Ok, so I’ve got about 25 trash bags of fleece that is unacceptable to most hand spinners. It’s not enough to send to the “co-op” as you really need at least 100 times that amount.

The chickens are all comfy in their wool-lined nests and won’t need new wool for many months.

Experiment time!

I’ve heard about wool being used for erosion control when you need to soak up (or divert) moisture as there is a company in Oregon who is making such a product. They’re also making dog beds with 75% wool and 25% cedar chips (odor control).

Here on the desert, we rarely need “moisture control” aside from when the snow melts too fast, or we get a rare summer deluge. What we need more often is a way to keep our sand from going to the neighbor’s, and another neighbor’s sand from coming to visit our acreage.

Believe me, it’s not a pretty sight. You can’t breathe when sand is blowing all around, including into your house!

My thesis: Lay down raw wool on high erosion areas after clearing the area of any small vegetation. Weigh it down temporarily until adjacent blowing sand can impregnate the air around the fibers. In theory, the trapped sand will be unable to escape. That includes any sand trapped by the fibers as well as the sand underneath the wool.

I’ve read a number of studies out of eastern Canada and the United Kingdom regarding the use of “wool waste” for soil amendments, so perhaps we can get an additional benefit. With virtually no way to irrigate our acreage, whatever is eventually planted will need a relatively rich soil, with awesome moisture storage ability.

What I don’t really know is how long it will take for the wool to break down. I do know it’s pretty slow to decompose, however, I’m counting on UV degradation, as our sheep always have “sun-bleached tips”. I’m also thinking the abrasion from the sand will have some effect. If it takes a couple of years, and holds our sand in place, then that’s a good deal.

Ever since we sheared the sheep, and I put up the “Our Fleeces” page, we’ve been struggling with negative feedback regarding the staple length. What’s a girl to do, ‘cept more research!

I called folks all over Utah, and finally found some nice “sheep people” in both Oregon and California who were able to provide detailed information on what kind of sheep we have, and what we’ll need to do to improve our little flock.

Now, I’m the one who is most adamant about our “hobbies” providing some kind of return whenever possible.

The chickens provide us eggs, which we sometimes sell. Of course, since that’s Mom’s hobby, she gets to keep any egg money for her own use.

The horses are strictly for our own enjoyment. Besides, I’ve met few horses that ever paid for their own keep, let alone their own feed.

The sheep, though… they’re a “cash crop” in my eyes. We breed them. They produce lambs to both increase our flock size and to sell for meat. I also expect them to provide some wool to sell… and that’s where we’re having an issue.

These sheep were represented as black “Merino” sheep by the person who sold them to us. I believe her as she was led to believe they were “Merino”. Only one small problem… their fleece isn’t as “fine feeling” as the Polypay, and that’s not right.

Shortly after I got here (Dec 2006) we bought a ram, who was represented as 3/4 Merino x 1/4 Suffolk. He’s a big boy and over the past winter, developed a rather nasty attitude.

After much searching around, I believe what we really have are a type (not sure of the breed) of sheep called “marker sheep”. They are the one’s large sheep stations use to help them count their sheep. By maintaining about 1 black sheep per 100 white ones, they can easily count the black one’s and know if they have the whole flock in sight.

What’s all this mean?

Well, it means the fleeces we have for sale, are no longer for sale to spinners, as there’s no way they can meet the quality standards. It also means the ram we have is not the right ram for us. He can’t improve the fleece, and with his attitude, he’s really too dangerous for we women.

Now, this has caused a bit of consternation around here, as I pretty much did the research, presented the “bad news”, and set forth to make corrections without much input from anyone else… not the best decision I’ve ever made.

I am making the fleece available for alternative uses.

For example, we use it to line our chicken nests. The girls love it! They snuggle down in it and when they lay eggs, they are so nice and clean. With the cost of straw, our fleece is very cost effective.

You can also use fleece (wool) as insulation, or even as a permanent mulch as it will “felt” in time.

I know, I made sure you knew about our fleeces before I showed you how we got from “on the sheep” to “off the sheep”.

