Lamb season!

I didn’t get as much accomplished as I should have this weekend, but that’s par for the course.  I could easily sit and watch the critters all day long, instead of just a few hours as I do now.  As mentioned in my previous post, there are new additions in the way of lambs on the farm.  They’re already a month old now, and watching my little flock – now nine! – roam the property gives me a deep satisfaction that I’m unable to describe fully.  It reminds me of when I first got chickens, a lifetime ago it seems, when watching them was soul satisfying (it still is, but it’s not the wonderment it was for those first dozen years).  Now I have the sheep, and my bees, and the chickens too, and the soul-deep rightness of it all feeds something within me. 

I came home one rainy Wednesday afternoon in late April to the sight of two chocolate brown lambs in the pen.  They were Cinnamon’s babies, and she stood there, head low and attentive to them, looking pleased.  They were still damp from birth, but it had obviously been a few hours.  I could see I had nothing to worry about – she is an excellent mother, and looked well physically.  I had been expecting something for days; she had all the classic signs that it was getting close, so it wasn’t a complete surprise, but still completely exciting.  I stepped into the pen to look at them and Cinnamon, still charged up on whatever hormones had been making her hair-trigger skittish for the previous week (just filling the hay feeder had her panicking), trampled the little things in her freak-out response to my presence.  You’d think I went in there with a hood and scythe every time, for her reaction was always that of an animal being stalked and hunted for food.  Thankfully the babies weren’t hurt.  I caught each and checked them – both ewes! – and sprayed their umbilicals with iodine.  I checked several times that evening, taking many bad pictures and glad for my little shed – there was a torrential downpour at one point, a real gully washer, and the new family stayed safe and dry.

The next morning as I left for work Pebbles had a funny look.  Not her bright self, though I thought maybe she was subdued the night before because of the babies, and witnessing the birth.  She didn’t seem interested in them, nor distressed, just distant somehow.  Hmm.  I didn’t see anything imminent, and since she’s as round as a barrel you couldn’t see the same changes in her as you could with Cinnamon.  I left for work reluctantly and decided to come home early.  I got home at about 3:30 and sure enough, Pebbles was licking a brand new baby.  Another ewe!  She was fresh out, probably born no more than 10 minutes earlier, and still quite wet.  She was all black with some white on her head and down her cheeks like chin straps.  Pebbles seemed fine, and when I looked at her rear I could see that she would be having twins too.  Within 10 more minutes the next lamb slipped out of her with what looked like mild straining as she stood there licking the first one.  She turned around and began licking the newest…a ram lamb!  He was absolutely tiny, no bigger than a bunny, and mottled black and white.  Pebbles licked and licked, and soon the two newest arrivals were up and searching for their first meal.  It was amazing, as it always is with all new babies. 

So my little flock has almost doubled, going from five to nine.  The boys seemed nonplussed by the new arrivals, showing no interest whatsoever.  Still, the girls and the babies were penned up safely.  After a week or so, I allowed everyone out to graze on the new grass.  The pasture still wasn’t quite ready for full time grazing, but with just the three boys I pushed it early.  The shed and pen area is not set up for keeping two groups separated, and it was easier than trying to get them all back in the pen and separated with the panels up. 

In the month since their birth the babies have grown tremendously.  The little boy is still the smallest, (and he’s no longer a ram lamb, but a wether) but all are hale and hearty.  They had their first vaccinations this weekend.  Cinnamon continues to be a model parent, and though her girls are as skittish as their mama, they’re strong and healthy.  She’s only just relaxed on her vigilance in making sure they are always within sight.  The grass is just too good.  Pebbles is a little more lackadaisical, and while a good mama, isn’t as attentive as Cinnamon, and figures the lambs will find her when they need her.  Their cries of distress when they become “lost” barely trigger an answering baa, usually muted from her mouthful of grass as she stuffs herself.  Fortunately they’re both a lot like her, and while cautious, take things in stride. 

This weekend was fairly mild and I let them stay out on the pasture overnight Saturday and Sunday night.  The lamb races are adorable, as the four of them race around their mamas, and watching them roam the property, chasing a hen or two, or sniffing noses with the cat (who’s as big as they are) and nibbling the new grass and green shoots as they grow, is entrancing.

