustrated how swiftly an entire breed and its genetics could be lost. In the case of endan-gered breeds, or those breeds with limited genetic diversity, a deadly disease spells extinction.

The U.S. dairy industry, for example, has so assiduously bred the cow for maximum production that the gene pool is alarmingly small, with only 32 types. The potential for inbreeding is enough to create a village of idiots – albeit profitable ones.

But the SVF Foundation’s mission is not about creating cows with huge udders or sheep that can be shorn every other fortnight. According to Sarah Bowley, SVF’s program and livestock manager, the animals for the foundation’s pro-gram are on the American Livestock Breed Conservancy’s endangered list. With an eye to survival based on food, fuel and fiber, SVF selects animals that possess an array of valu-able genetics that have nearly slipped through the cracks.

Imagine a sheep that is genetically resistant to internal parasites. The Gulf Coast sheep, which is of Spanish origin and arrived in America long before the Pilgrims, is an inhospitable host for tapeworms, nematodes and trematodes,

Above: With a little persuasion from Sarah Bowley, an Arapawa goat stands patiently for an examination by Dr. Matsas. Right: Is it a boy? Is it a girl? As long as it’s healthy that’s all that matters.

Who can forget the staggering

loss caused by Britain’s foot and

mouth outbreak in 2001, result-

ing in the death of 7 million

sheep and cattle and costing an

estimated $16 billion?


along with many other rapacious cooties too nu-merous to mention. One of the great challenges (and expenses) for domestic farmers is parasite control. No sooner does one flavor of anti-para-site treatment begin to take hold than the parasite figures it out and mutates, and the problem starts all over again. Gulf Coast sheep are born “vacci-nated” for life. This has merited intense research into creating Gulf Coast hybrids in the hope of

Top: Lenepee, a Belted Galloway cow earning the nickname of the “Cookie Cow.” Middle: CVM/Romeldale ewe with its distinctive spotted fleece. Bottom: SVF is a certified preda-tor friendly farm providing humane methods (the guard llama) for controlling predators. Opposite page: A Border Collie keeps watch at the barn entrance resting up for the next round-up.

Summer 2011 11

passing on this lifesaving trait to some of the popular meat sheep breeds, such as the Dorper and the Katahdin, and to fiber producing sheep.

Yet the Gulf Coast sheep is critically endangered. It has not enjoyed the same profitability as other breeds but has earned a spot at SVF. While research-ers at several universities continue studying the nature of its innate parasitic resistance, SVF has successfully harvested and stored enough germplasm to en-sure that the genetics of this rare breed are never lost.

The practice of cryopreservation seems both futuristic and slightly incon-gruent on a property that consists of 45 acres on some of the most prime real


estate in the country. With spectacularly restored old stone buildings and a labyrinth of lush pastures, SVF offers lux-ury for both man and animal. But just as the animals that pass through its gates are struggling to survive, so has this property. It was rescued from the auction block by Dor-rance Hill Hamilton and a partner in 1998, and the new SVF Foundation was born, with Peter Borden serving as executive director to lead the flock into the future.

The original farm was built in 1916 by Arthur Curtiss James to house his prize herd of Guernsey cattle, which he had inherited from his father. James designed the farm to look like a Swiss village – an extravagance undoubtedly overlooked by those in the barnyard. Based on an actual village in the Italian region of Switzerland, the American farm, named Surprise Valley Farm (hence, SVF), had more than a dozen buildings, including a slaughterhouse and a smokehouse. It featured cottages with deeply vaulted ceilings, steam-bent shingles and the type of meticulous craftsmanship that only an elite few can afford. At one time the farm was the largest estate in Newport, Rhode Island, totaling 125 acres, and had a manor house called Edgehill where many parties and black-tie dances were held.

But despite its sprawling grandiosity the farm was also functional. James employed 100 workers in order to pro-vide food for the staff at his other households, which in-cluded a New York townhouse and his yacht Aloha. While some might have said James was living off the land, oth-ers would have disagreed. After he died in 1941 and his widow’s demise followed just three weeks later, the prop-erty embarked on a slow decline. Part of it was eventu-ally converted into a convent. But as the number of nuns grew smaller, the archdiocese could no longer afford to maintain the massive structure and Edgehill was sold and converted into a residential alcoholism treatment center, which at that time was a growing and profitable business. By the 1980s, Edgehill had become an exclusive retreat for some of the country’s well-heeled inebriants.

Perhaps it was karmic justice that the halls where people once danced the two-step and swilled champagne became a bastion of sobriety where residents practiced the 12 steps. But changes in insurance reimbursement began to contribute to the treatment center’s decline and it even-tually arrived on the auction block. Now things have come full circle at SVF and it is once again a productive farm where the focus is on surviving off the land.

Sarah Bowley has worked with all kinds of animals and once had a successful business that involved house sitting for people with exotic pets. “I thought I had the best job in the world – until I came to work here,” she said.

