Find the Goaties!

Everybody said let the Nubian babies go.  They said Fancy will take care of them.  I was still reluctant to let them out of their baby pen.  Every night Fancy would come back to the pen for her cracked corn dinner and feed her babies.  Then Babette started wiggling out of the pen, leaving her brother behind.  Last night Matt said it's time to let them out.  We made an opening in the baby pen so they could go out when they are ready and come back in to nap in a familiar place.  I was still apprehensive.  These are my first Nubian goat kids and I adore them.  This morning I looked out the window and saw Bubba and Babette under the big pine tree with Knut.   They would dance around like little ballet dancers in the tall grass.  I went outside to check on everybody and found a group of goats in the hay mow.

With all the lush, green grass everywhere they turned, the curious goaties decided to eat the spare round bale I had stored in the mow.  They were jumping up on the bale and the trailer under it, like a kindergarten class on the playground.  I had to get ready for work, but I couldn't leave the tender scene.  Fancy was being a good mother, calling to her babies once in a while to make sure they knew where she was and to stay close.

Bubba and Babette are just three weeks old, but growing quickly.  I'm new to the milking business, and have to figure out the logistics of milking Fancy for me, and leaving some for the babies.  When school is out, in two days, I will figure it all out.  For now, I'm leaving them alone to enjoy this glorious weather and being alive.

Happy Birthday Hannah

Hannah is my only granddaughter, so she has special status to begin wtih.  Here are some thoughts about Hannah, in no particular order, on her 15th birthday.

Hannah is beautiful, on the inside and outside.
Hannah is tall, a trait

    which is increasingly rare in our family, and very much admired.
Hannah is talented in many ways.
Hannah can spin yarn like she's been doing it for years and years.
Hannah can write.  She was published at the tender age of 14.
Hannah is physical.  She can get on a horse or a motorcycle and ride it with no fear.
Hannah can fly an airplane and shoot guns.
Hannah has fashion sense.   She puts together interesting, attractive, artsy outfits.
Hannah is kind and sweet.  She hardly ever raises her voice.  She doesn't need to.  She says it all with her
     large, expressive eyes.
Hannah loves animals, especially cats.  She is very sensitive to their needs.
Hannah loves her family.  She is Daddy's little girl, and Mommy's too.
Hannah is a loving, protective big sister.
Hannah is focused academically.  She will be successful at whatever she chooses to do.

I could go on and on.  I love Hannah.  She is blossoming into a lovely, beautiful young woman.  I hope to always be her friend.

Wooly Dreams

I keep thinking about what I'm going to do with the mountain of wool I have waiting for me.  The white wool will be dyed many beautiful colors and blended in schemes that will come to me in dreams.  The black fleeces will be triple picked for sale as raw wool.  Bright colors sell better as roving, ready for spinning and felting.  Black fleeces are a favorite of spinners.  I raise the sheep and goats for fiber, not meat, and shearing day is the culmination of many months of care and nurturing.

Harried Mommy

It's tough for a mother Nubian dairy goat to get her meal with two little munchkins jumping all over her.  Fancy pushes the babies away while she's eating but that doesn't seem to help.  They are so adorable...

Babbette is the camera hog - Bubba doesn't care two baas about being photographed.

For Real

I sometimes joke about this happening and it did.  I went out yesterday morning and found my last little angora doe with a tiny wet bundle on the hay.  I thought she was laboring to deliver another twin.   Why couldn't this happen on the weekend?  That would be just too convenient.  It was seven o'clock - late to be starting morning chores, but the rigors of the shearing weekend, combined with some throat and chest issues (sucking up airborn debris while mucking/forking hay I think) are dragging me down.  I got water and hay for everybody else and went back inside to prevail upon spouse to help me for five minutes.  Found him naked as a jay bird admiring his punim in the mirror, getting ready to leave for work.  He said he would get his work clothes on and be out in a minute.  I needed him to hold mom's horns while I nursed out some colostrum for the baby.  She had licked him off nicely and seemed to be very fond of him.  I was feeling better and better about leaving them for the day.  She was in with a bigger doe and her twins, almost a month older than this new baby.  Sunday night we gave shots and wormer in preparation for letting them go but did not go so far as to take the panels apart.  I was worried this older pushy doe would harrass the new mommy with her baby, but that was not the case.  Big doe and her twins were lying on the other side of the pen, watching the birthing process with a kind of respect and reverance that really impressed me.  She seemed to be saying to her kids, look at the new baby, isn't he pretty?  I left for work and thought about them all day.  It was torture, but I kept telling myself this is how I support them, yada, yada, yada.  On the way home I made my first baby turtle rescue of the season, on King's Settlement Road, helping a turtle get all the way across on a fast curve.  Felt good when two cars came whizzing by bumper to bumper after I placed the critter in the ditch on the other side.  Down the road a bit more and there was another turtle, on the side of the road, looking like it had been clipped then spun off.  Picked him up and no movement.  I decided to take him home and put him near the pond, paradise for turtles.  Wouldn't you know he perked up in the box and I heard scratching on the sides.  After obligatory stops at PO and  the Dollar Store for Friskies, I finally made it home.  No twin.  Just one little red buck.  Everybody was fine.  My phone rang and local hay broker Wayne Tanney was returning my call for hay.  I  may have pasture choking with grass but I still needed square bales for the moms in pens.  Drove to North Brookfield and pulled up to Wayne's barn, with a crowd of Belgians milling around looking for food, and one being shoed by the farrier in the barn.  Wayne said this is all he will give me until he gets more hay in.  He says this time last year his barns were full.   All this rain is creating havoc with farmer's haying plans.  I brought home six bales of hay so pretty I thought of feeding it to Matt for dinner as salad.  We took apart some pens and let two sets of moms with babies loose last night.  Much screaming and chaos in the barn, with babies terrified of their freedom.  Checked before bed and the barn was quiet with everyone together in their little families.  I whispered hush and turned in myself.

