Wishing for Sleep

I have a feeling it will be a long night. I see a couple of ewes straining now and then...could be gas, but then they are so very pregnant. Getting up twice last night really took it out of me. It's 5 pm and I would LOVE to lie down and take a nap...but chores are just starting. Matt gets up in the grain room in the hay mow upstairs and shovels feed into the chute with a wheel barrow waiting down below. We try to get as many sheep and goats out of the barn before we do this, or else we have a riot on our hands. Once the throng of sheep picked me and the wheel barrel up and moved us along down the length of the barn, snapping the undercarriage. Trouble is, there is so much snow outside the sheep don't want to climb onto it, and try to stay on the path. I remember asked a Vermont shepherd who raises Babydoll Southdowns how he manages in the snow since his sheep have such little legs. He said, no problem, and doesn't even own a tractor. The sheep tamp it down. Well, my sheep don't seem to want to tamp it down and prefer to stay in the barn. I figure after living in the wild with no barn for five years they are entitled. I will drink a Coca-Cola, which sometimes works better than coffee for me, and get the chores done. We have two moms ready to be let out of the maternity ward...Dulce with Dorcas and Gloria with Goodness and Mercy. They are so fine and I am so proud. There are little lambs hopping all over the barn. Matt and I just stand still, hand in hand, and admire them for they are truly the fruits of our labor.

A Week of Vacation from School

Is it really true? Am I home from school for a week? This is the greatest thing about teaching...just when you think you can't stand it a minute longer and you are fantasizing about weapons and methods of torture, you get some time off. I've got a million things to do and don't care if I get in the truck...can't afford the gas to go anywhere anyway. I've got flour, sugar, eggs from the chickens every day, and the ingredients to make a giant pot of chili. Big M had roasted peppers in a jar on the $1 counter and I guiltily bought two to put in the chili. I have a half gallon of Tawny Port left over from Christmas so I can put some of that in the chili and down the rest myself...maybe I will sip some when I take my stock tank bath tonight. Poverty really stinks but can be character building. I used to give all my left overs to the dogs but now I eat food three days old. I used to stop at the market every day and buy ten dollars worth of canned food for the cats and dogs and run that can opener for ten minutes opening them all. Now they get the dry store brand Tractor Supply special (and seem to enjoy it!) Every egg the chickens lay I stroke and admire. I bring some to work as gifts for the girls who give me coffee, cut my hair, and otherwise befriend me. It will soon be farmer's market/sheep show time and the money situation will be better. When I look at the bills piling up I fantasize about the women walking into my booth and plunking down the cash for my bags, soap and wool without a minute's hesitation and I tell myself things will get better.

Snow Drifts on my Future Home

This is the West End of the barn where we plan to live as soon as we can come up with the money to finish the apt. This will be the back side where we planned to put a door but look at those drifts! The front side, facing the hill and views, is also drifted over. Hmmmm. Will have to put some kind of snow screen around the doors. I am only four hours from where I used to live and I feel like I am in Northern Vermont. I've got the snow, the wind, the cold, but no tourists or skiers. I feared the noise and smell of snowmobiles coming through but I have only heard them once, across the valley. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of cars that pass by each day, but the plows keep the road totally clear. People at school complain about the roads the same way they did in NJ, and have the same driving anxieties, so I am right at home. Chris Kupris, former owner and dairy farmer, is still in the house he was born in next door, which is kind of cool. He is full of stories and advice, like where not to park my truck under the barn roof (a snow slide totalled his one year). I thought it would be cool to live around so many dairy farms, but the cruelty of raising milk smacks me in the face every time I drive out of here. Bull calves are taken from their mothers so the milk can be sold. They are tied to cold plastic huts far away from the herd where they can only look at where they want to be. I see beautiful animals standing knee deep in mud around empty feeders, not a blade of hay to seen. There are a few grassy hillsides where cows graze, and fortunately I pass one of them on route 80 going to Sherburne. Matt says it must be an organic farm because there are weeds in the field. I try to buy organic whenever I can to support these brave people who buck the dairy lobby. I plan on buying my own cow and raise my own milk...but what happens when she gives birth to a bull calf? I will face that dilemna when I come to it and, in the meantime, try to get used to soy milk (ugh!)

Little Trailer on the Prairie

Here we are, one week post Nor'easter. It is cold, cold, cold with bright blue skies today. The cold water is frozen in the trailer now and we bring in jugs from the milk room. I have had the same set of silk underwear on for a week. It reminds me of when moms would sew their kids into a set of underwear and they would wear them all winter. I totally understand. Tonight is bath night! Whew-whew! Red neck Saturday night! Maybe I will make a pot of chili to celebrate. The last time I made chili I set two big plastic containers out on the porch to freeze, which it did, solid and heavy. A few days later when I wanted to thaw some to eat the plastic containers were gone. Nowhere to be found. Searched around in the snow, no chili. Must have been the dogs, but how did they get it? They would have to had knocked the containers off the ledge, rolled them down the stairs and dragged them away. Icy chili doesn't appeal to me but I guess it did to the doggies. I planned on living on that chili for a week. On our budget, or lack of any money to budget, this is a hit. Coyotes, maybe? I can't imagine they would come this close to the house, with the LGD's barking away. Speaking of LGD's...the rotten dogs ran away. I am really pissed off at them. I let them out to play in the snow while I took care of the new lamb, and off they went, over the fence. These are dogs who are bred to bond to the sheep, live with the sheep, protect the sheep. My dogs don't give a flip about the sheep. They are nice to them and tolerate them eating their food, etc., but I don't see the protection aspect there. Maybe if a coyote or two came into the barn (which does happen around here) their instincts would kick in. I have heard that sometimes a dog's instincts have to be turned on. But for now, I just wish they would come back.

