History I Characteristics I Colors I Breeding goals I Gaits I Training I Raising our horses I Our broodmares I Foals 1999 I Foals 2000 I Onelist I Location I Weather I Winter gallery I Summer gallery I Us at Langhus I Icelandic cow I Icelandic sheep I Icelandic sheepdog I Articles from the website IWebrings I Link-collection I Horses for sale I

Herding sheep from the mountains.

I'm telling here about when we were collecting the sheep from the mountains here in the autumn 1998.
   Me and my boyfriend, Laki woke up at 6 o'clock in the morning, got some coffee. We were going to participate in the second herding of sheep this fall, and the horses were going to be herded from the highlands at the same time. We ate well, and wore woolen clothes and had watertights in the saddlebag. The horses had been in the barn this night to be ready to go. Luckily we didn't have to walk this year, those that are walking (usually the youngest of the grown-ups) take the route through the cliffs and the top of the mountains, where the horses can't go, but it snowed in the mountains a while ago, and that drives the sheep down to the lowland. So noone was walking today. It was foggy, and we got a phonecall that everybody was going to see after an hour if it was possible to herd today.
    At 10 o'clock it was decided that fog or no fog, we had to go, as one of those owning the horses in the mountains was going to Sweeden soon (he lives there now) and had to take his horses with him.
And there was no day where everybody was free again untill after he was gone. It was foggy, when we put the saddles on the horses we could only see for about 300 feet distance. The older horse (Flosi) was grumpy, he knew that staying in the barn overnight this time of the year means only that either he's going away for a show, or going to be slaving in the mountains. The other horse, a 6 year old mare (Orka), was going for her first time, and didn't know to save her strength, and was badly goey for the first hour. This tour tought her a lot, she's been a lot calmer after the tour, she knows now that the workingday can sometimes be long.
    We met the other people participating in the herding at a neighbours, we were 7, going to fetch 60 horses and the sheep that were left in the mountains. Noone knows the number of the sheep, there is no fence around the mountains, and many of the sheep come home by themselves, others go higher into the mountains to try to not be seen by the herders, and have some longer time of freedom.
    It takes us about 2 hours to ride up to where the electric string is which keeps the horses from drifting out of the group of walleys where they are to graze in the summertime. All the valleys end up joining in one valley, and the electric fence closes that valley. There is no fence on the other sides of the valleys, just cliffs. The sheep can go where they want to, the horses not.
    On our way we met farmers once in a while, all asking us what was wrong with us to go in this fog. One, when he heard that we were going to the mountains, asked: To do what! The outlook was glum, but at least we were going to try to get some sodding horses down.
    When we came to the fence, 6 horses were waiting by the gait. We went through the gait and up the main valley, and these horses followed us. Now we really could only see 200 metres (600 feet) away from us. The valley wher the horses are is so big that it takes 2 hours to ride from one end of it to the other. When we had ridden for half an hour we found one sheep carcass and the 6 horses still followed us. One of the dogs started chewing on the carass and barked at the 6 horses when they came to sniff. He was not going to share the meat with some horses! Soon the horses stopped following us. Hopefully we could find them on the way back.
    Now we split up into 3 groups, each going into a seperate valley. I went with 2 guys to the
middle valley, and soon we saw a group of horses up on a mountain-ridge, hovering like grey ghosts over our head. We couldn't hurry to get on the other side of them, as this instant we came to an especially rocky and steep hill, and had to lead the horses over it. When, after maybe half an hour, we could mount them again, we saw that the group of horses was ahead of us, going the wrong direction towards the bottom of the walley. We let the horses walk as quietly as we could, and sneaked up the last part up every hill, but when we had seen the ghosts disappear 4-5 times into the fog ahead of us, without getting closer, I was left with the riding-horses.   One of the men ran up the mountainside, soon disappearing. The other one walked quietly up the mountainside, trying not to make a sound.