Summer 2011 13

Bowley’s job has introduced her to a variety of breeds, many of which she had never seen or heard of before. In ad-dition to enjoying plenty of animal interaction Bowley is part of an extraordinary team of researchers and geneticists. But don’t plan on job shadowing her any time soon.* SVF is a bio-secure area with ominous yellow and black warning signs posted throughout. A friendly young guard stationed at the entrance gate makes sure no one passes by without the ap-propriate credentials. The very nature of SVF’s work demands that the threat of unwanted germs is kept to a minimum.

As the one designated to give lectures, talk with students, and evaluate animals on different farms around the country, Bowley has become the public face of SVF. But inside the en-trance gates, the face of SVF is named Chip.

Chip is a Myotonic goat, or if one prefers, a Tennessee Fainting goat, a breed that arrived in the 1880s in Tennes-see, apparently from Nova Scotia. Myotonics have a condition called myotonia congenital, which causes their muscles to con-tract when they are startled and this makes them fall down.

What’s so valuable about fainting that it sparked the inter-est of SVF? It’s not the fainting, but the Myotonic goat’s inherent trait that leads it not to do the one thing goats do best – climb fences. That is not to say that a Myotonic goat has never gone searching for greener pastures, but its overall proclivity to stay where it is put – much like a sheep – has earned the breed great favor among farmers. To many non-farmers, Myotonics provide excellent meat.

Chip, a handsome fellow with a luscious brown fleece and manly horns, was born at SVF in 2004. He was flushed from his mother’s womb as a 6-day-old em-bryo, which was then sent into cold storage until it was implanted in a surrogate Nubian doe that gave birth to him several months later. Chip is SVF’s first suc-cessful embryo transfer, and though the great majority of animals that are born at SVF or come to visit are sent packing about two years later, Chip is employed

SVF is a bio-secure area

with ominous yellow and black

warning signs posted throughout.

A friendly young guard stationed

at the entrance gate makes sure

no one passes by without the

appropriate credentials.

Top: Sarah Bowley with Dante, a San Clemente buck who has come for a visit to SVF.


at SVF for life. Echoing Bowley’s sentiments, some might say Chip also has the best job in the world. He spends his days strolling the pastures and identifying which females are in heat and ripe for mating. For Chip it’s all sniff and no action, but he’s not complaining.

From the unusually speckled Pineywoods cattle to the knee-buckling Tennessee Fainting goat with its crazy an-tics and the Oreo Striped Belted Galloway, Bowley’s charg-es might seem more like a cast of mutants than a herd of historical data. And one of the breeds is called just that: a California Variegated Mutant (CVM/Romeldale) sheep.

The CVM/Romeldale is the most critically endangered native sheep breed in the United States. Few people have ever heard of these animals (not that the masses are talking about Myotonics over their morning coffee), which speaks to their rarity. But in the world of fiber, CVM/Romeldales possess two enticing qualities. The CVM/Romeldale fleece gets darker during the animal’s first year, in contrast to the fleeces of other breeds, which start fading from nearly the moment the animals hit the ground. CVM/Romeldales

boast rich shades of brown and black that are difficult to obtain in more mature animals of other breeds. CVM/Romeldales also have a fine wool fleece that becomes softer with age, unlike the fiber of other animals, which coarsens over time.

For the farmer who doesn’t have a lust for fiber, CVM/Romeldales get high marks for their fecundity and ease of

handling. It is unlikely that a CVM/Romeldale will charge a person’s kneecaps just for the sake of the sport. And both sexes demonstrate a curious but gentle nature. The ani-mal’s arrival into the SVF program was anything but seam-less, however.

“Everything that could go wrong, went wrong,” Bow-ley said. After staff made dozens of trips to fetch sheep, cattle and goats from all corners of the country, the CVM/

Romeldale round-up ran afoul from practically the start.

“We have a big livestock trailer that we can fit a lot of sheep into – a lot,” Bowley said. “But before we were even halfway through our trip we ran out of room.”

This was a reminder that the CVM/Romeldale is a dual purpose animal that provides ample meat in addition to fiber. Meat sheep are quick to mature and the 6-month-old lambs in Bowley’s carpool were stuffed inside like a group of cranky adults in the back of a station wagon.

“After the third stop I had no choice but to turn around in New Jersey and go all the way back to Rhode Island, just so I could empty the trailer,” she said. “And then we got stuck in the mud – fully loaded.”

Unfortunately, the second leg of the trip wasn’t much better. Little Pia, short for Picasso, was an ex-

ceptionally tiny lamb that would surely have been crushed by his brethren in the back of the trailer if Bowley hadn’t brought along a small crate for just such an occasion. “He was so small, and so scared, my assistant Marjorie had to sleep next to him in the trailer to keep him from bleating all night,” Bowley said.

And then there was Galahad. As Bowley was pulling away from an Indiana farm with the gallant Galahad safely on board, the breeder promised that the sheep would be Bowley’s protector. Weighing more than 250 pounds, Gala-

Top right: The tanks of liquid nitrogen at SVF keep germplasm viable for an indefinite period. Above left: Some animals are more willing than oth-ers to sign up for the love den. Perhaps it’s just a case of sheepy shyness.