My Boys

There is a definite advantage to being a high school teacher.  I had three former students here yesterday helping me shear sheep.  They were a tremendous help.  I did not hear a single complaint all day - not even when I accidentally stuck Loren in the leg with a needle aimed at a struggling sheep.  I told him he might even benefit from the tetanus vaccine.  I've known Randy Dungey since I moved here and started at BOCES.  Randy helped build the home I live in.  Dimitries is new to the Maggie's Farm crew, having recently graduated, but he quickly figured out what we needed him to do.  The guys stayed after the shearing was over to help me do some mucking out of the barn floor.  Now I can open the door to the milk room!  It's the little things...

Luscious

I met Sally Newhart at the Maryland Sheep and Wool Festival.  Sally was helping her friend, Julia Hildebrant, who makes the stylish industrial felt bags.  We struck up a conversation and Sally told me about her slipcover business in New Orleans.  Sally is also a published author with a book out about the history of a New Orleans band called  "The Tuxedo Jazz Band."   We started chatting about fabrics and I told Sally how I like to use high-end remnants for my bags and a new product called Yarn Pockets.  Yarn Pockets are basically a fabric box that holds a wound yarn ball and protects it from falling apart and getting caught on things.  Sally told me she often has scraps from her slipcovers and that she hates to throw them out.  Well, I don't have to tell you how happy this made me.  Sally offered to ship me the scraps for postage!    Since Maryland I've received two boxes full of the most beautiful luxurious fabrics.  My head is swimming with visions of what I will make with these lovely pieces.  It's fun to see what the New Orleans glitterati are  using to cover their furniture!  I really appreciate Sally's kindness and generosity.  Sally's fabrics, along with the great load of beautiful yardage recently purchased from Carol Crayonbox's friend John, will keep me busy sewing for the upcoming show season.  I'll make Bundaflicka Totes, needle cases, Yarn Pockets, and perhaps some electronic gadget covers.  I better oil up my machines.

Shearing Day

I had locked up the sheep in the awful rain on Thursday, anticipating shearing on Saturday, but Friday brought some sun and I let the hungry beasts out to graze.   There was something in the hay that I was forking down to them while they were locked in that upset my lungs.  I didn't realize what I was breathing and why I was feeling poorly until a ray of sunshine through the slats of the upper hay mow illustrated what was floating in the air.  It would   clog up anyone's airways.    The sheep were thrilled to get out, and I set about my usual routine of critters, dinner, then chores, then moving things around in the barn to make room for Jim the shearer to work.  I had been calling around for hired help, which costs a fortune but is worth every penny.  Still I was worried.  My barn needs to be cleaned out and the hay pack is high.  A Hobbit would do fine herding sheep in there, but not big tall farmboys.  I had vaccines and syringes delivered and picked up wormer and bags.  I thought I would sit down for a while at ten then go out and lock up the sheep.   Found out about my friend dying then spent a fitful night grieving for everyone's loss....and never went out to lock up the sheep.  Woke with a start and ran out into the mist to find sheep everywhere - and quite wet.  It doesn't have to rain to get sheep wet.  They can walk through wet grass and get soaked that way, or stand in the morning mist.  Chased them in and wondered what to do.  Should I call Jim, who is coming from Ithaca, 80 miles away, and cancel?   Mia was coming from New Jersey, and what about the boys, who needed the $$ I offered them?  I decided to let it go and hope for the best.  Randy and Loren came early as I asked them to do and we scraped and raked a whole lot of hay and poop to get the floor ready for Jim. They corraled a bunch of sheep close to the shearing floor just as Jim pulled up.  Jim is so easy-going and does his best in the worst of circumstances, but shearing wet sheep is something all shearers hate.  Most will flatly refuse to do it.    I got a good scolding, even yelled at a little, but he soldiered on.  Most of the sheep were dry, but three or four were good and wet.  I did 180 hooves, hoisting each one up between my knees for clipping while Loren straddled them and held their heads.  I gave them shots, Loren wormed them, and they were away to lunch on thick green grass in their summer haircuts.  Most of the sheep are FAT.   A couple of old girls are a little bony, but that's to be expected at their age and with the young ones pushing them away from the food.  We sheared Lilly for the first time in two years, who was looking a little weary of the whole business.  Four big fat black sheep, the Merino cross 200 pounders, escaped the herders and shot out the windows of the barn.  After doing 45 animals the guys were reluctant to go out and find them.  I was a little disappointed, but Jim was looking forward to going home and hopping on his tractor at that point so I didn't push it.  Don't know when I'll get them done.  They have lovely jet black wool which will burn reddish tips in the sun.  I would love to get coats on them.   We visited with Sharon, my friend from school, and Dimitries, former student, and hiked up to the pond.   We soaked up some sun and took a break.  Sharon played with kittens and gave my goat baby his bottle.  She and Dimitries left for home and we tidied up a bit.  I have a lot more work to do out there, including finding a place to put the mountain of fleeces.  Would love to get to work on washing and dyeing them, but my wool washing machine is broken.  Have to shop for a used machine.  There's always something.     Mia and I took Matt out for Father's Day dinner at Frank and Betsey's in New Berlin.  Gosh, they put out a hefty plate of food.  I had grilled salmon piled high with salsa and marinated Utican greens and squash.   I downed a glass of Zinfandel to celebrate a successful day of shearing.  Home to chores.   I grabbed one little goat and Mia held her while I got a nice bag of mohair off her.    I'm hoping Matt R. will do the same for me today, but it is Father's Day and I won't push it.  I could work on animals every day, all day, but it is not the same for him.  