Because we have a very small flock, and virtually no shade for the shearer, we agreed to move our flock to the neighbor’s, where there is shade and a little better “catch” facility.

Last Monday afternoon, Bev picked up a borrowed 4-horse trailer in preparation for the “mini-roundup” and move.

The plan was to simply park the truck and trailer next to the sheep pen gate, open the gate, and stand there with some panels. One of us (most likely me) would shake the corn can and get the girls to follow me up and into the trailer.

That worked with one ewe for about 30 seconds! No, there are no pictures as we are about to get VERY busy.

With the corn can bait not working, Cindy left her panel and went for some hay. That was before I could close the gate, and yeppers… first “Merino’ followed Cindy to the hay stack, and then two more… Not good news as we don’t have our acreage fenced.

For the next 30 minutes or so, we coaxed, herded, backed off, headed off, and tried every trick we could think of to get the girls back into their pen. Clyde, our neighbor showed up to help bring order to circus.

Finally, with all the girls back in the pen, we once again tried to load everyone. Now, the plan was to take the lambs along as we figured they’d run right into the trailer to be with their Mama’s.

Never, ever let anyone tell you sheep are dumb. They do think, and they think pretty fast. They’re also curious, can be fooled once, maybe twice, but after that, it’s “sheep 1 - humans 0″.

The girls finally found the hay in the trailer completely irresistible, but the lambs weren’t convinced. With only 3 of the 10 lambs in the trailer, we changed directions and removed the 3 lambs, leaving them home. As they’re 60 days old, the separation wasn’t as traumatic as we’d expected.

Off to Clyde’s, just a short 1/2 mile jaunt. Off loading was much less stressful, as all we had to do was convince the gals this was a good place to be. After all, one of the matriarch’s offspring from last year is here, as is our ram.

Bruno, the Boxer thinks he’s a sheep dog, and is trying to help with this herding process. A few months ago, we were feeding Clyde’s sheep and found one of his little lambs out. I’m sure that had it not been for Bruno’s herding ability, we’d still be chasing that lamb.

Phillip, or “Flip” as he’s known locally is our shearer. He also owns several pretty good-sized commercial flocks and runs the crew that does virtually all the commercial shearing in SW Utah and eastern Nevada.

Because there are only 21 sheep between us, Flip takes his time with each animal. He even takes time to comment on our quality and the difference between what our animals looked like last year, compared to this year. Rather than rip through the sheep at 2 minute intervals, he takes between 4 and 5 minutes per animal.

As each of our sheep are sheared, we load them back into the trailer for the short trip home. Even Algernon, our ram, is coming home. “Freezer” a yearling wether becomes payment for the shearing. Flip notes he can almost taste his chops!

With our flock done, we turn our attention to moving Clyde’s flock from their pasture to the catch pen. The plan this time is to move all the ewes and their lambs. We’ll shear the ewes, leaving them in the catch chute, and then drive them back to their pen, leaving the lambs in the catch pen.

Clyde’s girls seem to know the process and we need only worry about any of them wanting to take a side trip into the garden (tasty morsels there, ya’ know). Moving Clyde’s flock is a snap compared to our flock.

By about noon, we finish with the shearing, and get everyone back in their places. Yes, Clyde’s lambs are putting up a bit of a fuss, since they’re now permanently separated from their mothers. Our girls arrive home and you should see the lambs trying to figure out what happened. Without their huge fleeces, our ewes aren’t much bigger than some of their offspring, and they still have a month until weaning.

Oh, and just who is that great big guy behind that fence? The lambs meet their daddy for the first time through the fence.

We deliver “Freezer” to Flip’s “mutton pen” where he’s the only black sheep, take the trailer home and give a huge sigh of relief. That’s one job we won’t have to do again until next year.

This past Tuesday was “shearing day” and we now have some awesome fleece for those of you who spin wool. I’ve created a new page calledOur Fleeces.

As I get each fleece ready for sale, I’ll post the animal’s story as well as pictures. To make it easy to purchase, I’ve included a PayPal button. Prices include shipping. If you find you want multiple fleeces, leave a comment and I’ll adjust the shipping charges and provide an alternate PayPal link for you.