Summer 2011 15

had took up most of the backseat, and it seemed unlikely that this big guy would protect much besides himself. Yet the breeder was right, and Galahad later started protecting Bowley when she would walk out among the other rams by unmistakably positioning himself in front of her and keep-ing the other boys at bay. “It was amazing to watch,” Bowley said. “He would stay right beside me so no one else could come near. He wasn’t aggressive; he was just big.”

Apparently Galahad had another equally endearing talent. When it was time to collect semen at SVF, the ram would jump into the back of a truck and be whisked off to a sterilized love nook. Loading rams is not for the faint of heart or weak of muscle. But when Galahad saw that truck heading down the drive, he would have his thumb out, ready to hitch a ride. There was no need for anyone to huff and puff while getting this guy into the back; Galahad jumped right in.

Fortunately for SVF and perhaps for Galahad too, the CVM/ Romeldale program has been a success. Working in collaboration with Tufts University’s Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine, the foundation plans to collect 200 to 300 embryos and 3,000 straws of semen from every breed. When the embryos are implanted into a surrogate mother, the goal is a 50 percent survival rate.

Collecting semen for artificial insemination has been around for years, but not all semen is created equal, accord-ing to Bowley. “How you collect it, how you freeze it – every step of the way has to have perfect quality control to get the best results in the future, including the breed characteris-tics,” she said.

For this reason, 95 percent of the semen at SVF is col-lected on site and the females are given FSH, or follicle stim-ulating hormones/super ovulaters, so they will drop mul-tiple eggs. In the end, an embryologist steps in and selects the specimens that look the best. The process may sound straightforward, but collecting fertilized embryos from any uterus – man or animal – requires exquisite delicacy.

With the future of the CVM/ Romeldale now secured in giant stainless steel tanks next to tubes of Hog Island sheep and San Clemente goats, it’s important to understand just how close to extinction the breed actually came.

A.T. Spencer of California developed the Romeldale breed in the early part of the last century. Spencer was ap-parently no different than the hundreds of people who flock to fiber festivals only to bring home a new stash of fleece that still has the legs attached. It wasn’t a fiber festival that snagged his attention, however. It was the 1915 Pan Ameri-can Exposition in San Francisco where a group of Marsh New Zealand Romney rams were on display. Spencer liked

Summer 2011 17

their looks and he bought them – all of them – and brought them home to his Rambouillet ewes where they bred quite successfully (with no petri dish or lap-aroscope in sight). The resulting union became the Romeldale, a hearty breed that was developed for both wool and meat.

Breeding for specific traits takes generations and success isn’t a guarantee, particularly if certain traits aren’t dominant. Yet by the 1940s when J.K. Sexton took over developing Spencer’s Romeldale flock, he im-proved the breed to such high wool standards that the entire clip was sold to Pendleton Mills in Oregon. The stowaways from Down Under were suddenly warming America by the thousands in flannel shirts and extra-thick blankets.

The real story didn’t start for another 20 years, however, when a spotted lamb with more brown dots than a chocolate chip cookie appeared in the field. The farmer – another Californian – was Glen Eidman, and he liked the unusual coloration. So much so that when a spotted ram was born a few years later, Eidman was anxious to put the two animals together and see what would happen.

Eidman was a patient man. It took years to develop a sheep that consistently produced a badger-face color pattern, a decorative fleece and a beautiful hand. Ei-dman worked for 15 years on the CVM without selling any stock. In 1982, Eidman’s flock was dispersed and there were just 75 CVM/Romeldales in the world. Today there are 300 registered purebred CVM/Romeldales in the hands of a few dozen breeders. These people share a special interest in conserving a rare breed and have a place in their hearts for this engaging soul.

When Bowley starts talking about Poofy and Stampy, it’s hard to remember they are the subjects of study at a first-class scientific facility and not part of the local old school guard with names like Buffy or Binky. But it is even harder to think that the snap-crackle-pop of a test tube produced Rice and Krispy. What else would one name a set of twins born to Cocoa Puff ... Fruit Loops? Somehow “mutant” seems like a heavy enough burden to carry through eternity.

*SVF now holds Visitors Day in June, allowing the public limited access to the facility and offering a rare glimpse into the future.

For more information, please visit www.svffounda-tion.org.

Opposite: Chip, the four-legged face of SVF is a Myotonic wether.

wF


armers are a rare breed. They work 24/7, they rarely take the day off, and they spend a lot of their time covered in shit. They rarely, if ever, take a vacation; in fact, many are lucky to make it out of the county. Their balance sheet is seldom in the black and Mother Nature ruthlessly dances between friend and foe. But if you happen to be a farmer you know these aren’t the things that matter. It’s not about the hours, the money, or the manure; it’s about loving the land and all that comes with it. For more than a few, farming is a way of life second to none.

