Sheep 101...
This is the plan for my day. I am going to Marcia's to help crutch,
wig, and trim the hooves of 10 beautiful Romney sheep, or at least they
will be more beautiful when we're done with them. While downing my
morning coffee, I picked up an issue of "Sheep!"
magazine. Woo Hoo! my lucky day, an article on sheep-handling! I read
the article, committing it to memory as if there would be a test later.
One statement jumped out at me... "A few people are all it takes to move a few hundred sheep, if done correctly".
Hmmmm.... I donned my sloggers and headed off to Rainshadow Farm. The
Good Shepherdess, Marcia, outlined "The Plan" to the three of us - 10
sheep in the upper pasture need to be moved down the road to the barn.
Easy-peasy. Rick and Sharon have sheep, so this herding thing is not
totally new to them. I, on the other hand, am in total "sandbox" here,
so I am paying very close attention to the Good Shepherdess. Rick has
brought his very own shepherd's crook (he's done this before), Sharon is
in charge of the grain bucket, and I have been given a riding crop,
which I am told, will make the sheep think my arms are longer than they
actually are. I also learned that sheep have some depth perception
and other vision issues so the riding-crop-looking-like-an-arm-extension
probably made sense.
Off
we go, heads held high in the morning sunshine, we walked boldly up the
road toward the pasture while Marcia unveiled more of "The Plan" to
us, apparently we need to separate the sheep from the goats, who are
also in the same pasture. Really, how hard can this be, we are 4 people
moving 10 sheep, approximately 2 blocks down a one-lane road with no
traffic. Back to the mantra... "A few people are all it takes to move a few hundred sheep, if done correctly".
Then, our Good Shepherdess pointed out the potential obstacles that
could derail "The Plan", i.e., neighbor's lawn of lush green
never-been-grazed-upon grass, complete with a bumper crop of golden
yellow dandelions waving in the morning breeze (are sheep color blind?),
a roadside pond (yikes!), and a neighbor's big brown barking dog
(predator). I also learned that sheep are prey animals and we, humans,
along with barking dogs, are considered predators to them. They can
recognize who is the predator by the location and shape of the eyes....
hmmmmm, I wondered if I would appear more friendly to them with a
wide-eyed sort of deer-in-the-headlights expression, which was
conveniently coming naturally to me at the moment. So, out the gate and
down the road we go, Sharon, the pied-piper of sheep, leading the way
with the bucket of grain, sing-songing to the sheep and enticing them to
follow her. Marcia, Rick and myself bringing up the rear and keeping
the flock together... in theory. (Fortunately, since I was in the rear,
the whole eye-contact predator look thingy was a non-issue.) A few
minor detours and YES, we're inside the gate and outside the barn. Oh,
another thing I learned from the aforementioned article (and from
Marcia) is that sheep don't want to go where they can't see, like into a
dark barn, which is exactly where we were asking them to go. This part
of "The Plan" proved to be more difficult than getting the sheep down
the road.
Finally,
into the barn they all went and we're ready for the games to begin.
Sharon and I were in charge of catching and delivering the sheep,
one-by-wooly-one, to Marcia, who was standing at the ready, trimmers and
shears in hand. Rick, our appointeed scribe, measured the de-worming
dosage for each, scribbled out notes and ear-tag numbers as
Marcia worked on the sheep. It was amazing to watch her, flip the sheep
onto their rear-ends and begin working away, and explaining, mostly to
me, what she was doing, removing the nasty wool from their
rear-ends. It was hard to hear over the baaaa-baaaaa-ing of the sheep, and the buzz-buzzing of the shears... so in her outside voice Marcia said "it's called crutching, like crotch, it's a british term, like pistle or penis." Okay.... I'll file that
away somewhere. Marcia also pointed out that a few of the sheep were
wool-blind (too much wool on their faces blocking their vision), so wigging is the term for the hair cut at the other
end. All kinds of new information! A few hours later and we were
done, 10 whole sheep. Later, as we walked into the local "Grub Hut" for
burgers and fries, we were high-fiving and strutting around like we'd
done a hundred or more. Yes!! Go Team!!!! Driving home I had a deep
and renewed appreciation for sheep (in the pasture) and fleece (in my
spinning basket)!
