I am conducting fieldwork on the transnational story of Merino sheep, beginning with their migration from Spain to Vermont, and migration from Vermont to other continents. I’m grateful for the generosity of historians, environmental scientists, shepherds, fiber artists, cultural coordinators, and organizers of farming and weaving cooperatives in Spain, Vermont and northern Argentina who have spoken to me about the roles that sheep and wool have historically played in their economies, culture and environment. I’m particularly interested in the ways that migrating or rotationally grazed sheep support soil health and biodiversity, and how their grazing also helps prevent wildfires induced by climate change. My project partners in Spain are Argentina are interested in transnational dialogue about history and response to climate change, transhumancia, rural economies, and fiber arts. I would love to host a conference to facilitiate this conversation ahead of or concurrent with the United Nations 2026 International Year of Rangelands and Pastoralists. I am indebted to Middlebury College, the Marion and Jasper Whiting Foundation, and the Kathryn Wasserman Davis Collaborative in Conflict Transformation for funding for this project.

image from Vermont Historical Society

Historical Background

In 1810 a Boston Brahmin named William Jarvis, who worked as Thomas Jefferson’s consul to Portugal, bought several hundred Merino sheep in Spain. Previously, sheep were closely guarded by the Spanish royals, and it was illegal to sell them outside the country. Among his selections, Jarvis bought elite Paular Merinos, which he had shipped from Lisbon to Boston, with no expense spared for their passage. Jarvis’s international negotiation would come to have a significant impact on Vermont, where he had an estate. For several decades, Vermont white settler farmers, especially those in Addison County, made good money on Merinos, breeding the internationally renowned Vermont Merino that was shipped to Australia and Argentina.

The boom and bust tale of Merinos in Vermont includes the story of my paternal ancestors. I grew up finding ads for Merinos on yellowed newspapers in my grandmother’s attic. Now I am interested in both the global and local aspects of human/Merino history. Following a seminar on decolonialism in 2019, I traveled to the once wealthy Carthusian Monasterio de El Paular, an hour north of Madrid in the Sierra de Guadarrama park, where the famous Paular Merinos were bred and raised by low-paid local shepherds and monks. There I was fortunate to arrange a meeting with park research director Juan Antonio Vielvo Juez, who drove me into the gated and semi-abandoned fields behind the monastery, over an ancient cañada (sheep road), and to a restored shepherd hut tucked amid the park’s tree conservation efforts. In 2011, as part of a defense of their right-of-way, Juan joined contemporary sheep farmers in driving thousands of sheep down the cañada directly into downtown Madrid, where the sheep were once traded. Since then, I’ve had more opportunities to talk to Juan, his colleagues and friends, and other people in the Guadarramas and Extremadura, Spain (where Spain’s famous Merinos traditionally overwintered) who are interested in Merinos, sheep, history, local economies, and the environment.

While many claim that Merinos originally came from southern Europe and Greece, others point to the Berber Merini tribe in Northwest Africa. There is evidence that Merinos were transported to Andalusia in the 12^th and 13^th centuries. Sheep from most of Spain overwintered in Extremadura, which is part of a larger agrosilvopastoral system in southern Spain, la dehesa, a sustainable mix of forest and agriculture that supports biodiversity. The ecosystem is now threatened, and various efforts are made to sustain it and promote educational awareness.

What is the relationship between sheep and humans in particular cultural contexts? What light can Merinos shed on local farming economies and the construction of social hierarchies? How can a focus on Merinos, or sheep more generally, complicate borders between nation states and regions? How has all of this changed over time?

Sheep, sometimes called “the poor man’s cow,” have always mattered to humans. They provide milk, meat, and perhaps most importantly, wool. Unlike the synthetics that replaced it, wool is a sustainable fabric that does not clog our landfills or fill our oceans with microplastic. Wool is warm, also cool, durable, flexible, water resistant, and able to blend with silk and other fabrics. When I mention my interest in sheep, people from places all over the world have a story to tell.