These resilient, tangle-haired creatures are responsible for a significant portion of the Faroe Islands’ distinctive identity, which is derived from their name, “Sheep Islands.”
I opened a small cardboard box in the Faroe Islands National Archives in the capital, Tórshavn, and gazed at an archaic volume that had been bound in leather and had been burnished by hundreds of years of handling.
Earl Hákon Magnússon, the Faroes’ former Norwegian sovereign, enacted a compilation of laws known as Seyðabraevið (the Sheep Letter) in 1298. This document is the earliest extant document in the nation. It also specifies the amount of recompense that must be paid in the event that a man allows his dog to pursue another man’s sheep, removes grazing land from a neighbor’s flock, or drives a feral sheep into another shepherd’s herd, thereby disrupting the “calmer” animals.
I resided in these sparsely inhabited islands for a year, and I never experienced feelings of isolation while meandering through the dark, verdant mountains on my own. This was due to the fact that there were almost always livestock in sight. The dramatic landscape of this remote, desolate nation has been physically sculpted by these resilient, tangle-haired creatures, who have grazed the slopes free of most vegetation except for grass, for more than a millennium. This has also influenced the country’s identity.
The 18 volcanic islands of the Faroes, which are situated in the North Atlantic between Scotland and Iceland, are a remote, hypercharged region of Scandinavia. They are characterized by traditional wood-built houses that are topped with turf and the same lightning-fast, near-universal wi-fi that is available in other Nordic nations. Additionally, they are home to thundering waterfalls, sharp cliffs, and jaw-dropping fjords that are attracting a record-breaking number of travelers in 2024.
The Faroe Islands, which were initially inhabited by Irish clerics in the 6th Century CE and were permanently established by Vikings in the 9th Century, are currently an autonomous territory of the Kingdom of Denmark. The Faroese language, which is closely related to Old Norse, is spoken by the 54,000 islanders. And if there is any ambiguity regarding the importance of the islands’ sure-footed sheep to their national identity, one need only examine their Faroese name: Føroyar (the Sheep Islands).
According to recent research, sheep have been present in the Faroe Islands since the initial Irish settlers arrived
The Vikings, who arrived centuries later, named the islands after the northern European short-tailed sheep they discovered in the area. For more than a millennium, the cultivation of semi-wild sheep for flesh and fleece, as well as fishing, trawling, and hunting marine birds, has been essential for survival in this rugged, remote land.
Historically, flocks were transported to specific regions of the islands by boat, and they were typically possessed communally, as they are today. The majority of Faroese families still have a portion of a livestock, and numerous individuals, including physicians, attorneys, artisans, and teachers, will participate in the autumn muster to assist with the slaughter and distribute the meat equitably. Today, nearly every Faroese family maintains a leg of fermented lamb in the larder throughout the year.
The Faroes are home to these doe-eyed creatures, which can be observed in various locations, including the car park of the islands’ sole airport. They are often observed ruminating on roundabouts or nibbling on the grass roofs of historic Faroese buildings. In reality, the Faroese livestock population of 70,000 on the islands is significantly greater than the Faroese human population.
Rain is anticipated on up to 300 days annually, and the Faroes are subjected to some of Europe’s most powerful winds. The primary crops that can be cultivated in this scant soil are a few potatoes, radishes, carrots, and rhubarb. Consequently, fermented lamb and mutton are indispensable components of the diet. This piquant cuisine, skerpikjøt, is influenced by the Faroes’ distinctive climate, which is windy but never too frigid or too mild.
The meat is suspended in hjallur, which are enclosures, where it is slowly dried and colonized by a layer of microbes after the autumn slaughter. The meat undergoes a series of phases, including moist (ræst), dried (turt), and ultimately fermented (skerpi), during which it develops a robust creamy flavor. The distinctive blackened appearance of the meat is the result of the rapid development of microbes on its surface, according to Jógvan Páll Fjallsbak, a microbiologist at the Faroes’ Food Science and Veterinary Agency.
“We know there are more than 600 species of bacteria identified on the surface of the meat,” according to him
However, we are still in the process of gaining a comprehensive understanding of the chemical processes that influence the ultimate flavor of the meat. It is contingent upon the atmospheric temperature and humidity. According to certain individuals, the flavor of the flesh can indicate the island from which it originated.