Not all farmers are created equal, however. There are those who boast of big crops, big equip-ment, and great big animals bearing numbers (not names), all coupled with a quest for success that is often meted out in the show ring or the slaughterhouse. And then there are the others.

Their animals are small in number and their acres are often no more than a few. And within that group there is one very rare breed of farmer, the one who chooses to raise rare breeds. These farmers are the ones who have a passion not only for the past, but also for the future. Their fields are filled with Yokohama chickens, Poitou asses, and Red Wattle pigs. They take their cue from the American Livestock Breeds Conservancy (ALBC), which looks at tradi-tional livestock breeds that have lost popularity and are in danger of extinction. They are the

stewards for those that now bear the mark of “critical” or “threatened.” But as more people understand the importance of preserving genetic diversity, these rare farmers are the ones responsible for some breeds now being classified as “recovering.” Indeed, their efforts should not go unsung.

The CVM (California Variegated Mutant)/Romeldale is America’s rarest sheep. When the origi-nal CVM/Romeldale flock was dispersed in 1982 by Glen Eidman, only one farmer eventually stepped forward who was completely committed to keeping the bloodlines pure. Chris Spitzer, owner of Yellow Creek Cottage in Medina, Ohio, hauled her stock trailer more than 36,000 miles on six separate trips to Glen’s ranch in California, picking up her flock of spotted faces and fabulous fine fleeces. Ask any CVM/Romeldale farmer today about the breed’s great savior and Chris Spitzer’s name will automatically come to mind. Her commitment to the breed’s preservation led to establishing the National CVM Conservancy, which among other things maintains the national list of registered American Romeldale/CVM sheep.

Chris not only loves the CVMs for the variation in

F... when the last individual

of a race of living things

breathes no more,

another Heaven

and another

Earth must pass

before such a

one can be again.”

--William Beebe

Rare Breeds on Both Sides of the Fence Story by Linda Cortright

Not all farmers are conventional; some are conservationists, too!

Left: Neville, a CVM/Romeldale ram, lives at Crooked Fence Farm in Putney, Vermont, and knows that owner Bob MacIsaac willhappily provide a scratch, or two, without much persuasion. Photo courtesy of Betsy MacIsaac.

Summer 2011 19

their colorful fleeces and excellent meat, but as a woman she was able to manage a flock of 200. Not faint praise for anyone who has ever had a one-on-one encounter with a feisty ram.

Over the years, Chris’ dedication to the breed has paid off. She admits that she culled hard in order to maintain only the strongest and healthiest animals. She kept meticulous re-cords, and when other farmers were looking to “get rid of ” some animals, Chris had a waiting list of CVM buyers. Why did they choose to raise this particular breed? The answer is virtually unanimous. Conservation!

Wayne and Jo Ann Myers own Beau Chemin Preserva-tion Farm, just a short stone’s throw away from Maine’s rocky coast. “We are a relatively small breed preservation farm, and currently help to preserve 11 endangered breeds of livestock,” says Jo Ann. “Over the past few years, we have moved toward the most endangered breeds. Our rationale is that even if we add just a few of a breed to the overall census, those few help toward ensuring their future. The sheep we raise are all fiber sheep and CVMs are critically endangered.”

Jo Ann also confesses that she sometimes tells their farm visitors that “CVMs are a bit smarter than your average sheep.” These words have been known to cause blows among lesser folk, but she qualifies her comment by saying that compared with their other sheep, “CVMs are far more alert – not flighty or easily spooked. They seem to notice a broader range of things in their environment. When put on new pasture, it is the CVMs who take a few moments to look around their im-

mediate surroundings as well as off in the distance. It is the CVMs whose line of sight I follow if I think there might be trouble in the field.”

A few hundred miles from the salty air Nancy Zeller of Long Ridge Farm in Westmoreland, New Hampshire, main-tains a large and impressive flock of CVMs. It’s hard to say whether Nancy is more passionate about her sheep or their fiber, so perhaps it is safer to just say “both.” She spins up

a storm for the fiber crowd, offering her CVM yarns in a dazzling array of naturally dyed colors. And why does she raise CVMs? “I believe in conservation, and I also love the fine quality and unique characteristics of their fiber,” she says. “The other trait that appealed to me, and has held true, is their gentle and pleasant dispositions.” A quick glance at Nancy’s blog (www.lon-

gridgefarm.com) will also reveal that the CVM’s clever antics have surely captured her fancy as well.

With about 20 CVM breeders registered with the National CVM Conservancy maintaining about 500 purebred CVM sheep, it is clear that their numbers are still frighteningly low. And certainly being labeled a “mutant” is a challenge for even the best marketing wizards.

After more than 20 years of outstanding dedication, Chris Spitzer sold her flock to Marushka Farms in Danville, Penn-sylvania, where Marie Minnich continues to breed for top quality rams and beautiful fiber, and also keeps a flock of Ice-landic sheep.

