Herdwick

De herkomst van het Herdwick schaap is weliswaar omringd met mooie verhalen, maar ondanks dat vaag. Eén verhaal wil dat de schapen afkomstig zijn van een Spaans Armada schip, dat was vergaan onder de kust van Cumbria. Volgens een ander verhaal zou het om een Noors schip gaan dat rond het jaar 900 verging en waarvan een kudde van 40 schapen naar de kust is gezwommen. Ook een mogelijkheid is dat de schapen afstammen van vee uit het Bronzen tijdperk, of door Noors/Ierse immigranten in Engeland is geïntroduceerd rond de 10e of 11e eeuw. In ieder geval is het woord Herdwick te herleiden naar het oude Noorse "Herd-vic" ofwel schapenwei of schapenboerderij.

Dit ras komt hoofdzakelijk voor in het Lake District in het noorden van Engeland. In vroeger tijden werden zij veel gehouden door monniken die grote stukken land in beheer hadden. Later gingen de lokale boeren meer en meer over op het houden van andere rassen omdat die productiever waren. Het Herdwickschaap werd derhalve steeds zeldzamer. Een van de mensen die heel belangrijk zijn geweest voor het voortbestaan de Herdwicks is Mrs. William Heelis, beter bekend als schrijfster/tekenares Beatrix Potter. Samen met haar man kocht zij een aantal boerderijen op waar zij met een prijswinnende kudde Herdwicks fokte. Na haar dood erft de National Trust haar 2000 hectare grond en al haar boerderijen.

Het Herdwickschaap is een stevig middelgroot schaap met een witte kop en stugge grijze wol, brede witte poten en een dikke behaarde staart. De lammetjes worden bijna helemaal zwart geboren, maar al na korte tijd begint de verkleuring bij de kop. Het karakter van de Herdwicks is rustig en vriendelijk. Een bijzondere eigenschap is het zogenaamde "heafing", wat inhoudt dat de schapen in hun geboorte gebied blijven. De ooien zullen ook telkens teruggaan naar hun geboorteplek om daar hun eigen lammeren te krijgen.

Ook de dichter William Wordsworth woonde in het Lake District en wanneer één van zijn gedichten over een schaap gaat, kun je je goed voorstellen dat dit gaat om een Herdwickschaap;

The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
And, looking o'er the hedge, before me I espied
A snow-white mountain-lamb with a Maiden at its side.

Nor sheep nor kine were near; the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little Maiden kneel,
While to that mountain-lamb she gave its evening meal.

The lamb, while from her hand he thus his supper took,
Seemed to feast with head and ears; and his tail with pleasure
shook.
"Drink, pretty creature, drink," she said in such a tone
That I almost received her heart into my own.

'Twas little Barbara Lewthwaite, a child of beauty rare!
I watched them with delight, they were a lovely pair.
Now with her empty can the Maiden turned away:
But ere ten yards were gone her footsteps did she stay.

Right towards the lamb she looked; and from a shady place
I unobserved could see the workings of her face:
If Nature to her tongue could measured numbers bring,
Thus, thought I, to her lamb that little Maid might sing:

"What ails thee, young One? what? Why pull so at thy cord?
Is it not well with thee? well both for bed and board?
Thy plot of grass is soft, and green as grass can be;
Rest, little young One, rest; what is't that aileth thee?

"What is it thou wouldst seek? What is wanting to thy heart?
Thy limbs are they not strong? And beautiful thou art:
This grass is tender grass; these flowers they have no peers;
And that green corn all day is rustling in thy ears!

"If the sun be shining hot, do but stretch thy woollen chain,
This beech is standing by, its covert thou canst gain;
For rain and mountain-storms! the like thou need'st not fear,
The rain and storm are things that scarcely can come here.

"Rest, little young One, rest; thou hast forgot the day
When my father found thee first in places far away;
Many flocks were on the hills, but thou wert owned by none,
And thy mother from thy side for evermore was gone.

"He took thee in his arms, and in pity brought thee home:
A blessed day for thee! then whither wouldst thou roam?
A faithful nurse thou hast; the dam that did thee yean
Upon the mountain-tops no kinder could have been.

"Thou know'st that twice a day I have brought thee in this can
Fresh water from the brook, as clear as ever ran;
And twice in the day, when the ground is wet with dew,
I bring thee draughts of milk, warm milk it is and new.

"Thy limbs will shortly be twice as stout as they are now,
Then I'll yoke thee to my cart like a pony in the plough;
My playmate thou shalt be; and when the wind is cold
Our hearth shall be thy bed, our house shall be thy fold.

"It will not, will not rest! -- Poor creature, can it be
That 'tis thy mother's heart which is working so in thee?
Things that I know not of belike to thee are dear,
And dreams of things which thou canst neither see nor hear.

"Alas, the mountain-tops that look so green and fair!
I've heard of fearful winds and darkness that come there;
The little brooks that seem all pastime and all play,
When they are angry, roar like lions for their prey.

"Here thou need'st not dread the raven in the sky;
Night and day thou art safe, -- our cottage is hard by.
Why bleat so after me? Why pull so at thy chain?
Sleep -- and at break of day I will come to thee again!"

-- As homeward through the lane I went with lazy feet,
This song to myself did I oftentimes repeat;
And it seemed, as I retraced the ballad line by line,
That but half of it was hers, and one half of it was 'mine'.

Again, and once again, did I repeat the song;
"Nay," said I, "more than half to the damsel must belong,
For she looked with such a look and she spake with such a tone,
That I almost received her heart into my own."