Midnight Surprise

Matt heard the sounds first and woke me up. I was grateful to see him getting up to come and help me in the barn. Naomi, a new mother, was standing over a little lamb, licked off but wavering in the dark. I approached her slowly with the towel and scooped her up. Normally moms will follow me to the maternity ward but this new mom was flightly. Took me a while to get her in. Matt had the heat lamp turned on but it gets lost in the cold. This ewe lamb is alert but weak and can't stand up. My lamb M.O. is to keep the lamb with mom until it becomes impossible. Maybe it's the fact that my own baby was whisked away from me and taken to another hospital - I can still feel the anxiety. I put double sweaters on her and Matt helped me get colostrum nursed out of an unwilling mom. Why wouldn't she want my freezing cold fingers pulling on her teats? I can't imagine! Got lambs tummy full, set her under the lamp and went back to bed. Thankfully, I went back to sleep and woke up at 3. Gear on, back to the barn. She's still weak but standing and they are talking to each other. I mixed up some hot water and powdered cow colostrum the vet had left me. I didn't want to upset the whole barn by scuffling with a new mom in the middle of the night and Matt was tucked in tight. He had a job interview in the morning and I didn't want to rouse him. "Nonnie" (an old friend's name) took the bottle fine and I went back to bed, feeling better there was something in that little tummy. This morning she is up, trying to nurse, but teetering on her feet. Naomi was lying down so I took that opportunity to jump in the pen and lie on top of her while nursing out some more colostrum. She didn't fight me, but after standing up I tried to get the other nipple and no way. I flashed back to the time I tried to nurse out Lucinda by myself and was suddenly looking at the ceiling of the lean-to with my glasses somewhere in the field! The power of motherhood! I poured the colostrum in the bottle and gave it to Nonnie. Hopefully as the day progresses, she will get stronger and stronger and find that nipple. Another day on the farm with many births to go.

Time for Night-Night

Chris and Breeze know it's time to settle down but Dora and Thea are still rambling around and having fun. They are growing so fast it's almost time to wrestle them out of their sweaters. It's so cold and the wind is howling and whistling outside. I put a sweater back on Xena after taking it off yesterday. So many pregnant ladies walking around the barn, and with so many lambs making noise it's hard to hear a newborn on the baby monitor. Chores are done so I'll go to bed now and set the alarm for midnight to check the barn. Goat babies will be coming soon and they are much more vulnerable to the cold than lambs. They tell me spring comes a month later here...so we are in for two and a half more months of this. I will much better prepared for next winter.

Santa and Noelle

Another adventure involving animals. I am my own Animal Planet! I was driving home from work when I passed a neighbor's farm. Very nice people who I only know to wave and say hello. Their petite black lab was out in the front yard which is right on the road. So many farms have their barn yards divided be the road - barn on one side, house on the other. She was running around, kind of frantic, like she was looking for help. On go the brakes and I got out of the truck. I saw little tiny puppies running around near a garage type opening in the back of the house. A woman walked out and I told her I was concerned about the dog, etc. She said very matter-of-factly, "Do you want any puppies? I was just going to take them to the ASPCA but my car won't start." I said I would look at them and she led me to the hole in the back of the house. It must have been a firewood storage area and was full of old boards and junk. No discernable dog bed, or rug, or house. Eight little puppies were huddled together on top of some boards. The woman told me she can't afford to keep them all. I asked who the father was and she said she thinks it's the Rottweiler down the road. Hmmmm, I thought, a recurring theme - the Lab and the Rottweiler mix puppies. Just like my Holly. My mind was racing...Dog pound for the little darlings???? She couldn't take them tonight and it was brutally cold. I wanted to say things like, why can't you take them in the house? Or barn? Somewhere protected from the cold and the road? None of my business. With all kinds of warning signs going off in my head, I picked up two little females and off I went. The woman thanked me and gave me a bag of their puppy chow. At least it was "puppy chow" I thought. Matt met me in the driveway and his face said it all. Okay, Okay I said...I just wanted to save two of them from the cold! I promised I would find them homes. As of tonight, there are two possibilities in school. I am enjoying them while I have them...cute, hardy, wonderful puppies! So smart and friendly. I hope the others made it to the pound, and out of the cold.

Cold, Cold, Cold and No Hair

The lambs are huddled together against their mothers today. With wind chills down to 30 below, I feel it, too. Can't get my toes warm no matter what. I pray to Jesus the power doesn't go out, or I can't get water to the animals. I keep the tank filled but that will freeze quickly. We are looking at two more months of this, I think.

Okay, so I cut my hair. With no shower and not even a bathtub it was just too much. I looked like a homeless woman, only dressed better, with that stiff braid and itchy head every day. Now I can wash it in the milk room sink. My friend at work, Kelly, cut it for me in the Cosmetology classroom. There was no time to do any styling or blow dry. When I went to the next class the girls were, "You CUT your HAIR?????????" like I had done some kind of life defining alteration to myself. The science teacher, with long hair, unconsciously started flipping hers to the front of her chest, like she was making sure it was still there. I started fidgeting for my braid, for security, and couldn't find it. Next classroom, same thing. Everybody noticed. You have to understand, my school is small and intimate. Nothing escapes anyone and they care about what is going on your life after hours. It's great for someone like me, who moved here without knowing a soul. They are my New York family and I am so grateful. Then I went home and three days later I am still waiting for my husband to notice that I cut off my hair!!

After the Storm

Good thing I wrote that sweet Valentine post yesterday...today it is more like, "MATT!! Get your butt out of bed!! Come in the barn - I need you!" Yesterday's Valentine is sleeping in and, to my horror, has turned off the monitor so he can't hear what is going on in the barn. I wade through four foot drifts to go back to the trailer and find out if he is #1 dead, or #2 almost dead, which would be the only two good excuses for turning off the monitor. I get a lame, "The roosters were driving me insane." Not good enough...he wants me to linger but by now I am so annoyed it's impossible.

My prolapsed ewe is showing signs of pink again. I examine her and she is only one fingertip dilated - no lambs coming yet. We will have to put another, tighter harness on her. Dulce is yelling to get out of the jug - a good sign. Her lambs are looking good so the one udder is producing enough milk for them both. I will continue to offer the lambs the bottle to relieve the pressure for her to produce.

Here is Mattie, looking cute in his Carhartts and Fingerlakes Fiber Festival cap and sweatshirt, smiling and funny, ready to shovel. I guess I will keep him.

Happy on the Farm

St. Valentine's Day - February 14, 2007

Matt and Maggie, December 19, 1998 - "Still Crazy After All These Years"

Ode to Mattie

Here we are, snowed in on our first St. Valentine's Day on the farm together. The storm has been raging since bedtime last night. Matt heard our old buck, Black Jack, calling from the boy's pen adjacent to the barn. He pulled all his gear on and went out into the storm to find Black Jack, lying on his side, snow piling up over him. Matt has had a special relationship with this goat ever since he bought him for me at the NY State Sheep and Wool Festival, almost 7 years ago now. Black Jack was Best Baby Buck and was a mass of black ringlets. Matt carried him to the truck and people ooohhhed and aaahhed. He got BJ into the shelter, stood him up, and talked to him a while. Why relate this story...because it is a perfect example of why I am with this man. Matt is like a prickly pear, coarse and rough on the outside, sweet and juicy on the inside. We don't have two nickels to rub together...buying the farm and moving up here took just about all the money we had. All the money we make now is spent on the farm and the livestock. But Matt doesn't complain, and shows no bitterness over leaving the business he built up over the last five years, and the carpenters he worked side by side with. They were the perfect professional team and Matt enjoyed listening to the rock and roll adventures of Jamie and Brett. Clients called Matt a miracle worker with wood who made dreams come true. He enjoyed a vocational satisfaction most people can only fantastize about. My farming dream became his dream. Matt was willing to move us to the remote frontier of Central New York and start all over again. There is no work for him here yet, but he remains optimistic and keeps looking. We are together with our critters and enjoy a common goal. I often think we could be doing this and that, trips and outings, visiting the grandchildren in Las Vegas, Matt's son in San Francisco. But the flock binds us together and we share something most people couldn't understand and will never have.

