The rains have come. The temperatures have dropped and it is time to get ready for new little wooly creatures. We tagged (or cruched) all of the ewes a week ago, getting there back ends and bellies cleaned up and ready for delivery.  I administered C&D as well as a preventative dose of Noromycin. The pens are clean and ready. The doctoring cabinet is stocked with iodine, baby aspirin, scissors, retainers, puller, and boot socks. I have emergency colostrum in the freezer and a small bag of milk replacer, nipples and bottles on hand.  

The first two ewes in the flock should lamb this week, and then the rest of the herd will follow the next week. We’ll see how good the numbers are. Last year we were one week behind schedule. We’ll be keeping an eye on the ewes’ feet, as they seem to get more sore as they gain weight and get closer to lambing. We had two limpers this weekend, but there were no visible signs of rot or scald.  

The same could not be said of my yearling ewes whose feet I trimmed on Friday. Several of them were over grown and had signs of foot rot. Our wet weather makes foot rot a prevalent problem in our herd. It didn’t help that we had a ram with a severe foot issue. He’s been culled. I trimmed the young ewes feet back into shape, opened up pockets of rot to the air and dosed them with iodine.  We’ll see if these ewes are going to have chronic foot problems. If so, they will be culled before they are bred next summer.  

We chose not to breed our yearlings this year. We make that decision yearly. Mostly the decision is based on the size of the lambs at breeding time. These ewes were small, so they’ll get an extra year of growth before having their own lambs. We could have bred them for spring lambs, but I don’t like to drag my lambing season out that long. I want to be able to lamb for a month and be done.  

The next question I’ve been contemplating is bummers – as in whether or not I will subject myself to that sort of chaos. To some extent that decision may be taken out of my hands (i.e. if one of my own sheep can’t care for her baby.) What I’m debating is whether I will actively search out bummers for a little flock here at the house. As Hubby says, “You can’t just have one and if you have two you might as well have ten.”  My own caveat to that is that six is about the most I want to have at any one time.  

I have welded wire panels for a pen and plywood for a little shelter should we end up with some orphan lambs. We always keep supplies on hand for such an event. So I might just as well resign myself to it, embrace it and start building a pen.   

 

We sipped cold water on a hot porch as we swatted flies. Guinea hens raced through the yard shouting their protest.

“Where do they sleep?” I asked the farmer’s wife. 

“What? I can’t hear you, the guinea hens are too loud!” 

“I said WHERE DO THEY SLEEP? I DON’T SEE A COOP!” 

The noise faded as the pack passed.  

“Oh them. They sleep in the trees. Every once in a while a fox gets them, but they’re sturdy.” 

So much to learn. So much to do. 

Tom and I visited a family that raised a little bit of everything. A “whole farm,” they call it. We looked down the necks of llamas who guarded sheep. Goats nipped at our heals and cows grazed on a hill far away. 

To say that this retired cop from New York and his wife did a little of everything would be an understatement.  

Goat soap, goat milk, beef, sheep.  

I’m exhausted just thinking of it. 

Gruesome though their schedule was, they loved it. 

I think we’re gonna love it, too. 

Here’s to 2013 in North Carolina staring up at a blue sky framed with majestic poplars. 

Happy New Year! 

  

To me, the whole idea of homesteading is making the most use of what you've got.  That means using up the scraps.  We were recently gifted with some fatty cuts of mutton.  Though I'm not a big fan of sheep meat, I don't mind it once in awhile.  Before I packaged them for the freezer, I cut off as much of the fat as I could, leaving just a bit for flavor when I get ready to cook each portion.  I piled all the fat in the crock pot, there was just enough to fill it, added a bit of water and let it heat all day on high.  I let it continue to melt on low overnight, then skimmed out the chunks that didn't melt and set them aside for the dogs.  The rest of the fat I put in a kettle in the fridge to cool and wait until I had time for the next step.

A few days later, after I got caught up with some other chores, I got out the kettle of fat and remelted it.  I heated my canning jars in the oven and got out my funnel, cheesecloth and ladle.  After cooling the fat for about 20 minutes, I strained it through the cheesecloth lined funnel into the canning jars.  Since I am not planning on using this lard for cooking, I just applied some clean, used lids and let the jars seal themselves.  I now have 3 quarts of lovely white sheep fat, with no offensive odor.  My first project will be some laundry soap, but that will have to wait until after the holidays.

  

Laundry soap is always a good way to use up scraps of bar soap or liquid soap and shampoo you have lying around.  I've made several different kinds of homemade laundry soap over the years, but my latest batch seems to have the best cleaning power yet.

Here's the formula:

2 pounds homemade soap ends and scraps, shredded in food processor or blender

2 gallons water

1 cup borax

1 cup sodium carbonate

Put all ingredients in a large stock pot and heat until soap scraps are completely melted.  Cool before pouring into old laundry soap containers.  If cooled mixture thickens too much, add hot water until liquid again.  I keep my mixture fairly liquid and use 1 cup per load of wash, with a little extra sodium carbonate added.  I have very hard water, and my whites are whitening back up again with this soap and no bleach.  I do add about a cup of lemon juice to the whites.

That is today's use-it-up tip from Mrs. D's Homestead.  For more on homesteading, homeschooling and simple living, please drop by the website Mrs. D's Homestead, or the blog Around The Homestead.

Many people believe sheep are inherently stupid.  Farmers, for example, will readily recount numerous supportive examples.

But Osiris was different.

  

Perhaps it was because he was hand-reared; or maybe a god of the underworld was truly reborn in his woolly little coat. Whichever: Osiris sported his name long before we inherited him and his three lovely ladies. All were complimentary additions to our 2.5 acres and house purchase, but those innocent eyes and the dumb-sounding limited ‘Language of Baa’ belied a truly clever, evil heart (as we were soon to discover the hard way.)

We fed Osiris daily (even though he theoretically had 2.5 acres of grazing material at hoof.)  He loved eating plums from our hands; but as the seasoned and gristly Farmer Jones (of the neighboring pasture) observed wisely: “Sheep is dumb. They’ll ‘et almost anything. No need to waste yr good plums on the likes of ‘em.”  I took the hint and Farmer Jones succumbed to a beer and several bags of plums, promising to ‘watch over the place’ as we planned our first two-week getaway since new home ownership.

Funny how sometimes you can smell trouble a mile away.  Or perhaps it was the unusual glare of the neighbors when we came home, or the lack of usually-friendly waves (um – was that a wave, or The Finger?  Naw – everyone in our hamlet had been more than friendly two weeks ago – and we’d been gone, so there wasn’t enough time to antagonize anyone, much less an entire town.)

The answering machine message from Farmer Jones was matter-of-fact and yielded the first clue.

“Yr sheep,” he opened, “been gettin’ out and ‘et up half the gardens in town.”

We raced to the window only to observe the usual pastoral scene: four sheep grazing peacefully in the Back 40 opposite our bedroom.

The Peanut Gallery walked the fence lines and determined there were NO breaks; and so I called Farmer Jones to verify that the perps could not be ours: everyone knows sheep can’t unlock and relock gates, and our teeny flock most certainly resided safely behind bars – as they had when we’d left town.

But Farmer Jones was adamant – as was Mrs. McGillicutty next door, a Mrs. Markle (whom we had yet to officially meet – but her disembodied phone voice definitely held an unpleasant edge as she described a wanton midnight raid on her organic veggies), and the abrasive Mr. Shorts, who opened his message with talk of his NRA membership and the inherent rights of all Americans to not only bear arms, but shoot (and perhaps even consume!) midnight trespassers in wool coats. Apparently our unlisted phone number had been making the rounds of the town, compliments of the sometimes-too-friendly Farmer Jones.

Visits to the message-leavers (once I gleaned actual addresses from Farmer Jones, as we had yet to actually MEET AND GREET any neighbors) produced the uniform observation that positive i.d. of the perps was verified by a committee of insomniac eyewitnesses-turned-vigilantes. And uncovered the sordid truth: that apparently the perps could be quickly fingered because Osiris had a long-standing reputation around town as an expert jail breaker.

Puzzled, TPG again ‘walked the line’ and returned to report NO breaks in the fences.

If it’s one thing I know well (from my voluminous mystery novel reading), it’s that a successful perp WILL return to the scene of his crime – to gloat, if not to repeat the (easy) sin.

We’d been back a week when TPG was awakened at midnight by loud, overconfident (and suspiciously joyful) baaing. Having already formulated his dragnet, he had only to grab a flashlight and leap into clothes to embark on a private investigation while I slept like a baby (I’d been up late again … counting sheep…)

Under the light of the moon he observed the impossible: our ‘sheep proof’ fence went in back of the sheep barn, around a fallen cypress, and continued into the 2.5 acre horizon.  Emerging from the cypress like woolly white ghosts led by The Devil Himself was a perp and three sidekicks who struggled under and through a hitherto-unknown fence break almost directly beneath the fallen cypress.

