Shari’s Gone Country

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.

Just after lambing, we began to hear that we’d want to kick up a project I’ve been working on for the past year or so. You see, shortly after Bev, Cindy and Mom arrived here in Utah back in 2005, they got wind of a really sweet “local government contract” that could become available at any time.

That’s actually one reason I joined them here. It’s a contract to provide food service for the Senior Citizen Center and Meals on Wheels in the neighboring county. The folks who have the contract now may be retiring by December. At least that’s been the consensus amongst the seniors.

We’d like to have that contract. So I’ve been preparing the full business plan, finding recipes, building menus and costing them out for the past couple of months. It’s quite a task.

Additionally, Bev and I are the relief cooks for the folks who hold the contract and we’ve been asked to fill in for them a couple times this spring, including the past week.

How’s the farm?

The lambs are growing up fast. Tuesday we’ll be loading up the ewe’s and lambs for a short trip to the neighbor’s farm. There, we’ll have the ewe’s sheared and then return home. Then it will be back to the neighbor’s to pick up our ram, who’s been enjoying “ram camp”.

We’ve begun work on the basement. By the time we’re done, we’ll have a full walk-in pantry, enclosed storage for all our extra “stuff”, an office, a family room, and I’ll finally get my own bedroom… No more sleeping on the hide-a-bed in the living room.

We’re also replacing the fascia and soffits starting with the back of the house. The front will wait until next year.

The greenhouse is up and loaded with plants. We built raised boxes for Mom. Now, that was a chore, indeed. As of now, we have tomatoes, egg plant, broccoli, spinach and some herbs planted. Mom also has some flowers waiting for it to stay warm enough at night so they can go to the front yard.

All the tulips have been removed (they’re being relocated), and that area is ready for other plants.

We’ve expanded our outdoor garden patch to include the area in front of the chicken coop. Last fall, we threw some pasture seed out there, but between the birds and the wind, the seeds never had a chance.

This year we’ve planted potatoes, onions and garlic. At least those are fairly “critter-proof”.

Next up will be the “tender” stuff, like carrots, beans, cucumbers, melons and squash. Between the weather and the critters, those crops have been a challenge for us.

Bev and I are going to a “food show” later this week, but hopefully I’ll find time to get new pictures of our little piece of paradise in the desert.

For the past two months, we’ve been getting ready for winter. The wood is chopped and stacked… in fact, some of it has been moved to our little front “patio area” under the carport overhang.

Today, we even bucked a bale of hay into the stable for use over the weekend. We’ve been working from under the blue tarp… You know… open the closest bale and pull books from it as necessary until it’s gone. We use about 9 books a day, and there are about 27 books in our bales… so we’ll have Friday, Saturday, and into Sunday covered.

The sheep are just fine… got three bales of hay within a short distance. The only problem is, it’s uncovered. So, the snow will be an issue… that’s life.

The chickens now have a heat lamp 24/7. We’re bringing in one of their 1-gallon waterer’s and rotating them morning and evening.

Bev works tomorrow and Mom is supposed to go with her to the Senior Center. I would be surprised if that plan changes, even though we’re expecting snow.

Last Saturday, we got three inches of snow in about an hour, just as Cindy and I were heading out to feed.

Bev and I had been watching the sky on our way home from Enterprise… it really looked mean. The closer we got to home, the meaner the sky got. I barely had time to tell Cindy “lets go feed now”.

I got to the chicken coop with their feed, when all of a sudden… the wind came up. I mean it shook the coop to the point the birds were startled. I had my winter coat on, but my cap and gloves were in my pockets.

So there I stood amongst all the birds clamoring for to get to their feeders, fumbling around trying to get my hat and gloves on… when Cindy trudged by, leaning into the wind to stay on her feet.

It was already sleeting… stinging our faces as we worked our way to the stable and the sheep pen. Within a minute or two, we were in a white out. The stable is about 400 feet from the house, and Cindy reported she couldn’t see the house from the stable.

I battled the wind to load hay into the sheep feeder(and get it to stay there), and to fill the water trough. Within just a couple minutes, our normally black sheep were light gray.