Beeyard blunderings

So it’s been a busy couple of weeks here on the ridge, with new life all over the place. As mentioned in my previous post, on Earth Day I picked up my new bee package. They’d just come all the way from northern California and I strapped them into the back seat, a couple of girls loose in the car.  They pretty much just wanted to be with the other bees and the queen, so I wasn’t worried. It was a warm day, thankfully, and I got them home and left them in the car while I got ready to install them in my new hive. I realized I didn’t have a marshmallow to plug the queen cage, and hoped that it had a candy plug. In case it didn’t, I had some creamed honey I’d purchased last year. It was stiff and almost like a thick paste. I figured it would work to plug the hole, mixing it with a little sugar for an even thicker plug. I put the rest of the jar, lid off, in the bottom of the hive for the girls to dine on something a little more natural than the sugar syrup I’d made up.

In the 10 or 15 minutes they’d waited in the car, the sun warmed them up, and when I got the box out, they were buzzing and alive, and unlike last year’s cold, sluggish bunch. I went out to the hive, suited up, and pried off the cover/can. They swarmed out of the hole and I realized this wasn’t going to be the crazy-easy piece of cake that it was last year, where I literally poured the bees into the hive. I pulled out the queen cage and plugged the hole with the gooey paste I’d made, then dropped her into the hive (literally!! Aaiiee!!). Thankfully she was okay, and I placed the metal clip over one of the top bars and slid things into place. I upended the cage of bees into the hive, and a majority went in there, though there were hundreds flying around me in the warm midday sun. I replaced the hive boxes and left the cage next to the hive, so the stragglers could make their way into the hive. It didn’t feel nearly as smooth as last year’s installation, but I had to hope for the best.

Later in the day I noticed a lot of newer looking bees at Aurora’s hive (my first hive – I’ve finally named her!), confused and just wanting to get with a colony. Then I noticed the little bowl of the leftover paste I’d made (left in front of the hive for them to eat). It was thick with drowning bees, as the honey liquefied in the hot sun. I was horrified, thinking of the blob I’d put in the queen cage, and the jar I’d left in the hive, and appalled at my own stupidity. I quickly opened the new hive. There were hundreds of bees clustered in there – a good thing – and my queen cage was empty. I got the jar from the bottom of the hive, filled with more drowned and drowning bees. It was so upsetting to see my poor girls suffering because of my incredibly dumb idea. It would have worked last year, when it was cool for weeks after installation, but this year, in the warm sun…how could I have been so stupid? I rescued as many as I could, rinsing them off gently in the kitchen sink and bringing them back out to the hive later, and in truth didn’t lose more than a few dozen, but it was still upsetting to me. The good news is the hive seems to be doing fine, and two weeks in, they have been busy with comb building. They built right up against the observation panel (I’m supposed to scrape the comb off of the sides of the hive, but am reluctant to do so, as well as confounded by the mechanics of how I’m supposed to do this (have to come from underneath…). I’ll tap into some local wisdom soon, but for now I am enjoying seeing the comb being filled with pollen and either nectar or sugar syrup (honey) as the girls get busy. And I even saw a waggle dance as one of the girls was telling her sisters of a great find. They’re flying in with plenty of pollen and seem to be doing well.

Aurora’s hive is doing very well. After our miserable March weather, where I worried I would lose them, they’ve rebounded in the April warmth. I was/am concerned with the frequency that I’m seeing white, almost adult pupae being dragged out of the hive and dumped into the grass – either there are too many drones, or they got chilled or the hive is using the drone cells to harvest/remove varroa mites. Or something. I am not as worried as I was, as this past weekend I thought they were swarming there were so many bees out. It was wonderful. I think they were just all out en masse because it was a warm afternoon and the hive needed cooling, but I wished I had an extra hive to catch a swarm. (It’s on my list, but I haven’t gotten to it yet.) I was thrilled to see so many, and took a dozen pictures of them and my little beeyard. I haven’t named the new hive/queen yet, though Regina or Beatrix are on the list.

The other big news is the arrival of twins. Twice.  More on this in my next post, but suffice it to say that the cute factor is squee inducing. 

Just dogs

So for all my enthusiasm about classes and events presenting themselves this year, I’m a little topped out these days.  Well, maybe more than a little.  Recently, I’ve been as up and down emotionally as during any of Cutter’s bad spells (I miss him so, sometimes always), and it’s all of my own doing, mostly.  There’s no law that says just because a cool class comes across your radar that you have to sign up for it, yet it seems I didn’t get the memo.  Between extracurricular classes and the daily grind of chores – critters, housework, yardwork, etc., I’m in need of a vacation!  There’s no question that this girl likes and needs her down time to recharge and refresh and reconnect, but lately it seems that if/when I do have that time it’s only tinged with guilt and shoulds.  Yuck.  

