Passing the title.

 

Strangely enough, the Indian Summer had me feeling like it was still August; while the workload of school, home projects and the farm brought me back to reality and all that comes with late fall.  The breeding pairs are just about finishing up their second cycles, which meant it was about time to say goodbye to Johnny, our founding ram here at Windy Knob.  He is quite the presence, his fleece and confirmation were both of the utmost quality, but his "it" factor (along with his 260 pound frame) left visitors saying "whoa" whenever they saw him for the first time.  There is nothing to be sad about, Johnny is going to continue his Kingdom on another farm.  His bloodline had been mixed throughout our farm now, and his "prince" George, leaves me confident in the future Corriedales here at the Knob.  Johnny you will always be the first ram, thanks to you bud.  And to think, if you told me three years ago I'd get attached to a sheep; I'd a said you were crazy. 

The farm continues to thrive.  As we speak, some fifty odd pounds of our fleeces are being washed and processed locally and spun into all varieties of yarn and the finest of white lambs roving.  We hope to have it back in time for Christmas, send an email if you'd like to be updated, or put in a reserve order today.   Our superior grass fed lamb was processed back in September and we sold out within a week! We just can't keep products around here these days.  There are far worse problems to have I suppose.  Honestly, we are humbled by how well things have gone for the farm and are quite proud to see the hard work pay off.  Of course I know our high quality products are the finest around.  It's just nice to know our customers think so too. 

If you are interested in raw fleeces we have two available from our fall shearings.  One is a true black fleece from Alaina, and the other in a beautiful Cinnamon Moorit fleece.  Please view our website at http://www.windyknobfarms.com/ for more information.   

Everywhere a sheep sheep

Old Mcdonald had a farm, E I, what the, oh.

This is the time of year where the sheep are spread out across the farm into their breeding "pairs."  Some rams are lucky enough to have four ewes, other rams might only have one.  Because we are using five rams, there are five different breeding groups.  Four is usually the max,, but due to some unique circumstances this year, we are using five.  That means five different fences to move around, five different groups to keep contained, five different water buckets, salt buckets, etc.  It is a lot.

All for the sake of bloodlines and maintaining the colors. 

There are days when I get to sit and watch the farm while lounging poolside, but I haven't seen any of those lately.  The farm has been kicking my butt.  Just in the last two weeks we have had the sheep shorn, taken 50 pounds of wool to have cleaned and processed into yarn, taken lambs to butcher, sold said lambs and arrange all the breeding pairs.  I'm ready for poolside again, though those who know me well, know that is a fictional place in my mind that place doesn't really exist for me.  

I will work backwards for this story.  Solanium is a chemical that turns green when exposed to sunlight.  If taken in a high enough dosage, it can be quite poisonous to humans.  It is a dormant chemical found in potatoes.  So.  If one were to dig up an entire row of his Yukon gold potatoes, which happened to be a bountiful crop this year, and then say, forget about them for a week (while he worked on other things), his entire crop of potatoes would then turn green due to the sunlight activated Solanium.  Thus spending almost four months of garden work only to end up with toxic taters.  Awesome.

Sheep shearing, fleeces, yarn, grass fed lamb, breeding: check.

Garden skills: needs improvement.

Poo-kins and Poo-chinnis

We have had a garden here since the first year we moved in, 2008.  It's quadrupled in size and has some success stories (as with failures of course), and has become quite fruitful (tempted to say vegetableful here, but won't).  Last fall we had pumpkins growing, but they never seemed to reach full size, and just ended up sheep treats in October.

As a result, this year we decided not to grow any pumpkins in the garden; however the sheep had other plans.

July days were tearing off the calendar wall when we noticed some plants sprouting in the barn paddock.  They were right outside the stalls where the sheep hang out all winter long.  It was amusing, and interesting all at the same time.  Just where did these plants come from? Could it be? Naw, really? The seeds...  they passed right on through and sprouted in the overly-fertile soil despite getting trampled on by the sheep?  Really?  The pumpkins and zuchinni seeds they had eaten over the winter passed through their intestines, survived the winter and spring and germinated into this:

Indeed they did.  Now fast foward to mid August (mere weeks away from returning to school) and the sheep's side garden project (no sprays, weeding or row planting mind you) has not only taken off, but well surpassed anything any human have growing on the farm.  The zukes are giant! As if they are some rare breed of giant squash, and the pumpkins are plentiful (though small and a bit late... sheep, lets get with the program next year. 

None the less, the sheep have shown me up this year with there "anything you can do, we can do better" garden.  Now the moral dilemma, the products of their garden... do I get to eat them or the sheep?

Everything finds its place.

It's hot. No, like really hot.  Car thermometer read 98 degrees, but you have to compensate for the humidity.  That makes it feel like 130 degrees, or something I swear.  And the old house architecture with a boiler system and no room for central air, I hate it.  This old house stuff is for the birds.  Today anyway.