Goodbye Kay

  I was derailed late Friday night when I learned of the death of a fiber artist/shepherd friend, Kay ten Kraft, in Berlin, New York.    Kay had embarked on a walking program and was out on her road around six o'clock in the rain when a young man hit  and killed her.   We are almost the same age, with children, grandchildren, many animals, and a love of life that cannot be suppressed by any calamity that may befall us - save the Grim Reaper.  A senseless tragedy like this makes me question the love of God, but I have learned in my old age that God does not "let" things like this happen. God is sad when terrible things happen to us, but God gives us free will and, with that free will,  we have ecstacy and agony.  Kay leaves behind a large extended family and many friends.  We kept in touch on line but the last time I saw her in the flesh was when she came excitedly into my booth at Rhinebeck, looking fabulous as she lost a lot of weight, to tell me she had a fantastic show and wanted to buy another Bundaflicka tote.   Kay was one of the few people who understand what I am all about. We fiber people are a small enclave of rural society.  Kay was talented, honest, and full of infectious energy.  I know I will meet her on the other side, and we'll  tell farm stories, like the time her silo fell down in a storm and spooked her LGD who ran away.  Kay hiked far and wide, tracked that dog, and wouldn't stop until it was home safe and sound.  We'll knit together and trade stories about our grandchildren.   Until then, I will keep raising these critters and making yarn.  Kay would understand.

Shearing Day Tomorrow

I always get excited and nervous about shearing day.  I raise sheep and goats for wool and mohair.  Getting the fiber off the animals is very important.  It does not improve if left too long on the animal.    I've ordered vaccines, syringes and bags to put the wool in.  I've hired helpers and will purchase wormers today.  I panicked on the way home from work in the pouring rain when I realized the sheep are outside.  Herded the very hungry and confused sheep back into the barn when I got home.  They wanted to go out to pasture to graze but I wanted them to go inside and dry off.   The sun is out today and everything should be fine.   Tonight I rake out the part of the barn where Jim will set up his board and put up a table for skirting.  Mia is coming up from New Jersey to help, which I feel badly about as she works such long hours.  She has Father's Day complications back home and has to leave early on Sunday.  Rounding up the sheep and getting them penned in is not easy in my barn with the hay pack up so high and holes everywhere for the animals to escape through.  No fancy handling equipment on this farm.  Hopefully Loren and Randy, long-time farm hands and very sturdy young men, will wrangle the big, giant monsters without mishap.  We have lots of babies running around that have to be put aside to avoid being run over.   White sheep first, then black sheep, then goats.  Then a lot of time for me, sorting and skirting fleeces.  The weather looks promising, with sunny skies and cool temps.  This is late to shear, but there are advantages to doing it this late.  Less chance for flies to burrow in and lay eggs resulting in the nasty fly-strike.  Better get home and get organized for tomorrow.  Me?  Organized?  No such thing.