April has been busy, with two classes (one online where I haven’t started week one’s assignment and week four is coming right up…sigh) and coaching on Monday nights (and two weekends booked with classes as well).  The class that isn’t online has left me in tears twice now (week two and week four), yet it’s probably the most important one of all.  It’s my obedience class with Miss Daisy, who tries so hard but for whom self control is a major challenge.  Maybe it’s the fact that she’s a girl with an agenda raised by bird dogs, or maybe (more likely) it’s the fact that of all the Rottweilers I’ve owned in the past nearly-thirty years, she’s the one I’ve probably been the most lax with, and she’s the one who really needed more from the get-go, with her history (shelter adoption/ spent her first 9 months in a kennel run with her dam and siblings) and temperament.  She’s turning my crank, and mirroring back to me all my foibles and “too much” recently, and we’re quite the pair.

Let me stop right here and say she’s a sweet, sweet dog, who absolutely loves people, unlike my darling Wil, my beloved, my heart, who was barely civil to me, never mind people he didn’t know (and of course I loved him to distraction) but he was nothing if not obedient.  And maybe that’s where I erred.  Having seen what “total control” does to a dog with a soft heart (never cruel, but always “in control”), over two decades later I just let Daisy be Daisy, and she’s exactly the wrong dog with whom I should have had this lackadaisical approach.  I could have sawed Wil’s leg off and he would barely have protested.  Yet a “tip them” nail trim with Daisy has me wondering if I need to muzzle her next time.  It’s crazy when I think of the dichotomy.  

There is only one other dog in the obedience class, a galooping young Great Dane puppy of six or eight months, all legs and awkward angles.  He easily outshines Daisy in every way, obedient and calm, responsive and smart (she’s extremely smart, too, but you can’t really tell in class).  As I watched him the other night, after Daisy bashed me in the chin with her hard head for the second time (thought my jaw was dislocated for a moment), I felt more despair and frustration with my enthusiastic girl.  I don’t even attempt half of the exercises in class, because she’s so barely under control as it is.  About midway through the class I felt her control slipping, and the last 30 minutes was just a series of admonishments and jerking her no-pull harness with little result as she lunged and whined in excitement.  

When the Dane puppy was distracted on a recall exercise (toys placed in his path to proof him) I laughed at his cute response.  You could almost hear his “Gawrsh! A ball!” as he stopped to pick it up on his way back to his mistress.  It was adorable, with his gangly legs and bar towel-sized ears flopping.  I realized when I laughed that I’d “oopsed” and said aloud “that’s so cute” as his owner put him back in a stay for the next try.  I received a mild admonishment from her “It’s not cute” and understood my faux pas.  I realize that he’ll be a huge dog, and it’s important to get control early, but that gangly little guy (who’s taller than Daisy right now) will likely be dead in eight years, if one goes by breed life span statistics, and it just seems like that adorable essence of him is what makes living with dogs so pleasurable.  For me.  And I wonder now that maybe I’m not cut out for this–for a dog or breed of Daisy’s kind of determination–anymore.  I’ve become so soft in my “old age,” knowing how little time we have with these bright beings, and how I want to enjoy them and let them enjoy life to the fullest (yes, it’s a contradiction at times, I know).  So yeah, I had a sniffle in the parking lot as we left, for my own mistakes with Daisy (can’t tell you how many times I’ve laughed at her adorable misbehavior, though I’ve tried to stifle it…) and for the long road ahead in trying to reel her in without crushing her.  

Yes, Daisy is a handful and a half, and I’m kicking myself for not continuing with classes last fall, when we finished puppy class as one of the best pupils.  The timing wasn’t right for me, or so I thought, and in the meantime she’s grown to a young teenager, sweet yet willful, and reactive with little self control (the bird dog influence?).  I’m beyond thankful that I have such a nice temperament to work with (i.e., non-aggressive) but she’s not going to make it easy, either.  She’s all “me me me” and her only dark side is her propensity to bully Farley (who’s nobody’s dog except mine, and that’s part of the problem). 