Everything finds its place.  I feel that is a double sided statement for me right now.  One from a point of gratitude outside and the other as a saving grace inside.  I'll try my best to explain.

I feel very grateful for everything that is around me right now.  I walk to my barn in the morning and smell the straw and the sheep of course, see the chickens putzing around, and my great dane often in tow, and I think my gosh this is a life most people couldn't conjure up if they sat down to think about it, and I get to live it each and every day!  Windy Knob Farms, started as a research weekend reading about livestock, and njow just recently we have had incredible success in sales to the point that  have sold out of nearly everyhing I have including lambs, breeding stock, yarn, fleece and rugs.  I just am truly blessed with how well things have gone so far.  Just in the last few weeks I've seen our lambs go on to be yoopers, cheeseheads and mudhens just to name a few (c'mon trivia buffs, where'd they go to?).  One miraculous story takes a lamb from a July barbque (as in "guest of honor") in which an awkward situation becomes a learning situation for me in working with the public and sales.  Hours after the pick up I received a phone call from a neighbor who runs an animal santuary for rescured and retired livetock.  This sheep went from stall to car, to barbque, back into a car and to the life of her dreams. 

Her new rightful owners are absolutely in love with this little lamb of 9 lives, and we even recieved a new picture of her hanging with her new pasture mate, a 1000 pound heifer named Sunshine.  It's a long frustrating story that has a happy ending and that is all that matters at this point right?  But you talk about a lucky (destined) little lamb! 

I just finished restoring a medical cabinet from the 30's that turned out to be a project and a half.  I bought it in an old barn in North Carolina earlier this summer and now I see it in my bathroom every morning.  Rusty and in a pile of junk, to center piece of a bathroom.  Funny how things find their place; sometimes as if it's just automatic or destined.  

The other sense of finding place is the sense found from within.  A view in which I constantly search for finding "place" which is good to have in trying to be creative and define who I am as a person.  Stagnant is something I will never have to worry about as I constantly seek to determine what it is I desire to do and where I want to be.  But there is a fine, fine line between overdrive and overdone.  A line between soul searching and perpetual discontent; healthy and heartache, you get the point by now of course.  Everything around me seems to find its place, and yet I feel as though I am stuck still fighting to get the square wooden peg though the round hole.  You laugh, but seriously, I won't stop once I get my mind made up.  And dang it, that peg will go there.  Meanwhile, the world goes by, and damn it's beautiful;  If I would only let it do its thing.  

Artist Colony

About a month ago, maybe even a few weeks more than that even, I received a phone call with an unusal request.  You see, when you have animals on a farm, you have to expect a lot of unusal requests, things like field trips from schools, a whole new world of "friends" who want to bring their children and all of their neighborhood friends over, and more.  I simply explain that we aren't a petting farm, and most are understanding.  And while I have come to expect these strange request, this one was different.

"We want to paint your sheep."  the polite voice on the other end of the line stated.

"You want to what?" I replied, clearly bewildered.

She went on to explain, very patiently, that she works with a group of artists from Traverse City, and their group meets around the area to paint different settings in an outdoor setting or Plein Air.  This particular Thursday they had in mind, they wanted to use our sheep as their muse.  I extended the invite and looked forward to the day.  

My Grandfather is a painter, and I always remember heading for his art studio as a kid, whenever I visited Grandma and Grandpa's place.  In the door, through the kitchen down some stairs and his easel stood tall on the right side of the room.  Sometimes it was a brand new start, and I could imagine what the colors would make of themselves; other times it was like a flash moment in time, watching the painting take shape and form towards completion, one step closer with each new visit to their home.  The painting thing didn't work out for me, but his creativity will always be instilled in me.  

And so the day came, and Windy Knob became an Artist Colony.  Check that one of the list.

A variety of mediums were used from charcoal to acrylics and even some water colors.  I absolutely loved walking around and seeing people enjoy the farm in such a unique way; but the best part for me was to see how other's see the farm.  It is a beautiful place here at Windy Knob, and I appreciate it, most certainly I do; but there are times where I look around and all I see are hooves that need to be trimmed, mouths to feed and pastures cut and sheep to shear.  For once I got to look around and see what others see, the beauty that is around me, but from someone else's perspective.  It was truly a neat experience.  From my photo's you can see the easels set up around the farm, and artist enjoying themselves in the evening sun.  The sheep, well, they still eat and slept, and the chickens walked around perhaps only slightly perplexed why people were staring at them so intently; but a day was definitly had, and I for one enjoyed it. 

 

Almost there...

I'd be lying if I didn't admit to counting down the days of school that remain before summer break.  The answer is five in case you were wondering.  It's a strange feeling, much like one anyone would get before a vacation approaches.  The excitement, the anticipation, time coming to a stand still and then finally the last day arrives and summer begins.  By the following Monday I usually start getting antsy and bored again.  That's where this whole disease called farmicosis came from in the first place.