Fancy and her Babies

Fancy is taking very good care of her babies.  When she jumped out of the pen and left them to go out and graze I feared I had a neglectful mother on my hands.  On the advice of my goat friends, I finally let the babies go.  They clung together and wouldn't leave the barn.  I don't blame them.  The walk up to the field is a nasty, muddy, wet climb with all this rain and run off we've been having.  The angora goats are so funny.  The moms will come up to the edge of the pasture, look back to the barn ands start screaming for the kids to follow.  The babies stay in the barn and scream their heads off, as if to say, come and get us, or no, we don't want to go out there.   Finally they come, dancing and bouncing along.  Fancy doesn't mind leaving her babies in the barn.  It gives her more freedom to roam the hillside with her sister, Matilda.  They stand on their hind legs and pick leaves off the apple trees.  When I noticed them doing that I realized who was getting to the flakes of hay I have piled on top of the hanging rabbit cages.  I put Fancy's babies back in their pen and let Fancy in with them when she comes back in from the field.  She can jump over the panels easily so it's no problem when I'm at work.  The corn I give her inside the pen with her babies is a great incentive.  Still haven't decided when I'm going to start milking her.  Some goat people wait two weeks or more to give the babies a good start.  I'm out of school in another week so I'm thinking I will start then.  I have a big job ahead of me with cleaning the milk room, which is full of junk, and hosing it out.   I have to pull the pieces of my milking stand out of the pile in the back of the barn and put it together.  I'm sure it will need some work.  I'm hoping Luke will be on the farm by then to help me with all this.  I'm very excited about my first dairy adventure.  I've been preparing Fancy for this intimate interaction with lots of petting and stroking of her udder.  I want to find a Nubian buck for Matilda, and, in time, Fancy's daughter Babette.  Bubba will be banded and play to his heart's content until I decide what to do with him.  I'm totally enthralled with my Nubian goats.  They are beautiful, sweet, mesmerizing animals.

Wet

After a brief sunny respite yesterday, the rain is back.  It is pouring now and the forecast says rain tomorrow too.  Local farmers have crops in the ground that are drowning in all this water.  One of my dairy farmer neighbors is the postmaster in New Berlin.  She tells me she can't get her corn started it's so wet.  My fields are waist high in hay and Julia is ready to mow for me but there is no way to get it dry.  I've heard conflicting reports about baleage.  Baleage is wet hay that is wrapped in plastic to preserve it.  The hay is "pickled" and the sheep love it...but I've been warned about listeriosis, a brain disease that comes from wet leaves.  Humans sometime get it from salad bars.  With all these little babies running around the farm I'm concerned.  They are more vulnerable to just about anything.  I would love a repeat of last summer where Julia and her crew put 50 round bales in my barn over three blistering hot days.  Trouble is, that kind of heat might not happen until sometime in July.  With the waning sun I might not get a second cut later in the summer.   I'm hoping for 60 or more round bales to get us through the coming winter.  These and other things weigh heavily on my mind.  Right now the flock is getting fat on all the grass out there. When you live in the North Land you don't forget the chill of the last winter, and you are always getting ready for the next one. 

Mother Lode

Some incredibly beautiful fabric is coming my way lately.  Carol Crayonbox has a friend who decided to let go of his stash and gave me first dibs.  They brought the gorgeous cloth to the CNY Fiber Festival for me to look over this past weekend.  I can't wait to get started on some new totes when school is out.  I also have a new fabric friend, Sally Newhart, in New Orleans.  I met her in Julia Hildebrant's booth at Maryland Sheep and Wool.  Sally is a published author and slipcover designer.  She offered me the upholstery scraps from her studio for postage.   The first box arrived and the cloth is not to be believed. I feel like it's Christmas morning.

My Bunny

I've wanted an English Angora rabbit for some time now.  I had them for years and years, then tried raising Germans for a while.  I much prefer the English.  I used to call angora rabbits the "poor woman's alpaca."  Now I call them the "smart woman's alpaca."  Angora fiber is wonderful and blends fantastically with wool.   I put a towel on my lap and watch TV with the bunny while I gently brush out the loose angora with a tiny cat brush.  The process is painless and makes for a more comfortable bunny.   The angora/wool skeins in my handspun basket always sell first.  This baby is the sweetest little thing and runs over to the door of the cage to say hello when I walk by.  I can't wait for Luke to meet her.   Trying to come up with a name...

Wet Felting With Susanne

                                                                           

Susanne Farrington came to the CNY Fiber Festival and taught us how to craft a wet-felted hat over a ceramic form.  Susanne picked out some green and blue Bluefaced Leicester wool from my booth, and fashioned a hat that looks like a globe.  We could even pick out Madagascar in the design.  The crowds were mesmerized with Susanne's talented hands.  I learned how to use needles to trim the edges.  Susanne is also a potter and used a ceramic device of her own design to help the felting process.  

Who Da' Man?

Behind every shepherd there is the man (or woman) who gets the wool off the sheep and makes her look good.  For me it is my faithful shearer from Freeville, near Ithaca, Big Jim Baldwin.  He is the only shearer who doesn't make me nervous and fretful.  His easy manner and sense of humor actually make shearing day fun.  Jim really cares about the sheep and gives me good advice, sometimes painful, but nonetheless appreciated.  We have a date for Saturday - thank the Solstice Gods - and I will have a mountain of luscious wool to play with.  Jim demonstrated shearing for the crowds at the Bouckville festival this past weekend.  The fiber fanatics bought his Merino fleeces as they came off the sheep.  Jim gifted me with a gorgeous, long-stapled, highly crimped, fabulous black Merino fleece.  He asked me to be sure to share it with Kim, my wooly side-kick.  Feeling grateful for all the help she gives me at shows, and feeling wonderful after a night in the cozy bed she made for me in the van, I gave her the whole thing to take back to Ontario with her.  I'll be sure to work her like a rented mule for that fleece, but don't tell her what I have planned.