And ah, my sweet Farley-foo.  I am so utterly in love with this dog!  We just celebrated our sixth anniversary together (it was April 14, 2006, that he came to live with me, a shelter rescue by my friend Asya) and I can hardly believe my free spirited little sprite is now the old man of the family (Pal is 2 ½ – so easy and sweet that I don’t write about him!, Daisy is 1 ½) at age…? Eight?  I pray it’s not more than that, as I want him with me for as long as possible, but the longer I have him the more likely it is that he’s older than I thought at the beginning, when I estimated him at nine months to a year (and a part of me knowing I was kidding myself even then).  He was probably at least two when I got him, so eight years old now is doable.  His eyes are getting a little cloudy, and I think his muzzle has a bit of sugar dusting in the brown fur, but he’s still spunky and playful, and freaking adorable.  

Alas, however, he did manage to develop a condition that has seemingly added to his age.  I mentioned it a couple of months ago, when we were still in the diagnosis stage.  After the visit to the veterinary dermatologist it was confirmed, he has symmetrical lupoid onychodystrophy, or SLO (cause who can pronounce that last word?!).  What that means is he has an autoimmune disease (likely) that causes his nails/claws to lift up and come off.  It’s rather painful for him, and though there’s treatment (he’s on doxycycline and niacinimide, and pain meds as needed) there are no guarantees.  His nails are growing back irregularly, brittle and gnarled looking, but the quicks are exposed and painful and his favorite game (ball or toy thrown) often leaves him limping.  I’m hoping we get to some sort of remission with it, but it’s a lifelong thing ahead of us.  Yes, it’s a cakewalk compared to Cutter’s epilepsy, but it still sucks big time.  Sucks for him and, honestly, sucks for me, to have a special needs dog yet again.  I was feeling sorry for myself when he was first diagnosed.  I joined the Yahoo support group for people with SLO dogs and was going to whine, then corresponded with a woman with a Rottweiler with SLO (turns out it’s one of the more common breeds that get the condition…and I’d never heard of it in almost 30 years with Rottweilers!) and her other Rottweiler has epilepsy.  Oh.  I think if this had happened while Cutter was alive (and I was also dealing with Dinah’s urinary incontinence and extreme fears of loud noises) I would have run screaming… 

So yeah, I’m a bit topped out these days.  No more classes for me for a while (though there is that felting class in a couple of weeks….reeeally want to sign up).  I’m going to concentrate on getting my website rebuilt, and getting my garden planted.  We’re having a normal to dry April (hallelujah!) and I’m looking forward to more KALE!!!  In the meantime, I pick up my new bees today – Earth Day, so fitting!  I can now call it the beeyard!

Bee talkin’

It’s the last day of March and the wet end to a wet month.  And it’s not just me complaining (again) – there were records set all over the state, for daily rainfall accumulation and monthly accumulation.  But it didn’t matter today because I was in a class, well, a talk, all day, and it was raining for much of the day.  As the talk wound down, a weak sunlight began to penetrate the clouds, and by the time I got home at 6 pm it was downright sunny.  It was a beautiful end to a very nice day—nice because the talk was really great.  It was given by Jacqueline Freeman, an organic beekeeper in southwest Washington, near Portland, and hosted by her longtime friend, Patti, who lives in Snoqualmie.  It was held at Patti’s home, a beautiful little farm even in the rain and mud.  How lucky for me –only a couple towns over instead of a three hour drive. 

If you’ve seen the movie Queen of the Sun, you’ve seen Jacqueline in action.  The first part of the day (10:00 – noon) focused on catching swarms, both the nuts and bolts how to’s and the why, and the why was included in the title of the talk “The Salvation of the Honeybee Kingdom: Swarms & Feral Bees.”  Simply put, the genetic diversity we need for healthy bees is something we need to encourage.  Jacqueline is a great friend to the bees, and after listening to her talk, I’m almost glad I didn’t treat for mites (yet?).  I’ve ordered my package for my new hive this year even knowing that the queen it will contain will have been artificially inseminated (seriously) and genetic diversity and survival of the fittest is being lost because of this.  After Jacqueline’s talk I’m hoping to get on a swarm list and get my future bees this natural way.  Another point she made was how swarming is natural and to be celebrated and even encouraged, versus the traditional beekeeping view of preventing them from swarming.  When a hive swarms it essentially is splitting into two hives, with the queen leaving with 50 to 70 percent of the hive workers, and new queens (that will hopefully find mates) inheriting the hive from her).   I’ve always secretly thought this would be cool if it happened, but the conventional beeks all make it sound like it’s something to be avoided.  Certainly if a hive is too small (not enough room)  it could encourage a premature split (or an abandonment altogether), but swarming is the natural order of things and would be amazing to see.  So my plan is to have the equipment ready (extra hive boxes) for a swarm, from my own bees or others. 