~~Notice~~

After receiving considerable feedback, and doing extensive research, we are no longer offering these fleeces for sale to hand spinners.

What we believed were Merino appear not be so, and we don’t care or want to misrepresent a product.

That said, I have approximately 150 lbs of fleece (ranging from white Polypay to our black “feels more like Suffolk”) which is available for $0.50 per lb plus shipping.

This fleece has been lightly skirted. That means I have removed manure tags, sweat tags, and obvious large pieces of debris (vegetative matter).

Suggested uses:

• Chicken nest liners
• Rabbit nest liners (when your doe doesn’t pull enough fur)
• Permanent mulch in garden paths
• Insulation between walls (won’t provide a high”r factor” but is an alternative to fiberglass) in “barn areas”.

To order fleece send an email to fleece2008 @ gmail.com. I’m sure you can see I’ve left spaces that you need to close for the address to work. That generally fools the “spam bots”.

As I said earlier, since the first of the month, this has been a wild ride indeed.

Last fall, when it was time to breed, we put a harness and color marker on Al (our big ram). The idea is that you can see the marks on the ewe’s rumps, so you know if they’ve been bred.

I very carefully looked for the marks (they’re quite obvious), and then entered the breeding dates into our fancy “Ranch Manager” software. That gave us pure dates for lambing… that’s what you call it when the ewe’s have their babies.

According to our software, “Annie” and “Carolyn” were due April 6, with “Merino” right behind them on April 7. Due April 12 would be “Beulah”, with “Amy” due last on April 18.

Well… so much for plans and software. Someone forgot to tell the ewe’s.

Sunday, March 30, “Annie” went into labor. Now, we’re real rookies at this sheep business. I have 16 years of commercial rabbit production, and hung out with “sheep folks”, but I’ve never actually been through the lambing season, except for a couple days of observations at the neighboring sheep ranch last year.

Being rookies, all we really knew was that we were supposed to stand by and stay out of the way. We had a pretty fair idea she was in labor, as we could see the contractions, and she was separated from the rest of the flock, and was really uncomfortable.

What we didn’t realize until much later… the next morning, was that she had ruptured internally. We got to her in time, so she’s still with us, but will be put up for auction as she’s no longer capable of breeding, and carrying lambs successfully.

Cindy and I spent the entire night with the truck parked at the sheep pen. We made hourly, even 15 minute rounds to check on her. At one point, we could see a little hoof and nose… but were helpless to help her in the dark of night.

Oh, and it was one of those very rare foggy nights on the desert. No moon, no lights visible anywhere. We couldn’t even see the horse corral just 50 yards away.

By sunrise, we had determined we needed help… so, we got on the phone to our various neighbor/mentors. We got Clyde and Amber’s answering machine. Linda was on her way to work. Our last hope was the shepherd at the sheep ranch.

While Cindy and I captured Annie and prepared to pull the first lamb, Bev raced to the sheep ranch to get Pedro. Luckily, he had a few minutes, a new-born quadruplet to graft to the ewe, and understood how much he was needed.

First words out of his mouth… “You girls are no sheep herders!”

“Of course, Pedro. We’re rookies… and once upon a time, you were a rookie, too. We’ve pulled the first lamb, but there are more and we don’t know how to get to the rest.”

It was a sad sight. Annie had three dead lambs in her. We successfully grafted the little bummer (a ewe lamb) we named “Stormy”. All in all, while we felt very badly, we were also elated with the fact that we’d been able to save the ewe and the bummer.

On April 3, Bev was “on watch” and came in to announce that “Beulah” was in labor. Sure enough, she presented first a small black bundle. Cindy and I watched as she cleaned and nosed the little rascal, trying to get it to stand.

“Come on! Get up… I’ve got more coming and you have to be independent.”

Unfortunately, Beulah had to turn her attention the next little guy, leaving Cindy and me to pitch in and help. We had some colostrum ready. The little guy was brought into the house and given a nice soft warm bed as well as a good meal.