But I love it of course and truly appreciate having the animals around.  Gunnar has been particularly good for me so far.  Gunnar is my 17.1 hands tall, 1700 pound Clydesdale that I have who has now turned four.  Big difference from last summer, he actually follows commands now.  Whoda thunk it?

The latest job on the farm has been milking of all things.  You can milk sheep? Well, yeah you can.  You can milk anything with nipples I hear.   Now Corriedales are a dual purpose sheep, and of those two purposes, dairy is NOT one of them.  However, in the following days of weening the lambs off of the ewes, the udders continue to develop milk.  It can become quite full and I decided to try my hand at collecting the milk.  Turns out Sheep's milk has the highest protein and fat content (better than goat milkl) and is considered to be quite the ingredient in high end cheeses and soaps.  Cheese making is too involved for me, so I am now turning to soap (anyone share a receipe?)  In the meantime, I'll continue to store the milk, in addition to getting funny looks from the ewes.

The lambs are still the heart of the show here at the farm.   Always willing to pose for you, here is a group of the Moorits from this year, the famed triplets (Dune, Maple and Glen) and Sutton, the first born of the year. 

That's it, everybody out!

It’s amazing what can happen in just a few weeks of time. Not too long ago, we were pushing it, to move our first group of sheep out onto pasture for the first time. The pastures hadn’t truly bounced back yet from the winter, and our lambs had just hit the 30 day mark. It wasn’t but late April that we had the sheep shorn. Suddenly in just the past week alone, we sold a couple lambs for breeding stock, sold every single fleece we have on the farm, 6 skeins of yarn to a few different buyers and even took a deposit (yes we take reserves) for an order of lamb in the fall. Not to shabby for one week’s time.

In addition to the sales, there are alot of chores going on round here. Now that the rams were moved out of the barn for the season, we had to dismantle their temporary stall. Out went the boards and the gate and up came all the soiled bedding. Wish it were as easy as it sounds, then I wouldn’t absolutely loathe cleaning out the stalls.

From there we were able to move the rest of the barn group out to join their peers. All the lambs now, even the second batch, have reached the age that the can be taken out to pasture where they will truly flourish. It entails and ushering of sorts. We set up an aisle way of temporary fencing to escort the sheep from the barn out to the pastures. For these guys it was their first time outside their safe haven. However they were torn. While their instincts had them on high alert, their eyes and stomachs had them yearning to shoveling in the fresh grasses as fast as they could chew.



A view out the window



In just a few weeks time you watch the lambs bulk up with the limitless pasture that they pace themselves on. Nap, eat, nap, eat… repeat all day long. Still just a third of the height of an adult sheep, but truly starting to look more sheep than lamb in body build; it is great to get the sheep out on pasture where they are meant to be. Even better is the view from the house. I finally found something I can enjoy doing where I can just sit and relax. Milos moves over for me to share his couch (just a bit of course) and out the westerly window, I can gaze out onto the pasture and watch the sheep. It is such a site and definitely soothing for me, maybe thats why we count sheep to fall asleep.  My mind doesn’t race 100 mph about the next six tasks I should be doing, or how to build, fix or run this that and the other thing. I just exist. I drink my coffee. And exist. Silly as it sounds, it’s rare for me and quite difficult actually.

And so it begins.  The snow has long since melted, the rains have yielded to a few sunny days and we move onward toward summer.    

Take one on the chin.

Spring time may have finally arrived, just a little late.  This time last year every ram, ewe and lamb was out on pasture.  The temps were warm, the pastures had bounced back and the barn was empty.  Fast forward to today, and we still have rain, snow (believe it or not) and a packed barn; the pastures just aren't ready for 'em.  Our hay is running dangerously low, which meant I had to go back and buy more.  Luckily there was still enough to buy a few weeks of time. 

Hooves, deworming, and lamb weighing: all things that have to get checked off the list before heading to pasture.  We basically coral every sheep into the stalls (coaxing by shaking grain in a can).  Once inside it is grab who you can and check them off the list.  Repeat until all hooves, CDT shots and deworming meds are done. 

It has become an art. You get your feet shoulder width apart, squat down low, arms out wide and you have to be pretty darn quick.  The sheep start swimming around the walls of the two stalls, it's like watching fish collectively swim in a group.  Once you move, they react.  But hopefully you win and you have your hands on the one you wanted. 

I saw her coming, she had made it past me once, and I was lining up to catch her on the pass back.  One of our registered ewe lambs, Isadore; weighing it at 45 pounds, she made her way towards me.  She was being ushered with a few other lambs on her left and right, but I had her in my site.

Shoulder width apart, arms wide, bend your knees.

I jolted between a few to catch her, but my reactions weren't nearly as quick as hers.  I had already decided to go in for it, a split second after she decided her next move.  As I was bending down to grab Isadore out of the group, she (and her sixth sense apparently) was in flight mode.  Sheep are incredibly athletic.  Not all that smart (what's that say about me), but amazingly agile and quick. And oh, by the way, they can jump.  As I was bending down to get her, she began to leap up out of the small group of about 6 sheep.  All too quick it happened, I basically become a bullseye for her.  Her head clocked me square on the jaw.  I had just enough time to see it coming, and may even have winced before contact.  I took the shot, stumbled backwards and braced myself again the cement wall of the barn.  From there I slide down the wall, landing firmly on my rear.  With a face full of lambs now struting right past me at eye level.

