Shari’s Gone Country

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!