Sublime

I spent the weekend at the 3rd annual Central New York Fiber Festival in Bouckville, New York.  CNY spells heaven on earth, and when you add all manner of fiber bearing animals, along with talented artisans who know what to do with luscious natural fibers, you have Shangri-La.

Wool sales were brisk despite heavy competition from local shepherds, goatherds, paci-people, and bunny ranchers.  I was able to barter my goods for various things including much needed and longed-for hay feeders offered to me by a local shepherd who is down-sizing her flock.  I traded a Bundaflicka tote for some gorgeous Lincoln Longwool yarn I was lusting after.  The artist contacted me to say how happy she was with her bag, and how she hopes I am happy with the yarn.  She has no idea...

Welcoming Party

I arrived home yesterday to find yet another mother hen and her hatchlings waiting for me in the driveway.  I have such a big barn that chickens can find dozens of places to hide their eggs where I can't get to them.   No wonder I have so many free-range chickens.   I love the darlings, but fear for their safety with the hungry cats around.  My hens are pretty tough.  I've watched them scare off the cats many times.  It's not about size - it's all about attitude.

Cuteness

I went out for my late night barn check and found Miss Fancy lying quietly near her babies' pen, with her girlfriend, Matilda.  It did not concern her that the little ones were jumping up and down, wanting their evening meal.  I mean, this was after ten o'clock.  I opened the pen and coaxed Fancy inside with corn.  I think she was more interested in corn than the babies.  They nursed eagerly.  Who knows when they had their last meal, as Fancy had been outside grazing for many hours. Surely her udder was full.  I don't think we are going to have any separation anxiety on Fancy's part when the time comes.  I think I will start milking her next week.  No time this weekend as I will be at the CNY Fiber Festival in Bouckville.  With Tropical Storm Andrea coming up the coast, who knows what the weather will be like. Secretly...I like it cool for the animals.  I hate to see wooly animals hauled to shows in the hot weather.  It's awful for them.

Weather

35 F. on the farm this morning.   Quite a switch from the nineties of the weekend.  The weather has been glorious the last three days - sunshine, cool temps and low humidity.  I could get used to this but don't dare.  Rain coming tomorrow through Saturday.  Looks like the first day of our Bouckville festival will be rainy.  Sunday will be lovely.  Everything is under big roomy tents but we would get more people through the gates with sunny skies.  Lots of soap to wrap and two Latin messenger totes on the machine right now.  Miss Fancy has started jumping out of her pen during the day when I'm at work and going out to graze with the rest of the flock when I open the gate upon arriving home.  I was quite worried about it last night but then I found her waiting next to the pen.  Same thing today but she's staying out longer.  I think the babies are a bit too young to let them out with her.  Maybe in a week or so.  I don't think they could make it up the big hill with Fancy.  They grow so fast it won't be long.    Hannah and Luke left without giving me the many goat names I need.  The white bottle boy is such a chow hound I can't believe it.  His sister is nursing so you would think brother would get with the program and take some too.  No, he would rather wait for his bottles - one in the morning, one after work and one night-night bottle.   He drains them dry in no time.  Everyone else, including my one little lamb, Cinco, is nursing the way nature intended.  Thank goodness. 

Bubba and Babbette

I had no idea what my Nubian twins would look like, having been fathered by a red angora goat, but they couldn't be cuter.  I love the markings, and they have the lovely, artful, long Nubian ears.  I adore them.  After more than a day of nursing the babies, I checked her milk last night.  I wanted to make sure both teats were working properly.  I only got a half cup full.  The babies must be taking it, which is just fine.  I'm wondering if there will be enough to share with me.  Might have to wait until they are weaned before I do any serious milking.  I have a lot to learn about dairy goats. 

Sunset Swim

It was not the first time I swam in the wonderfully invigorating pond water this year.  I had indulged myself the day before after arriving home from work in the oppressive heat.  After working all day at the Hamilton Farmer's Market where we melted through the morning a swim was unavoidable.   Annie and Hannah joined me along with several of our dogs.  It was just what we needed.  We stayed in the spring water until the sun started to sink then made our way back down the hill through the sheep.  I live in Paradise. 

Travelling Chickens

Camp Hinds, the Boy Scout camp near Portland, is gearing up for 350 campers to arrive shortly.  They will have some help with breakfast now that Annie has provided them with a crate full of Maggie's Farm hens.  I even included a mom with chicks.  There is undoubtedley a rooster included in the tiny puff balls, so the future of the colony is secure.   Morning cock-a-doodle-doo's will sound wonderful ringing through the piney woods. 

As Annie pulled away from the farm the chicken house was being built at Camp Hinds.  The caretaker has two little boys who were anxiously waiting for the precious cargo. Chickens are so easy to care for - and their nutritious, delicious gifts come in biodegradable packages.  What's not to like? 