I saw stars but never went out.  Definitely more TKO than KO.  Isadore 1.  Farmer 0. 

After the deworming and weighing was through, it was time to get the four adult rams out onto pasture.  The pasture can support four right now, but not another twenty seven.  A few temporary fences placed, open the barn door and gate, and away they went.  It is very satisfying to see animals out on the pasture again. Like a rite of passage, springtime on a farm is quite a landmark.  It's nice to see things returning to their prime.  Green grasses, buds beginning to grow, happy rams and chubby lambs.  Another spring at Windy Knob.

Lisa's fleece

Our fleeces have been shorn, and some yarns and other products available.  Be sure to visit out website, and yes we ship!  We even accept pay pal to make it more convenient for our buyers, just visit us at http://www.etsy.com/people/windyknobfarms .

Taking spring head on.

It finally feels a little like spring around here.  I have to rub my eyes and make sure I'm seeing things clearly, but now, when I look out the window to the pastures there is actually some green out there!  The pasture is beginning its comeback, Robins are out and about, buds on the treesp; ladies and gentlemen, we may have broken through to the other side!

The lambs all made it into the world safe and sound.  I will take the late deliveries when it means everyone is born healthy.  We didn't have one troubled delivery this year.  All the ewes and lambs are living life fat and happy in the barn.  There is quite a size difference between the lambs, mostly due to age; with our heaviest weighing in at 47 pounds and our young little triplets still in the teens.  More importantly, everyone is eating and everyone shows a great demenor while playing around the farm.

Now that lambing season has ended, it is time to move on to other spring chores which include shearing and hoof trimming.  The other day we had the shearer come out to the farm and shear the boys and a few of the girls that are off schedule.  We do two shearings a year; one spring and the other in the fall.   The freshly shorn fleeces smell so good, they glisten with the lanolin that I can feel just by touching the fleece.  A couple white fleeces, a couple grays and a moorit brown will all be available here shortly.  Send an email if you are interested and would like to know more.

The hoof trimming is where it gets interesting.  We started with the rams because 16 hooves (4x4) seems a lot less daunting than 40 (4x 10 ewes).  To trim, involves a headlock, a body check, a few wrestling suplexes and THEN you are ready to trim hooves.  In all seriousness though, it is difficult to catch these 200 or 250 pound rams and pin them again the wall, while the other one of us tries to steady their hooves in an unnatural position; steady enough to trim with sharp hoof shears.   I've definitely lost more blood than any ram has to this point.

The funny thing is the four rams all have their individual personalities, which until I raised sheep myself, never believed a sheep could have.  But they do.  Johnny is the giant that could hurt you, but is somehow laid back enough to not bother.  He intimidates you with his presence and that is enough.  George is the one of the two new adolescents.  He has a lot to prove for some reason and isn't afraid to start a tussle, be it another ram or with me.  Since he is only a year old, I can still take him.  Rutherford is also a year old, and much smaller than George.  He is the low man on the totem pole, he knows it, and is the most easy going of the four.

Then there is Ahgosa.  I have written about Ahgosa several times before.  First there was the body flip, where he left me laying on the ground staring at the sky.  Then the breakout out of the pasture, and now this.  While I was trimming Johnny, a feat in and of itself, I am basically bent over his rear, hanging my head upside down while I trim the bottom of his hoof.  While doing this, out of the corner of my eye, I see the top of a wool covered head back up, angle down and charge towards me.  I dropped Johnny's hoof, and turned to protect my head just in time to take a blow on the shoulder.  Ahgosa had reared back and took a charge to, no pun intended, ram me!  I bellowed at Dan for not giving me a heads up, which of course he has his hands full trying to steady Johnny through all of this.  I shoved back Ahogsa and stomped my foot at him to let him know I mean business.  From there on out, it was one eye on the hoof being trimmed, and one eye on any charging rams.

Happy Clouds, Happy Lambs.

Being a high school science teacher, I had the week off- er "off."  I didn't go into school, per say, although I did work on a few lectures, graded essays and worked on my timeline for the last month before the AP test.  But yes, I could have slept in, had it not been for the loud obnoxious ewe's bellowing for their food.  I don't recall downloading a hungry sheep app for a phone alarm for a reason, but that's just Mary Jo and Artemesia.  They don't even bah any more, it's more from the depths of their loins and sounds alot more like bah-getoverhere and feed me Seymore!  School work, sheep and a bathroom remodel; it was a productive vacation and I am grateful for the time off to get that much completed around the farm.  But... I also would have been grateful for a vacation down to someplace warm and far away; without my tools, without my books and computer but I'd probably would still take Mary Jo and Artemesia. 