    I waited. The horses ate some stiff plants growing there. It was vet, but I sat down on a
rock. When the horses had eaten everything they could reach, I moved a few meters. This is why all icelandic reins have hooks (to unhook the rein from the bit), so the horses can grass a bit away from you, without getting tangled in the reins.
I grew cold. A dog barked. 2 or 3 hours passed, I lost track. The quiet sound from the creek in the valley-bottom sounded loudly in the stillness. The horses lost interest in eating, one of them shivered. I shivered. I was though glad I wasn't running, I haven't been driving animals this summer an was in no condition. A ghost passed 50 meters away. Another followed. 23 horses passed, the horses I was leading looked at them uninterestedly. The horses disappeared.
    I stood up, feeling I should do something. After a long while the 2 guys came running, out of breath, we mounted and trotted and cantered off, rather sure that the horses were heading down to the gait, but we'd better not loose them up some of the other valleys. Over creeks, up and down small hills, sometimes the horses jumped straight up half a metre or more high banks, over small trenches dug by the creeks, sometimes stumbling a bit, or sinking up to the belly in small swamps, everyone glad, now something was happening. We ran quickly where we had walked quietly before, and mounted quickly again, better not be left, the horses are more important than that the people stay in a group.
    When everybody met again at the gait, there were still 20 horses missing. It was becoming
afternoon, and I hadn't eaten since 6 in the morning, I hadn't realized to eat again when the start of the trip was delayed. Good everyone had some brennivin or whisky in the pocket, we wouldn't get cold while we could sip that.
    Those that had gone into the shortest valley dissappeared into the fog (since their horses were least tired), looking into other neighbouring valleys, the rest waited, guarding the horses. 2 hours passed. My horse shivered, now thouroughly wet. Some of the horses from the valleys came to us, curious. Some of them were a bit tired too, having run for some hours already. The dogs barked in the distance. I ate some wild berries. We stood, two and two, chatting together.
    Then the men came again, now every single of the 60 horses were there. Now it was time to laugh and joke. Horayh!   30 sheep had been seen in the last valley, but no way to get them, they would have to be collected later, along with other sheep not seen in the fog.   But there were still about 10 km(6 miles). down to the corral.
    3 of us on the oldest, strongest horses went a bit a head. They herd of horses from the
mountains know where they live. They want to get home NOW! Fences to direct them the right way are scarce. So now it was a question of galloping as hard as we could ahead to direct the herd the right way. Again, over trenches, rocks, creeks, everything, just faster. The herd came nearer, and nearer, untill we came to a swamp with many creeks, there they soared past us, and we tried madly to stay below them, so they kept the right direction instead of spreading all over the community, on the way home. After a few kilometres it was hopeless to keep up with them anymore, but we had won, the herd was running in the direction to the corral. Now we split up, one horse was exhausted, another had lost a shoe, so two riders were left to lead their horses the last kilometres to the corral. The others trotted on, to keep track of the herd.
    When the herd comes to the corral, usually there are a few people waiting to direct them the last part. Now we were many hours behind schedule, and noone even sure that we would bring any horses at all, so noone was waiting and the herd ran straight up the mountain hovering over the corral. Now two of us galloped up the mountainside, soon we were running up the mountainside leading our horses, soon I was crawling up a rock-slide, and my faithful old horse trying to stay on its feet by my side. We took 5 steps, then we stood panting, then 5 steps again, panting more, and when we were up on top of that few hundred meters high mountain there were no horses, they had desided this was undesirable and run down to the corral. But there was good wiew there, even though I doubt dear Flosi appreciated that.
    So, the sheepherding took ten hours and not one single sheep came to the corral. It was though a jolly group of people seperating the horses in the corral (we don't drag them hands-on in our community) and then driving the small groups home. The dogs were glad to rest on the corral-walls, and the smallest horses, the 1 year olds, didn't look very frisky. It had been a long day and it was getting dark.

Lukka.