The afternoon talk was about the spirituality of bees and beekeeping, the title being “The Arc of Creation and the Song of Increase, the Spiritual Life of the Honeybee.”  The title alone had me hooked, but when Jacqueline began her talk explaining that she’s talked with the bees (as animal communicator), and then sharing the things they’ve told her…well, it sounds woowoo but it felt right.  I know my connection to my bees was instant and total, and I’ve struggled to explain the feelings I felt as I drove them home that first day.  Certainly some of it was a maternal-oriented fierce desire to protect and nurture them.  I feel much the same for all my animals, especially my dogs.  But the bees were a surprise to me, and it felt elemental and somehow “right.”  After hearing Jacqueline’s talk I understand better why I felt/feel so connected to them, even on their cranky days (to be fair, I have a bad habit of popping the lid late in the day, which puts them on high alert).  I’ve been worried about them, with all this wet weather, and after they devoured all the honey I put in there earlier this month I wanted to feed them some more.  Since it’s been too cold to open up fully to put my syrup feeder in there I decided to just give them a little granulated sugar.  They gobbled up the half cup I put on the top of the inside lid, so I put another half cup.  Then another.  And now they have dysentery, judging by the poops outside the door today.  Sigh.  I also saw some dead white bees on the ground in front of the hive.  They look nearly adult, but probably did not hatch.  I wonder now if they were drone cells, removed to combat varroa mites.  It’s all so mysterious sometimes, and as much as I wish I could help them or fix it, the thing I learned today was that it’s probably best that I leave them alone as much as possible.  I’d like to scrape out the ½ cup or so of granulated sugar still in there, but they are so testy (got stung on the back of my leg the other day putting it in there!) I don’t want to disturb them until the weather warms up and I can do a thorough inspection. 

I let the sheep out to graze a bit when I got home from the class this afternoon, since they’re going through hay like I have a flock of 10 instead of only five.  I’d blame it on the girls, eating for two (or three?) as they are, but it’s always the boys I see eating.  I’m not sure what’s going on there but there is a lot of waste I think.  The boys have developed a new habit of pawing the ground in front of the big feeder, so now there’s a trench underneath it approximately four feet long by two feet wide by 18 inches deep.  Jerks.  I’ve filled it in several times, the last two times with hog fuel (didn’t last) and then with some of the dry litter from elsewhere in the pen.  It lasted a little longer than the hog fuel, but I still need to figure something out.  I see some cement patio squares in my future.

March Mudness

It’s driving me mad.  Not to belabor the topic (see previous post) but I think I’ve reached the breaking point.  I woke up this morning to more snain (my term for the miserable combo of mixed snow and rain), this time the ground was white.  It was gone within the hour, as the snow quotient faded and the rain kept coming.  The ground is saturated, soaked, soggy, drenched, sopping, waterlogged, and whatever other word applies to the squelching, sloppy mess out there.  I spent the afternoon today vacuuming and washing the area rugs, and as soon as the dogs went out and came back in, it was as if I’d done nothing.  It’s enough to drive me over the edge.  When it was coming down in sideways sheets during one particularly schizophrenic day of weather last week I looked out the window at work and forgot to delete the expletive.  

I suppose it’s better than freaky tornados (in Michigan last week, an area that doesn’t get tornados historically), but the creepy 70s weather in Chicago (creepy because it’s March!) sounds much better than it should at this point.  A friend lamented with me about the weather and remarked that maybe we were in for another spring and summer like last year.  I didn’t even know how to respond to that.  The first thought is to drop the speed loader into the chamber.  The second is to pack up the farm and head out for drier territories, in a rig similar to the Clampitts’ but without the advantage of Texas tea to support the move.  

