On a Maine Farm, Regeneration Starts With the Sheep

Melissa Schneider didn’t set out to become a shepherdess. She left Los Angeles looking for something quieter. A life with a slower rhythm, a life closer to the ground. What she found on her Maine farm, Casa Portal, was a small herd of sheep and a much older story to step into.

The herd is Navajo-Churro, a heritage breed long tended by the Diné people of the American Southwest. Resilient and rooted in a fragile history, these sheep carry something beyond wool and weight. On Melissa’s acreage, they move across the land as quiet collaborators, turning soil, cycling nutrients, coaxing the earth back toward health. Regeneration, it turns out, looks a lot like patience.

Herding, Melissa has come to understand, is never just one thing. It’s a system of care, timing, and learning to read what a piece of land needs and when. Her Navajo-Churros are one thread in that fabric, gradually weaving a more generative way of farming into the rural Maine fields.

Melissa believes the land is asking us to form a more intuitive relationship with it, toward a less extractive farming and herding model. Join me in this conversation of what she sees when she peers into the portal of small-scale farming’s future. 

First, I’d love to hear your story and what it was like to move to Casa Portal. More broadly, how was the shift moving to Maine from your previous home? How did you come to live and work at Casa Portal with Navajo-Churro sheep?

I moved from Los Angeles to Maine without much of a plan; it was just a shared decision to step away from years of fast-paced, output-driven work and into something slower and more grounded. We wanted space for our dog, Shari, to roam, and a place where Pete [my husband], as a chef, could reconnect to his cooking through the land, and where we could live more closely to it and to each other.

The farm came as a surprise. I took it over from friends who had cared deeply for it and showed me that small-scale farming can be a quiet act of rebellion. I never set out to become a shepherd, but it’s opened up more than I could have expected, both in gifts and in challenges.

The farm was originally known as Rolling Meadows Farm, and when I arrived, I renamed it Casa Portal, the house with a portal, as a way to describe the farmhouse and land as something you step into, not just visit.

Long before I got here, the original stewards had already begun bringing the land back to life after years of logging. The regeneration wasn’t theoretical. The soil had been depleted, the systems disrupted, the trees sparse. Over time, through permaculture practices, careful attention, and in many ways simply allowing the land to rest, it began to recover.

The sheep have been part of that story for over 20 years. The flock began with a Navajo-Churro ram that made its way from the Southwest and was found at a farmer’s market here in Maine. From that starting point, the original shepherds began building a breeding line with a lot of care and intention, preserving the qualities of the breed while adapting it to this landscape.

Today, we continue that approach by keeping a closed flock and being very selective about breeding. The goal is to maintain the integrity of the Navajo-Churro sheep, preserving the lines developed here and honoring the traditions of thoughtful, intentional stewardship that keep the breed pure and resilient.

I didn’t start this flock. I stepped into something that had already been cared for over decades. My role is to continue it, not redefine it. The shepherds who built and maintained it took me under their wing, and most of what I’ve learned has come through observation: being shown, asking questions, and spending time on the land. In Maine, everyone seems to carry pieces of knowledge, and I’ve been piecing those together to understand what works for this flock and this place.

The sheep are at the center of everything we do. They’ve shaped how the land has come back to life and how the soil continues to build its health. This is why we stay committed to older, slower farming methods that work with that process rather than against it.

I understand that the Navajo-Churro sheep you’re working with have a storied history, and a tragic one at that. Amazingly, they managed to survive, even though it was only in small pockets from the 1860s to the 1930s, with only a few hundred left by the 1970s. What does it mean to you to shepherd these truly special sheep, who are such important members of Diné culture? Similarly, how do they contribute to your regenerative farm at Casa Portal? 

The Navajo-Churro sheep have a complex history, and once I began learning more about their lineage and near-extinction, it felt important to help preserve that story in a meaningful way. I’m very aware that these animals hold deep cultural significance within Diné communities, and I approach that with respect. 

The flock at Casa Portal has been on this land for over 20 years. It was originally built by shepherds committed to preserving the breed in the Northeast, beginning with a Navajo-Churro ram brought from the West. Over time, they carefully developed and maintained multiple lines, and the flock I now manage is part of that ongoing stewardship. It remains one of a relatively small number of Navajo-Churro flocks in this region.