Gloria, Goodness and Mercy

Okay, my camera battery charger is lost in this chaos of a life I live...but I have to tell you a happy story. There are so many unhappy stories in raising critters, that will just rip your guts out, and I resolved not to tell them on my blog, and to focus on the happy endings, or beginnings, in this case.

Gloria went down about three weeks ago. A down sheep is too often a dead sheep. Dr. Rachel, my vet, couldn't figure out why she wouldn't get up, or eat. We treated her for milk fever, and ketosis, the usual suspects for late term gestation, but no improvement. Matt and I would try to lift her up - not easy for a big sheep - thinking she would just feel better if those legs were not folded under her on the cold floor. I would pull them out and massage the joints. I made a pot of oatmeal with molasses every night, and stood over her, lifted her head up and poured it into her mouth...trying to keep her nourished and prevent her lambs from dying inside her. One day we found Gloria standing up but she crashed to the ground. Another day, she was up again and managed a shaky few steps before falling down. Then we would find her in different places in the barn and we knew she was getting herself around. She began eating hay, and low and behold, she was up moving with the flock. Fast forward two weeks and I am in the barn in the wee hours, following the newborn sounds to the far end of the barn. And there is Gloria, is all her glory, a sea of black fleece, washing off two little white ewe lambs, steam rising as they lay in a pool of birth fluids. Gloria making those chortling, rumbling noises to her babies. I ran for my kit and towels and got them all situated in their own room in the maternity ward. Glory is the perfect mother and seems fit and happy. I named the little ones "Goodness and Mercy" which seems fitting after her ordeal. I love happy endings, and new beginnings.

Dulce Has Twins!

We've had two births in the last 24 hours...I came home from a lunch at my principal's house to find that Boadicea had a huge ewe lamb...I mean, a big girl. She must weigh 15 pounds. I was thankful mother and babe were doing well. I got them fixed up in the jug (lambing pen) and sweater on. Fortunately, I had a lovely pinky handspun sweater from a couple of years ago, partially felted from washing and big enough for this hefty girl. Did chores and went to bed after watching the new episode of "Rome" on HBO. Very violent but interesting...and isn't it a riot to see Mr. Bingely of Pride and Prejudice as Octavian Caesar? The roosters were screaming all night and, desperate for some sleep, I turned down the baby monitor. Woke up with a start, out to the barn to find Dulce chortling over little black twins...one of each, licked off and making noise. Always good to hear noise - a quiet, listless newborn lamb is not a good thing. I had been concerned about Dulce, a registered "Natural Colored" sheep who came with my first founding ewes from Ohio, because she had mastitis last summer. I was dropped off with my flock and had no one to help me during the week while Matt was still working in NJ. I saw the problem but couldn't give her an injection without someone to hold her for me. In desperation, I tackled her, held her down, and gave her the LA200. The mastitis went away, but not without damaging one udder. This morning I was relieved to find that the remaining udder works just fine. Dulce is a serene, calm, loving mother and produces fine crossbred Bluefaced Leicester/Natural Colored lambs.

Happy Birthday Mom!

February 12 is my mother's birthday...Adeline Webster Alexander. Mom was a Daughter of the American Revolution and a Daughter of the Confederacy - and a Lieutenant in the Army Nurse Corps. She fought many battles over the course of her lifetime and always with grace and pride. I lost her in December of 1999 and miss her every day. She taught me lessons I am just beginning to realize. Matt tells me we will all be together again someday...

Tomorrow is my Mother's Birthday

February 12 is my mother's birthday. She never understood me, and didn't really like me but I know she loved me. The whole animal fixation was perplexing to her. She had a hard time with any pets in the house at all. The first cat I ever had, Ditty, named after Mrs. Vandetti, the school bus driver, ended up being given away after I didn't take care of the cat box properly. I lost my mother after a devastating stroke took away her speech and mobility. She lasted two years in a nursing home in Georgia before complications from diabetes killed her. I would have liked her to see my farm...even though she wouldn't have wanted to stay here more than one night I would think. Mom was born and raised in rural Georgia. Her folks were granted land by King George a hundred years before the Revolution. Other ancestors were granted land in Georgia for their service in the War for Independence. She's as American as any European American can be. She and her three brothers volunteered for service in WWII. Mom and her sister Lillian were Army nurses, the brothers joined the infantry and pounded the ground in the European and Pacific theaters. It was the Army that got her over the Georgia state line for the first time, but it was my father who got her over the Mason-Dixon line. They met at Fort McClellan in Alabama when mom was nursing the wounded. He was from a Swedish immigrant family in Brooklyn, New York, an officer himself, and incredibly handsome. He showed her five uncashed Army paychecks. They were married in Washington, D.C. and together they were shipped off to Germany where my father was assigned post Liberation. They lived in a castle which was divided up for officer's apartments and Willie and Freddie were born in the Munich Army hospital. They learned German as a first language. I was raised on stories of Germans trading diamonds for cigarettes and food rations. Back to the USA where I and my brother Mark were born in the Staten Island Hospital. We lived in a housing project full of returning veterans who became policemen, firemen and all kinds of workers in the post war US. Mom would have to pack up four kids under five years old and take us down an elevator six floors and outside to hang up our clothes to dry on a lot across the street. One day my father came home and announced he bought a house on the wild frontier of Branchburg Township, New Jersey. Only 35 miles from Manhattan, it might as well have been Mongolia. I remember riding in the cab of the moving van where I couldn't see over the dashboard. This move was not what my mother wanted. Her dream was to go over the river into Manhattan...the Georgia girl would have loved pavement under her feet for the rest of her life. But she followed her man to the country. So the Bundaflicka Saga began...