We did have a downpour-free day on Saturday (and Friday, too).  After the morning snain it actually cleared a bit and I even saw a weak shadow or two.  It was nice enough to let the sheep out to nibble on the early spring growth, which I do whenever we get a day like this.  It makes them happy and that makes me happy.  Their shearing went well two weeks ago.  I moved them into the shed with the panels up and they did well (thought there might be some freak-outs as they’d never been confined that way before).  When the shearer got here (10 minutes earlier than I expected) I was able to move them in the small holding area (so no rodeo chase, like last year’s circus) and it went smooth as buddah, with Eifion Morgan, shearer extraordinaire, zipping through them in less than 30 minutes (shearing all five, hoof trims, vaccines and worming).  They all felt tons better without a year’s growth of itchy wool, though the cold weather has been a bit of a trial.  In two weeks they’ve gained some fuzz and a little bit of cold tolerance (and they each have their own internal furnace with the rumen works), so I don’t see the girls shivering like I did that first week.  And the good news is that both of the girls look to be gestating!  Yes!  Nothing outwardly noticeable (still at least a month to go yet) aside from larger than normal teats.  No other mammary growth yet.  I’m making my list and slowly getting my lambing toolkit ready, and next month I’ll be putting the panels back up to exclude the boys from the shed and keep the girls (and the babies!) protected from them.

 Though it still feels like January, the days are getting longer and nature is slowly waking up.  The Indian Plum buds are nearly open, and of course the nettles are coming up all over the place.  I harvested a pound or so of nettle tops yesterday (wearing gloves of course) and had some with dinner (in a stir fry with some of my home grown chard from the freezer).  I have some more drying in the oven, and the rest are in the fridge.  I decided to try harvesting maple sap, too, after I read a great (cook)book by Jennifer Hahn called Pacific Feast: A Cook’s Guide to West Coast Foraging and Cuisine.  Big leaf maple are not sugar maple, but the sap is usable, according to the book.  I ran to the hardware store to get some makeshift equipment to stand in for maple spiles and came home and drilled a couple trees.  I have to say the production was underwhelming, though without a covered bucket the rain kind of ruined my experiment anyway.  And when I read it takes 40 gallons of sugar maple sap to make one gallon of syrup, well, that was the end of that experiment.  The sap I collected tasted like water, so I imagine it would take even more than a 40:1 ratio of big leaf maple sap to make enough to cover a pancake or two (a gallon of sap to make a half cup of syrup?).  Since I can’t remember the last time I had pancakes, much less maple syrup, my experiment was abandoned.  The buckets have been collecting mostly rain; the water is tinted yellowish brown, so who knows if that’s sap or tree dirt.  I’m now merely curious to see what kind of sap flow I might get; with all the rain the trees have plenty of water table to draw on.                                                   

With our semi-nice day yesterday the bees were out a bit, thought nothing like our spring tease in February, when they were out in force.  These cold wet days are hard on them.  I popped the lid to see what was going on and decided to give them some honey.  So the little bit of honey and comb I harvested last year mostly went right back to them.  I put it in there, in some Zip Loc baggies with a slit cut into it and closed the lid.  A short time later I took a peek and saw them belly up to the honey in a crowded line along the slit in the baggie.  Oh.  Hungry bees.  I put some local honey I purchased last fall in another bag and put it out there too.  Now I’m hoping for some warm weather so I can get out there and open things up to put the feeder in there.  It’s too cold to open the hive like I need to put the syrup feeder in there.  Fingers crossed they’ll make it and will thrive again this year. 

And last week I ordered my 2012 package of bees for my new hive.  I purchased a Warre hive from House of Bees, a vendor at the Country Living Expo last January and am excited to get it started.  It’s a top bar hive, which is the kind of hive I wanted from the very beginning.  This means there are no frames for the bees to use for honeycomb, just a bar (top bar) that they’ll build their own comb in the size and shape that they want.  Judging from my few foundationless frames in my Langstroth hive, the bees will love this.  They build gorgeous white comb in the foundationless frames, in preference to the frames with foundation (a pre-loaded honeycomb patterned board they use to draw out the comb).  I still need to paint the hive, but since the new bees won’t be here until mid-April, I’ve got time.

Mud and stuff

I suppose it’s just the time of year, but I’m reaching my limit for wet, cold, and mud.  That last item being the one that’s tipping me over the edge.  We’ve had oodles of rain in the past week or two, complete with localized flooding (creating commute havoc – 45 minutes to travel the last 2 ½ miles home as the entire north end of the valley is trying to use one road) and soggy animals.  And mud.  Lots of mud.  This porous little hillside I live on, with its many sinkholes and underground streams (both are more than a little creepy at times) and seasonal water flows, is literally oozing water where it’s not flowing outright.  Some of the underground streams are “repurposed” critter holes (mountain beaver and moles/voles, etc.) but I think most of it is just the water finding the path of least resistance, as water will.  It emerges out of nowhere to surface for an above-ground stretch, then goes underground, only  to bubble up like a spring dozens of yards down the hill.  And then there are the weird spongy spots, where the ground feels like it wants to give way, bouncing a little, sort of like a bog.  Except this is on a hillside.  I’m going to do some digging when the weather dries up a bit, to see if I can figure out these spots. 

