Such Silly Sheep

I've been so busy lately that I've neglected my blog. However, the sheep have been busy, too, providing all sorts of fodder for writing.

A few weeks ago I woke up in the middle of the night hearing a lamb baa. It sounded like she wanted her mother. I tried to go back to sleep, hoping the situation would sort itself out, but the baa-ing persisted. After about 20 minutes I surrendered, got up, put on shoes and a jacket, grabbed a flashlight, and went outside. Dierdre accompanied me, of course.

The night was bright--the moon almost full. Dierdre and I walked toward the barn, where the crying lamb had retreated. Just as we neared it, the lamb and several adults appeared from the far side of the building and approached us. The lamb stopped baa-ing, so I figured her mother was part of the group. We turned around, returned to the house, and went back to bed.

In the morning, we went out to feed the sheep as usual. (You notice how I speak in the plural; it's pretty much a given that Dierdre accompanies me where ever I go!) I heard that same lamb crying again. Hmmm, this wasn't good. And, sure enough, I quickly discovered why: there were half a dozen sheep trapped in the hay storage room, the lamb's mother, Frejya, among them.

Now this was bad for several reasons. One, the incarcerated sheep had eaten part of my stored hay, which meant I was going to have to buy hay sooner than I expected--definitely an unwanted expense. Two, the almost half-full bag of COB (corn, oats, barley, and molasses) was stored in there, and it had disappeared. That meant they had eaten close to 20 lbs of COB--definitely not good. Three, they were hot and thirsty from being stuck in a small room with only a single window to allow their hot and humid breath to escape. And four, they had removed storage container lids, torn open two trash bags full of empty feed bags, and pulled loose from the bales a fair amount of hay, and all this debris had collected in front of the door.

Between the mess and the crowd of sheep, I couldn't get the door open! Not even an inch.

I grabbed a shovel, put it through the open window, and tried to push some of the junk out of the way, but it didn't work; I couldn't get enough leverage to budge the compacted hay. I thought about climbing through the window, but I was going to have to stand on a chair or something to reach it, and the area in front of the door slopes steeply. I figured that was too risky.

What to do....And meanwhile the sheep inside the hay room were baa-ing to be let out. The rest of the sheep were loudly complaining because I wasn't feeding them, and Dierdre was jumping and barking, upset because she couldn't get into the hay room to reach the sheep she knew were in there. Oh, and I was supposed to be leaving to drive to Phoenix within the next half hour. My stress level was definitely rising.

Then I suddenly thought of a neighbor boy who sometimes feeds my sheep for me. At 13 years old, he could probably get through the window without needing a step up. It was kind of early in the morning, but I called him anyway. His mother said he'd be right over. He and his older brother showed up about 15 minutes later. One climbed through the window, while the other handed him the shovel I'd been trying to use. He shifted the debris in a few minutes and got the door open just wide enough to admit (or exit) a sheep.

Now, being sheep, they of course wouldn't move. They'd been whining about being stuck in there, and now they wouldn't budge, despite some forceful pushing from the neighbor. Dierdre to the rescue! She charged in and very quickly convinced one of the rams that the dog-free outside was much preferable to the Dierdre-dominated inside, and he bolted out the door. Being flock animals, the others followed at once. Hmmm, five of the six culprits were rams....

After that, every time I fed the sheep I checked and double-checked the door was secure.

A few days later my feed guy delivered more hay. As he reached the barn on his small tractor, pulling a trailer piled with hay bales, I caught up with him. We looked in the hay room, and what did we find? Yep, a room full of rams, with the door wedged shut again and the same scenario: loud unhappy sheep in the hay room, rowdy, hungry sheep outside, and a frantic dog wanting to reach the miscreants.

This time I had an idea, though. My feed guy pushed a hay bale off his trailer and placed it in front of the door. Using this large and stable "step stool", I climbed through the window, shoveled away the additional refuse the sheep had found, and pulled open the door. Dierdre repeated her how-to-remove-sheep-from-a-small-space maneuver and cleared the room. We unloaded and stacked hay, while the escapees hurried to a water trough; it's thirsty work eating illicit hay.

Since then I've devised a new way to fasten the door, and so far no one has broken in, although I've seen evidence that they've tried. Such silly sheep!

Hey, Don't Eat That!

Dierdre keeps eating the COB (corn, oats, barley, and molasses) I bought for the sheep. Do all animals have a sweet tooth?

I rarely give the sheep COB, but I wanted the nursing ewes to get some extra calories, so I purchased a bag. All the sheep (including the rams who certainly don't need to put on weight) love it, as do the hens. But the dog?

A Beautiful View

I took this picture on Tuesday, just two days after we had 7" of snow. I'm glad it melted quickly; I'm ready for spring!