Unwilling to risk a rambunctious roundup on gopher-hole-pocketed fields at midnight, he watched helplessly as Osiris carefully led his gang of girls wantonly down our driveway, ignoring hissed warnings of future punishment in favor of a personal inspection of Mrs. Field’s new gladiola beds.

The next morn as TPG excitedly revealed the results of his investigation, I looked out the window and advised gently that he’d obviously had a sheepmare: all four sheep could be seen in our pasture, sitting around burping (…TPG said they were ‘chewing cud’ – but I knew better!)

Since it was obviously impossible (“…sheep are too stoopid…”) for them to return unassisted, ‘twas he who was obviously (and I quote) “nuts.”

I made him investigate the matter more closely and he returned pale and wild-eyed, his faith in his ‘summers on a farm in Vermont, so I know all about the habits of sheep and cows’ shaken.

The cypress had fallen, Farmer Jones later informed us, several years ago.  It had collapsed a portion of the fence, but at the time an inspection had ascertained that the huge tree effectively formed a barrier “no sheep could penetrate”, so no fence rebuild (or tree removal) was deemed necessary.

What wasn’t entered into the equation was two years of stealthy sheep struggles to widen a tiny gap between tree and fence – and the effects of waaay two much time on one’s hooves.  Copious amounts of wool attached to the now-sheep-sized hole told the story: our “stoopid sheep” Osiris had systematically widened his escape hatch over a period of years of patient unconnect-the-dots, led his ladies on regular raids of the town’s gardens, then led them back, satiated, so at dawn they could be observed innocently burping the day away on Mrs. Fields’ prize-winning glads, Mrs. Markle’s zucchini, and other dietary supplements to boring old grass.

The fence was fixed and a town apology was issued by way of mailbox flyer sporting a photo of a slyly smiling (he still had his teeth at the ripe old age of ten) Osiris and the caption: “Perp Apprehended/Town finally SAFE.”

And you know what?

Nobody believed us!

We City Slickers must’ve left the gate open, or unlocked.

‘Cause everyone knows sheep are stoopid…. 

  

"Yeah, you just go on believing that while I eat your Glads!"

Our house is one of those that nobody comes to the front door unless they’re selling something or trying to change my religion. Everyone knows to come around back. So when there was a knock last week my first reaction was – Oh no, a lamb’s out again. Now, I just have to say that since the police officer episode, we haven’t had any lamb issues. But when I went to the door the conversation with the stranger went something like this.  

“Are those your sheep over there?”  

“Let me guess, one of them is . . .”  

Pluto the lamb comes barreling up on the front porch and jumps on me almost making it into the living room.  

“Little Man, get my shoes.”  

“It can come in.”  

“Get my shoes.” As Pluto is clambering up my front trying to find a bottle.  

“Just bring it through the house.”  

“GET MY SHOES NOW!” I think the reporting party backed away slowly to a safe point and then started running. I threw a "Thank you" at his retreating back.  

“Which shoes do you want?”  

“I don’t care.” Did I mention that the reason the lamb was out was because it was blowing about 30 mph and I’m standing on the front porch in my t-shirt with a wet lamb doing its best to dry itself on me?  

The shoes finally arrived and I packed Pluto out to the pen. The wind was blowing the tarp roof of the pen violently, thereby lifting the corner of the pen enough that Pluto was able to walk right out. I put Pluto in his pen, grabbed a t-post and drove it into the ground. Got some tie-wire out of the shop and wired the corner of the pen down. I also did some reinforcing around the pen so it would hold up a little better in the wind. The nighbors just gotta love us.  

By the time I was done, I was soaked. I went to go in the house and the door was locked. I beat on the door in the sideways rain. Finally little man came and unlocked it.  

He laughs. “How come you didn’t come in the front door? It’s unlocked.”  

Grrrr.  

That’s it! I’ve finally done it – I tore apart the kitchen.  I refuse to live with ugly cabinets and carpet on the floor for any longer. I’ve been living with this kitchen for six years, hoping to save enough money to put in new cabinets and flooring. I can no longer cope, so I’m taking matters into my own hands. With my son in tow, I went off to the paint department and picked out every color that remotely looked good to me. We’ve had the new flooring sitting in our shop for about four years, so I pulled out a sample piece and evaluated my paint chips. About half of them went by the wayside immediately.  After further review I picked out three colors – one for the ceiling and trim, one for the walls and cabinets, and one for an accent.  

Day 1: I took before pictures. But I can’t find my camera in the disaster that is now my kitchen. I removed all the doors from the cabinets. Little Man gladly wielded a screwdriver and removed all of the handles off the doors. Together we took off the hinges. I’m undecided as to whether I’ll reuse them, so they’re in a bag in the shop (I think.) One coat of paint on the ceiling.  

Day 2: Second coat of paint on the ceiling. Used Elmer’s wood glue to fill screw holes on the doors. Whoever originally installed the hinges and pulls was really inept. Every single piece of hardware has two sets of holes! Sanded the doors lightly. This is a necessary but relatively quick step with a sander. My cabinets have a varathane finish, and if this isn’t scuffed up a little, the paint won’t stick. Trust me, I’ve learned this the hard way. Take the extra time and sand the doors!!! Hubby removed baseboard heaters and disconnected wiring at the thermostat. This took some time as the fuse for the heaters wasn’t labeled. A lot of flipping breakers and testing wires until we found the right one.  

Day 3: Put a coat of primer on the doors. Also sanded the exposed faces of the cabinets in the kitchen. One coat of primer on the cabinets. While I was painting, there was this loud pounding sound. I immediately accused Little Man, but found him playing quietly between the fridge and the dining room table. Peering down the hallway I see a city police officer at the front door. I crawl over the kitchen drawers and oven drawer that are stacked in the hallway and unlock the front door.  

“Hello?”  

“Hello, ma’am, are you missing a lamb?”  

“Oh crap. Probably.”  

“It’s over on First Street.”  

Who was it that thought bummer lambs would be a good idea? Oh right, that was me. Little Man, Hubby and I trot three blocks and stop to listen. I hear the lamb. Sure enough, here it comes around the corner, running for all it’s worth down the street chased by a police cruiser. It sees me and briefly thinks about seeking refuge. It then thinks better of it and veers wildly through somebody’s front yard, across the street and into a driveway. The officer whips his car into the alley and cuts the lamb off. It then runs into an open shop that is filled to capacity with junk. At this point, the officer, Little Man, Hubby and I are able to corner it.  

I thank the officer profusely, tuck the lamb under my arm and begin my walk of shame home. At the corner, I see two kids in a window smiling and waving.  I wave back. The officer pulls up beside me and rolls down the window, he’s smiling. “Eight years, and this is a first for me.”  

Sunny the Convict went in the shop until we got her some friends and did a little troubleshooting on the pen. I finished my priming.  

Day 4: As yet, no escaping lambs and I’ve got two coats of actual paint on the cabinets in the kitchen. On my doors I want to try a technique where I paint a dark color underneath and a lighter color on top, and then sand through the top coat so that the darker color comes through. I got my dark color on a test door and will try the whole process before starting on the other twenty or so doors. I also think I need a third coat of paint on the ceiling. I’m still debating. Also need to find the camera. Hmmm.  

To be continued…  

 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard someone say, “Sheep are so stupid, they’re just looking for a place to die.” I know some people that own sheep that absolutely hate them, and their flocks look terrible. Other shepherds I know have huge flocks that may not get a lot of individual attention, but they thrive none-the-less. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s about the attitude of the shepherd, not the sheep. 

There is no doubt about it – sheep require a lot of work. But more than the physical work of trimming feet and shearing and doctoring, it requires a lot of attention paid. I believe sheep are creatures of habit. Just like Pavlov’s dogs, they can be trained to come when you rattle the can of corn or (in my case) drive up the driveway.

We live in town and while we’ve been known to have bummers in the yard (none yet this year!) we don’t as a general rule keep sheep at our house. Instead I worked out an arrangement with a long-time family friend where I do the noon lamb check duty during the week while she’s at her “real” job in exchange for our sheep bunking in with hers. 

For the first few days I had to call the sheep to the barn or send the dog after them. About one week into lambing season, I saw the sheep pick up on the pattern. The driveway goes right next to the field where the pregnant ewes are grazing. I drive up the driveway, go to the house to get the dog and supplies and walk to the barn. When I drive by, their heads are perked up and paying attention. By the time I get to the barn, the fat old girls are making their way through the barnyard gate and waiting for me at the manger. I call that knowing where your bread is buttered – not stupid.

I think that a lot of shepherding is teaching the sheep habits and getting rid of the animals that are trouble makers. For instance I’m a firm believer in getting rid of animals that go through fences or jump panels – these are my pet peeves. Once a sheep goes through a fence whether it’s electric or otherwise they will continue to do so and teach others the bad habit as well. So unless you plan on doing a lot of fence building, it’s easier just to get rid of that animal.

So far it’s been a quiet lambing season – the biggest excitement for me was to milk a ewe and feed her lamb who didn’t seem to be thriving. I gave him a little dextrose to perk him up and it seems to have been a miracle cure. Little Man really wants some lambs at home – I’m really hoping we don’t have to go that route, but we’ll see what the future holds. Happy lambing to you!
 