One night during the week, I was able to meet up with some friends for trivia night in Traverse City.  There was a particular question regarding an artist who was known for painting his "Happy Clouds."  I jumped out of my seat on this one.  Dad, here's to you, and all those times you made me sit and watch PBS and Bob Ross with his big afro glistening under the single stage light of the low cost production set.  We would watch, (thinking to myself, who watches people paint?) while going through phases where, Bob, the artist would appear to have botched the whole painting; messing it up with some newly painted dew dad.  Then, just as quickly with a whisk or two of his fan brush, suddenly it became a stand of happy pine trees.  The man was genius.  Bob Ross; not you Dad.

From happy clouds to happy sheep.  All 17 of them!  Some came a little late, and made for some long waiting moments, but still, they all came!  This year was a little inconvienent as they were all spaced out over three and a half weeks.  With that, there really was never the chaoctic moment I expected where I pictured six ewes all yelling and giving birth at the time, and mixed up lambs all having to be bottle fed.  Instead, the little maternity ward of lambing jugs, never maxed out past the three spots we have.  Perhaps the ewes knew the space available and simply waited for it.  And better yet, no troubling births.  Ten ewes, some first timers, cold snow (yes...still) and no problems what so ever.  THAT, is a great lambing season.

Thanks to all the "ladies" at Windy Knob, and welcome to all the new ones, with ten ram lambs and seven ewe lambs now running around, we have over thirty sheep on the farm.  And still one llama who has somehow become a playground fixture for the lambs.  Like a tired parent, Drogo sits out in the paddock, where the snow has given way to the flattened remaining grass from last fall, and lets the little ones get away with things no one over the age of six weeks will ever get away with.  Do you think the lambs play hot lava or is it king of the hill?  Either way, the lamb(s) standing on top of Drogo's back seem to be winning.

And if you'd like to see the full list of names, or are interested in seeing the lambs that are available for breeding stock, please visit our website and click on spring lambs!  http://www.windyknobfarms.com/

Calm before the storm



Omena and Oneida hanging out in the feeder

Not exactly half way... but getting there.  There hasn't been a birth on the farm in almost a week.  This is like a vacation after the start we had. Three ewes that all gave birth to twins within a 20 hour period, followed by a brief two day stint, than one ewe delivered one lamb.  Followed by silence.  Of course a barn full of 21 sheep is never truly silent.  There have been quite a few barn checks that prove to be quiet in that there wasn't much action.  Frankly, there's been none.  Other than the big melt down underway, in which I have to carve valleys to drain the water away from the barns and coop, this simply hasn't been the "lambing season" excitement I was expecting.  Has it been nice to sleep through the night and not have to worry about lambs at 2am?  Sure.  But I know it's coming, and with every day that Artemesia, Ella and Alaina waddle around the paddock, I know its one more day closer to Lady Bird, Martha and Rosalyn bringing udder chaos when all 6 remaining ewes deliver right about the same time.  I thought three was crazy?  Look out.

I guess its alot like watching the pot boil.   I wait and wait, and time seems to go by slow and it's just a matter of time.  Meanwhile, I get to enjoy the fun of having these week old lambs running around.  Still seeming like half cartilage at this point, the lambs buck and bronk around the barn often running into each other if not walls and feeders.  They play hard for mere minutes before grabbing a quick drink from Mom and settling in for a nap.  The lambs climb on top of eachother and huddle into a ball of perfect innocent baby wool; fifeteen minutes later...repeat.  It's peaceful to watch, even the playing can leave me quiet with a simple smirk on my face, watching it all go on around me. I hop up on the stall wall and sit quietly, trying to fall into the scenery around me as to not disturb the protective mothers watching over their lambs.  It's a little after Seven O'clock, the sun is still shining, the snow is melting and for the first time I feel like Spring is truly coming.  There's a lot that goes into running this farm, but these sure are the moments that I treasure the most.  There is something pure, something so natural, watching a completely dependent lamb nurse from it's mother.  The patience displayed, the vulnerability, the dependency all witnessed, it is truly something.   

Mary Jo and her little one.

Two in the morning comes awfully early...

In previous posts, I've mentioned the "marking system" to know when a ram has bred a ewe.  It's a simple mixture of crisco and chalk.  It helps in creating a calendar for timing when 150 days will mark the due date of the ewe.  The deed is completed, and you have a greasy colored chalk spot on her back side.  Every woman's dream for true romance I'm sure. 

However, there are a few variables that can occur; such is the case this year.  Clearly marked (and witnessed I must admit), the due date was set for this past Saturday, March 5th.  I began "lamb watch" on Thursday night, looking for the signs of an early labor from my three suspected ewes.  This led on into Friday night, which was a much more realistic chance of delivery, which created the need for a 2 am barn watch.