Sunday Morning on the Farm

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...

Lizzie and Liam

Here are Lizzie and Liam, born Thursday morning at 6 AM. Found them at the east end of the barn by the open door. Scooped them up in a towel and mom followed me to the lambing pen, running circles around me, yelling like crazy. What was I doing with h er babies???????? She had already cleaned them off but I rubbed them some with a towel (never want to clean them too much) and got their cords dipped. Matt held mom while I nursed out some colostrum. Gave it to the little ones and got their sweaters on. Left Matt in charge and rushed off to work feeling great. There's nothing for a shephered like a successful lambing, especially when there is a ewe lamb or two as a result!

Dora and Thea Out for a Walk

Saturday morning...cold and sunny, just beautiful. Finally fell asleep after my 3 am barn check and woke up in a panic at 9. Don't know how that happened, but it sure felt good. Scrambled back out to the barn thinking their must be newborns that didn't make any noise I would hear on the monitor but nothing going on. Little twins born day before yesterday doing fine. They are Lizzie and Liam, and although mom is attentive, little Lizzie is becoming dependent on her supplemental bottle. Too much dancing around underneath the teats, while brother Liam nurses vigorously. Lizzie would rather wait for her human to come and take care of her. She's so tiny I am afraid not to supplement, but I confess while lying in bed last night I thought of withholding the bottle to force her to nurse from mom. Let's hope she is nursing when I don't see her.

My prolapse ewe is holding...no signs of labor yet. The baling twine prolapse harness, a miracle of simplicity, did the job. I snip the lower of the two twines crossing over her vulva so a lamb might slip out if I am not there. I will watch her carefully over the weekend.

Will try to get some knitting bags cut out today. I have gorgeous fabric in a pile just waiting for my scissors and the machine. Have to get the tall stock tank in the milk room for our Saturday night bath. Still no hot water in the trailer. The cosmetology students at school took care of my head, but I have to do something about the rest of me...life on the farm!

Tiny Tina

Here is Tiny Tina in her little Lamb Coat. She is one day old and such a sweet, friendly little lamb. When I talk to her she answers me with a little baaaa. I am supplementing her mother's milk with a couple of ounces of milk replacer severl times a day. We call that "cheap insurance" - making sure the little belly is full if we suspect the lamb is not getting enough nourishment. The bottle does not turn the lamb off on nursing from the mother sheep.

It will be a long night ahead - still hideously cold. I will have to do some night checking. Several ewes are all puffed up, bagged up and ready to go. Why, oh why didn't they do it during my waking hours? I'll never know...

Off to another walk through...

Future Home

It's coming along and it can't happen fast enough. The hot water is frozen in the trailer and I told Matt not to spend any more time on it, and to please, oh please, work on the barn apartment. He does as much as he can, and it's cold and slow going in there. I will be able to walk out of the apartment into my workroom, complete with large cutting table with storage underneath and in cabinets all around. I will leave my workroom and enter an insulated bunny room where the bottles won't freeze. What a dream come true! Exit the bunny room and there will be the sheep, goats, llamas and chickens. We will all be under one roof. The windows of the apartment look out onto the pasture hillside. A fenced in doggie yard will be outside the apt. door so I can just roll out of bed, open the door and say, "Doggies out!" Estimated time of occupation? Who knows? I pray it's soon.

No Frozen Bundles

Woke up with a start...the night had been so quiet, nothing on the baby monitor or I slept through it. I have a feeling Knut barks when lambs are being born, but not sure yet. It's hard to get the sleeping dogs off me, they are just like people - leave me alone, let me sleep. Then I say a very firm, "Doggies OUT" and the jump up and run for the door. I run, too, for an extra pair of fleece pants over the silkies I wore to bed. Big Daddy wore two pair to bed, so I go back to his cot and beg them off him...so warm! Am I out the door yet? NOOOOOOO...straight to the coffee pot. Feel a twinge of guilt. I imagine wet babies wiggling in the freezing air as their mothers frantically wash them off, the saliva turning to icycles. But I still go for the coffee pot. Then out to the barn. PTL, yesterday's lambs are snug in their sweaters, moms-to-be are sleeping and resting, big woolen mounds scattered throughout the barn, black and white. Sheep get up, stretch, then pee - just like people! I let the LGD's out of the pen and they run over the woolen mounds to get out the barn door. We have our doggie play time then back to drink more coffee, do chores. I think I should stop complaining about the cold. I checked one of my favorite blogs, www.sockladyspins.blogspot.com (omigosh, what a talented lady, so savvy, so self-assured, living alone in the frozen Canadian northland and making it look so easy and fun) and lusted after all the fabulous socks she knits. Anyway - she showed the thermometer outside of her window - 30 below zero F. I have not experienced that here, not yet, not ever, I hope! Not until I can figure out how to make my barn warmer!

Our Flock is Growing

Here is Quentin, son of Shavaun and Legolas, who came into this world around 2 am this morning, along with another ewe lamb, Tina (who is very tiny). I woke with a jolt when I heard a little "maaaa" "maaaa" on the baby monitor. I slept in my clothes so I could get out to the barn quicker. I opened the door to the trailer and a blast of wind slammed it back. Wonderful...I thought. Temperature outside minus three, inside the barn - 16F. There they were, two moms on either side of the hay feeder with their babies. Luckily, Matt had their pens set up and I was able to coax the moms in by holding their babies eye level with them and walking backwards. I ran back to the trailer, got Matt up and he held the moms while I squeezed out some colostrum. It "lights the fire" in their bellies. Navels treated, sweaters on, bellies full, heat lamp up and we dragged our weary bodies back to bed. Two hours of rest and up for work - but not before checking out the newborns, checking for any more newborns, and all the chores. Oh, that cot in the trailer was hard to leave. Pip was up against the small of my back just right - even shielding the cold spot on the wall where he tried to eat his way out last summer, leaving bare metal. Bodie and Izzy on the other side, Jasper and Holly under the covers against my belly. It was a five dog night, alright, and tonight will be the same with probably more births to come.

Mother Fiber for Sale

I have a stash of Mother Fiber and Mohair Roving left over from the fall shows. As the lambs start coming the hungry moms and babes need to eat. So...I am offering my fiber to you on my blog while my new web site is being designed. This Mother Fiber is mostly natural colored high percentage Bluefaced Leicester cross wool, dyed mohair and angora. It is very soft and felts beautifully. It is priced at $30 per pound plus shipping. I take checks and money orders and can ship immediately. Give yourself a treat. People say my fiber is fun to spin and "full of surprises."