In the mean time, Beulah gave birth to three more little lambs. The second little guy was on his feet in just minutes, finding his way to “Mom’s teat”. The next little girl was quickly on her feet, too.

The last little bundle came out kicking. I was “on watch” at that time and marveled at how active the little guy was… but he was having a tough time standing up. Beulah hadn’t bothered to bite off the umbilical, and it was twisted around his back legs… No wonder he couldn’t stand up.

Cindy to the rescue!

Within a few hours, the little guy we rescued had died… another sad moment. But, he had weighed less than 5 pounds and his siblings were all over 8 pounds, so it wasn’t totally unexpected.

The April 6 and April 7 due dates passed with no activity.

Finally, Tuesday April 8, “Amy” dropped a pair of twins. These little gals tipped the scales at 10 and 12 pounds each. What beautiful little ewe lambs. We named the chocolate one “Mouton” in honor of one of my business partners. Her maiden name was “Mouton”, which means sheep in French, and her birthday was April 6. The other little gal is named “Dixie” in honor of our original mentor. These were all her sheep last year.

Thursday morning, I was greeted with two more little lambs, compliments of “Merino”. She had two little boys, who look like identical twins. These little guys were kind of small, and not on their feet for hours, so once again… it’s Cindy to the rescue with some nice warm colostrum.

We’ve gotten real good at milking sheep this week, as we’ve felt the need to make sure each ewe has had milk for the lambs. So far, no bottle babies, and that’s a very good sign.

The score? As of this entry, we have four little ewe lambs, “Stormy”, “Princess”, “Dixie” and “Mouton”. We have four little ram lambs, which we’ve already committed to sell to a neighboring Mexican family at weaning time. We’ll make a little, they’ll take them and feed them out, using some for food and sharing others with friends.

I’m still working on the food service business plan, but have had to take a bit of a break the past 10 days, as we’re now into our first lambing season.

You read it right… our sheep (5 ewes) were all bred this past fall by our prized ram, and have been waddling around (very preggie) in the sheep pen for the past few months.

So far, it’s been a very wild ride indeed… at least one sleepless night, some early heartache, and some incredible successes.

I was asked about whether or not it’s spring yet, and could we put away our muck boots. The answer to that is it depends upon what day you’re talking about.

Spring here only means it doesn’t fall below 10 to 15 degrees at night, although it may get to the mid 70’s during the day. The sun will shine, the sky is azure blue, and it can be incredibly inviting… for about an hour.

The wind comes up unexpectedly and we are always on the lookout for “dust devils”, mini-tornadoes that race across the desert hurling tumbleweed, spitting sand, and making a mess of anything in the way. The other day, all three of us were out at the sheep pen when one came barreling through.

We saw it coming, and watched it split into two different dust devils. By then, our only options were to put our coats/shirts over our heads, kneel in the sand/hay/sheep manure, and put our backs to the prevailing wind. It passed directly over us. You could feel the onslaught, then the calm of the eye, and then the wind pummeling you from the other side… really strange feeling!

Early in the week, it was in the mid-70’s and beautiful. Yesterday morning, we had snow showers. This morning, I broke 1/2 of ice off the sheep water trough. The forecast for this weekend is “gorgeous” with highs near 80, and wind less than 15 mph. We’ll see…

So, the muck boots get put away, and broke out again. I’ve not had mine on at all this week, but not sure I’ll put them away for good yet. Around here, we don’t plant tomatoes ’til June, so you get the idea.

This year, we’ve had a “January thaw”. Boy, really creates a mess, too.

This past summer, when we had to trench from the chicken water to lay the water line for the sheep, that meant disturbing a lot of the playa, the hard silica/sand crust that forms on the top of our soil.

We had snow at Christmas time, and I thought we’d be white until March, like last year. Well, that didn’t happen. We thawed.

You know what it’s like to trudge out twice a day in our boots? The mud is very slippery. The ground is frozen several inches down, so really, only the top couple inches of the playa have thawed.