Yesterday was a really exciting day for us here at ANS Farms. It was our first official “sheep visit” since we began raising katahdin last summer. We had a wonderful time with a very nice older couple interested in raising a few sheep of their own. During our conversation, the question was asked “How many animals do you have here?” Hmm… well, we had to sit and think on that awhile!

We don’t just do one thing here, but a little bit of just about everything. Which reminds me, I have been asked “Why Confessions of a Cracked Egg?” Apparently, I have never explained the origins of our blog title. Last year we needed to build our poultry flock. We started here with just 7 hens, not even a rooster. So in March we purchased a pure bred barred rock rooster and six more hens. Then we purchased some Narragansett turkeys. By April we were continuously running the incubator, doing as many as 108 eggs at a time of both chicken and turkey. Our friends thought we were crazy, our family just laughed. One day a Facebook friend posted a quote on my page that just about summed me up. “A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.”- Bernard Meltzer. This made me laugh, and just seemed a perfect fit for our blog!

So lets do a run down of exactly what all we have here these days. I’ll start with our family. One year ago when we were just starting our farming adventure there was myself, my husband Andrew, our oldest daughter Macey, and our son William. In October, our third child Cierra was born. Here they all are in their first group photo. Macey is now 6, William will be 5 next month, and Cierra is almost 3 months old.

  

So as I think you can guess I have a fondness for poultry. Our original hens were all cinnamon queens. Now, the majority of our chicken flock is barred rock. We still have those cinnamon queens today, with a few of their barred rock cross offspring which hatched out white. Our chicken total today is 23 hens, 7 roosters. Here are our original “Golden Girls” and the barred rock rooster.

  .

Besides the chickens, we also have 7 guineas. These were purchased to eat the potato bugs off our plants last year, and they did so quit efficiently! I was impressed by how well they ate all the bugs in the garden without damaging the plants. We have 5 royal purple guineas and 2 lavenders. The lavenders are by far my favorite, the royal purple remind me to much of a vulture. I would like to eventually replace the purples with more of the lavenders.

  

In the fall of 2010 GRIT featured a beautiful turkey on the front of their magazine. I was struck by the beauty of that bird, and began investigating different heritage breeds of turkey. Andrew and I decided to try the Narragansett turkey first. Our first purchase was supposed to be 3 hens and a tom. However as they grew we discovered we had 2 of each. They just became old enough to breed this past month, and we have their first eggs in our incubator now! Unfortunately, last week one of our hens wandered to close to our Poland China boar Boss. Boss Hog had himself a 30 pound snack before dinner. Hopefully some of these eggs will be hens! Last summer we found a local man advertising fertile turkey eggs. He raised Bourbon Reds, another heritage breed and the second breed we were interested in raising. We ended up with 108 eggs, and only had 11 hatch from that run. Of those 11, only 1 bird lived to maturity. Not the success we were hoping for! So today we have 3 Narragansett turkeys and one lonely Bourbon Red. Since the death of our other hen, both turkey toms have decided to compete for the attention of the remaining girl. Here they are having a gobbling match.

   

When we went last year to purchase our barred rock flock from a poultry hatchery we took both kids along. They saw some baby crested ducks, and just had to have a pair. We brought home Donald and Daisy that evening. Six months later, we discovered Donald and Daisy were really Donald and Daffy. These boys were hilarious, and pretty sweet creatures. Unfortunately, Daffy was killed by a hawk just a few weeks ago, leaving us with one pretty lonely Donald Duck.

   

So that makes a total of 42 total birds we have here now. We are hoping to double our number of laying hens and turkeys this year. I’m also looking for a female companion for poor Donald.

As for the four-legged farm critters we have plenty of those as well! Our largest stock here are Momma and Baby donkey. Momma and Baby are livestock guardians who purchased from a cattle and goat operation. They are both very sweet with humans, and deadly to dogs! We have seen them many times charge fence rows and make a huge commotion when neighborhood dogs have attempted to run the fence row. Last month Momma Donkey bent a twenty foot section of fence nearly in half after a pack of five dogs began digging and barking at the fence. While we weren’t very happy to have to repair the fence, we were thankful that the dogs did not get in to the birds, their obvious target after finding one dead bird outside the fence. Momma and Baby are both bred to deliver this summer. We bred them to a nice gaited donkey stud that belongs to a neighbor.

   

That is Momma and Eeyore visiting for the first time. Not long after this we had to put up hay in the barn that sits in their pasture. We discovered that donkeys REALLY like jelly beans. Only when you run out, they try to come through the window for more!

   

Our main livestock operation here is sheep. We started with a few different kinds of hair sheep. Of those, we have three left. Barbie is a full blooded Barbados ewe. Her daughter Annie (born on our Anniversary) is a Barbados and katahdin cross. Then there is Paint, she is a full blooded painted desert sheep. In late summer of last year we added a registered herd of katahdin hair sheep to the flock. We have 7 ewe’s and 1 stud. Our favorite in this flock is Lil’ Red, our only red katahdin. Red John, our stud and Old Lady (the oldest in the flock) are also characters. All of our katahdin have been pretty easy keepers so far, not to difficult to catch or handle and seemingly resistant to the foot rot problems we were having with the other breeds. All but two of our girls are bred to deliver in the next 30 days. We can’t wait to have a pasture full of babies! This is our first year lambing, and we are all pretty excited. Our current sheep total is 11 head.

    

These girls are either pregnant, or they each swallowed a barrel!

  

This past fall we added a few pigs to the farm in an effort to clear our garden areas in a productive and environmentally friendly way. We currently have 2 Poland x Chester cross slaughter pigs we are growing out, 2 registered Poland China breeding pigs, and 2 Poland x York cross females for breeding. Our first piglets should be born sometime in March. That’s another first for us! We don’t know much about pigs yet, and are doing a lot of learning as we go so this should be quit the experience! Here are our two newest sows, Daisy Duke and Ellie May right after arriving here in October.

   

Besides livestock we also have three dogs. Two of our dogs are registered redbone coonhounds. Both are show and hunt dogs. Andrew used to raise and train dogs for show and hunt. Since moving here though we have sold his other dogs just keeping these two, our favorites. Sweets is our young female, and Digit our male. Digit is the kids favorite hound ever. He’s pretty easy to handle, and William has been able to show him since he was three years old. Here he is at a show when he was three with “his” dog Digit.

   

Then there is Tucker. Tucker is a Brittany and Springer Spaniel crossed house dog we got in May. When we moved here, we had a Wheaton Terrier female named Lucy. Lucy was our family mascot, the kids best friend, and a joy to our household. She was a very talented dog that was able to climb six foot ladders, go down ten foot slides, sled in the snow, and do many other tricks. Shortly after moving here our new neighbors son shot and killed Lucy for running across their yard one day. She had never been over there before, and we did not realize she had wandered off until it was to late. The kids were devastated, and we were all upset over the loss. Tucker was a gift from Andrew’s mother to the kids, an attempt to give something back to them that they had lost. While he will never be Lucy, Tucker is a sweet pup.. Most of the time!

   

So back to the question of how many of what we have here on the farm. Looks like we are currently at 3 kids, 30 chickens, 4 turkeys, 7 guineas, 1 duck, 2 donkeys, 11 sheep, 6 pigs and 3 dogs. For now. Can’t wait to do an end of summer inventory in a few months! We are expecting February lambs, March piglets, June and July donkeys, and chicks all spring and summer long. The kids have also asked Daddy for two kittens, which he promised they can have now that we have two barns built. Who knows what else will make it's way onto the farm this year. Guess we'll just have to wait and see.

Real farmers know it is best not to anthropomorphize, in other words to assign human characteristics to the animals in their care. The animals are only livestock and should be treated as such; real farmers don’t need to put a lot of thought into animal behavior. Real farmers are able to go about their day uninterrupted and accomplish their tasks in an expedient manner. I am not a real farmer. I know this because when I come across certain scenes in the barnyard I have to stop, scratch my head and ponder what on earth is going on.

   

Do you suppose she is in time-out? Or maybe they were all playing hide and seek and she’s about to yell out, “Ready or not here I come!”

Real farmers don’t form unnatural relationships with their livestock. They don’t have a favorite hen that will sit in their lap to be petted and discuss religion, politics or relationships at great length. I consider it chicken therapy.

 

Real farmers never see their livestock as children. They don’t get involved in the interpersonal relationships; they only worry about things like providing food, water and healthcare. I, on the other hand, seem to get dragged into it often.   

 

 "Peter won't let me in the barn again," said Frankie.

   

"Why won't you let Frankie in the barn, Peter?" I asked.

"Because he won't say the secret password," he replied. 

   

"Well there you have it, Frankie. Say the secret password."

"But I don't want to. It's stupid."

"Just humor him, Frankie."

"Okay fine. Little pig, little pig, let me in." 

     

"Nope. Not by the hair of my chiny, chin, chin." 

   

"See! I told you!" 

     

"Stop being a jerk and let me in."