Mohair Roving

This roving is almost 100% mohair, natural colored and dyed. It would make an excellent warp for weaving, rug yarn or anything requiring beauty, strength and hard wear. I am selling it for $30 a pound, plus shipping. Checks or money orders accepted.

Mother Fiber for Sale

This Mother Fiber consists of natural colored Bluefaced Leicester cross wool, dyed angora, natural colored suri alpaca, and dyed mohair. It is extremely soft and felts easily into an interesting and variegated fabric. This roving is priced to sell at $30 a pound plus shipping.

Mother Fiber for Sale

Why do I call my roving Mother Fiber? Because WOOL is the Mother of All Fibers! Exotics come and go...but wool is the skeleton on which they all hang. Quiviut, cashmere, alpaca, guanaco, whatever the exotic it works up and wears better if it is blended with wool. My rovings are mainly Bluefaced Leicester and Bluefaced Leicester cross blended with mohair, angora and sometimes alpaca.

The roving I offer here is $30 a pound, plus shipping. It felts easily and spins into a soft novelty yarn with "surprises" here and there - slubs of angora and alpaca.

I take checks or money order. Please email with questions.

Busy Morning

A Sunday morning that started out with anxiety and trepidation is looking better and better. My beautiful purebred Bluefaced Leicester ewe had a vaginal prolapse that required fixing or we would face dire consequences. I pushed it back in several times and it just slipped out again. After talking to the vet about what to do, we couldn't find the "spoon insert" we needed to put in. The trusty Sheep List provided me with an alternative and much suppport from member shepherds. We tied a harness onto her using Ron Parker's (list dad and "Sheep Book" fame) baling twine method. We got her back legs up on a bale and followed Ron's instructions step by step. The harness is holding! She is standing up, a little shaky, but no grapefruit sized red ball hanging out of her! We have to monitor her carefully, as she is tied up in the back and a lamb cannot get out now. The twine will have to be cut. I am very thankful...Everybody say, "Thank You Jesus!"

Now, another drama is taking place on the other side of the barn...Arabella is straining and looking very uncomfortable herself. We led her into a jug (lambing pen) and shortly after a little white slippery bundle pops out! Then another one! Twin ewe lambs! After waiting for mom to do her tongue washing and mothering routine, I did my clip, dip and strip, popped sweaters on (20 F. in the barn - minus 8 outside) and nursed some colostrum out for the little ones. Nothing lights fire in the belly and helps the lambs get started like that magical first milk.

My First Sheep - "Baby Thunder"

Baby Thunder can hardly be called Baby anymore. What a fine mature gentleman he is today. I found him at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival seven years ago. He was in a cage with another ewe lamb who was going home with a little girl. She had won the lamb in an essay writing contest. The little ram lamb was yelling his head off. Did he eyeball me and know I was the one? I picked him up and felt his heart pounding against my chest. I was smitten at once. Hope Yankey, his owner, told me this lamb was a purebred Coopworth and a triplet. She thought three were too much for the mother and decided to sell this one. She required that he be wethered, and wouldn't let him go without a band on him. That was okay with me, as long as she did it. I had three angora goats at home, and wasn't planning on getting into sheep breeding. Don't know how I came up with the name Baby Thunder but it was perfect. I carried him all around the festival, so proud of my little sheep. It was hot and I had packages. A nice young man, who said he was in the Army, saw me struggling across the field and offered to help carry my lamb to the truck. Thunder rode home in my red Ford Ranger, in the little seat behind me. He was the perfect passenger. When I got home, Matt started walking toward the truck and heard a "baaaaaaaaahhh" loud and clear. He stopped dead in his tracks and said, "Oh, Nooooooooo!" We had our first sheep!

Baby Thunder fit in perfectly. He loved his bottle and got along great with the dogs and goats. He got very excited when he saw the red truck coming up the lane. It meant someone was coming home to feed him! Thunder always was a very social sheep. When people came to visit he would "pogo" around, jumping straight up in the air all around them. As he grew bigger and heavier and stopped the cute lamb behavior, he would walk up to people to say hello and stand next to them, just hanging out. Thunder became well known in the neighborhood, as he liked to go visiting. Now, we were renting a cottage on a 68 acre piece of land, so visiting required quite a hike. Thunder even tried visiting the evil land-lady, who was not amused. She opened her front door and there was a little sheep there, smiling and friendly. If she had not shut the door in his face, he would have come right in and looked around for something to eat! Now I am the land-lady, and he is always welcome.

The Friends I Left Behind

One day I arrived at the pasture where I was keeping my sheep in Pa. and saw two bicycles lying on the gravel parking area. It was Nathan and Billy, two local boys who had been riding over to say hello to my sheep on a regular basis. I caught them by surprise and they offered to help me every day. What a Godsend they became to me...lugging bales out to the lean-tos, cleaning out feed bowls and hoisting those 50 pound feed sacks. They were great at catching the critters, and became proficient at giving shots and trimming hoofs. Courtney began walking over from the developement next to the field and she rounded the trio out nicely. I miss my young helpers.

Nathan is now the proud owner of four Babydoll Southdown sheep, including a new ram who he hopes will help produce some lambs this spring. It gives me satisfaction to know I started someone in sheep.

Meet Rhonda

Rhonda is my La Mancha dairy goat. Rhonda came to live with us when my good friend and helper, Nathan, told me about her. Rhonda was living behind Nathan's farm in William's Township, Pa., with her owner who didn't like her very much. Rhonda was kept in a small stall in a little barn and was never let outside. There were two other goats living in the barn and the owner said Rhonda did not get along with them. This person told Nathan one too many times that Rhonda was going to the unmentionable place. WELL, Nathan came to me and said please, oh please, buy this goat so she won't be killed. What could I do? I went to visit Rhonda and told her not to worry, she could come to live with us on the farm in New York. Nathan was greatly relieved, and comes to visit Rhonda whenever he has a few days off school and can get a ride up north.

Rhonda has quite a lofty (not snotty) attitude, and I could see why someone would not like her...but I believe a girl has to have a little Attitude to get by in this world - and Rhonda is beautiful enough to get away with it. Rhonda mixes and mingles with the flock, but the sheep and other goats don't get too close. It is not unusual to see Rhonda alone on one side of the hay feeder, and six or eight sheep on the other side!

Rhonda cannot stand to have her head or horns touched. Her horns have been cut off at rather awkward angles. It probably hurt and insulted her. She loves to be scratched on the neck, chest and back. I touch and stroke her alot - she's had a rough time of it but Rhonda is on the Gravy Train now.