Silos are for Climbing

Luke couldn't resist.  He had to climb up the silo wall, or give it a try.  There is a ladder going up, but it is rusted and probably unsafe.  Now I know who will put my Christmas star up in the fall.  I didn't let Luke go very far up.  It was tempting for him, but without a safety harness and a fireman's trampoline to fall on to, there is just no way. 

Bye-Bye Kitty

I knew that Annie and the kids wanted a kitty friend for little Fergus, the multi-toed tuxedo cat they adopted last summer.  I thought it was going to be a striking calico kitty that they would take home to Maine this past weekend.  Hannah said that kitty was short on the cuddle points.  They picked a sweet little white kitty and Luke named her Arvi.  Sounds very Norwegian to me.  When I called to make sure they got home okay in the terrible storming yesterday, Eric told me they were home safe and the kitty was having a bath.  Lucky little kitty to find a home in an upscale Maine home with lots of stairs and rooms to play hide and seek....and the wood stove is always on.

The Future is Here

I used to be concerned about having no one to pass my skills to.  I don't worry about it any longer.  My daughter, Mia, knits and spins - when she's not running marathons and working as a Nurse Practitioner.  Now Hannah, Eric and Annie's daughter, is spinning exquisitely beautiful yarns.  She learned by watching her mother who I taught to knit and spin when Hannah was born.  Hannah has been spinning on the Louet I bought for Annie on her first anniversary.   I've been very impressed with Hannah's yarn, and so appreciative of all the help she's been to me at NY State Sheep and Wool at Rhinebeck, and, more recently, at Maryland Sheep and Wool.   I gave Hannah a cherry Robin wheel for her 15th birthday.  How fitting that the Robin is made in southern Maine, where Hannah lives now.  This very classy and talented granddaughter of mine deserves a classy, hand crafted wheel.

Fancy and her Twins

One of my Nubian queens gave birth to twins on Saturday.  It was hot as Hades, and we were working the farmer's market in Hamilton.  I noticed Fancy was full of milk that morning, and predicted a birth shortly.  Sure enough, there she was, in a spot she picked herself in front of the chicken room, with two great big colorful and healthy babies.  What a thrill for Hannah and Luke who had come from Maine to pick up a load of chickens to take the the Boy Scout camp near Portland.  Luke named the babies Bubba and Babbette.  Fancy is a first time mother.  I purchased her along with Matilda a year ago from my friend Peggy Sue at West Creek Family Farm.  I am thrilled and looking forward to gallons of delicious Nubian goat milk.

Decoupage Boxes

Someone brought in cigar boxes and we decided to try some decoupage tissue paper craft.  The boxes are amazing, and so easy to do.  When we ran out of cigar boxes we used some donated cardboard fold over ones.  All you do is mix white glue, 50 glue, 50 water, paint it on the box, lay tissue paper on, and paint over it.  The more you layer the better it looks, and it makes a hard smooth surface.  I can see making a few to use as gift boxes for soap.

The Day is Spinning Away

I've been spinning a bit in Art Studio, hoping to get the students interested in fiber crafts.  Today it worked, as a couple of boys asked to give it a whirl.  One student saw my Royal ball winder and asked what it was for.  I let him wind off a bobbin and he was very enthralled with the whole process.  Made my day.

I didn't hear her voice calling me for a bottle when I opened the barn door like she usually does.  There she was, lying flat on the hay.  My eyes saw it but my mind didn't want to recognize the reality of it.  Little Maya, twin to Cinco, the fragile ewe lamb that I've been feeding bottles to three times a day for the last month was dead.  I've been a shepherd for a long time but it still hurts.  She's so adorable, with those black eyes and tiny black mouth.  Her mother is aged, and that can be an issue with lambs.  Lambs of older moms are sometimes not viable.  She was so weak at birth but I was determined to bring her along.  I thought we were out of the woods when she would call me with gusto to tell me she was hungry.  I don't need this today, with problems at work, but I never need this.  What happened?  I got new hay yesterday, at Homestead Feed, but it was mostly sticks.  Don't think that gave her bloat.  I've bought hay there before and it didn't cause a problem.  It could have been anything.  I banded her last weekend, gave her vaccinations.  I'll kick this around all day, with everything else I have to deal with at school, and never know the real answer.  So glad I have my other babies to hug and love to pieces.  

The Babies

I rush home every day to make bottles for this little white guy. He has a pitiful cry that cuts right through me and sends me into the kitchen to mix his warm milk.  His sister figured out how to nurse from her mother, who rejected them at birth and wouldn't even let them try.  I kept milking mom out to keep her flowing, and gave it to the kids in bottles.  I think the doe kid figured out how to get her own from mom and kept pestering her

until she gave in.   I don't mind mixing bottles.  I'm so used to it now as Robert and Duvall just recently got off theirs, I'm embarrassed to say.  Those boys see me coming with the goat bottles and want to nurse again.  I foolishly gave one of them a taste and he bit the Pritchard's teat right off the bottle.  Learned my lesson - let them stay weaned.