Two am rolls around and my cell phone lights up the room, with it's ever cheesy alarm call.  It's whatever the standard ding-a-ling ring is when you first buy the thing; I never was motivated enough to change it.   However, after four nights of this ringing, the jingle is now deeply embedded into my head.  I can't seem to shake it, and the annoying call is giving me anxiety.  Every bell, tone, noise seems to match some element of this tune, and I instantly sigh for another 5 minutes of snooze.  I find myself laying there in bed thinking... how long till the next barn check?  Thinking about it so much, I can't seem to fall asleep. 

Friday, Saturday and Sunday all came and went.  The girls continued to eat and eat and eat some more.  Entitled to? Of course they are, but it just means that labor isn't starting any time soon.  The entire household is growing tired of this now nightly routine.  The early morning wake up which used to have a vibe of a vacation no longer feels that way (remember the excitement of getting up early to leave for a trip?  I somehow have forgotten what it is like).  The dogs don't even bother to get up, they just lay there and gamble that I can stumble around them and out the door without stepping on a limb or tail. 

Then the fun really begins.  Without any neighbor's porches or city lights to light up the clear winter night, I am dependent on keen eyesight and cat like reflexes to overcome the pitch black darkness combined with the obstacles of ice patches on the driveway.   I have to walk downhill to the barn door, slide it open, flip on the switch, and listen.

All the ewe's have their own sounds. I can tell a Mary Jo from an Artemesia any time of day.  The light switch to them means eating time, so its no surprise the light is often followed by bellowing of hungry sheep.  However, at two in the morning during lambing season, its no ordinary call I'm listening for.

And there it was.  A few days late, and a few annoying alarm calls later, I hear the unfamiliar yet recognizeable fait "bah" of a new born lamb.  Like coming down the stairs at Christmas, I run to the gate and peer over the stall to see Lisa had given birth to a lamb.  She was vigilintly cleaning and pawing at it.  No enabling here, these sheep mean business and get their little one's up and nursing in no time.  In fact, I stood and watched in awe as Lisa, our veteran ewe, worked to clean her little one with another set of hoofs exiting her rear.  Her second lamb was already underway.  Labor, while cleaning and feeding. That's how we roll at Windy Knob.

Not exactly.  I stood there for a half an hour with my lambing equipment (stethoscope, Iodine, Cotton Balls, Scissors, Scale) ready to help out at a moment's notice.  Lisa just looked at me.  "I got this," she seemed to say to me with her eyes.  It's a miracle.  Life in any form is spectacular, and I get to watch it unfold through the seasons; time and time again.   And just like that, with these two born, the 2011 lambing season is underway. 

Their ear tags will read #1101 and #1102 (2011, order of birth), but their names will be more fitting.  The theme this year you ask?  After the highly anticipated inaugural year of Presidents and First ladies, I am proud to annouce the 2011 theme.  Something local, something to acknowledge the beautiful area I am lucky enough to call home.  In my opinion, it's one of the best counties in the country; with long winding roads, private little bays around every corner, and endless views of water and islands.  This years theme we connect to our roots here on the farm with all names refrencing places in Leelanau County.  Look for an "Omena" and a "Leelanau," perhaps an "M22," or "Manitou."  The lambs this year will donn names of some of my favorite county roads, bays, islands and landmarks of the county Windy Knob calls home.

Paperwork

February is coming to a close, and I have to say, it's been a rough one.  I have been dragging my feet on updating the blog due to the fact that I simply can't just write another post after the subject matter of the last one.  I've since lost a friend, gained a lot of support and have found out society is a lot better than I once thought.  Still, it is a loss, and to know the heartache others feel over losing a Husband or a Father or even a Grandfather... well... it just sucks.

You get caught in the game of time.  Time brings healing, but sometimes time brings guilt too.  Are you thinking of it enough, are you comforting others enough or are you too soon back in the day to day?  You have to find the balance of moving on with life, while at the same time taking time to grieve.  It is a strange dichotomy.

I have to say this time of year is tough enough as it is.  Taxes, paperwork, receipts, ordering supplies, it's all the mundane "stuff" that I have to do to keep the "business" running and the farm operating.  Funny though, because as I was sitting at the dining room table, I became distracted with the view and all I could do was think to myself, this would be a great photo for the blog.  ADD I know, but I did.  So imagine yourself doing taxes, ordering lambing supplies and organing paperwork while looking out this window and daydreaming of spring.  There are worse places to do paperwork I am sure of it.

Ella on the left, and our Moorit Rosalyn on the right

But, the good news is with the paperwork comes the best part of raising sheep; lambing season!  Four am barn checks aside, there is a constant excitment with March; from the anticipation of twins or even triplets, to what color the breeding pairs will produce.  Then after a few weeks, the flock doubles in size and soon enough we will have 30 some sheep running around Windy Knob.  This season is what I work all year long for.  And after playing the genetics game, you finally get to see which odds played out.  For now, we are still a week or so away before the first due date, but as you can see, the girls are round as can be.

Some very pregnant ewes waddling around the paddock.

 

Beth.

