leicester longwools.

There’s a new energy moving across Burnt Hill these days. The kind of quiet, rhythmic life that only animals bring.

I took two years off of animal husbandry while battling leukemia. It wasn’t a choice I wanted to make — it was survival mode. The daily work of raising livestock demands a kind of energy, attention, and consistency that I simply didn’t have while going through treatment.

But now — healthy, steady, standing on this sun-drenched hillside overlooking the Appalachians — the return of animals to Burnt Hill feels like a milestone in every sense of the word.

Not just for the farm. For me.

Bringing livestock back to Burnt Hill isn’t just about good farming practices — though it is certainly that. Animal integration is central to the way we think about this land. It’s healthy for the farm organism. It’s essential to our vision of a true polyculture paradise. Animals belong here.

And this season — thanks to the help of my friend and expert shepherd, Brad Humbert — we’ve brought in a breed I’ve fallen completely in love with: Leicester Longwools.

Pronounced “Lester,” these sheep are something special. They’re a rare, heritage breed — originally developed in 18th-century England by Robert Bakewell, one of the early pioneers of selective livestock breeding. These sheep were once prized around the world, even imported by George Washington himself to Mount Vernon.

Today, they’re critically rare — listed by The Livestock Conservancy as a breed worth saving. And they’ve found a home here on this windswept ridge at Burnt Hill.

Leicester Longwools are dual-purpose sheep — raised for both their incredibly lustrous wool and their richly flavored meat. Their fleece is legendary among hand-spinners and fiber artists: long, strong, shiny, and fast-growing. It takes dye beautifully and practically glows in the sunlight.

Their meat? Flavorful, tender, deeply connected to the land they graze.

But beyond their heritage and their beauty, these sheep are practical. Perfect, really. Calm, curious, intelligent — and built for the job we need them to do here at Burnt Hill.

In the winter months, when the vines are dormant, these sheep will rotationally graze our steep vineyard blocks — doing the work that would otherwise require tractors and mowers. They mow the cover crops. They fertilize naturally. They aerate the soil with their hooves. They reduce disease pressure.

And they do it all quietly, beautifully, and in perfect harmony with the land.

I often say Burnt Hill isn’t just a vineyard. It’s a living, breathing ecosystem. A polyculture paradise. And with the return of livestock, that vision feels more alive than ever.

One day soon, I dream of hosting long, lingering meals on this hilltop — serving guests lamb raised right here alongside wine grown in these very soils. Estate wine. Estate lamb. Boldness meets beauty. Everything on the table a reflection of this place.

This is what regenerative farming looks like to me. Not just sustainability — but abundance. Health. Flavor. Life.

After three years of paused projects, I feel like we’re finally back in motion. Livestock returning. Heritage grains in the ground. The apiary humming. The orchard expanding. New vineyard blocks taking shape.

This farm is alive again. And so am I.