I hope Rhonda will bless us with a little one this spring. She looks pregnant, but it might be all the food she has available to eat in her new home. I need her milk to make my Goat Milk Soap, and for us to drink and make cheese and yogurt.

I Love the Snow!

I moved to the perfect place for someone who loves snow. Brookfield is on the edge of the lake effect snow area of New York. Lake effect snow occurs when the air is colder than the water on the Great Lakes. When the lakes get colder the lake effect snow is gone. Then we just get storms! Just an hour north of here they are riding snowmobiles on the roads, but here we get a gentle dusting almost every day. The road I live on is plowed regularly for the school bus, even though I can count the cars that pass by in a day on the fingers of one hand. I am two miles from route 8 which is always clear.

The sheep love the snow and eat it all the time. It's a giant snow cone for them. We always keep the stock tank filled, although now that lambs are coming I am using a shallow one. I see the sheep outside in the middle of the night, grazing on snow.

I opened the door of the trailer this morning and gasped at the full moon on the four inches that fell last night. No lambs in the wee hours, although the roosters crowed all night long. The lamb monitor picks them up loud and clear!

This is Izzy

Here is Izzy in the snow, sans sweater. His skin is very sensitive and the sweater irritated his armpits. I massage Bag Balm into the chafed parts every night. I worry about him in the cold and snow, as he has almost no fur, and try to limit his time outside. Izzy is a year and a half old, and I hope he lives forever.

Free Love

Izzy came to me this fall. He is a purebred Rat Terrier. A handyman and his son were helping me put up fence and the son told me about his mother-in-law who broke her back in a truck accident. She was looking for a home for her little dog. Now, the last thing I needed was another dog. I told him no, but to let me know if they were going to do "anything drastic." That was not enough of a "no." Izzy's owner started leaving messages on my machine, which I ignored. Finally there was a message that only said a very plaintive, "Pleasssssssssssssssssse!!" I called and said I would come and meet Izzy, who at that time was called, "Gizmo."

The woman lived just a few miles from my school and I got directions. They lived on a four lane highway going into town with a ten foot long driveway. When I walked into the kitchen I noticed a TV screen that watched who was pulling into the driveway. Izzy's owner was positioned at the kitchen table, in obvious pain, and a little dog was dancing around in circles under the kitchen table. Nervous little dog was my first thought. It wasn't love at first sight...I did take note of his incredible black and white markings and cute little face.

The cigarette smoke was choking me and I thought of those tiny little lungs breathing in this poison, all the time. At least I could leave and escape it. I think that was the reason why I took him home...to free him of the poison gas that must have been killing him. It sure felt like it was killing me!

Izzy has worked his way into my heart and I am crazy about him. He is not a nervous little doggie...he is full of heart and soul and I admire him so. Izzy is all attitude when it comes to the other dogs. He comes out to the hill every morning to exercise Thor, Finn and Knut. They could tear him limb from limb but they don't know it. Izzy keeps them in check by growling and snapping at them, running around them and barking commands. If they don't respond appropriately, Izzy jumps up and grabs their lips, pulling down until they yelp and cower... full grown male dogs who look me in the face when they put their paws on my shoulders! Izzy must be ten inches tall...but he thinks he is a Great Dane! When Izzy is finished disciplining the big dogs, they stand around him, sniffing Izzy's private parts in a show of submission I don't fully understand.

Izzy commands the primo spot in the Bed each night -curled up on my shoulder against my neck. I here little growls and sharls when the other dogs get too close.

More about Izzy in future posts...there is so much to tell.

Andrew in the Snow

Even though they have a barn to house them, some of my animals like to sleep outside under the stars. I completely understand, so I leave the East End of the barn open. It's colder for everyone but also leaves them a way to get out in case of (dare I say it) fire. The sheep are in full coat and have five or six inches of wool on them, and the goats have about three of mohair, enough to give them some protection. The llamas don't seem to mind any kind of weather with that marvelous hollow fiber of theirs. My bunnies, ofcourse, are always warm under their angora coats. This morning I found Andrew, outside and covered with snow. He was totally comfortable, chewing his cud, with snowflakes falling all over him. I ran back in the barn for my camera and here he is.

I wanted to call the shearer and have the flock shorn, but Matt said an emphatic NO!!! Many shepherds shear before lambing, which makes sense. The wool is not soaked with birth fluids, the lambs can find the teats, the sheep tend to come inside to have the lambs instead of out in the snow, etc. BUT it has GOT to be a shock for them. (And I don't want to have to find another husband at my age.)

Thor

Thor has the cutest freckles on a pink spot on his snout. Don't know how he got them...his litter mates, Finn and Knut, don't have freckles. The three are a mix of Great Pyrennees, Polish Tatra, Turkish Anatolian, and Italian Maremma. I think Thor looks more Maremma than anything else. Their job is to protect the sheep from any intruders, animal or human. I purchased the boys from an Amish farmer in Clyde, New York up by the Fingerlakes. They are healthy, happy and lots of fun but have yet to be proven...hope they never have to! At 11 months old I'm not sure if they know what their job is...

My Barn

Every morning when I take the dogs up the hill I am impressed with my barn. When I went to Central New York (at that time I knew it as Upstate New York) to look for a barn and land for my sheep I saw too many barns that were about to fall down or were half on the ground already. I would be afraid to put my sheep in them. This barn had been well cared for over the years. It was built in the 1930's and dairy farmed by the Kupris family for 65 years before I got here. They still live in the original farm house next door. One milk check paid for a huge extension to the barn. The Kupris sisters, now Sisters, built the roof which is perfectly pitched and does not leak. Sister Bernadette's job was to climb to the top of the thousands of bales in the hay mow and change the light bulbs. I will never have that much hay in there, or a big enough ladder. Sadly, most of the land was sold before I got here but I own the Heart of the Farm - the barn!

Snowy Sunday Morning...

Every morning I take Thor, Finn and Knut up the hill to play before I do barn chores and go to work. They will be one year old in February and still play like puppies. It always cheers me up and makes the trek up the hill worthwhile. On the weekends I linger in bed a little longer making it light when we go out to play. This morning is so beautiful it sent me back to the barn for my camera. The ewe lambs were playing in the snow...what a blissful sight. The barn is full of sheep, heavily laden with lambs - but the young ones were light and free as birds. After lambing, sheep just don't play like this any more...kind of like humans.

Goatie Dreams...