I retreated to the protection of the chicken coop and watched for Cindy… some 250 feet north of me, when all of a sudden… here came Bev. She and Mom were concerned that we wouldn’t find our way back to the house… the weather was that bad!

So, we’re ready for a repeat as once again the jet stream (and very cold air) is dipping down across SW Utah, and there’s a huge wet storm riding on the “Pineapple Express”. When these two collide over us… we get “heavy weather”, and that could result in snow.

The ski area a hundred or so miles east of us is expecting up to three feet of snow. They’ll be skiing in waist-deep powder!

It’s now Friday morning and I’m about to do something I’m not too sure about. What’s worse… I’m not the only one.

You see, Cindy is my chauffeur and she absolutely, positively hates driving in any kind of city traffic. Bev has to work, and there’s no way we’ll let her take time off and not get paid.

So, bright and early… as in blinding sun in our eyes, we begin the long drive from our little desert hideaway to St George, actually clear to the other end of it. Make that a distance of some 75 miles.

Until we get to the St George cut-off, the sun’s not too bad. Now, combine the rising sun (in the southeast sky) with a two-lane highway going through a mountain pass, and you’ve got a recipe for adventure. You can encounter deer, slow moving trucks, school buses stopped along side the road… even falling rocks.

Thankfully, all we encountered was a slow driver “Blondi in a Caddie” who was being overly cautious as she braved the pass.

Our directions were simple enough, just stay on the same road until after we cross over I-15 and pass the cow pasture. When we see llamas on the left, the driveway to the dental office is on the right.

After a quick stop at Starbucks… my first in nearly 10 months, we proceed to the dental office.

Now, this isn’t your normal well-stocked very modern office, where you know your bill will be three figures just for being there, let alone having anything done. No, this is a free clinic ($5.00 donation greatly appreciated). Since I don’t have any income, I qualify (not sure that’s a claim to fame, either).

It’s 10am and time to hop into the chair. No arm rests, the head rest doesn’t adjust… oh well, just open wide for a quick x-ray. Yes, the dental tech did have a lead-filled protective vest for my other vitals.

Problem confirmed, here comes the dentist. He’s a big ol’ boy… real cowboy looking. And, he starts jabbering from the time he enters the room.

After a bit of probing (kind of lancing the abscess) he says to the tech… No sense probing any more and creating more pain. Give me two full vials of Novacaine. He then explains to her (she’s really new) that when you’re working on the mandibula (guess that’s the lower jaw) you’re better off just to numb it to the max than do one now and one again later… Thanks Doc… I think.

She’s not getting the syringe loaded correctly and he’s afraid she’ll bend the needle so he reaches across my face and loads the damn thing right over me… Good thing I’m not squeamish.

Within 5 minutes, the whole right side of my face is totally numb, including my ear, and half-way down my neck. Doc returns again… this time he’s at least added a surgical mask. He’s still jabbering, though. I don’t even try to answer. After all, my mouth is wide open, there’s the little vacuum thingy, and his fingers all in my mouth.

One probe, a request for something called a “cow horn” that has been stored in a sterile plastic baggy, a quick twist, and suddenly, the tech is stuffing a big piece of gauze in my mouth and telling me to bite down.

“All done”, she says.

Total time in the chair, less than 20 minutes… no fuss, no muss, not even any pain.

So, what was Doc jabbering about? He wants to hunt some “legal” prairie dogs. Most are protected in Utah.

Even though I couldn’t open my mouth, Cindy joins in the chat and we kill another 15 minutes talking about where he’s from… Wyoming, has two other brothers who are also dentists. He even had a dental office in one of the towns I spent my toddler years in… Wheatland.

Two days later, most of the swelling (abscess) has gone away. The antibiotic is killing whatever infection is there. My system is surviving nicely, thanks to an understanding “family”.

Mom even made meatloaf yesterday, with mashed potatoes, gravy, and well-cooked cauliflower. She’s made jello for me, as well as shared some of her tea.

Unless plans have changed… I think I have to “grow up” to real food tonight. I heard hamburgers are on the menu, and I don’t want to get left out.