What drew me in was that sense of continuity, that this work had been started long before me and required more people willing to carry it forward.

From a farming perspective, these sheep contribute in ways that align closely with regenerative practices. Although they’re traditionally associated with the Southwest, they’ve adapted well here in Maine. They’re hardy, independent, and able to handle variable conditions without intensive inputs.

They also move differently across the land. Their grazing patterns, their ability to forage selectively, and their resilience all support the health of the pasture. Rather than requiring the land to be reshaped around them, they integrate into it. 

For me, shepherding them is less about managing livestock and more about participating in a longer story that includes the breed’s history, the people who preserved it, and the land they now help sustain.

Can you speak to the larger question of how heritage breeds like the Navajo-Churro are uniquely suited to regenerative farming in what they provide, as well as how they contribute to a generative, rather than an extractive, farming model?

One of the first things I noticed was the patterns. The sheep move across the land in specific, repeated ways that aren’t random. At first, it looks like wandering, but over time, you see they’re tracing something. They return to certain areas, avoiding others, moving with the slope, the wind, the season. 

Their movement is part of what’s restoring the soil. They distribute nutrients, press seeds into the ground, open space for new growth, and carry seeds across the land in their wool. What looks simple is actually part of a much larger ecological process. 

Spending time with them shifts how you see the whole farm. You start noticing patterns everywhere: light, moisture, plant health. It becomes less about managing and more about paying attention.

That’s where heritage breeds like Navajo-Churro sheep stand out. They weren’t designed for industrial efficiency. They were shaped by landscape and survival. They’re adaptable, resilient, and able to live in real environments without heavy inputs.

In Maine, that matters. The land isn’t uniform, and the seasons are pronounced. You’re working with what’s actually there. These sheep don’t need the land reshaped around them; they integrate into it.

We rotate them across three pastures in a fairly open system, giving them freedom of movement and choice in how they graze. Over time, those same patterns emerge. That movement supports plant diversity, distributes nutrients, and helps rebuild the soil.

At Casa Portal, the sheep aren’t separate from the system. There’s fiber, food, and materials that come from them, all feeding back into the farm. We grow food, keep bees, and think of everything as connected rather than separate parts. When you stop separating animals, soil, food, and people, you start to see how everything works together.

That’s the difference between extractive and generative farming. Extractive systems simplify and take. Generative systems build layer by layer, over time.

And the sheep themselves reflect that. They move as a flock, not as individuals. There’s a collective intelligence to how they operate. That’s been one of the biggest lessons for me, paying attention to the health of the whole. Shepherding isn’t about control; it’s about paying attention.

Heritage breeds fit naturally into regenerative systems because they help create them, rather than just existing within them.  

These days, we’re seeing female shepherds more and more at the fore of animal raising, and the United Nations designated 2026 as the “Year of the Female Farmer”. How do you see women in shepherding through the broader global lens?

I think what we’re seeing right now is less about something entirely new and more about a shift in visibility and value. Women have always been part of this work, tending animals, working land, but much of that hasn’t been centered or recognized in the same way.

What feels different now is that the way many women approach farming is becoming more visible, and in some ways, more aligned with where agriculture needs to go.

Shepherding, in particular, is deeply relational. It requires observation, patience, and a kind of embodied awareness. You’re reading animals, weather, and landscape throughout the day. It’s about paying attention and responding. Shepherding is about listening.

I think that orientation is drawing people in, especially those coming through fiber, food, and land stewardship. It’s less about scale and output, and more about connection and continuity.

The Navajo-Churro sheep have also historically been tended by women, particularly within Diné communities, where shepherding and weaving are closely linked. There’s a matriarchal lineage rooted in care, observation, and continuity over time.

This relational, attentive work is grounded in daily practice and can be understood as a more feminine approach to farming. It feels increasingly relevant as we rethink regenerative systems.

At the same time, this isn’t just about gender. It reflects a broader shift toward care-based, ecosystem-aware practices. The land is asking for a different kind of relationship, and the people stepping into that work, many of them women, are helping redefine what farming can look like. What’s changing isn’t just who is farming. It’s how we’re choosing to relate to the land and animals.

