Rain. Down pours. Like take out the driveway kind of rain, throw a liferaft to the tomato plants rain, ring out the sheep kind of... you get the point.
Bats. I had to "hay" for the new addition, but the hay goes in my neighbors hay loft which is full of bats! I have never heard so many. It during the day of course, which is why I couldn't see any of the nocturnals flying around; just the creepy feeling that you know you are being watched by a "few." But not only in their loft, I found this bugger who had curled up in light outside of the chicken coop. It must have been like ponderosa in the base of the bulb for him, and he gorged himself to the point he was too fat to get back out. Ha! Can you imagine eating so much and thinking you are in heaven, and then you go to leave and you no longer fit out the doors? That was him.
The lambs were finally weaned from the ewes. I say finally, because it wasn’t that we were late in removing them, it was just relief to now have these 80-90 pound babies off them. When nursing they were lifting the moms up off the ground while trying to suckle. The ewes now quietly enjoy eachothers company, and strike poses for the camera like this one.
Speaking of sheep, after last week’s Ahgosa introduction… guess whose fleece sold later that week? Yup. Ahgosa’s. Amazing what a little publicity can do right?
Have I told you about my lambs yet…?
Have I told you about my lambs yet…?
Chickens. I'll keep it short. Doing well after the fox melay. No signs of momma fox. Chickens are back out ranging. Our road side stand is now set up on Friday and Saturday mornings, come buy some eggs! And our two broody moms are still broody, although we had two delawares hatch the other day. Those of you who know your chickens you're lookin at momma thinking... that isnt a delaware? You are right, she is a surrogate. Delawares (at least ours) arent good mom's, where as our Buff's are. Hence the surrogate.
Whew... you still with me? Okay horse. Gunnar. Gunnar rocks by the way just in case you were wondering. He arrived Sunday and met his new pasture mate named Danny. Danny use to seem like a decent size horse to me, and truly he is. However, I soon realized just how big Gunnar really is. No, its not father and son in the pasture, or a young colt next to a full grown draft. That's Danny who is almost 15 hands himself, and is 26 years old! Yeah. That's my Gunnar. A three year old Clydesdale. Beautiful blaze (thats the stripe down his face) and four white sox with feathering; the term to describe the hair around his feet. Being three, he tests me a bit, but we have found some understandings already. On the second day, I went out to say goodnight to him (yes I did, you got a problem with that???) and I practiced a little calling and coming with him. And by gosh, he did, he would come to me and follow me around the pasture already, and I didn't even have treats! I just praised him and petted him everytime. He will be my biggest dog yet, watch and see.