For a while there was even standing water, thanks to a couple days of soaking rains. I felt so sorry for not only the horse, but the sheep and the chickens, too. When the dogs went out, they came in looking like little mud babies.

Sarah (my Finnish Spitz) hates the rain and the mud. She really doesn’t like getting her feet wet. She stands at the edge of the patio reaching out, but not quite touching the mud for a long time before finally getting desperate enough to brave the mud.

Now, Koda and Kiki just can’t wait for me to come in from the sheep pen. Not sure what the aroma is, but the taste is certainly irresistible. Their favorite time is when I settle into Bev’s big recliner and put my feet up, so they can reach my boots more easily.

Now, we’re awaiting another round of snow. This past week it’s been below freezing most of the time. We got that hay stack put down, but instead of rotating the hay, we just put the new stuff on the base of the old stack for now.

Then we moved a dozen bales up front for the sheep.

Our two boys, Algernon and Freezer (he’s really a wether) went to “ram camp” at the Davis farm today. Clyde and neighbor Bill came over to take charge of that operation. I horsed around with Freezer, trying to halter him, while Clyde lassoed  and haltered Algernon.

With me in the back of the pick up, the guys lifted the two boys up into the pickup bed. Clyde joined us, and off we went, to Clyde’s farm. The boys are joining his young ram for summer camp. That gives both our ewe flocks peace and quiet for lambing.

Not to mention… no more having to carry a big stick when you go into the sheep pen. Even Cindy couldn’t stay clear of Algernon.

Guess Bev and Cindy thought I either felt left out, or looked out of place, as I was the only one of us NOT to own a set of Dickie Bibs.

Now, you gotta know that around here, unless you’re wearing either jeans or bibs, you’re probably going to church or a funeral (generally at church). Well, I’ve got the jeans… and the boots, too. But, I didn’t have a set of bibs for that really serious farm work.

Finding bibs for me wasn’t exactly easy. You see, I’m portend (that’s fat)… and my waist is way bigger than my inseam, unlike most of the farmers around here. When it was all said and done, I ended up with bibs that were 4″ too long. Oh, Mommmm!

Well, just in time Mom got my new bibs hemmed up. Just in time, I say as we had ordered a stack of hay from one of the local farmers. So, on New Year’s Eve morning, the three of us donned our bibs so we’d at least look like we were farmers.

Now, last year, I learned all about this hay business. About two weeks after I got here, we had to go get hay. That was a 30 minute trip to Enterprise, back up to a barn, and wrestle, carry, turn, and otherwise cuss 12 bales up, and onto the Avalanche. At 120# a piece, these weren’t the bales I remembered as a kid.

Cindy would climb up on the stack, and kick the bales off so Bev and I could wrestle them to the back of the truck. Generally, we would stage the bales and wait for Cindy to get done knocking all twelve off the stack. She’s the only one among us that is the least bit comfortable climbing hay stacks.

Well, we’d cuss a lot, and somehow wrestle these bales to the back of the Avalanche and then have the usual argument about how to stack them. I’ve got no idea why we never took notes about how best to stack them. Within an hour, we’d have all 12 bales wrestled, stacked, and tied only to make the trip back to the farm, where we had to unload the hay.

With sheep here and horses there, we would somewhat divide the stack. We have a little utility trailer that provides hay storage, so we’d put four or five bales there, and then go to the little stable with the rest… knocking them off the truck, wrestling them through the door and finally into their final resting place.

Well, we’ve grown up a lot… Now, our hay gets delivered to us, 80 bales at a time. Our neighbor, Clyde has hooked us up with a couple of the local farmers who are happy to deliver as long as we’re willing to pay… You betcha!

So, here we are in our bibs (it’s cold outside) when Clyde and Steve arrive with the hay picker. We’ve already wrestled the remaining bales from our first stack out of the way. We’ve got about 12 bales left for the horses and 10 or so for the sheep (most already moved up to them).

Our job is now to stay out of the way… that’s it. We just stand and watch as they back the picker down the area between the corral and the round pen, and then stop and tip the stack carefully, back a little more and finally set the stack down. No muss, no fuss, no wrestling… just write the check!