“They [CVMs] are much easier to handle than the Icelan-dic with many of them including ewes and rams wanting to come up for attention while we work with them in the field,” says Marie. “Several that we know will meet us at the gate ev-ery time! They are generally very healthy and tend to be more resistant to parasitic infections compared to the Icelandics on my farm. Hoof care is less than half the work compared to the others, and my rams are extremely easy to work with and have very laid back personalities.”

Farming isn’t for everyone anymore than living in a high-rise and waiting at the bus stop is. Indeed, the world is full of many breeds, big and small, two-legged and four-legged, and thankfully there are a chosen few who represent the rarest breed of them all – without conservationists the CVM would be more than a mutant; it would likely be extinct.

For more information on CVM/Romeldale visit www.na-tionalcvmconservancy.com or ALBC, www.albc-usa.org.

Above left: Jackie, a CVM/Romeldale ewe, who lives at Long Ridge Farm in Westmoreland, New Hampshire, might lead some to think that “mutant” is more than just a name. Above right: Nancy Zeller coats her CVMs to help keep their fleeces clean, but when the coat comes off it’s remarkable to see the color that results from natural blending. Photos courtesy of Nancy Zeller.

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Summer 2011 21

unnies are ubiquitous. From the Tales of Peter Rabbit to Harvey who stands larger than life on the silver screen, we love them, we cuddle them, we wear them, and we eat them – even

if they are only the ones made from chocolate. No doubt the incessant twitching of pink little noses and the comical twists of big floppy ears have made the rabbit an enduring favorite among millions. About the only time this passion turns putrid is when they are spied in the garden feasting on greens and heav-enly blossoms.

Our relationship with the rabbit dates back to the cave man who hunted and ate the European rabbit (Oryctolagus cuniculus), which came from the Ibe-rian Peninsula more than 120,000 years ago. Many millennia later, the Catholic Church was credited with the rabbit’s domestication when Pope Gregory I declared rabbit meat an acceptable dish for Lent in 600 A.D. The Romans had dined on laurices (newly born or unborn rabbits) for eons and for reasons that don’t seem particularly scientific, the pope decided the laurice was considered a fish. So rabbits soon took up residence among the cloistered walls of many a

B

Rabbit Rich

How did Pope Gregory I help set in motion an

industry that wouldeventually lead halfway

around the world?

Story and Photos by Linda Cortright


French monastery. They were easy to care for, required minimal space, and provided a steady diet of protein for the friendly friars 12 months of the year. It was ideal hap-penstance that the secluded grounds provided just the right conditions to develop and domesticate purpose-bred rabbits.

Yet it is more than a trifling ironic that the archetype of fertility was so carefully nurtured in the halls of sterility. But so it was and over the centuries the focus on breeding rabbits for food expanded to developing their fiber.

The Angora rabbit is the oldest and most prolific wool breed. But there is more than just a casual dispute about its origins. According to some, the Angora rab-bit came from Ankara, Turkey, homeland of the Angora goat. Whether it is fact or fiction remains fuzzy at best, but according to one account the Angora rabbit was discovered by a pair of off-duty French sailors in the port of Ankara who noticed some of the women wearing lovely lace shawls. When they learned that the delicate garments came from the local rabbits the sailors decided to take some home – the rabbits, not the women.

Not surprisingly, the French have a different version of history and suggest that the Angora’s long hair is a natural feature in some European rabbit breeds, not just those from Ankara. According to the French, the Turks were the first to actually popular-ize the breed. Today there are five different breeds of Angora rabbits, the French, English, German, Satin, and Giant. The French, English, and Satin come in multiple different colors. The German Angora is the only breed used for commercial wool production and it only comes in white.

Thus it is more than fitting that my introduction to German Angoras should come from Michael Dal Grande, a German-born fiber aficionado and Angora expert, and

So rabbits soon took up resi-

dence among the cloistered

walls of many a French monas-

tery. They were easy to care for,

required minimal space, and

provided a steady diet of protein

for the friendly friars 12 months

of the year.

Summer 2011 23

the founder of Naturfasern, a company that sources luxury fi-bers to the fashion and textile industry. His company is also one of the leading buyers of angora in the world.

Although Michael and I originally met at a cashmere confer-ence in Bishkek, Kyrgyzstan, several years back, we unexpect-edly reconnected last year in the pastures of Southern France where the Rambouillet (the original French merino) is enjoying a comeback in this era of locally sourced goods. It was during my first meeting with Michael that I learned that the modern day story of the German Angora takes place in China. And it just so happened that when we stumbled upon one another last year, I was already holding a plane ticket for Beijing and was scheduled to leave not three weeks hence.

“Michael!” I shouted. “I can’t believe you’re here! I have to talk to you about angora. I’m headed to China and I need your help.” In no time he had provided me with such a wealth of information that I told him I would call the article “Michael and his rabbits.” He smiled and seemed flattered before reply-ing with a cheeky grin, “Linda, I would prefer if you called it ‘Michael and his bunnies.’”