Of course with all of this wet slop, the dogs are tracking in epic amounts of mud, and I’ve given up trying to keep the floors clean.  I have plenty of throw rugs, and wipe down paws as needed, but even then I have to follow behind with a towel on the floors, toweling up the worst of it.  Pal is often in need of a total hosedown, as he looks like a bi-colored dog after running the entire width and breadth of the property – the upper part of his body is mostly white, but his underside is black with mud, sometimes up to his mid-side.  He looks like he’s been dipped in a mud bath.  It requires a hosing, and I feel awful as I spray his small body with the cold hose water.  I mostly just do his legs and feet, and a little of the ‘undercarriage’ area.  When he’s not too filthy I’ll do him in the tub with warm water from the shower sprayer, but even then he leaves a layer of grit in the tub.  Daisy and Farley don’t run like Pal does, so they tend to only get muddy paws.  

The chicken run is a half inch of slop when the water isn’t running outright across it, so the eggs I’m getting (averaging 8 a day now; I got 11 today!) are covered with mud, as each hen steps on the previously laid eggs to add hers to the collection.  The last one or two eggs laid in each nest box are clean, but the rest require scrubbing.  During two of the worst rain days I found a new underground watercourse along the outside of their pen.  Probably one of those repurposed critter holes – moles or rats – but it was a pretty fierce flow, much stronger than what my hose produces on a fully open spigot.  The hens of course are miserable.  They tolerate the rain, but aren’t ducks and prefer dryer weather, where they can at least find some dry dirt under the eaves to enjoy a dust bath here and there.  There is zero dry dirt to be found right now as everything is saturated.  

On a positive note, I found a great home for one of the roosters today.  It was the extra-large boy, Junior – handsome and with a great crow, but too large for many of my hens.  And with two roosters it created too much stress in the coop (Junior was always after the other, who had his own little cadre of admirer hens), and my egg production was compromised.  I moved Junior out to the chicken tractor, which immediately removed the coop stress (and my egg production doubled in 24 hours!) but left Junior essentially in solitary confinement. Not good for a flock animal.  I considered butchering him but realized I have zero knowledge on the how to’s beyone the initial act of lopping his head off.  And no decent (sharp) knives.  I didn’t want to learn on him (will source this knowledge with area farmers) so a Craigslist ad was born.  Response was minimal.  Then I was checking my spam folder (looking for a note from my sheep shearer) and found a response from 4 days ago, right after the ad went live.  It included a photo of the sender’s chicken house (a palace!), with a few of the 19 hens in the chicken yard.  And, the people were just one town over!  Woohoo! I wrote back quickly, praying that the person didn’t go elsewhere in the ensuing four days, since I hadn’t responded.  Thankfully they were still interested and came by this evening.  It was great to meet them and fun to talk with like minded people.  And I nearly yelped with excitement when they told me they had two yaks!  I love yaks and have looked into them as an animal I’d like to raise.  They are a fiber animal, of course (my justification), but do I have room?  I’m going to go over to visit Junior sometime in the next month or so, and meet the yaks.  I can hardly wait.  

The sheep pen is holding up okay with the mud issue.  There are a few mucky spots just as it transitions from cover to the pen, but it’s not too bad.  I mucked the shed out a couple of weeks ago and it’s in pretty good shape overall.  I’ve been trying to let them out as much as possible, for a little bit of fresh forage and to stretch their legs a bit.  The ewes especially need to be moving more to stay fit so that when the lambs come they’ll have an easier birthing process.  The shearer is supposed to be here on Sunday, and it’s none too soon.  Ideally they would have been sheared a month ago – the fleeces are a mess on all but one, and basically a salvage job on little Pebbles (my favorite wool, of course).  She began pulling at her back a couple of months ago.  At first I thought it was a type of rooing, though rooing usually starts at the shoulders (where her wool is well rooted and not coming out at all), but then I realized it was mostly irritation from where the ram, ahem, serviced her and she’s been pulling at it so much she now has a reverse Mohawk along her back, from about mid-spine to her tail.  Of course with this there’s the secondary worry of her ingesting too much wool and getting a hairball impaction.  The shearer comes from Wales every year (his wife’s family is in the area and raise Black Welsh Mountain Sheep) and shears area flocks while he’s here.  He’s fast and efficient.  I was going to email him today to get a time frame, then realized he was probably en route, flying out today or tomorrow.  I’m sure I’ll hear from him by Friday and will get them all ready for their date with the clippers.  Even with the chilly weather we’ve had lately (snow showers!) I’m sure they’ll be much happier without all the itchy wool.  And I’ll probably do a mid-year shearing in early October, to hopefully keep them a little more comfortable during the winter months (a year’s worth of wool growth seems to be about two months too much).  I’m still learning!