Being women, we just felt that it wasn’t enough to pay for the hay… these guys had gone out of their way to help us… so, we got Mom to agree… Clyde, here’s some eggs for you. Steve, here’s some eggs for you. And, John, here’s some eggs for you. After all, our girls will give us more tomorrow.

Thursday, with the big storm coming in, Cindy and I hustled out to put the tarp over the top. Good thing she’s a “monkey” as she had to climb up on the roof (the back fence was in the right place). We tied baling twine to each grommet and then used all the possible leverage. Thankfully there was no wind, and the temps were slightly above freezing. It took us about 30 minutes, but we were in no hurry. Better to get it done right.

The stack isn’t as straight as we’d like and the tarp is a little crooked, but in a couple weeks, we’ll be ready to divide the stack… moving the top half to the empty space behind the new stack, so we can more easily feed the horses.

That day, I’ll be in my bibs again, as we’ll take the entire bottom layer, wrestle it onto the Avalanche (or maybe our “new” farm truck) and move it to the sheep. They don’t mind a bit of mud and mold. Then Cindy will go up the stack, and start rolling the bales off for Bev and me to put into position.

It’s been a while since I posted pictures of life here in our little corner of the world.

One of our most prized possessions is our digital camera. It’s not real fancy, and we’ve had it for more than a couple of years… but we use it to record the good times and the bad. Even as relaxed as life is here… we use the camera a lot. It’s a huge memory helper!

The last photo journal was of all the “get ready for winter” projects; the wood is cut and stacked, the ewe’s are bred, the horses have new and expanded shelter, the hay is in and covered… and the chickens… well, they’re happy in their home, giving us nearly a dozen and a half eggs every day.

So, here goes… when it’s winter in Beryl, life slows down a lot…

The first week in December, just after getting the decorations up, we had snow in the late
evening. I was the only one still in my boots… so, here are two very quick pictures taken during the snow and wind. Later in the month, we had “thunder snow”, and twice we had to bundle up and hustle out to shore up the nativity scene and get the trees upright.

What an amazing site, to have the wind blowing better than 40 mph, snow coming down sideways, hearing thunder and seeing lightening within just a second as the storm passed directly over our house.

Sunrises are beautiful every morning… but some mornings they’re better than others. And yes… it’s really as cold as it looks.

We have time for more leisurely breakfasts, and with plenty of farm-fresh eggs, French Toast is a family favorite. Throughout the year, we most always have one meal together each day. On the weekends, it’s breakfast, generally on Saturday.

“Mom” always makes sure there’s enough for all five dogs, once we’ve had our fill. Now, the dogs… well, anytime we’re (make that “Mom”) are (is) at the table, once the serious cutting of food begins, it’s time to line up for “bites from the fork”.

This is December in Beryl. The first snow has come, and the very bright sunlight returned… time for some awesome picture-taking. About the only trees that grow well are the Chinese Elms. We have a row to the north of our driveway, and next year will plant a row on the south and then to the north west of the house to provide wind protection for the horses, and sheep.

The other day, Cindy heard a little noise outside her open bedroom window. Lo and behold here’s a little Screetch Owl, who’s obviously looking for a warm spot. He let me get as close as I wanted to get his picture. We’re not sure, but we think he’s probably the same little owl we found a week later in our driveway, cold and dead after yet another snow storm. Close inspection revealed a broken wing… was it a critter, or did he fly into the truck? We’ll probably never know.

Christmas in Beryl is fun… Bev plays Santa Claus (ok, so she’s not exactly “santa”) for the Senior Center. I thought this was a cute picture of “Mom” with Santa. Funny how their tops nearly match.

This year we got really lucky and “Santa” came to visit the dogs… boy, were they impressed. As long as Santa had treats, they thought that was pretty awesome, but pictures? Come on… as Coco put it… “You’ve got to be kidding!”

Kiki, Koda and Sarah figured Santa smelled familiar enough to hang around, especially since there were treats involved… the lunch mouths!