Smoky Mountain

The storms that swept through my little valley left a smoky mist that clung to the creek bed and the piney ridge.  The sheep who had been driven back into the barn twice by heavy rain ventured out to graze in the fog.  During storms like this I am always grateful for my "big strong barn" with the metal roof.  Sister Berndadette, my next door neighbor, likes to remind me that every panel has three nails in it.  The nails were pounded in by herself and her sister, Sister Grace, when they were teenagers, before they were recruited by the Franciscans and taken away for a life of prayer and service to the Church.  The Church got them off the barn roof and "out from under the cows." Oh, the stories those Sisters can tell about life on my farm, long before I got here.

Ridiculous Rain

 Got home after stops for gas and pet food, put the leashes on and ran the dogs up to the pond.  Best balm a troubled mind can find is a good long look at the stunning view from the top.  After being shut in all day the dogs like it too.  Let the sheep out on the way up and watched them run for the green grass.  They didn't have much time to eat.  The sky turned black and wave after wave of rain came down.  They took it for a while then ran for the barn.  Came back out, started nibbling, then another deluge.  Lost TV and hope I don't lose power.    Lots of grass out there and would love to get some of it bailed but in this weather don't know. Now it's thundering.  I noticed Lola, aged goat mommy, left the barn to follow the flock and her baby wouldn't come with her.   While I gave afternoon bottles I saw him relax and play in the barn, running up and down the length of the barn.  Guess he knows she'll be back when her udder is full.  Things going well in school until today when it totally went so bizarre and weird that it defies imagination.    Don't know why I even let it bother me.  Couldn't wait to get home and be with my animals.  They are the only people I can trust.  Crash boom bang thunderstorm going on now, at 6:30.  This is the kind of storm that Luke and I like to watch sitting on round bales in the hay mow with the giant doors open to the hillside.   Three more weeks...

Love My Black Girls

There she was, the elusive little black yearling doe I adore, but who I rarely get my hands on.   She is so fast, and so little, I can't catch her.  I did get my hands on her last summer and clipped her baby hair myself, holding her squirming on my lap.  I like to give the mama goats who are loose in the barn with their babies some cracked corn while the big fat sheep are out grazing.  When the giant corn hogs are in the barn the goats don't have a chance.  I saw the little black girl in the group and threw down some more corn.  I grabbed her horns and she was mine.  Luckily Matt was here tonight and consented to hold her horns while I gave her a haircut.   The mohair is wonderfully soft and a lovely gun metal dark gray.   It will blend nicely with some black angora rabbit.  Hmmm, hmmm.   I finished and that girl was gone, back out to the pasture in the dark to eat grass - and there is a lot of it.  Raining tonight in Brookfield.  I don't think we have any drought worries this summer.  I have another little black girl who will give birth soon.  Wouldn't it be nice if she has a little black girl, too?   I have one in the nursery - tiny little thing herself.  She wiggled out of the maternity pen tonight and was running around in the big barn, giving her mom - and me - fits.  Luckily I caught her before she was run over by the big toe-crushing sheep.   I gave her back to her mama and covered up the hole.   Ask me how I can leave this crowd and go to work all day?  I've thought about installing a barn cam I can check from work, but I would be looking at it all day long.  Three more weeks and I'll be home with them all summer.  Can't happen too soon.

Tiny Blessings

Did not stop to write in my journal all weekend.  A quick catch-up...

Saturday - what to do about the market. Cold and rainy, but Memorial Day is  traditionally a good market day.  Radar looked promising (a lie) and we were mentally geared up for it.  The previous weekend was so good it gave us false optimism about this one.  Wipers were not turned on the entire 17 mile drive to Hamilton.  Guess what - we got rained on.  The pop-up held and the die-hards came out any way.  I saw old friends from Morristown and new friends from Brookfield.  My market friends were there, too, and I got my brie-mango crepe while holding my hands close to the propane cooker for warmth.  Once home my totes had to be carried in and dried inside.  Lesson learned.  When the weather is awful stay home on the farm.  That's what I did the entire rest of the weekend. 

Sunday - I worshipped at the Church of the Universal Shepherd and took care of my flock.  I could work on sheep and goats all dang day.  Sadly, spouse does not have the same enthusiasm.  He bravely soldiered through a day of docking tails and banding scrotums, not a pleasant task but one that pays off for years to come.  The little boys can stay with their mommies forever and will have no desire to mate with them six months from now.  They won't grow horns but they will grow lovely mohair and wool for me,  a much more pleasant destiny than the other option. The docked tails will not be a magnet for manure and draw flies.  Yes, sheep naturally have long bushy tails.  A simple band placed up high will cause the little lamb tail to slough off and prevent the deadly flystrike.   I was shocked to find three hens had hatched their clutches in this cold, wet weather.  I resolved to capture as many as possible and found some wire rabbit cages in the silo room.  They even had baby guards around the bottoms.  Luckily, due to the cold and a mother's inclination to keep them under the wings for warmth, I was able to scoop up the hen cupping my hands around her wings with the babies inside.  Only dropped on tiny fluff ball on the way to the rabbit cages.  Hannah and Luke will have 20 or so chicks to take to the new chicken house at the Hinds Boy Scout Camp in Portland, Maine, where their daddy is the head man.  More work for me keeping them fed and watered, but now they are safe from cats, etc.  Sunday night was spent cooking, stoking the wood stove, and relaxing, what a joy.

