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.