horns and fine-grade wool) up the ramp. “Now, our grandkids are out here, carrying on the tradition.”
“I always love coming out here,” says Teresa, wistfully. “And this year is really special, with all our friends showing up to help- it’s kind of like a community picnic.”
FOLLOW THE LEADER:
First Lady, Teresa Little on Sheep and Her Day Job BY KAREN DAY
On
a crisp March morning, with dew still sparkling across an open field, First Lady Teresa Little has gathered with the Governor, their family, local friends, eight New Zealanders and about 1,000 sheep. Warm clouds of breath condense and rise above the animals, anxious and corralled. Baaaaahing fills the air. Several people whoop and whistle, push and shove wooly reluctants toward a shoot leading up into a shearing shed. “Sheep are bred to follow each other, but they need a nudge,” says Teresa, poking a stalled hindquarter with a long stick. “This ewe is definitely pregnant with twins.” This knowledge, like this annual event, is also bred into Teresa Little’s DNA, confirmed by a weathered sign hanging above the holding pen. “Soulen,” is the First Lady’s family name and her paternal great-grandfather, Philip, settled in the Palouse in 1906, amassing a large range sheep operation that remains so today, operated by her brother, Harry, and family, all present and muscling the animals up the ramp. “We were all raised shearing, shipping and lambing,” says Brad Little, poking a Rambouillet (breed with little
COVID 19 prevented their regular Peruvian crew from returning for range season, but the operation must go on. For six days, friends and neighbors have showed up, unannounced, eager to support the effort with labor and food. The atmosphere is what one imagines at old barn-raisings, jovial and physical- only with sheep and spectators snapping photos of the sturdy New Zealanders working seamlessly. The men shear while the women pack heavy bulks of wool into baling machines. Reggae music pipes loudly out of the shearing shed, while inside, Maori tattoos glisten on sweaty forearms. The crew, stripping wool from 300 sheep a day, prove that the profession is as much a timed wrestling match as it is an art. “They travel all over the world,” says Teresa. “And they’re amazing to watch. I sure couldn’t do what they do!” She leans over the railing, pushing hard on a sheepish rear-end. Jim Thomson, family-friend and Gem County physician, lends a hand. The previous day, Thomson and Teresa had worked together on the front lines, vaccinating locals in downtown Emmett. “One lady came with her husband. He got the vaccine, but she didn’t want to,” says Teresa, flashing a smile at Thomson. “But Teresa convinced her,” the doctor says. “It’s hard to say ‘no’ to your First Lady.” Teresa Little, however, is known to be the antithesis of pushy. “A lot of First Ladies around the country have agendas, like STEM or Pre-K education,” she says. “I don’t do that. I have my newsletter to shine a light on worthwhile initiatives. But personally, I’m committed to volunteering and getting others to do the same. What a better world we would have if everyone just donated a bit of time to help others.” Suddenly, one rogue jumps the fence, giddily flits its heels, and bolts across the field. Harry Soulen and some volunteers jog after the runaway sheep. Hoots rise from the crowd. Teresa giggles and pokes another ewe forward. Idaho’s first family knows first-hand it takes a village. www.idahomemagazine.com
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