If 2026 is being named the “Year of the Female Farmer,” I see it less as a trend and more as a recognition that these ways of working, attentive, relational, less extractive, are essential to the future of agriculture.

At Casa Portal, that shows up in how we relate to the animals. We try to honor the full cycle of life. The sheep are known, cared for, and in return, they provide what we need in a complete way. Nothing is wasted. It’s a system built on respect, responsibility, and an ongoing relationship.

Approaching shepherding from an outside perspective can be intimidating for newcomers. So I’m wondering if you can touch on how smaller, more regenerative operations provide easier entry points for beginners? On the flip side of that question, how can small farms support heritage herds like Navajo-Churro sheep and ensure their survival?

I had absolutely no idea how to do this when I started. None. 

I came into this as a beginner and quickly realized there’s no shortcut. At some point, you have to surrender to the fact that you’re learning something that’s been passed down for generations. For me, that’s meant learning from experienced shepherds and farmers who are willing to share what they know, asking a lot of questions, and spending time with the sheep, while getting things wrong along the way.

At the same time, there’s a new layer that makes this more accessible than it used to be. There’s an incredible community online, especially on platforms like YouTube, of small farmers and beginners sharing what they’re learning in real time. You can watch someone build a fence, troubleshoot a problem, or raise a flock from scratch. It’s a mix of old knowledge and new access, and it’s incredibly generous.

It also feels like a quiet kind of rebellion. People choosing to step outside the expected path and learn something real, something physical, something that reconnects them to land and life.

What makes smaller, regenerative farms more accessible is proximity. You’re not managing from a distance. You’re close to everything. You know your animals, you see what they’re doing, and you can adjust in real time. It’s still hard work, but it’s learnable because it’s direct. You’re building understanding through observation, not just systems.

There’s also more room for imperfection. You can make mistakes, learn from them, and keep going, which is essential if you didn’t grow up doing this.

On the other side of that, small farms are what allow heritage breeds like Navajo-Churro sheep to continue to exist. These sheep don’t fit neatly into industrial models, so their survival depends on many smaller flocks and the people willing to care for them over time.

In our case, the flock I manage is the result of decades of careful breeding by shepherds committed to preserving these lines. I stepped into that not as an expert, but as the next person willing to learn and continue the work. You don’t need to know what you’re doing to start; you just need to be willing to pay attention and keep going.

How does the future look for Casa Portal? Are there any forthcoming exciting new projects you’re looking forward to, specifically with your herd or even in an overall regenerative sense?

There are always projects on a farm, some more exciting than others. But underneath that, there’s a real sense of momentum right now, especially around people wanting to connect with a slower rhythm and a more grounded way of living.

At Casa Portal, the farm came first, and the retreats have grown naturally out of that. What we’re building isn’t separate from the land; it’s an extension of it.

One of the bigger projects right now is renovating the barn into a space for fiber and creative arts workshops and retreats. It allows us to bring the full cycle more into view: working with wool from the flock, creating textiles, and giving people a hands-on way to engage with that process. It feels like a natural continuation of what’s already happening here.

We’re also expanding our farmstay hospitality, which has been part of this land’s tradition for years. The farm is meant to be a shared experience, and opening it up to guests feels like a return to that. This isn’t a place you come to observe. It’s a place you come to participate.

People come here and step into the rhythm of the farm. They spend time outside, work with their hands, engage with natural fibers, and share meals that come directly from the land and animals around them. It’s not positioned as an escape, but as a way of re-entering a different relationship with the world.

That same philosophy carries through everything we’re building. We’re continuing to integrate the sheep into fiber work and small-batch goods. This season will be our first offering of yarn and rugs made from the flock. It’s something we’ve been developing slowly, and it’s important that it stays small and intentional.

With the herd, we’re also opening a new pasture, which supports both the animals and the land, giving the sheep more room to move and continuing the long-term work of restoring these 100 acres.

More than anything, the future of Casa Portal is about deepening what’s already here and sharing it with a wider community.

It’s about letting the land, the animals, and the work continue to shape what comes next and inviting people into that process, even if only for a short time.

Editor’s Note: If you’d like to share in the magic of Casa Portal and meet this special herd of sheep, consider visiting the farm for your own bit of regeneration.

The post On a Maine Farm, Regeneration Starts With the Sheep appeared first on Modern Farmer.