So on the word of a German with a mix of Italian in his blood, I set off for Meng Yin County in China’s Shan Dong Province where Angoras number in the millions and talk of Beatrix Pot-ter is sure to elicit a bewildered stare.

Michael had arranged for SunYi, his angora agent, to meet me at the airport. I didn’t have SunYi’s phone number or e-mail, much less the name of the hotel where I was staying. All I had was the perennial mantra of the foreign traveler that things will all work out … eventually.

My plane lands in Qingdao, a major port city and naval base located on the Yellow Sea. Eight million people live in Qingdao and it was named China’s most livable city in 2009. But most foreigners are familiar with it as the site of the 2008 Summer Olympic Games sailing competition and the home of Tsingtao Brewery, China’s largest brewery, which was founded by Ger-man settlers in 1903.

As promised, SunYi is there to meet my plane. He carries a sign that reads “LinDa,” which certainly takes the guesswork out of finding each other. I quickly learn SunYi is just called Yi, a common male name in China, and does not equate to him calling me “Da.”

My first morning in Qingdao offers not a breath of sea air. Instead Yi and I make our way south along a four-lane highway to the city of LinYi where rabbit hutches sprout like corn stalks in the shadows of the countryside. Although China will never compete with India when it comes to automotive chaos, our journey through the crowded streets reminds me of the short-est unit of time, the honk-a-second.

Yi is both patient and exquisitely gracious in my quest to

Above: Mr. Zheng demonstrates how he clips his rabbits, and contrary to how it appears, there is no sign of Van Gogh. Opposite page: A pair of Angora bunnies enjoying a photo-op in the sun.


learn about the angora industry – both big and small. The majority of Chinese angora comes from small villages, but there are also factory farms housing tens of thousands of rabbits. However, in the little village of Shan Tou, which means “top of moun-tain,” the average breeder typically keeps about 500 animals. The Angora’s diminutive stature belies the amount of labor required to raise it. The rabbits are traditionally housed in single cages and require individual watering and feeding at least once a day. The hutches must be kept spotless to avoid soiling the animals’ beautiful white coats. I assure you that mucking out a dairy barn is fair-handed work compared with cleaning up millions of rabbit droppings that multiply overnight.

But unlike sheep or goats, or even the yak, whose fiber is typically harvested just once a year, Angoras need clipping every seventy-two days. Armed with sharpened shears and a restrained bunny, someone can take less than five minutes to get the job done. The vast majority prefers to take longer. It is not a contest of speed but of get-ting maximum fiber with minimal discomfort to the animal.

The downside to raising Angoras is simple. If the animals are left unattended for more than a few months the fiber will begin to mat close to the skin, resulting in un-usable fiber, horrible sores, and not surprisingly – death. Angoras are not unusually sickly by nature, but they are prone to wool block, which is exactly what it sounds like. The rabbits can ingest so much of their own fur that they succumb to a “wooly-ache” and don’t have the appropriate anatomy to vomit it back up. Death can be swift and breeders have to be proactive by using everything from alfalfa hay to pineapple juice to keep things moving.

It is easy to tell from the sprouting landscape that life in Shan Tou centers around

The majority of Chinese

angora is produced in fac-

tory farms housing tens of

thousands of rabbits, but in

the little village of Shan Tou,

which means “top of moun-

tain,” the average breeder

typically keeps about 500

animals.

Below: Rows of stacked rabbit cages at a rabbitry in Shan Tou village. Many of the cage floors are made of bamboo, which is softer than wire mesh on the rabbit’s feet.

Summer 2011 25

farming. The climate is mild enough to grow a variety of fruit trees, including sweet Asian pears and big Fuji apples. The oc-casional tractor passes by, but most of the work is still done by hand. There is still a big grindstone near the village center where farmers come to mill their grain one turn at a time. This has historically been a farming community, but that is chang-ing as the factory sprawl continues its march and more people leave their fields in search of a steady paycheck.

Yi and I bump our way along the village dirt roads. They are steep and narrow and seem to take us uncomfortably close to people’s front doors. But we are the only car in sight, and the chickens seem to command most of the roadway and are in no hurry to move. The comforts of life in this area are minimal, with power and indoor plumbing being less than standard. Eventually we abandon the car and take off on foot. Yi wants me to see one of the best breeders in the area.

Despite the impoverished surroundings, we approach a large gated entrance framed by an imposing red arch. As with many cultures throughout the world, when it comes to a man and his castle here, it’s all about keeping up appearances. The sizeable arch spells success and for this young couple that spells angora.

A bell rings – literally a bell, not a black-buttoned door-bell – and the gate opens. A man in a tidy white shirt and pressed black pants greets us. We shake hands and smile. In-troductions are made. Then we shake and smile some more. I hand Mr. Wan a copy of Wild Fibers as my proof of authentic-ity, knowing that indeed the pictures are worth more than a thousand words when there is no common language for us to speak.