With the ladies' bellies bulging with babies, I am wondering what the impending births will bring. Last year, my beloved Celeste presented me with black triplets! It was the thrill of a lifetime. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw them. She took care of the three of them so diligently, like it was no big deal. I wonder what she has in store for me this year? Celeste is getting on in years, and I would like to see her take it easy. She has a rather stress-free life here, all she can eat, roomy barn, etc. We are planning on fencing off the brushy area behind the barn, around ten acres, for goat land. Goats love, love, love to eat the bushes, vines and weeds that sheep won't touch. There is a pond back there, shade, and an old apple orchard Celeste and her friends can lounge in. She will live out her days in goatie comfort.

Founding Farmers

Lydia and Elisha Burkhyte were Puritans who came here from Rhode Island in the late 1700's and settled my farm. They are buried on land across the street, part of the original farm before it was divided. I have thought a lot about them lately, how difficult it must have been for them the first winter, clearing the land and carving a life out of the wilderness. One grave contains their son, Peter, 18 years old and killed in a gun accident. How tragic his death surely was - not only the loss of a son, but the manpower he contributed to the farm. There are many children's graves there, too. I was told some of them are triplets, scalped by Indians. I found the stones lying flat on the ground. I stood them up, trying hard to put them back where I think they fell from. I feel an emotional attachment to them, those early pioneers. I bet their people thought they were crazy, too...leaving an established settlement for the wilds of New York. I heard their descendants went bust during the Great Depression, relocated to California and became wealthy in the wine business. Good for them!

Do Chickens Sleep?

I always wondered this...do chickens sleep? Somehow it seemed they were in an altered state but not quite asleep. But they do sleep, and I can walk by them and study the intricacies of their beautiful feathers - as long as I don't touch them! I am totally enthralled with them...

Little Gifts from the Girls

Chickens aren't supposed to lay eggs this time of year. Egg laying is directly related to the amount of light the chickens receive. But my girls don't know that. Even the new little bantams are laying the cutest tiny pinkish eggs. I thank them with lots of chicken crumbles, cracked corn, bananas, pasta (yes, they go crazy over it) and on very cold mornings, pots of oatmeal. They don't hide their gratitude - they run around squawking and clucking. We eat all the eggs we want, then crack open the extras on the dog's kibble. Very shiny dog coats on this farm. Have you ever listened, I mean, really listened to chicken speak? Since I have had the baby monitor hanging over my cot in the trailer, I have noticed even more intricate chicken tones. They "sing" themselves to sleep and announce to the group when they have laid an egg! And when they are upset - well, put your ear plugs in!

Silos

This is what I see when I come out of the trailer - the silos that shield us from the bone chilling winter winds coming out of the north. This farm once supported a hundred dairy cows that produced a million gallons of milk a year. The silos held the haylage and corn they lived on. The mow held fifteen thousand bales and kept the bottom floor, where the cows were milked, above freezing. My sheep and goats don't produce body heat the way the cows did, and I don't have the mow filled with hay. We are still trying to plug up holes and cover broken windows to raise the temperature to a point where the stock tank doesn't freeze. It was 13 F. yesterday morning at 6 am, and 20 F. this morning. I am trying to keep electric cords to a minimum because we are still trying to figure out which box is for what.

New Boy on the Flock

Here he is, all tagged, banded and ready to rumble. He roams the barn with Mom watching his every move. Matt and I are absolutely enthralled with his tap dancing and baby baahhs. Wish they all came this easy.

My Tin Can

This trailer - or, "R.V." as I am told, has been my home for the last six months. I was living in my lambing trailer, but Matt came home with this 20 year old gem, purchased from some farmers in western New Jersey. He bought some cantaloupes from them on the side of the road and spied this trailer in the brush. The rest is history...or, I wish it was history. I will be living in this glorified tin can until my barn apartment is ready, which may be another month or so. The water lines freeze regularly, which makes getting ready for work after barn chores very challenging. Two little electric heaters, and six dogs, make it warm enough to be comfortable - as long as the power is on. Life on the frontier is rough!

Barn Kitties

Barn kitties do an important job. Before I had my kitties I had a few older lap cats in the house (I would never dream of letting a cat outside). Then the rats moved in. They were everywhere, even chewing the wires in the truck engine and squeezing into the bunny cages to eat their pellets. The floor of this barn was undermined by rat tunnels years ago, and we knew they would come back when we moved in. They did try, and judging by the only 2 rat corpses we found, and the few rat screams in the night, we think the cats won. I take very good care of my barn kitties. I feed them regularly and get them fixed. A well-fed healthy kitty can work better than a starving cat burdened with kittens. When it's really cold some of them take a break and sleep with me in the trailer. It's tough policing a 20,000 square foot barn and they need a vacation once in a while!

Hungry Ewes

These are the faces that meet me every day and say, "Feed me and feed me now!" They have lambs growing inside them and need lots of nourishment. We feed them hay, grain and free choice minerals. At this stage we are not producing our own hay. That takes a tractor, a mower, a baler and a hay wagon that rides along behind and collects the bales. We buy local hay which has not always been easy. It was a terrible year for hay here in the northeast...way too much rain. It takes four dry, sunny days to bale hay. Day 1 - cutting. Day 2 - drying in the sun. Day 3 - fluff up the hay with a rake so the underside can dry. Day 4 - pick it up and bale it, then get it in the barn. There were not too many sets of dry days to do all this. Local people are keeping what they need for their own stock, then selling it to regular customers. We have been fortunate to find some of last year's first cut from a neighbor but that's not good enough for pregnant ewes. A local farmer had a horse hay deal fall through and we are buying beautiful second cut from this year's crop from him. And the grain? For the first time we have bulk grain delivered and blown into the hay room. No more slinging 50 pound sacks over my shoulder and carrying them around to the feeders. I drop it into a wheelbarrel from a chute in the ceiling. It takes about 2 hours every night to give everyone hay, grain and water, not to mention the hour and a half every morning. And that's every day, even on Christmas!

My Friend Jan

I had a nice chat with my dearest friend, Jan this morning. We worked together in the Special Ed. dept of my last high school. Jan invited me to stay with her when I travelled back to NJ to do the Delaware River Keeper Craft Show last December. Jan and Dave gave me the royal treatment, waiting for me with an umbrella when I pulled in after a weary drive and unloading my wares in a rainstorm. They gave me wine, and delicious food and offered me a bath in Jan's clamshell jacuzzi. The last time I relaxed in a jacuzzi was in Aspen, Colorado, in 1979. No kidding... I turned the jets so they shot the water on my two aching feet and the small of my back. AAAHHHHHHH.... Jan tucked me into her daughter's four poster bed and off to dream land I went. The next morning I swung my legs over onto the white carpet and tiptoed down to breakfast (and nothing stuck to my feet!) Jan's palatial abode is on the market. If you have a million dollars burning a hole in your pocket, you can have it. She is anxious to sell it so she can buy a piece of property up here in Central New York by me. It seems my wild, crazy willy-nilly agricultural fibery lifestyle appeals to Jan! Can't imagine why?