There are a few things that people might not know about me. Some funny, some odd; some not. When I was a junior in high school I earned my first degree black belt. At the time it was one of the more difficult goals I had ever achieved; and certainly, at seven years in the making, the longest. When I was in college I played Volleyball and by the time I graduated I had improved my skills to match my physical abilities, and at 6'4" I tried out for a North American team that would travel to China for a summer to play in international tournaments. My team's focus was to, if "asked," discuss our personal beliefs in God. For those processing, yes China is and was at the time, a communist country.
You see, I believe in God. Even with my evolution accepting, research oriented mind, I don't see how one can deny the existence of an omnipotent being. With the beauty and diversity existing in our natural world, along with the absolute perfection of the human body, for me denying the existence of a God is like calling gravity a liar. You simply can not.

I, like many others, have struggles in my faith (insert a book's worth of notes here). And what I find absolutely amazing about human consciousness is how despite our struggles and doubts, in times of stress we revert back to our faith. Like an innate need such as food and water, our faith helps to heal pain when there is absolutely nothing left for us to do but turn to God in a plea for help. Like a reservoir built for water, our faith is a place to retain that pain and heartache. Which then seems to let up, even if it’s just a little bit.

A loved one has recently been diagnosed with a terminal cancer; certainly a time to turn to prayer for peace and comfort. Of course I pray for the patient; but also pray for the family members be it sons and daughters, his wife, and his grandkids. When it’s the family of a dear friend, I feel that sense of being once removed. I seem to watch the situation unfold, but from the second row. I can feel it; I sense it- the anxiety, the anticipation and the nervousness. I’m there even though it’s not my Father that’s ill. It acts as a reminder to count my blessings and to forgive and forget all the things I once deemed so appropriate to spite over. Suddenly, I remember just how mortal we are, and how quickly disappointing news of an end in sight can cross my path on any given day.

As I watch from the second row, this seemingly movie like story continues to unfold. I know the ending, we all do; I just don't quite know how it will unfold. Either way, I know it’s going to hurt a lot, and I can't make sense of why it all has to be this way. After receiving word of his condition, as a gesture, I wanted to send something to him in the hospital. Being a seventy-nine year old man, flowers seemed lackluster, as did a teddy bear or any sort of "get well" message. Instead I sought after something that I knew about him. He is a thinker, a man of current social understanding and awareness. When we cross paths (often in the summer) he saves the daily paper for me. He knows me well enough to understand I like to catch up on what's happening, but frankly, too cheap to pay the 75 cents myself. This man, despite being a "retired professor" still finds time to write grants for his former employer in addition to working at Border's during the holidays. Of course! I need to buy him some magazines and a book or two!

I quickly called the downstate hospital and was transferred to the gift shop, where I recall the conversation.

"Hello - gift shop"
"Hi, um do you sell magazines and stuff?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm sorry no we don't, all we sell is flowers" she reported.
Disappointed yet accepting I said, "Okay... thanks anyways" and I hung up.

I then started calling a few books stores in the vicinity only to find out they don't deliver. But then my phone rang, and despite being a number I did not recognize, it had a downstate area code so I answered.

"Hello" I cautiously greeted.
"Hi, yeah. um… my name is Beth.. and I work at the gift shop in the hospital, and someone just--"

I cut her off to assure her it was I that she recently spoke to, hoping to save her from her self-inflicted awkwardness.

She went on, "Yeah, okay, well after I hung up I got to thinking and I went down to our coffee shop, ‘cause they have magazines, so I asked and found out I could take your card down there and purchase them, and then I could go deliver them to the room for you."

Yes, at this point I paused and thought scam for merely a split second. After all it’s what we have become accustomed to think in this media driven, fear based society; but then I smiled and thought this is awesome. Beth went on to read the dozen or so titles of the magazines she had taken the time to write down, so that I could indeed pick out just the right magazine my friend would enjoy.

"Let’s go with Time, Newsweek and This old House" or something to that effect.

Beth responded "okay, there are some smutty ones too if you wanted?" Her voice elevated at the end of the question, signaling doubt in her thought to offer them.

"Um no thanks, he is 79” I chuckled, “I think he is good with Time."

I went on to ask about the flowers she sells. It was Sunday and they were well picked over she explained. But we agreed that an assortment of a few daisies in a blue vase was as masculine as flowers were going to get.

Beth took my credit card information, the whole while I stood in my kitchen grinning. Here is this person who had it in her heart to take the time to problem solve for some stranger. A half an hour before closing on a Sunday evening, this young woman hustled down to a neighboring business, jotted down all the titles, because in her heart she felt compassionate towards the situation.  It's truly a study on the human soul; maybe Darwin would say it's genetic, but I simply have my doubts.

As for God, he intervened. In addition to the magazines and flowers, I also ordered some hard candy for my friend. She began to rattle off a few candy selections, before I interrupted her and said I don't know, just pick whatever. We squared up the sale, and that was it. Just another receipt for the store, but so much more for those involved.

