What a gift, the Sabbath day, when we don't have to rush off to work. I can take my time bringing water to the chickens and the upstairs hay mow kitties. Not a rat to be seen and I have them to thank. The pine trees on the ridge, silhoutted by the pink sunrise with the new crescent moon still hanging in the sky. Not too cold so I linger outside taking it all in. The barn has been very quiet, peace on earth. Just roosters crowing here and there through the night. The baby monitor works so well I can hear sheep breathing and urinating. I know, I know, but farmers don't mind that sort of thing. We are into the "basics" I guess. Last night we put tail bands on Tiny Tina and Quentin and the state mandanted scrapie tags in their little ears. (Don't get me started!) Gave worm shots to the moms...birth stimulates worm production and I hate the thought of creepy crawlies inside my beautiful girls. I opened the gates to their pens this morning and watched the moms come out, lambs tip toeing into that vast and scary world that is the barn. The moms run interference for the babies and call them to come and nurse for reassurance. I notice Bruno playing catch with a rooster. He is huge and handsome...growing like crazy. We must be doing something right I say to myself. I walk around checking out the moms who are so very pregnant, watching for a strain or grimmace. Sometimes I stop to watch one who looks like something might be happening, but a big BM pops out. Pooping is good (the farmer thing again). I imagine all these gorgeous fleeces, turned inside out in bags after shearing - the Motherlode - and all the work, caring and expense that goes before the shearing. If the knitters only knew...
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