No, I am certainly not a real farmer. And you know what? I'm glad. I have to believe being a real farmer would be awfully boring.

Christine Byrne lives on a small farm in rural Indiana where she takes care of chickens, sheep, alpacas, llamas and whatever else meanders through. You can read more about her farming adventures at www.frontporchindiana.blogspot.com .  

Mary Steves of Escalon, California, a senior at Escalon High School in Escalon and member of the Escalon FFA Chapter, conducted research comparing the immune responses of Barbados Blackbelly hair sheep and Suffolk crossbred sheep to gastrointestinal nematodes. Her study concluded that hair sheep produce a greater immune response. Now this research has also won her top honors.

Steves was named Agriscience Student of the Year Friday at the 84^th National FFA Convention during an onstage ceremony and was presented with a scholarship.

“Knowing there is a difference in resistance, future studies may include performing the same research on offspring from a cross of hair sheep with typical wool-type sheep breeds European in origin, such as the Suffolk, which would hopefully generate data that might be useful for sheep producers looking to increase parasite resistance and decrease losses from parasite infections by a more practical and more economical means through crossbreeding,” she said.

Steves is currently serving as the 2011-12 California Association FFA state secretary and after high school plans to attend California State University at Chico and major in animal science. She is the daughter of Lisa and Rob Steves, and her FFA advisors are Jennifer Terpstra, Stacy Ingalls and Bruce Campbell.

The National FFA Agriscience Student of the Year program recognizes high school students who, through scientific research and reasoning, find creative solutions to challenges within the field of agriculture. Eight national finalists are selected for the student of the year award. Those competing to win the honor develop hypotheses, conduct research and develop theories pertaining to an agricultural issue and report findings to a panel of judges with a detailed application, written report, display, presentation and an interview.

To qualify for the honor, FFA members must be a junior or senior in high school or a freshman in college majoring in an agriculture-related field and heir research must have been initiated while in high school.

The National FFA Agriscience Student of the year is sponsored by Monsanto as a special project of the National FFA Foundation.

Formerly known as Future Farmers of America, the National FFA Organization provides agricultural education to more than 540,379 student members in grades seven through 12 who belong to one of 7,489 local FFA chapters throughout the U.S., Puerto Rico and the Virgin Islands.

This press release is presented without editing for your information. GRIT does not recommend, approve or endorse the products and/or services offered. You should use your own judgment and evaluate products and services carefully before deciding to purchase. 

Farm to fork ... pasture to plate ... no matter how it is dressed up with attractive alliterations, eating meat involves the demise of what is being eaten. It happens all the time, breakfast, lunch and dinner, in the animal kingdom, in the human realm. That most of us are completely removed from any experience of what life and death is like for the meat we eat speaks to the reason we have massive monoculture factory farms in this country. If we knew the whole story of each item of food on our plates, I believe we would make more sustainable, health supporting choices.

Three weeks ago my fiance, Matt, joined Dan (the sheep herder I intern for) and myself on a work day sorting lambs. Matt purchased a market lamb back in May. A market lamb is a sheep that is younger than one year old, generally a castrated male. It could also be a female whose genetics a farmer doesn't want contributing to their future flock. A market lamb is also by definition destined for the dinner table. By late September Matt's lamb weighed 90lbs and was 'finished.' Finish is the amount of fat cover on the animal and is decided most easily by feeling the loin area on each lamb.

 

We sorted all the lambs; those under 90lbs got to go back out to pasture. Those over 90lbs were loaded in the trailer and taken to the nearest lamb processing facility about 55 miles away in Dixon.

The next week, we picked up our meat, a freezer full and seasons worth of roasts, racks and chops.

 

It might be crass to show these pictures. But in this case, the truth is a bit crass. The transition of living animal to "meat" is a reality many eaters shy away from. My point is, I know my dinner's story, from when and where it was born, to where it grazed and lived, to where it eventually met its end. I know it had a pleasant life in a sun soaked pasture, plenty to eat and drink and was well cared for. It is also one of the most local and sustainable options I could choose for my dinner. The purchase of this meat will hopefully help a small-scale, local farmer stay in the business of feeding his community.

I realize not everyone cares to be this involved in the preparation of their dinner but I hope you care enough about what you eat to find out where your food is coming from...check out a co-op, visit a farmer's market, join a CSA and ask some questions!

Number 9 – It is possible to back up a large truck with a sheep cage in the back down a very narrow dirt road without bringing harm on truck, person, animal or environment (you do end up with sweaty palms though).
 

Number 8 – Setting up electric fence in parched, rocky earth takes a long time, a mallet, a good hat and some personal fortitude.
 

Number 7 – A tired shepherd and a determined intern can lift a large, sick ewe up a hill and into a truck – just barely.

Number 6 – An unexpected ladybug colony at first appears creepy, but makes your heart smile when you realize they are gentle ladybugs and not giant, pinching ants.

Number 5 – Blackberry bush stalks continue to reach out to rip your skin and clothes to shreds, even after sheep have relieved them of their leaves.

Number 4 – Crowding sheep remind me of what it feels like at the Outside Lands concert.

More than one similarity to sheep

Number 3 – Very important – DON'T open the gate unless you know the plan or Dan the shepherd tells you it's ok.

Number 2 – If you open said gate without a plan or ok and sheep make a run for the hills, two clever border collies and a confident shepherd can fix your mistake pretty quick.

Number 1 – Farming is an incredibly difficult profession that at times offers very little reward.

This weekend felt like a dose of reality to mix in with my idealized farming ambitions. Farming is physically, mentally and emotionally taxing and doesn't always provide the financial return desired for time, effort and labor put in. I can't help wondering, am I cut out for this? Can I be successful at this? Should I scale down my aspirations?

By late summer most small farmers in this area are run ragged from a long, hot season of watering, feeding, protecting and harvesting whatever their farm is producing. We can show our support for them by buying from them at farmers markets, sure, but what are some more ways we can show support and appreciation for our local farmers? The Sacramento Natural Foods Co-op has a program to raise money for local producers and to preserve future farmland; it's called Once Farm at a Time. If any farmers are reading, what are some ways in which you would appreciate support from your community?

 

 

Come, sip your morning coffee and join us for our morning chores.

 

Today I'm going to share with you what this mornings chores were like here on Dream Come True Farm. This is what I love about having a family farm. I have shown you what we do here now its time to meet some of the critters that help our farm be a success.

  

And meet my two favorite farm hands. 

 

With camera in hand I followed my husband Mike and Grandson Luke out into the barn yard this morning to do chores. Luke spends 2 days a week with us here on the farm and when Mike is not working his phone company job he enjoys doing chores with Luke.

  

So we start with clean up from the night before. We clean each morning and each night here. Then we wash out and freshen all water buckets making sure there is plenty of clean fresh water for everyone, especially in the heat. While we clean up we have a chance to visit with all the animals which is my favorite part.

  

They stand patiently watching us clean, some coming over for a pat or scratch. Its always quiet in the mornings here so chores are relaxing.

  

 

Luke finds repairs that he thinks need tending to, so he tackles whatever it is that needs his attention!

  

 

After clean up we feed hay to everyone!  They all settle into their spot and begin munching on the hay, eating for around 3 hours or so. Then its a drink a water, find a shaded spot and nap. Napping goes on all day on and off, on and off. You can see who else is going in for a nap. Luke worked hard all morning, now I guess he'll find a shaded spot and catch a few zzzz's himself.

 

I love having him join us out on the farm for chores.  Evening comes and we repeat the chores around 6:00-7:00 pm. Not so bad right? I find it very enjoyable and relaxing.

I'm not sure what I'd do without at least a few animals on our farm. I think about that as I age, but I imagine I'll always have something here, even if it's just a few.

I hope you enjoyed your morning with us on the farm. Now its off to the fiber room for some wool work!      Pam

Well its been a rainy spring here in Connecticut! Not too enjoyable for the farm animals, but the good news is the gardens have taken off and are doing extremely well. I'm very happy about that.

During the rainy period I spent a lot of time inside so I decided to take advantage and do some mystical fiber blends with wool and other fibers to spin. I have my own drum carder, which is a tool that blends fiber together by brushing them smooth all into one direction. It's a lot of fun to do my own batt blends. I call them mystery batts because you never know what fiber will turn up in them. You may find any of the following, alpaca fiber, sheep wool, silk, soy, angora bunny wool, angora goat locks and maybe even tiny colored threads all cut up to add character.

Most of the batts are OOAK (one of a kind), SO the past few weeks I worked on the following batts and CraZy handspun yarns to be sold in my farm shop or on my line Etsy shop to knitters and spinners. The following pictures shows you a little bit of the work that has been done here the past few weeks.

  

 

 

 

The critters are glad the rain is over so they have been spending more time outside once again. A sight I missed during all the rain.  

 

 

Well spring has arrived here officially on the farm. And none to soon for me. We in New England had our fill of winter! This past week I started spinning some wonderful natural colored fleece into yarn. I completed many skeins, washed and set them and moved them into the shop waiting for the right person to come along and fall in love with them.