It’s almost Mother’s day, and I have to say that I miss my mom, deeply. It’s been just over 3 years since she crossed over, and honestly, sometimes it feels like yesterday. She and I didn’t always have the greatest relationship, ups and down like most Mother-Daughter relationships, but the last few years before she passed were sweet, and those are the memories that bubble to the surface the most, when I think of my Mom. For those of you that don’t know, I live in a place that has been part of my family’s history for many, many years (almost as long as I’ve been on this planet and that’s a long time!) Many of the flowers and shrubs here were planted by my Mom… her hands… so she’s everywhere…
The purple azalea bush…
The salmon-colored rhododendron…
and the clusters of peonies throughout the yard. Every day I think of her, especially this time of year, when the flowers she so lovingly planted are blooming, and continue to remind me of her.
More On the topic of Mothers…
Last weekend, in the yarn shop, several of us began discussing our mothers. I don’t remember why or how we got on the subject, but the conversation made me realize how fortunate I was to have had a mom that not only gave birth to me (ouch!), but also stuck around to see me (allegedly) grow up. I was never given away, abandoned or abused. You know, that whole nature vs. nurture thing… What makes someone (or something) a good mother (or a not-so-good one). Sometimes, even Mother Nature can get it wrong… Fortunately, sometimes, someone has the grace to step in, and pick up, where Mother Nature left off…
Meet Nieve (above) a bummer lamb, born yesterday morning and abandoned by her “bad ewe” of a mother. Marcia found her out in the pasture, cold, dirty and all alone, but thankfully still alive. Marcia rigged up a bottle for her and managed to feed her a bit of formula. After I arrived, Marcia made her another bottle. The little lamb latched on to the bottle and completely finished it! Then she fell asleep in my arms. Sweet! Marcia said it was a good sign – she was eating…
Flashback, 2007… Meet “Constance” (above). I first learned about bummer lambs from my friend Linda Jacobs, when one of her Jacob ewes had twins. There had been a bit of a delay between the two births and for some unknown reason, the ewe rejected the second lamb, just kicked her away, simply did not recognize the lamb as her own. Linda said, “That’s called a bummer”. So, my friend Linda immediately became this lamb’s mother, bonding and bottle-feeding every few hours (she also kept the baby lamb with her in the house!). I remember it like yesterday… it was Mother’s day weekend and we had just opened the yarn shop in Port Gamble (at that time, down in the old fire hall) and Linda was supposed to be there to help me. “I’ll be there” she said, “but I have to bring Constance”, and she did. Constance was only 2 days old and was completely bonded with Linda, who rarely moved from her chair because the lamb, bedded down in a crate next to where she was sitting, would make all kinds of racket if Linda was out of her sight, honest, even a few steps away! It would “baaaaaaaa-baaaa”, as if to say “maaaaaaa-maaa”. It was the first time I had seen anything like it and it was amazing to me – the bond between Linda and that little lamb!!
Back to yesterday and Nieve…(above) Drinking her mama sheep’s milk from a coca-cola bottle… yes we milked a sheep yesterday!
One of the ewes we brought down from the pasture yesterday for crutching and wigging, etc .(see previous post for explanation of terms) had to be this little lamb’s mother, and, by gosh, we were going to figure this out. Every time Marcia flipped a ewe over for “clean up”, she first checked for a full udder (uh, she was also checking to see if anybody else was pregnant, because the last two births, in the last two days, were a HUGE surprise). Flip, Nope. Flip, Nope. Flip, Bingo! We had this little lamb’s mother! I don’t know why I was so surprised and excited, after all she had to be among them, right? Unless she really had fled the scene of the crime (abandonment) and was hiding out in some remote corner of the pasture… Nope. No apparent remorse for abandoning her offspring. All I could think of is “What the hell is wrong with you, you left your baby!” But, I guess it’s just not that uncommon… Bummer. So, Marcia cleaned up the mom and we tried to re-introduce the two of them. After all, they had met, even if briefly, when the lamb hit the ground and the mom probably said something like “where the hell did you come from?” and then just walked away. Double-Bummer. The attempted reunion was obviously too little too late. The ewe had no clue who this little creature was and wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. No recognition, no bonding, no nothing. Nada. How does that happen? I wondered… Sharon, on the other hand, had already stepped in, cuddled and nuzzled this little lamb-y-kins, and it was bonding with her almost immediately, making little lamb-y sounds and rubbing her nose against Sharon’s face, as if to say “Are you my Mother?” and happily, Sharon’s answer was “Yes, I am”… All in all, a very happy ending… Sharon and Rick have a new lamb they named Nieve, Nieve has a new loving family, and now you know the reason why I learned to milk a sheep!