The flesh is not the sole factor that is significant. “Ull er Føroya gull” is an old Faroese proverb that translates to “Wool is Faroes’ gold.” The dense hairy yarn is still utilized in traditional Faroese knitwear, and knitting organizations are present in every village. Throughout the year, the majority of the population dons the distinctive Faroese hand-knitted sweaters.
It is perhaps unsurprising that sheep have become a national symbol in a nation that bears their name. The national tourism board’s emblem is a ram’s cranium. Black Sheep is one of the most renowned beer brands in the country. A bronze statue of a ram is located in the heart of Tórshavn, which is home to 40% of the island’s population and eight of the nation’s nine traffic signals. Children who come to rest on his back are fond of rubbing the metal clean, causing the antlers to gleam.
It is one of numerous sheep monuments in the capital, including a group of stylized steel sheep grazing the grass outside the Nordic House Cultural Centre, which was created by Faroese sculptor Rógvi Hansen.
In addition to providing the Faroese with sustenance, apparel, and roof maintenance, sheep have also rendered additional civic services throughout history. In 2016, the Faroese government produced a series of films that were shot by camera-carrying sheep in order to increase the Faroe Islands’ tourist appeal and, as the Nordic Council of Ministers put it, “introduce the Faroe Islands to the world.” They dubbed their Google Street View parody “Sheep View,” and officials claim that it led to a significant increase in tourism awareness for the islands.
“We anticipated that Sheep View would be humorous, and we believed that it might be the type of unconventional concept that would captivate people’s imaginations, despite our relatively modest budget,” stated Guðrið Højgaard, CEO of Visit Faroe Islands. “We do place a high value on our sheep, and they are such an integral component of our national identity that it seemed only natural to elevate their profile worldwide.” I also believe that our cattle are quite attractive.
In the interim, Høgni Reistrup, the proprietor of the local tour agency Guide to the Faroe Islands, has reported that they frequently receive inquiries from individuals worldwide regarding “sheep-related itineraries.”
“I have received inquiries from clients from countries where sheep culture is significant, such as New Zealand and Australia, regarding the availability of a guide to accompany them to a farm, where they can interact with a Faroese shepherd and even participate in the autumn roundup.” “It is an exceptionally photography-friendly season,” Reistrup stated.
Additionally, tourists may experience dishes prepared with the islands’ renowned fermented lamb at restaurants in Tórshavn, particularly Ræst, which is situated in close proximity to the harbor. Some farmers also provide traditional food experiences through the home-dining scheme known as heimablidni (home hospitality). Additionally, sheep farmer Jákup Petersen offers guided hikes on his land near the village of Kaldbak, where visitors trek to a mountain hut to sample wind-dried skerpikjøt mutton made from his own sheep.
Eva ur Dímun is the eighth generation of her family to farm sheep on the small Faroese island of Stóra Dímun. She resides alone with her spouse JógvanJón and their approximately 500 sheep.
After an exhaustive day of gathering up the livestock on the island’s precipitous slopes, ur Dímun told me, “I admire these animals; they are so tough and not boring creatures as many people may think.” “We are unable to survive in this location without food and shelter, as we expend a significant amount of energy chasing the sheep.” I experience a sense of inferiority when I consider their remarkable adaptation to the environment. They are capable of producing calves and enduring the winter on a diet of vegetation, as well as withstanding wind, rain, and snow.
Visitors to Tórshavn National Museum may observe a diminutive family of three brown taxidermied sheep in a glass display case to gain insight into the manner in which these resilient creatures adapted to the Faroes’ distinctive climate. They were seized in the late 19th century on the uninhabited island of Lítla Dímun, which is located just a few miles across the sea from where ur Dímun farms. These sheep are significantly smaller and less woolly than the Faroese sheep of today. They are the final known examples of the original Faroese breed that the Vikings encountered on the islands upon their arrival in approximately 800 CE. In the 19th century, the native breed was supplanted by larger and heavier varieties from Scotland, Iceland, and Norway in order to provide superior fleece and more flesh.
The Faroes have been the destination of a succession of settlers, from Viking settlers to Danish proprietors to modern travelers, brought in by the elements. However, the resilient sheep has endured, quietly forging the Faroes’ distinctive identity, molding a nation, and sculpting the land.
Tim Ecott is the author of the book The Land of Maybe: A Faroe Islands Year and a former BBC World Service correspondent.