Mr. Wan is full of laughter. As jovial a man as one could ever hope to meet, both he and his wife, Ms. Wang, have a joy for life that feels more like that of two children who still spend hours in the sandbox.

Before we go to meet the rabbits, Ms. Wang points to the large building by the front gate. It is the addition to their house and nearly twice the size of their original home. She instantly starts laughing and announces with the pride of a bride bearing a big diamond ring, “I love the rabbits. They make us rich!” And to further underscore that fact there is a Tibetan mastiff lying in a cage inside the front gate.

It turns out that the Tibetan mastiff has become a status symbol for China’s nouveau riche. Native to the Tibetan Pla-teau and used as a guard dog, it has taken on celebrity status with its lion-shaped head and intimidating mane exuding high-test testosterone. This breed that sleeps by day and works by night is now being bred in some places with reckless aban-don, fetching prices in the tens of thousands of U.S. dollars, and many of the dogs suffer from a range of abnormalities


caused by inbreeding. I suspect the caged dog in front of me is not of top quality market value or price. But I gather that as long as there is a “Cadillac” parked in the driveway, it doesn’t really matter if it runs.

Mr. Wan’s rabbitry includes eight double rows of cages stacked three up and twenty across. The animals are separated according to age, and except for the new mothers, there is one animal per unit. Most German Angoras are albino and need protection from direct sunlight. These rabbits are clearly well protected by a corrugated metal roof and cinderblock walls. But it is by no means a den of darkness. The hutches are roughly 3 feet square and have plenty of headroom so the rabbits can sit up and look at the neighbors. Contrary to what I had imagined and feared, the conditions are remark-ably similar to rabbitries I have seen in the States, both in size and cleanliness. There are much worse ways to

go through life than being reared on an Angora farm in China, although I think the dog might disagree.

I walk slowly down the aisles. I am an unfamiliar face to the rabbits and don’t want to set off a panic, so I proceed softly, marveling at their spectacularly long coats and one bushy ball after the next.

Mr. Wan reaches into several cages to show me some of his top producers. I am

Above: The imposing red-gated entrance to this house in Shan Tou sends a clear message of suc-cess. Opposite page: Ms. Wang carrying one of her “rich rabbits” back to its cage.

Summer 2011 27

hardly trained to know the difference between a very good rabbit and an outstanding one. But I would certainly know a bad one if I saw it, which leads me back to where my trip began with Michael and his bunnies.

Rabbit farming was introduced to China in the mid-1950s as a way to provide a source of inexpen-sive protein and supplementary income to subsis-tence farmers. By 1958, China was home to 7 mil-lion domestic rabbits and roughly 70 percent of them were longhaired. Rabbits were imported from throughout Europe and bred with a variety of lo-cal Chinese breeds and by 1978 the domestic rabbit population in China had reached 80 million. But quantity was no substitute for quality, and noth-ing could compete with the quality of the German Angora. When Michael Dal Grande made his first trip to China in 1989, he got a rare glimpse of what life used to be like. It was a trip that will always be among his most memorable.

“When I first traveled to China in 1989, it was in September, just after the Tiananmen Massacre,” he said. “There was some German rural development help from a government organization and they fi-nanced the importation of German Angora rab-bits to improve the Chinese breed. The place they chose was Shizhu in Sichuan Province, a bitterly poor place. To get there we had to fly to Chengdu, from there we took the night train to Chongqing and then, upon arriving early in the morning, we took a boat on the Yangtze to Fengdu, about six hours away. Once in Fendu we got in a four-wheel-drive and took a gravel road for another four hours to Shizhu.

“The people there looked at us as if we were visi-tors from the moon. They followed us in the streets of the tiny village, keeping 15 feet behind, and when we zipped into a traditional wooden teahouse about 50 people came in and surrounded us, lifting the smaller children up into the air to have a better view of the strangers.

“The annual production of Angora rabbit hair for the area was about 1,000,000 kilograms. Nearly ev-ery farmer had some cages beside his home.”

The fortitude of Michael’s itinerary made me blanch to think I ever hesitated about landing in Qingdao without so much as a cell phone contact. But there was more to his visit than just a boat ride up the Yangtze. As Michael later told me, the village


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was so remote that there were still lepers living there. Leprosy was a disease that plagued China for centuries and was slow to be acknowledged and eradicated. Among the Chinese, lep-rosy is commonly referred to as mafeng (numb wind), zeifing (vicious wind), and occasionally damafeng (big numb wind). Although now I think people would prefer to think of it as gone.

Last year, Michael returned for the first time to the village of Shizhu.

“I landed in Chongqing [nicknamed the fog capital] and our silk supplier took me to Shizhu in his Benz,” Michael said. “It took us just two hours to drive there on a four-lane highway. The village had turned into a small city, all the picturesque wooden houses are gone, and now there are ugly, filthy con-crete buildings, looking as if they are 60 years old.

“But the streets are full of Benzes and BMWs, and motor-cycles are everywhere. The level of wealth has increased con-siderably. But the production of rabbit hair is down to 200,000 kilograms per year.”