The story so far: 2012 and me

I didn’t really set any New Year’s resolutions this year.  I find that they only make me feel bad about myself when I don’t accomplish them, or fizzle out on them (the perennial “lose weight and get in shape” being the worst offender).  Nevertheless, the year has been busy so far, and I’m committed to getting things done and making things happen.  Instead of talking about doing things, I’m taking steps toward doing them. 

As mentioned in my previous post, I’ve been taking classes like crazy.  This is partly because they all seem to be presenting themselves now (coincidence?) and I just can’t pass up the opportunities.  Even so there are plenty I’m missing due to conflicts or just plain no time.  So far there was my felting class in January, and then a week later was the WSU Extension Country Living Expo and Cattleman’s Winterschool.  It was the third or fourth year I’d attended the Winterschool and again enjoyed it immensely.  It’s a day long series of workshops, each an hour or so in length, and for every session time there are dozens of topics to choose from.  I again had a hard time deciding what workshops to take but just decided to focus on a topic – the sheep – and stuck with things pertaining to that all day long.  My first class was taught by a veterinarian who teaches at WSU veterinary school and was all about the rumen (the four chambered stomach of sheep, goats, and cattle).  The next class was the same instructor, all about sheep diseases and ailments.  Both classes were crammed with info, and while I knew the basics, this extra information just made me want to know more.  Then it was off to the Preparing for Lambing class.  Since it’s been a long time since I raised kids (of the goat variety) I needed the refresher course, and it was excellent (again taught by a veterinary professor at WSU), with lots of information and tips to be ready.  After lunch was a marketing class that wasn’t as good as I wanted, though I did learn that there are a lot of licenses needed and regulations for selling farm produce.  More research needed there.   My last class of the day was about evaluating hay.  It was really instructive and made me feel better about what I’m feeding them now and about purchasing next year’s ton.  Good stuff all around.  There were another half dozen classes I would have loved to take, but since I don’t have a working time turner (or just don’t know how to work the one I have), they’ll have to wait until next year’s Expo.

I had a weekend “off” – no classes or events, whew – and then had another all day class this past Saturday, again conducted by WSU Extension, called  Women in Agriculture.  It was a great day of panel discussions, two great presentations – both virtual – and a connecting with other women doing what I’m doing.  Some of them are further along than I am (farming) and some were still in the dreaming stage (I’m only a wee bit past that, really), and it was a very informative and validating day.  The keynote speaker was Lyn Garling of Over the Moon Farm, who started farming at age 48, and gave a great talk.  She had a ton of information about the definition of farming, and what a “real farmer” is, and the opportunities for women in farming.  It made me realize that I am a farmer, and I can do this. I don’t know yet what exactly I will be producing for sale – so far it’s just been eggs – but now I also know that 91% of farmers have to work off the farm in order to survive financially.  Just like me.  So as I work towards achieving the goal of farm income, I know my little place is not a hobby farm, or a lifestyle farm, and I’m not a gentleman farmer.  I’m growing and producing, and soon I’ll be marketing.   I am a farmer. 

In addition to the classes I’ve taken and have yet to take (a cooking class at the end of the month, more dog training classes with Daisy – to start in March, an editing course in April (online – weee!), an environmental writing workshop in April), I’ve also hired an amazing life coach, Nancy Carlstrom, and have been coaching once a week, determined to finally discover and blast past whatever’s been holding me back for so long.  Instead of sitting around wishing and hoping and dreaming (though I still do all three), I’m determined to take some action and realize my goals.  The work so far with my life coach has been great, learning more about what motivates me on a deeper level and what trips me up too, and learning a new way of looking at things and do things differently so that I can achieve these dreams I’ve been dreaming. 

So I guess without stating it via “resolutions” (such a depressing word, really)I’ve decided that this year is the year I make these changes.  Look out 2012, ’cause here I come!