I also completed a wonderful little shoulder shrug with some hand dyed hot pink yarn. It's just enough to keep the chill away, worn over the shoulders ending above the elbows. I added a really cool square button which I think was perfect for this little shrug. Great for Spring!  It came out just perfect.

I weeded the strawberry patch, and rhubarb patch which took some time,  a little here, and a little  there  over the week and it was done before I knew it.

Looking good! I'll make strawberry rhubarb jam for the shop in a month or so, as soon as the strawberries come.

I had my little  farm helper two days this week, Luke my grandson who knows that chores are never done on the farm. So, he lends a hand driving his tractor  filled with weeds and dumping them for me. A great farm hand he makes!

So another week has passed, and all is well here at Dream Come True. Life is good...Have a great week. See you in a week or so!  Pam 

 

The day a shepherd waits for is shearing time each year. Well, ours has come and gone and what a great day it was. We had the shearer's here in the morning, along with some friends to help with the job and the festivities began.

 

  

Sheep 2 by 2 were shorn, yearly injections, worming and hooves trimmed done on each one, getting them ready for the summer months. It was a kind of spa day for the sheep.

  

 

We all settled in for a huge brunch when shearing was completed, then the skirting (cleaning) of the fleeces was started. We clean the really dirty parts from the sheep, which on ours is only the belly and neck wool because we keep them covered with coats all year to protect the fleeces. Hand spinners and knitters like that. There is no hay to pick out as the spinning begins.

 

 

So, each fleece is skirted and bagged, ready for the mill to do the real processing which is washing, picking and putting it into roving, ready to spin into yarn.  

Now my fun begins! Spin, spin, spin my own sheep's wool. It's wonderful to have your own animal's fiber flowing through your hands and fingers while spinning it into wool. So all is well this week on Dream Come True Farm and life is good.

Next it will be time for some goats milk soap making to put out into our farm shop, so check back with Dream Come True Farm, here on GRIT. ~Pam

Earlier this week Missy, one of our “named and tame” black Katahdin ewes, lambed early, right in the middle of what I hope is our last blizzard. Our sheep production model aims to have the ewes bred for April lambing because by then the pasture grass is coming on strong and we believe that good grass makes awesome milk. And awesome milk makes strong, rapidly growing lambs. Suffice it to say, things don't always work out the way you plan.

Quoting a good friend, we had a fencing malfunction last year -- so our big ram George (a great grandson to Wendell Berry's ram) managed to connect with at least one of the ewes. I have to say that George is very respectful of fences good and bad, but this particular ewe has a mind of her own and a knack for finding holes to slip through. The grass is, after all, greener on the other side. So, I have no doubt that Missy slipped through the fence into George's paddock because I caught her on the way back out. I figured there was the chance of some February lambs and that figuring was born out on an incredibly cold and snowy day.

 

We had been monitoring the flock and noted that a couple of the girls looked mighty big. The night before the snow flew, signs of immediate parturition were absent, although our sheep are allowed to keep their tails, so it isn't always possible to get a good look at all the signs. Early that fateful day, my Partner In Culinary Crime had slipped on the ice and racked her knee and ankle bad enough that she was imobilized (she managed to hobble and crawl back to the house). So she didn't brave the blizzard to check on things mid-day. The ewes had plenty of hay and plenty of water and the snow was piling up -- I would check them when I got home from work. By then it was about 7 degrees and the wind was howling out of the north east.

 

I fed the hogs and poultry. Broke ice where ice needed to be broken and was about to deliver a fresh 1800-pound hay bale to the cattle when my mind registered something odd with what my eye had seen. There was a little black snow-covered lamb standing next to a snow-covered black ewe over by the mineral feeder. Huh?! Oh ya, there was that hole in the fence. As I jumped off the tractor to have a closer look I heard a little lamb voice coming from the hay stack. Missy pretty much always has twins and this time was no different. I checked the lamb by her side; he was strong and his belly was full. The little girl had been cleaned and was breathing, snow-covered and half frozen in the hay. I tucked her into my coveralls and raced her into the house, but no amount of massaging, heat and warm colostrum drench could bring her back. Our terriers licked her face, cuddled with her and stayed on the job for about an hour after she expired. What a bummer.

By the time I got back to haying the cattle, Missy and her lamb were nestled down in the open-front shed, out of the wind and the weather. That little guy has experienced nights with temperatures into the negative teens and continues to thrive. What a way to come into the world. Fixing fence is a top priority for me this summer, but malfunctions are always expected on the farm.

 

On my Osage County farm, new life fuels cycles and establishes seasonal rhythms. With early spring, new life arrives as green grass and poultry. Once the grass is plentiful new life appears as lambs begin to drop and then the calves. This morning we experienced an especially compelling treat –Valentine, our female donkey surprised us with a spindly, wet, awkward bundle of joy. I don't know why Valentine chose the dusty corral as for birthing...

That's not where dinner's located!

Wet and wobbly.

Nothing like starting out the day with a good breakfast.

Only two dinner plates for three mouths.

Lambing season has begun on my Osage County Kansas farm. Missy, our black bottle lamb from last year dropped her Katahdin twins last Tuesday without any complication other than being slow to clear the membrane from the ram lamb’s face. Happily, my Partner in Culinary Crime was on hand to let the gasping guy out of his sack – he was a little slower than his sister but within an hour was up on his feet claiming his share of colostrum. The comical milk moustaches Missy’s twin lambs wear today are a testament to her fine ability to handle the reproductive load – she’s got lambing season down pat.

I once read a blog post decrying the value of Katahdin hair sheep, particularly during lambing season. The post’s author had a personal vendetta against the breed and offered up the Merino breed as the end all be all. (Funny the things that get people wound up – Ford vs. Dodge, John Deere vs. IH ….) His principle complaint regarding Katahdin sheep was that they had a “very poor” reproductive rate. Huh? He reported that Katahdin ewes were lucky to pull off a birth rate of 100 percent – that’s one live birth per ewe. Anyone in the livestock business knows that if a bred ewe can’t deliver at least one live offspring during lambing season, she isn’t long for the flock. Not one to take everything I read at face value, I did some investigating. Turns out Katahdin ewes are known for multiple births – up to 222 percent average in large flocks. That explains why the Katahdin ewes I know in Kansas often produce twins and triplets during lambing season and wean twins on their own most of the time.

More Katahdin twins are on the way at my farm. Plenty of lush, protein-rich grass is available to help their moms get them off to a good start. All we have to do is keep the coyotes at bay and soon enough that good grass will turn into some of the most delicious, nutritious and tender meat I know of.

Photos courtesy Karen Keb.

I want to begin by heaving an enormous sigh and taking in a deep breath of rainy atmosphere.

It’s been a bumpy and amazing ride these last two months. I feel like I am just resurfacing for air after a dive to the deep end of the public pool: I can see the wavy light above me, but my lungs are burning for the oxygen promised on the other side.

Whew. It tastes good. Since I last wrote about what was happening here at the farm, we had just remodeled our old pump house into the small, but functional farm store. We have since added some little bits of home to make it comfy and welcoming and overall, our customers like it very much. Since then, we have been really slammed with work here and since we have so many new endeavors this year, everything that happens is like an emergency and must take center stage. To say the least, we have been stressed out.

However, I have uploaded a bunch of photos from the beginning of June until just a few days ago in order to help me keep the days straight. We’ve had so much going on that I need these visuals as much as you do! Here we go ...

Gardens

Below, you see our back field that held the pumpkins/chickens/sheep last year. We have since converted it into a fully functioning garden. Well, about half of it at least. Here, Bret and his mother Rita spent an entire day planting and tilling and planting and watering. We got our garden in super late this year, but I am thankful we have a garden at all. You see Rita and her husband Gale and family of eight kids have pledged time to come out and work the gardens throughout the season in order to have food for both our families. It works out great! Andy and I had high hopes for a pretty large garden this year, but when everything hit with the dairy, we just had no time to devote to it. Enter Rita and her two oldest kids, Bret and Cortnie. We have the two of them nearly five days a week now in the summer, sometimes all day and they help with weeding, watering and eventually, harvesting.

And of course, other chores as well. It’s a great blessing to have them here as they can often take over simple duties of feeding chickens, watering animals, picking eggs and my favorite: babysitting! :-)

Lawnmowers

Here you see our rams eating our front lawn. There’s a book called Food Not Lawns (have not read it, but I get the premise) that talks about getting rid of the lawn mower and turning your yard into a garden. Well, we’re a few years down the road from that. However, I had this hair-brained idea to have the sheep graze the lawn way back in February. This June, I got to see it come to fruition. One thing I did not count on was having to “let it go” for such a long time that when the rams were finally let onto it, the area didn’t look like a front yard at all. I was happy to have satisfied my interest in “green lawn mowing,” but I think we need to retool a little bit before we do this again. The front yard now has a bunch of SUPER green circles that stick out like polka dots on a housewife’s dress. Not exactly the sort of lawn you want new customers to see.