Numero Uno doing well...

The wind howls and drifts form outside but our first little lamb of '07 stays warm in his red alpaca sweater, snuggled up against Mom in their jug - the traditional name of the place where a newborn and mother get to know each other. That way the lamb doesn't have to chase the ewe around and get warn out, and the shepherd can make sure Mom is getting her nourishment, nursing is going well and the little belly is full. Maggie tours the barn regularly, but nothing going on - yet. I feel like I should lie down and take a long nap to make up for the sleep I will surely lose in the nights to come...but too much to do. Have to clear out a work space in the former milk room for my cutting table and sewing machine. Big Daddy is working on our living space as I write. It can't happen fast enough - two electric heaters working 'round the clock barely keep our little RV warm. Don't even ask about the portopotty - sore subject (and cold behind!)

The Man Behind the Shepherd

There is a LOT of heavy lifting that goes into farming - figuratively and literally! I am fortunate to have a devoted friend and companion who helps with my heavy lifting - but he ain't heavy, he's my husband!

First lamb of 2007

It was feeding time and we noticed one ewe just pretending to eat. She would go over to the feed bowl, put her nose in it, then turn around in circles. She was making an unusual sound, over and over again. We soon found out why, she was talking to the lamb who was about to come out. She talked him right out into this world...and is he adorable. We call him "Numero Uno."

Chris and Breeze, our llamas, checked him out and claimed him as one of their own charges, to guard and protect. Mom and Baby are happy and content, as a lake effect blizzard rages outside.

Many more births to come, but this shepherd slept well with a baby monitor over her head. Here's hoping all my lambing goes this well...

Snug and Warm

We woke up to icy bone chilling rain, dogs piled up against us on the pull-out sofa bed in the trailer. First thing on my mind...did I fix the coffee pot? There's nothing like pushing that button and waiting for the aroma. I got some Starbuck's for Christmas...hmmmm. The next thing that filters through the fog - lambs. Gotta get the gear on and get out to the barn. Silkies first, then fleece pants, then two pair of my own fiber socks, Muck Boots, turtleneck, thick wool sweater, Carhartt vest (can't beat the pockets) GoreTex Bean jacket, skull cap, barn gloves. Dogs wake up - have to get them out of the trailer post haste or else! I stumble to the barn, go through the milk room into the lower barn. Thor, Finn and Knut are in their pen, waiting for me to let them go. I do a quick, quiet walk up and down to check for lambs - nothing yet. Lots of big bellied moms lying down. Ordinarily they would jump right up but their heavy loads keep them down. Take the doggies out and stand in the icy rain while they play. Back in the barn - the dogs pee on the barn door to let visitors know this is their domain. Climb the ladder to the mow and get the hay down and fill the stock tanks - collect eggs for breakfast. Bantams seem to be settling in and the new roosters are crowing away - music to my ears! It's such a happy, farmy wake-up sound. French toast today - it is Martin Luther King Day and we are home on the farm for the day, snug and warm in the barn.

My Chicken House

This chicken house was built by a woman who farmed here many years ago. A more modern version of the barn was built around it. It was used more recently as a calf room. We put our nest box unit up on the wall in it, and can enter it from inside the barn. I was aghast to find that the TV man nailed the dish onto the chicken house, as the wood was softer and easier to drill. It is an historic building and must be saved as part of the collective history of this farm. I still can't get over having all this housing for my critters, who have endured all kinds of weather in crude run-in sheds and wire runs. It gives me warm fuzzies to know they are protected from the elements (them, too!)

Mary, My Shepherd Friend

Mary moved to Brookfield from Cape Cod not too long ago. She was looking for a place to raise sheep and maintain her Border Collie rescue home. Mary is an endurance rider and took her pony across Newfoundland and then Ireland! She and her dogs make a living by chasing geese out of golf courses, parks, etc. I was hanging out on the farm one day last summer when Mary pulled up in her Suburban, with a Border Collie navigating, of course. She came to find the "sheep person" who moved into the neighborhood. Since I had not seen a human in many days, it was a welcome visit. One evening she brought one of her blue-blood grand champion dogs over to help me graze my flock. My sheep are not the easiest to work, as they are with dogs all the time and are not afraid of them. Mary's dog would never, ever grip, or bite, a sheep - so he just threw himself up against the sheep to move them. What a display of professionalism on the part of the dog - and a lack of foresight by Maggie, who forgot to lock up the llamas. They were not happy about a strange dog in with the sheep...all lived to tell the tale!

Mary has just had a litter of pups from grand champion parents that come from Scotland and Wales. Here she is with her LGD - livestock guardian dog, Katie, who, together with her mate have complete care or Mary's Katahdin and Cheviot sheep. Nice to have a shepherd friend nearby in this land of dairy farms!

Bantams Galore

My Brookfield neighbor, Mary Liebau (google her and you will be amazed at what this woman has accomplished in the equestrian world) gave me a crate full of chickens. I stopped in to say hello and visit her litter of Border Collie pups (Mary runs a BC rescue and competes with her own dogs). Mary had just been given a flock of Bantam hens and roosters by someone who just didn't want them anymore. It must have been an ordeal just catching them, so I guess they were serious about not wanting them. Mary asked if I would like some...could any real bundaflicka say no to more chickens? Not this one! So they came home with me.

I have a flock of Murray McMurray's "ornamental package" chickens, who have been faithfully laying eggs for me since last Christmas, when they were six months old. They started laying at the darkest time of year, when chickens are supposed to stop laying, and haven't stopped. I don't want them to think they have been replaced by this group of little chickens, who resemble mourning doves more than chickens. They are so big and buxom and lovely. I just adore them. The new girls, along with their very handsome, very feisty, rooster, are residing in the hen house while the resident chickens have the run of our 20,000 square foot barn. This does not make egg retrieval easy, as the girls have many nooks and crannys they like to hide their eggs. I am hoping the new group will use the nest boxes provided in the chicken room where they live. I can't imagine what the new eggs will look like, as the chickens are so very little, and so adorable. Right now they are checking out their new digs, scratching around and making curious little cooing noises. Chickens are so very cool...