Shan Tou is no Shizhu, and though the standard of living has not even broached the luxury car market, except for the “Ca-dillac” in the drive, the quality of angora has improved over time. But according to Michael, it is still not as good as what was once produced in Germany, or even in Argentina or Chile, just a few years back. Part of the reason is nutrition, part is ge-netics, and part is simply the inability to develop closer breed-ing lines within such a vast geo-graphic area. No doubt some is the residual mental-ity of a communist culture. Mr. Wan’s success, although not uncommon, is not necessarily the norm. Both he and his wife are com-pletely dedicated to raising the rabbits, sharing in the daily chores and the on-going need to snip, snip, snip.

After several best bunny introductions and an overall look at Mr. Wan’s operation, we sit outside on tiny plastic stools and eat fresh watermelon and drink tea. It is clear that Mr. Wan has an entrepreneurial spirit and takes well-deserved pride in his success. When I ask why he chose not to work in a factory

Mr. Wan and his wife, Ms. Wang.

Summer 2011 29

he doesn’t hesitate to reply: he believes his place is at home with his wife and family; that’s what matters.

Later that afternoon Yi and I visit two other Angora farmers, Mr. Zheng, an older gentleman who is a retired factory worker, and another young farmer with acres of pear trees he must also tend. The conditions of the hutches are similar

throughout; the only notable differ-ence is the size of the entrance arch. I ask Mr. Zheng if he likes working with the rabbits and he instantly reveals a shy, happy grin. “I should have left my factory job much sooner,” he says. “It is a good business for my family. I think we will just keep getting bigger.”

The angora business, along with the rest of the natural fiber industry, has suffered a series of setbacks ow-ing largely to the rampant growth of synthetics. Angora’s zenith was during

World War II when it was used in bomber jackets and thermal underwear. The delicate fiber is nearly unparalleled for its incredible warmth, and when blend-ed with sweaters and other knitted items, the angora halo is unmistakable.

Shandong Province has 3.2 million Angora rabbits that provide 2,000 tons of raw fi-ber a year. Many of them are raised at enormous facilities where 20,000 rabbits is con-sidered average. Others are housed in the country, pro-viding a better quality of life for those whose options are all too few.

Mr. Zheng and a box of baby rabbits.

Michael Dal Grande with “his bunnies.”

Villagers in Shan Tou still use a community millstone.

“I should have left my factory job

much sooner,” he says. “It is a good

business for my family. I think we will

just keep getting bigger.”


Admittedly the news is full of sto-ries of animal abuse that is often too gruesome to ponder, and certainly the Chinese have had their fair share of the blame. But as with all types of animal husbandry, what’s in the head-lines doesn’t necessarily reflect the norm. Though I am sure that not all rabbitries are as clean and productive as those I visited, it would be wrong to chastise the entire industry, just as an American chicken farmer wouldn’t necessarily want to be compared with Purdue.

As Yi and I walk back to the car a tractor rounds the corner like a rusted out entry in a go-cart race. Yi and I leap to opposite sides of the path and

when I finally look back with a mouth full of dust, I am grateful the driver is not at the wheel of new found success. I then notice a small group of mothers and their children who have appar-ently been watching and clearly find humor in a foreigner’s near miss. Wishing to recapture a modicum of dignity I ask if I can take their picture and each one instantly seizes her child to hold up in front of the camera. Although they are nowhere near as curious as the onlookers Michael once encountered, I can’t help looking at this party of toddlers and imagining Peter Rabbit hopping through their midst.

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Above left: A tractor makes its way down a village road driven with all the intensity of a go-cart race. Above right: Proud to show off her baby, this mother seems as full of smiles as nearly everyone else in Shan Tou.

Summer 2011 31

Just Released!

Every new rabbit owner should have this book. Even before they bring their first bunny home.

Practical Tips

Words from the WiseDelightfully Illustrated

The Ner vous New Owners Guide to Angora Rabbits

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By Suzie Sugrue

w

reflectionsPhotos by Linda Cortright

Hare Everywhere

Yimengsnow FactoryFei County, ShandongChina

Summer 2011 33

w

Nearly all the work at Yimengsnow factory is done by women, including carrying enormous bales of angora, which is all sorted by hand.

Yimengsnow has recently built another rabbitry that will expand the operation to 30,000 animals. Yet every cage is still manually cleaned.

In most Chinese factories, women are the biggest source of cheap labor.

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The outward appearance of this angorafactory is deceptive in view of its

30,000 hairy inhabitants.

“Happy to go to work, back to home in safety.”Yimengsnow president and general manager, Mr. Li Zhondong, with Mr. SunYi, in front of a

sign at the factory.

Summer 2011 35

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Women spend hours hunched over mounds of angora fiber, which is classed according to fineness. At left, stools are turned sideways to bring the workers closer to the ground and alleviate some of the stress on their backs.

Wild Fibers Summer 2011

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