But it was fun while it lasted! And with the wonders of temp fencing, it’s like we never had sheep there at all!

Raising Chicks

We got brand new baby chicks in about June 12th. We had these high hopes of helping a heritage breed chicken increase its numbers and showing off our geniune “old fashioned” hens. But apparently, everyone else in this down economy was thinking: I’m gonna lose my job, I better raise chickens to be safe. So the Delaware chickens we had been so carefully researching over the winter did not get ordered in time to beat the rush. We would not have gotten our chicks until this week had we waited! Since half of them would be raised to replace our old, old laying hens, and it takes 5 months to get a pullet to lay a single egg, we needed something a little faster.

So we went to a local hatchery in Beaver Dam and ordered their generic Blacks. 100 straight run chicks for 87¢ each. That beat the Delaware price of $2.09 each, but they certainly lacked the street cred that a genuine, critically endangered animal would have carried! Right?

Boy were they cute!!! As soon as they came, I could care less about their pedigree. These chicks were awesome. Small enough to hold two in one hand and 100 fit easily into Elly’s kiddie pool. This was our makeshift incubator for the first week to ensure they would stay warm and cozy and not get lost. We only lost three from shipping and that was it!

Once you are past the first week, chicks are so easy! Above, the chicks at a week old. Now that they are nearly two months old, we’ve had them free-ranging for several weeks. They are naturals! The little cockerels have turned white and black spotted and the pullets remain pure black. This week or next we will separate them and begin an intensive pastured poultry operation. In the meantime, they enjoy their brooder house home behind our large field garden. (See our posts about getting that brooder house up to standard last fall!) We are going to order more females this winter and raise them to be layers for ourselves and another farmer next May. We might even invest in an incubator ourselves and just take our own eggs when we get the right varieties here on the farm. But I digress...

Shearing

Below is a bunch of our woolly ewes and their lambs. Can you even tell the difference?? They are only a month old here, mid-June, and already over half the size of their mommas. The one in the middle facing away from us was the subject of much curiosity. In the field, he looks like a fox hopping over the grass. We’ve never seen a sheep with this sort of coloration before. He has begun to lighten in color, but still has this tawny, shaggy hide that must be a combination of some serious recessive genes. As you can see, the ewes all have their wool yet and we had already hit the heat of summer. It was just another one of those things that didn’t get dealt with until it was an emergency. We went about three weeks straight with the sheep out every single day.

They were some of the most stressful days we had encountered and we strengthened the fences and gave them fresher grass and checked for shorts and it didn’t matter. They would lift the high-tensile wire with their fully wooled necks and run right through. So we called around and found a sheep shearer about an hour away who would be able to come within two weeks. It was the longest two weeks we’d ever waited! But with a lot of prayer and fence diligence, we made it through with only a few break-outs.

When Courtney arrived, he had this excellent equipment and 30 years of sheep knowledge under his belt. We set up a shearing area and he just dove right in. The follow shots give you a little idea of how smoothly it went. He was shearing the next sheep before the last one was back in the pen. It was amazing and he was a very genuine guy. We had him stay for a country lunch as a sort of tip for his time.

To keep the wools clean, we laid down an old wagon side. You can see this ewe’s lamb watching in the cattle chute. When she was done, we’d lead her to the pen behind the red gravity box and dump the lamb(s) in with her.

Courtney knew just where the pressure points were on the sheep in order to hold them relatively still. They folded and flopped into place just like little sheep rag dolls. We were in awe. Below, my mom Judy holds up a shorn coat. We placed the fully white wool into one bag and the black or mixed colored wool into a separate bag.

The holding pen for the freshly shorn ewes. Now it was even harder to tell the full grown sheep from the lambs! We will never make the mistake again of letting our flock out to pasture with 4 inches of wool around their little bodies. No fun for anyone involved!

The Little Peckers

Not to forget about our chickens, they have been rangin about our sheep and cattle fields since early April. We were moving them about once every two weeks, but found that some sort of varmint was getting the late hens at dusk. We finally set out some traps and moved the trailer about 30 feet and even set up some night vision motion senser cameras to see if we could find what was killing our hens.

All we saw were beautiful shots of the farm during the day and cryptic shots of Andy closing the chickens in at night. :-)

I laugh at the one above. I love Andy’s sense of humor! But we lost about 25 laying hens in two weeks and then the raids stopped. We haven’t had a problem since.

A direct consequence of the stress the rest of the flock felt was a reduction in egg numbers. Couple that with a summer molt, old hens, hot weather, inconsistent watering/feeding and our huge flock was down to about 3 dozen eggs per day. 36 eggs from 180 hens! So we smartened up our feeding schedule, moved them to a short grass, thick clover field and move them nearly every single day to thwart the predators. We are now back up to seven to eight dozen eggs per day and boy do we need it! The egg demand has gone through the roof! For about three weeks at the end of June, we couldn’t keep a dozen in that store for longer than 12 hours. Above, can you find the ranging hens? This is one of our north fields that face the permanent pasture and the ancient oak trees. It’s a lovely sight to behold!

Mornings

Speaking of sights to behold, the shot below is sunrise over the sheep paddock about a week ago. The freshly shorn ewes have a new found respect for electric fencing and we rest easy at night again. Andy goes out about 5:30am and moves all the animal fencing before rounding up the milking herd. He lets the chickens out, moves the sheep, opens up new paddock for the beef/heifer herd and lets the milking herd into fresh grass. I have often asked him to take the camera to capture early morning life on the farm. On this day, he did!

Moo-calves

Below, some of our scamps nose up to Andy. We have eight young calves now, a direct result of nine cows milking in our barn. Our first cow Charlotte had still-born twins back in April, but the rest of the cows each had one healthy calf. Then our seventh cow, Isabelle, had twin bulls which we named Imis and Ignatio. The last cow to have her calf, just last week, had difficulties in labor and lost the calf to stress. But thankfully she is doing well. Below, from left to right: Tess out of Tilly, Imis out of Isabelle, Alex out of Anna and Barbie out of Bea. Not shown is Midnight out of Mabel, Leeloo out of Leche, Ignatio and Ghost out of Gretta. Ghost is pretty cool. I’ll have to get a shot of him sometime; he’s like a tan/grey Holstein looking little guy. Never seen a calf that color before.

Gardens Again

Back to the gardens, they are growing strong. This shot below shows what has grown in a month in the back garden. My dad Dave takes the disk and kills the weeds in the other area not being used. We are raising everything organically, so weed control is a daily task. Bret and Cortnie step up to the job as well as they can, but there’s only so much work a 12 and 14 year old want to do in a given day. They aren’t here to be slaves, so we don’t push them. I get out there when I can to assess the plants and pull a hand full of weeds or two. We have had serious run-ins with cucumber beetles on our cucumbers and flea beetles on our lettuces. Now we are dealing with cabbage loopers on our cauliflowers and cabbages. I have made some homemade tinctures of garlic and dish soap with limited success. However, the beetles and looper remain. I am going to look into Bt as an option. I need to learn more about this spray to see if it’s right for us. We have a sort of mini CSA going on with two friends of ours and one of the big selling points for them is the organic aspect of the garden. It can be bug eaten but not pesticide ridden. So we’ll see.

On the Dairy

On July 2nd, we got our dairy barn “whitewashed.” This is a process by which barn lime is mixed with water and sprayed over the entire interior of the barn, coating it a pristine white and also creating a natural anti-bacterial shield over all surfaces. In order to ship commercially, this needs to be done once per year. Here I took a before picture (FINALLY!) and below is the same alley after. It’s amazing, isn’t it?!

Our quest to ship our milk with Weyawega Star Dairy, a local cheese plant, is still in the future. We had to get our 100 year old well shocked with chlorine in order to clear out some common bacteria, and we are waiting on a follow-up water test. In the meantime, we feed the milk to the calves and collect cream and dump the skim to the chickens or on the gardens. We don’t like dumping milk at all, but at least the excess is being reused in a good way.

Feeling Patriotic

Independence Day came like a breath of fresh air for us. We got chores done early and headed into my hometown of Omro for the highly anticipated festivities. My mother Judy organizes the annual Lion’s Club art fair and this year she participated after a 6 year hiatus. Here is her booth with Andy and Ethan in the corner. My mother does a lot of oil painting, crafting, furniture reclaiming and sowing. She also paints birdhouse gourds and full scale murals. She’s quite the little artist in her spare time! There was also a large parade, in which our little church won Best Of the Parade for all the floats involved! There was a rubber duck race and bands playing and a pie and ice cream social at our Historic Society. (Andy and I are card carrying members, by the way!) At night, the fireworks came, but our little troop went into melt down about 15 minutes before the start, so I’ll have to wait until next year to see the big show.

Here, Elly is being hugged by our friends’ son Haiden. In true Elly form, she simply tolerates it. But the photo was cute, so I had to post it! We spent the afternoon at Haiden’s grandmother’s house for a cookout and games. It was a welcome break from the farm. For reasons completely unrelated, Independence Day is my favorite holiday of the whole year!