Monday - I sat outside wrapped in a long wool coat, love that coat,  with my coffee and my book - The Farm She Was by Ann Mohin, fabulous read - and coffee taking in the emerging sun and blue sky.  What a joy after having my bones chilled at the rainy market on Saturday.  I purchased a cord of wood from a neighbor and put much of it to good use over the weekend.   I basically took care of critters all day long with some time here and there for walking the land in the stunningly gorgeous weather.   With school on Tuesday and the Bouckville show coming up, I will have to kick it into high gear again.  Annie and the kids are coming to help me get some things done around the farm this weekend.  I have to get ready for Fancy to deliver her kid.  The milk room will be a milk room once again when I get her milking stand set up in there.  Much mucking out needs to be done.  I hate walking on the stuff. 

Family news is good.   Chaplain Father Aaron has received his Army Captain bars.  He continues to counsel and assist the soldiers in his unit, and serves at Christ Church in Las Vegas.  Mia is working hard as a Nurse Practitioner for the cancer surgeons in Morristown.  She ran a full marathon in Burlington, Vermont on Sunday - in the rain and snow.  Eric recently returned from a district meeting of the Boy Scouts of America where he voted on the issue of allowing gay Scouts in the organization.  He has his work cut out for him back in the Pine Tree Council in Portland, Maine.   Annie is working hard as a technical writer.  They are looking forward to a motorcycle vacation to Nova Scotia.  Omi is very much looking forward to having Hannah and Luke at the farm this summer.  They are big, strong, and willing workers.  We'll swim in the pond, light campfires, and sit in the hay mow on the round bales to watch the storms come in from the west.

Rainy

Hot and humid yesterday, broke out the shorts.  It was 20 F. not two weeks ago.  Glad my new babies were born in the warmer weather.  Instead of putting sweaters on them I was worried about them not getting enough fresh air.  Yesterday's black mama is still very protective of the tiny new twins, and I've seen them both nursing.  I got my hand on one of their bellies today after work, to check for fullness, with mom making a clucking sound that means get away from my kids.  I obliged.  I was thrilled to see reluctant white mama who gave birth on Saturday letting one of her twins, the doe kid,  nurse.   The last few days of keeping  her milk flowing paid off!  Her little buck gets all excited when he sees me coming with the bottle.  What a cutie he is with those blue eyes.  I love these little angora goat kids.  Lambs are delightful but there is something so endearing about these curly cuties.  Goat babies love to cuddle, unlike lambs who would rather have four hooves on the ground - or in the air, bounding around the pasture or running "chariot races" in the barn with their lamb pals.   One more angora goat to give birth - a smallish black doe, first time mother.   Fingers crossed this one goes okay.   Little Maya, sister to Cinco, born May 5 when I was on the way  back from Maryland with Kim, is coming along.  She's still a little woozy, but is standing much more and baaing to me when she sees me coming with the bottle.   I have to pick her up to nurse, or she would be content to take a few sips and leave it at that, becoming weak with hunger.  In my arms with one hand under her chin and the other holding the bottle I can get her to take half of it.  I want her to grow big and strong like her brother.  Mom wants out of the pen and I don't blame her.  I don't dare let little Maya out in the pasture.  She's just not ready.  This is what shepherds do - take care of everybody regardless of the inconvenience and trouble. Protect the weak and give succor to the needy, then rejoice when they no longer need you.  Raining again tonight.  So grateful for my big strong barn during the last few nights of wild weather, but then, I always am.

Finally...

I've been hoping for a black doe kid and finally it's happened.  As I was doing morning chores before work I saw my lovely, aged black doe pawing at the ground. Then she made her "I'm hurting" goat call. That was it - I called Fawn, my aide, to make sure she was okay with my being out today, and called in "goat."  It was a while before a little black gooey bundle was lying on the hay.   Mom was vigorously licking the babies off - a very good sign.  I waited a while to do my clip-dip-strip, as I did not want another reluctant mom on my hands.  Not to worry, this girl not only wants her babies...she wants to kill anybody getting near them, namely me.  I managed to dodge the chopping teeth trying to take a chunk out of me enough to get the baby cords clipped and dipped in iodine ( to prevent germs from traveling in).  Squeezing the waxy plug out of mom's teats was another matter.  I grabbed her horns and put my knee firmly on her neck with my face on her body while I gently nursed out some colostrum into a cup.  Luckily, mom has plenty of thick, wonderful milk for the babes.  I let go and moved away quickly then heard the clamping down of the teeth near the back of my leg.  That would have been a big ouch, but I would have forgiven her because I adore little black angora goats.  Black mohair is my very favorite fiber.  I made sure this girl had a nice belly full of colostrum to get her started.  Typically, her brother, a buck kid, went for mom's teat first.  Some things never change.