Marzipan

Heloise lambed yesterday, and we named her baby Marzipan! She is a white ewe, and she's big. Heloise excels at motherhood; she's attentive without being overly worried.

I went out several times yesterday to check on mother and lamb. While I was quietly watching to make sure Marzipan was nursing successfully, Hermes, her father, poked his head through the barn window. I'm sure he just wanted a pat on the head (he's our love sponge), but he made an extremely cute picture peeking in at Heloise and her little one. He's a huge ram, so I'm not surpised Marzipan is big.

PBSD

I think the hen Dierdre laid on is suffering from PBSD--Post Briard Stress Disorder! She's still moving slow and looking kind of groggy. Poor thing. But the hens have always recovered from Dierdre's herding imperative in the past, so she should be fine.

No Laying on Hens

That's what I admonished Dierdre, our Briard, this morning. We had 7" of snow last night, and this morning is gorgeous: sunny, blue sky, and lots of fluffy snow. Dierdre is having so much fun!

As soon as she went out the door, she dipped her muzzle in the snow and tossed her head up, letting snow fly. Then she went into puppy mode, head down, rear end in the air, wanting to play. (She's about eight years old, by the way.) She ran ahead of me toward the barn, circling back to me every minute or so, to make sure I was aware of how great the morning was.

She wanted to play! But the sheep wouldn't cooperate. All they were interested in was food. While I threw flakes of hay onto the snow, she herded sheep, but none of them shared her snow-loving enthusiasm.

Next she tried the hens, chasing them around the barn and out into the snow. My Americauna hens are pretty good size, but seven inches of snow is just too much for them; they sank half way up their bodies and had no chance to escape Dierdre's enthusiasm. I reached her just as she caught a hen and laid on her. She actually positions her quarry under her chest and lays on the unfortunate small animal to control it. She's done this to small lambs, hens, and a very annoyed Chihuahua. She doesn't want to hurt them, just govern them. I grabbed her collar and pulled her off, and the hen, looking very ruffled and affronted, ran for cover in the barn.

As I headed for the house, Dierdre tried one more time to get the sheep to "play", with, not surprisingly, no success. I called her, and she raced to me, ears and fur blowing, snow flying from her paws. She frolicked all the way to the door. A joyful dog really makes my day; I can't help but feel happy!

Lamb High Jinks

I woke up around midnight and thought I heard a lamb baa-ing. I listened. Nothing. I laid back down and heard it again. This time the dog, Dierdre, barked; she heard it, too.

It sounded like a lamb, but something seemed wrong. Quiet. The wind blew one of the chairs on the deck with a clunking noise. Another baa--from above me? A second noise on the deck and more baa-ing.

Wait a minute; what was going on? Dierdre and I went upstairs, outside, and around onto the deck. There was Minerva's ram lamb, running around by himself on the deck, crying. I looked toward the barn; the rest of the sheep were standing quietly, comtemplating the errant lamb. I have no idea how or why he was on the deck, especially alone.

Dierdre took charge of the situation, rounded him up, and sent him running along side the house, down the steps, and back towards the barn. I returned to the deck in time to see him rush to his mother and start nursing. Minerva seemed remarkably undisturbed by the incident.

Dierdre and I went back in the house. I climbed in bed, mumbled a drowsy explanation to Mark, and went back to sleep.

The deck.

What I've Read during the Last Few Months

Maureen Ash, Death of a Squire
Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
Annette Blair, Larceny and Lace; A Veiled Deception; My Favorite Witch; and The Kitchen Witch
Alan Bradley, The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie
Kate Carlisle, Homicide in Hardcover
Ariana Franklin, Mistress of the Art of Death
Roberta Gellis, A Mortal Bane; A Personal Devil, Bone of Contention; and Chains of Folly
Lauren Haney, A Vile Justice; A Curse of Silence; A Place of Darkness; A Cruel Deceit; and Flesh of the God
Charlaine Harris, Dead in the Family and A Bone to Pick
Bernard Knight, Crowner's Quest
Shirley Rousseau Murphy, Cat to the Dogs
Sharan Newman, The Shanghai Tunnel
Clare O'Donohue, The Lover's Knot
Philip Pullman, The Ruby in the Smoke
Rebecca Tingle, The Edge on the Sword

The Meaning of Craft

"...There is an inherent pleasure in making. We might call this joie de faire (like joie de vivre) to indicate that there is something important, even urgent, to be said about the sheer enjoyment of making something exist that didn't exist before, of using one's own agency, dexterity, feelings and judgment to mold, form, touch, hold and craft physical materials, apart from anticipating the fact of its eventual beauty, uniqueness or usefulness."
Ellen Dissanayake, "The Pleasure and Meaning of Making", American Craft, April/May 1995

Wild Kingdom or Domesticated Ranch?

A visitor took these photos. I think they're great.

 Dierdre on the job.

Mother ewe to the rescue.