The next day, here is Elly and Ethan on the way back from collecting eggs. The walk is about a quarter mile and they enjoy the wagon ride. At the parade, Elly managed to fall THROUGH a park bench and bust open her chin. That is the mar you see on her little face. She came through like a champ, though.

Family Time!

A week after Independence Day, my family from Colorado Springs came to visit us for a few days. You may recall, we drove to Colorado over Thankgiving to see them and others before Ethan was born. (See: We Went on Vacation.) The next several photos detail our trips to parks and back yards and family time. It was another blessed respite from the intense work on the farm.

Elly hamming it up!

Daddy and Ethan enjoying a beer...well, just Daddy.

Dan and Krista took their girls Silvie (3), Josie (2) and Madaline (1) to the park. Me, Elly and Ethan tagged along and Grandma Judy came for support. It was a lot of fun ... Elly on the dinosaur. She looks so big there!

Ethan really liked the baby swing!

So did Elle-belle.

Then all too soon they had to go back home. Elly sure loves her cousins and can’t wait until they move closer to play more often.

Our Life

Back in the real world, Ethan has begun his journey down solid food lane. He took to it like a champ! He just turned five months last week; what a big boy! Normally foods can be started a lot earlier, but with everything going on, I just didn’t get to it. He’s not hurting for lack of solids; he just nurses all the time. So, it’s time to get him on to other things as well as me! Also, Elly has been successfully potty trained since June and Ethan is now exclusively in cloth diapers. It’s a small way we can contribute less to the landfills.

Gardens AGAIN

Back to the gardens, these next photos were taken just a few days ago, showing the progress from a couple weeks ago. Here is our front garden, mostly populated with peppers and tomatoes. (And Ellys!)

We let the sunflowers come up on their own and love the splashes of gold and yellow that they add to the sea of green.

Here is an example of companion planting. The basil in front aids bug protection to the tomato plant behind. For extra security, we stuck an onion in between because no bugs like the smell of onions!

Hollyhocks also volunteered their beauty this year and we have allowed a few to adorn the perimeter of the garden.

This is the back garden again, looking back at the house. Here are our cabbages, desperately needing help from those blasted loopers. Gotta look into that!

My favorite row of crops so far: our lettuces. Aren’t they so pretty? We enjoy the “cut and come again” aspect of greens and have been able to share organic, graden fresh greens with some folks who have never ventured outside the world of Iceburg! It’s been wonderful to see the response and interest generated. Yes, there is life outside the grocery store!

Old is New

Another side project has been getting an antique cream separator up and running. Hank, you will be interested to know that it is a DeLaval Model #18 hand crank stand separator. We got Gale in on the action because he is very knowledgeable and gifted in machinery technology. We got all the parts sorted and clean and realized we were missing one part, a very important bowl separator. I looked online, but am having major difficulty in locating anything resembling a parts shop for something this obsolete. Can any of you help??

Closing Thoughts

Finally, we are up to date. Now we can post non–novel-length blogs in order to keep you up to date on our comings and goings. A parting shot: taken in June, this is one of our eggs cooked just right, broken open on my homemade bread with some salt and pepper. Have you seen a yolk that dark before? We were shocked and had to capture it on film. I’ll never order an egg in a restaurant again! I am ruined!

Thank you all for your support and we’ll flesh out what’s been going on with the marketing side of things in a future post.

Blessings,

Becky

I blame it on my friend Bryan when asked why on earth I decided to start a sheep project at the farm. As a once diehard cattle person, it is a little hard for me to believe, but I have all of this grass and nowhere near enough animals to eat it yet – and since this is hopefully the last farm I start from scratch, I want to try a bunch of stuff that I have never tried before. Years ago when I had a large herd of purebred Angus cattle, my friend Mark almost had me talked into running sheep with the cow herd, but then I was forced to move to California and sold out before giving it a try.

One aspect of sheep husbandry that totally turned me off was the need to shear them every year. Mark sometimes had trouble scheduling the roving sheep shearer and at least back then, the fleece was pretty much worthless, thanks to a global glut of wool. So in comes Bryan with a herd of lovely Katahdin hair sheep that require no shearing. Huh? Yes, that’s right. These cool looking grass munching machines are about as easy to keep as cattle – possibly easier once you have some experience with them. So my mind turned once again to building a small herd … or is that flock … of the bleating critters.

Having been overheard talking about sheep at the office at some point, coworker Lisa emailed me one day to note that her mom, Claire, had a breeding-quality brown ewe and a black ewe lamb she needed to sell to keep her numbers right. I say sure, I want those animals, having recently claimed one of Bryan’s proven rams. Well, those two females arrived on Saturday. I had only just completed their temporary quarter acre (and coyote proof) pen. Turns out that the black lamb still wants a bottle in the morning and Claire was kind enough to leave me with a quart of goat’s milk to mix with the Manna Pro milk replacer I bought. The last time I fed any little creature a bottle was more years ago than my daughters would like me to report in public, I suspect. But let me say that rather than find bottle feeding to be another pesky chore, I find that it is a very calming way to start the day.

I would like to add another couple of females to the group this year, but I need to stretch more wire around some of the pastures first. So far the coyotes and I have coexisted fairly peaceably, but if they go after the sheep, I will not be so tolerant. Stay tuned.

After having a couple of donkeys around for a few months, I have to admit that they are great companions. In fact, they are almost as fun to be around as the dogs … and it is because donkeys like people. 

 

I was cool with the whole donkey addition because we planned to bring sheep to the farm in 2008, and I wasn’t too keen on the idea of leaving them to fend off the coyotes on their own. Well, we got the donkeys, but not the sheep. Actually, we have a ram, but he still lives at my friend Bryan’s farm. I just didn’t get our fence upgrade completed in time … in fact it still isn’t completed. Oh, did I mention that it was Bryan that convinced me that donkeys would be fun? He was right.

Our male (jack) donkey, Jack is said to be at least 7 years old (the previous owners weren’t for sure). Our female, Valentine, is not quite a year. After keeping them separated for months, we finally turned them both in with the cattle and after a bit of chasing around, they have become fast companions. In fact they pretty much ignore the cattle and have formed their own little mini-herd.

Now, whenever we walk the pastures, Jack and Valentine come running. They heel better than any of our dogs and are tall enough that we don’t have to bend over to chuck them under the chin. Of course, the donkeys are really more interested in the all-natural, hormone-free range cubes or  in my coat pocket than they are in being  my companion, but I will take their affection, and gladly rub them here and there, either way.

Some folks won’t have an intact jack donkey around their place, but so far, Jack hasn’t been any hassle at all. We used to keep anywhere from 15 to 25 Angus bulls around (breeding stock was part of our business), so handling large rambunctious boys is nothing new. And Jack is far from rambunctious.

In time, we will rely on Jack and Valentine to keep the flock safe. In the meantime, they are great companions, and that is just fine with us.
 

It's been a while since we last updated on the sheep but I assure you all they are doing fine.

As a refresher, we currently are raising about 50 Dorper ewes and rams. Over the course of the summer we spent a great deal of time updating our fencing and learning (sometimes the hard way) the intricacies of these delicate and demure animals.

As the leaves began to redden and the sky to darken we began discussions about what to do with our new woolly friends once the snow began to fall. Our plans took on many iterations and in the end we were able to agree on an idea that fully met all of our needs.

We decided cut a hole in the back of the "back barn" which is a large barn that is furthest from the house in an easterly direction. We would then be able to leave the sheep with a direct route out to the pasture. Although the promise of delicious greenery has been long forgotten the sheep still thoroughly enjoy being able to run free and play in the snow.

On the inside of the barn we sectioned off a large area that we were using for square bale storage. We combined this with a small paddock that we normally reserved for special cattle functions (cocktail parties and inter-breed mixers). Ok that last part isn't true but you get the idea ...

I spent a large part of the time securing our previous indoor fencing as well as building this feeding area. This type of system is called a "tombstone" setup and is designed so that the sheep are able to squeeze their heads in and slide them down to reach the feed on the outside. We have to do it this way as some of the yearling ewes (female sheep that are about a year old and probably not yet bred) have very narrow shoulders and with some sheep yoga could most like be able to wiggle through some traditionally designed mangers.

Once this was finished we bedded the area with some freshly shelled corn cobs and topped that with wheat straw. We ran a couple more lines of electric fencing and let the girls in. It took a bit of persuasion with some super-tasty hay but they were eventually safe and sound. And, not a moment too soon as we got a taste of Old Man Winter's fury 4 days later with about a foot of snow.

When we returned from our trip to Colorado we had the last task before us. It was time to make some of the happiest rams in the world. Normally this happens several weeks earlier but we have been behind all summer due to our slightly, shall we say, ambitious activities. We put up a couple hundred feet of temporary poultry net fencing and coaxed two of the rams over to the waiting ewes. When the rams were safely moved over I called the ladies, and what ensued were several tender, though slightly PG-13 exchanges.

