Cody Manson, left, holds a sheep as Jay Begay, right, applies a castration band Friday, Oct. 28, 2022, in the community of Rocky Ridge, Ariz., on the Navajo Nation. Climate change, permitting issues and diminishing interest among younger generations are leading to a singular reality: Navajo raising fewer sheep. Cody Manson, left, holds a sheep as Jay Begay, right, applies a castration band Friday, Oct. 28, 2022, in the community of Rocky Ridge, Ariz., on the Navajo Nation.
“We butcher the sheep because it is a way of our life,” said Begaye, who won this year’s pageant and is preparing to speak about the importance of sheep as a cultural ambassador over the next year. “That’s how my ancestors were able to provide food for their families.” Most afternoons these days, shaggy herding dogs encourage a flock of sheep to follow Jay Begay Sr. out to graze. The brassy tinkling of livestock bells rings out over a vast plain of dry grasses near the community of Rocky Ridge, Arizona, close to the border between Navajo and Hopi lands. Begay Sr. uses a walking stick to wind past pockets of yellow flowers, heavily trafficked anthills and the occasional prickly pear.
Now Craig has just a few sheep and goats, some horses and a few dogs, including one herding dog named Dibé, the Navajo word for “sheep.” The windmill wells near his house functioned but had polluted water. For a long time they used them anyway, not knowing anything was wrong. It was clear, clean water, or so they thought. Now they know, and no longer use those wells.
He says thousands of people have been waiting for years for grazing permits. Meanwhile, others have permits they don’t use or trespass on land they don’t have the right to graze on. Sometimes all of this happens amongst family members who live near each other — a recipe for land disputes.Meranda Laughter, who works at the Tractor Supply Co. in Gallup, says over the last five years her family has gone from 300 to just 10 sheep.