When the ewes ran in, the dominant alpha ram began to scent the ewes (smelling their hindquarters) in order to determine who was cycling (ready to be bred). I had seen this many times with cattle but the ram did something that I did not anticipate, and I scared a few of the ewes with my very audible guffaw. After "inspecting" a few of the ewes, the ram found one that was ready to mate. Once he had scented her, he lifted his head up abruptly, looked back at me and turned his upper lip upward and almost inside out, baring his gums. It looked positively ridiculous. What happened next is pretty easy to guess.

I left the men to their duties with a proud heart. The animals were happy and well taken care of. There is nothing like the feeling after a doing a job to the best of your abilities. I rest well knowing that our little sheepies are safe, warm and happy. I check on them daily to pitch feed and give them water, but for the most part we have seen the End of Winter Sheep.

Now if only I could say the same about the chickens!

Andy

Good day, friends.

We begin yet another week together, and if you are looking ahead at the coming days, wondering if that elusive weekend will ever come, please, allow me to regale you with a tale of faith and frustration.

We just acquired our first herd of sheep this summer and the learning curve has been tremendous! Sheep are so different than cattle, which is what we are familiar with. The “woolies” as we have begun affectionately calling them decided that they were comfortable enough with their station to begin pushing their boundaries and experimenting with my patience.

It started about two weeks ago. A dear friend, Josh Marshall, came to stay for the weekend and helped me build a temporary perimeter fence. We used a type of wire that is woven with flexible plastic fibers and is very stretchy. Now, in order for you to understand what happened, I must give you a crash course on electric fencing.

Many of you have expressed concerns that electric fencing is a cruel method of animal detainment. Although that was true in the past where fences used much higher voltages, today’s fencing is a humane and highly effective fence alternative.

Modern electric fencing is a psychological barrier as opposed to a physical barrier. All that simply means is that an animal learns to respect the fence and that respect keeps them in. A physical barrier is one that relies on strength to maintain captivity.

Now, instead of using a constant charge that runs through the wire which was commonplace years ago, the electricity starts at an energizer (small box that converts household electricity into pulses) that sends small bursts of low voltage across the line at variable speeds (ours sends a burst about every 1.5 seconds, pretty common). When the animal comes in contact with the line they receive a jolt. After a few rather unpleasant interactions the animal learns that the highly visible line is best to avoid.

This type of fencing is very effective because it affords the user a high amount of versatility. We for instance use a flexible electric fence system. We utilize strong corner posts to hold up high tensile metal wire (thin gauge wire that acts as a conduit for the electricity). High tensile means that it can withstand large amounts of tension. We tighten the wire and it responds like a 500 foot guitar string. This metal is also able to stretch several feet before breaking and still return to its original form. We use this wire with a very flexible type of support post between the corner post. We do this so that when an animal decides to test the fence or may be pushed up against it during a struggle the fence will bend back with the animal, provide them with support so they do not tangle in wire and give them with a brief stimulating reminder of the animal/fence relationship.

The animal is better off because they do not test the fence and therefore do not run the risk of endangering themselves in the event of an emergency and we get the peace of mind that the animals are well protected and the added bonus of a very cost effective fencing solution.

Now, that being said ... electric fences are not without their fair share of ... well ... idiosyncrasies. Even the best designed fence, with a top of the line energizer and miles and miles and miles of fence can be rendered utterly useless by one single centimeter of interference.

So, on to my week.

Months ago, when we first got the sheep (and after a few days of some random [yet daring] sheep escapes), the fence had done its job and my mornings greeted me with the gentle docility that characterized these sweet and truly loving animals. That all changed early last week.

On Monday, Becky and I were finished with the day’s chores and decided to run to town to take care of some overdue errands. On the way home I received a call from Dave (my father-in-law) that the sheep were out. We got home and I saw the telltale signs everywhere in our yard, small pebble sized black sheep peas scattered about the premises. I assumed that they simply had tested the fence that Josh and I had put up so we hustled them back in called it a day.

The next morning I was greeted by a slow moving sheep train, plodding uninhibited towards our driveway and ultimately to the open road. The thought of my poor sheepies trying to hitch rides with passing motorists filled me with dread, so I promptly returned them to their pasture. I assumed now that the issue was a shoddy gate that I had installed. It was a quick assembly and I did not anticipate having to fix it for a few days. So I went over and upgraded it to the proper level of security.

When I returned from our annual Vacation Bible School at our church that was going on this week, Dave informed me that our little escape artists were on the loose again. We got them in and secured and went to bed. The next day we got up extra early to try and rectify the situation. We worked all day trying to fix the problem with no success. I had to call and tell my church that I would not make it as I attempted to put a second line of defense in so that the sheep would at least not escape that night. I ran a wall of electric net fencing that was about 160 ft long and 4 ft tall along the northern perimeter where I thought they were escaping. Amazingly, I did not awake to a jailbreak.

The next day (Thursday) Dave and I tore out all the work that Josh and I had done the previous Saturday and went about building a completely new fence out of the high tensile wire. We worked all the way until 5:30 when I had to leave for church. I was not there for 45 minutes before I received a call from Dave saying, you guessed it, they were out again. He called a neighbor to help pacify our woolly friends.

On Friday, instead of finding the problem we had to build another set of fencing because the sheep had grazed most of what was available to them. When they had gotten out they had overgrazed much of the pasture that was intended for them over the next couple of days and we were left with very little feed for them. So we had to build another wire fence just to get them food. Luckily, there was no liberation that night.

On Saturday, as we stood with our hair pulled from our head in our hands, we decided that the problem was not the physical aspect of the fence but the psychological. With every addition that we had made we checked the output of the fence constantly during the week. We unhooked entire sections of paddocks with little success. At first we were only getting about 5 percent of the electricity flowing that we needed and by Saturday, with all of the testing and building, we were barely at 20 percent (a mere tickle of a zap to a sheep, well worth the pain to get through the fence to greener pastures).

Saturday morning Dave confessed to me that he had been trying too hard to fix the problem, and he prayed that God would show us the way. We began by walking the fence row with machetes, loppers and fence testers. If there was an obstruction touching the fence, we removed it. Any time a something touches an electric fence, the fence sends electricity into it. If the item touching it is a sufficient conductor, the entire jolt passes into the object, never to continue its intended course through the fence. The vast majority of the time, when this happens the electricity has to arc (a luminous bridge formed in a gap between two electrodes, much like a small bolt of lightning), and when this happens there is a very audible *snap!* This is called a short.

We found that we had about 80 percent power at the beginning of the line so we followed it down. It seemed to end suddenly near the sheep fencing so we thought that the problem was with the sheep fencing exhausting the power. I removed days of fence work in a couple of hours just to see if the extra fencing was a problem. It wasn’t. We gained about 2 percent output from that. Dave continued down the fence row, trimming trees and cutting grass by hand, and at about 4:00 we were no better off then when we had started.

Unfortunately, at this point the sheep were feverish for new pasture so we had to move them, with or without the security of the fence. There was a small section of fence on the east side that needed a line run across it because there was about an 18 inch gap at ground level and if we put the sheep into the new paddock, they would easily get out through the gap. I only needed to add about a 50 ft section but the entire fence was about 300 ft long. I knew if I didn’t run the wire all the way, I would just have to do it soon anyway. But I thought to myself, I’m tired, I’m mentally exhausted, I just wanted to be done. Then, a little voice in my head said, just do the job the best you can and fix the fence.

I began running the line down the fence. I had to bend all the way over or get on my knees and run the line from fence post to fence post. Five posts were run, then 10, then 20. Then, as I bent down to put the line on a post I heard it. It was faint, it sounded like someone playing a cymbal with a toothpick but it was there, a rhythmic and constant ping about ever 1.5 seconds. I looked up to see the metal fence that had been installed years ago had been broken from the insulating holder and was now completely pressed against the metal pole. The metal wire carrying a charge was on the metal post that was stuck in the ground.

My heart literally skipped a beat. I fumbled for my phone to call Dave, “Dave! It’s Andy, I hope I’m not counting my chickens early but I think I found it!”

“Found what?” he replied.

“The short!” I screamed. He turned off the energizer, and I fixed the wire so that it was not touching the post. He turned the energizer back on, and I waited, my heart pounding so hard in my head that I thought I might collapse. He grabbed the fence tester and I heard the whoop and holler from all the way down the fence row.

We were at 95 percent!!

I couldn’t believe it, I was dizzy from the rush of adrenaline. Because of all of the other work we had done trying to fix the problem we had actually made the fence stronger then before we had the problem. The amazing thing was that I never would have heard the quiet short unless I was inches from it and I wouldn’t have ever been on that section, bent in half fixing the fence, if that little voice hadn’t said, make the right choice and do the job to the fullest.

We spent the next couple of hours finishing a few things up, and we let the sheep go. They had a brief moment of frustration as they reacquainted themselves with the fence but that soon passed. The elation we felt was euphoric. To think that such a simple thing as fixing a fence could provide such a deep and quenching satisfaction.

Our family motto is “The journey is the reward.” I was rewarded deeply that day and I can tell you with the surest honesty, that night was one of the best night’s sleep I’ve ever had.

Blessings to you all, and please, listen to the little voice.