Beth, I don't know if you will ever read this. But the fact that you picked out the sugar free candy really scored me some points. My friend is diabetic and at the time it didn't register to me to get that particular kind. He said I must really know him well. I sheepishly admitted to his son I didn’t exactly pick out the candy myself. That’s also when I found out this terminally ill patient's wife had read the Time magazine that was sitting on his bed stand one evening.  While he slept, she read an article towards the back of this month's issue; it's on handling greif and understanding it.

I feel the need to resist summarizing my intentions in telling this story. There simply is nothing sweeter to say, and nothing I could do to make this any better. There is still grief to be had and a path that must be walked by this family; but by God Beth, did you ever help us all out. You helped him in passing time during an uncomfortable and at times lonely situation (with a little bit of candy too I might add), you helped his wife out in a time of need and you certainly helped me out.

I still can’t seem to do justice to my thoughts and emotions with all of this.  But I'm confident this story will mean different things for different people.

looking through a different light

The sun was out today, and sunshine always seems to bring out the best in all of us. I am no different. The funny thing is, I usually wait for the sun to come out before I make plans, however this morning I woke up determined to go out for breakfast, and had already decided I was going to take a drive through the countryside. It just so happened that as I was driving and making my way to my favorite breakfast spot, the sun began to shine. And shine it did.

It's still bitterly cold, don't get me wrong. The kind of cold where any exposed skin instantly begins to burn and not in the warm, beach kind of burn, but rather the lose your fingers, frostbite kind of burn. The weather had me rather confused actually. I wanted to get out and go skiing or get outdoors to take advantage of the sunny day, but then simply getting out of the car quickly leads to a deep rooted freeze that makes me appreciate the highest level "4" on the truck's heater.

When I drive it gives me time to think. I reflected on my excitement that its the last full week in January, I realized that much soon into the drive. With that however the sheep are going to start requiring more of my attention and time as we close in on the Ewe's final trimester of pregnancy.  The other day as I meandered up the driveway, passing the barn as I have a thousand times before, I followed my usual routine of honking the horn and stopping to have a look see at the sheep out chewing their cud. The wind may have been just right in that the sheep hadn't heard me drive up and when I honked the horn I startled quite a few of them who then quickly scattered, running in any random direction.  The flock quickly settled after realizing it was simply me that had startled them. Funny thing was, George was eating at the time and had decided to run straight ahead of him, as in going through the hay feeder. George ran himself halfway into the feeder and then began flailing trying to squeeze himself through the wood slats that hold the hay bales. This is only funny because its George, the young doopey ram lamb who is learning as he goes. If it were a pregant ewe I would have been jumping the fence to save her; double standard I suppose. George wiggled his way through, into the center of the feeder, only to then have to make it back out the other side. He isnt the tiny ram lamb he used to be, regardless of the fact his brain still thinks like one. A little shimmy and Im sure some sucking it in, George was back out in no time.  While sheep can have their annoying habits, I am thankful that their habits are just that, "annoying."  During my drive this morning, I came across a farm with these critters. One look at those horns and simply the size of these animals, and again, I'm glad I have sheep.

Grateful for the sunshine, grateful for the weekend, and I'd be happy to be grateful for a snow day if one happens to be in my near future.  Though I must say I'm quickly losing hope in getting one this season.

Winter.... you again.

Dang its cold.  Between lake effect, system snow and wind, I feel like Ive been shoveling every hour on the hour.  The driveway had to be blown out as many times in the last 48 hours as the rest of winter so far.  January is truckin along though, its nice to say we are past the halfway point now.  I have to say January gives me the hardest time mentally.  And now that its downhill from here, we roll into February which is the shortest month of the year, and on into March with lambing season! Before you know it, spring pastures bounce back, sheep are out of the barn, the kids go away to college and I'm 80 years old. ...

Maybe January isn't so bad.

Getting home is something though, the driveway takes its victims.  In the past, moats were built as security to keep away the rif raff, here at Windy Knob, we just have the driveway.  In the wintertime, the steep driveway claims most cars especially any front wheel drives, mini vans or others.  Even 4x4 only has windows of opportunity to make it up.  When it comes time to plow, its a 6 foot blower on the back of the tractor to chuck snow off the driveway.  Problem is the wind usually brings it right back at the driver, so you have to choose your angles and paths wisely.  Needless to say, its not one of my favorite farm chores.  When you finally finish about an hour later, your cold, numb and can't wait to ditch the cold wet clothes. 

Another side effect of winter is a crazy half cat, half capuchin monkey that decides to practice his parkour through out the house.  Of course dogs spend less time outdoors this time of year too, but they are older and pretty settled down at this point in their life.  However, Noah, the one and a half year old spawn of satan cat is anything but settled.  You can't help but laugh when he sparks into the arch back, fur standing up, ears split out to the side mode as he takes off after his next victim.  Usually its a toy of his, sometimes its up onto a chair or around a corner, but every now and again its a tail or a paw of a 160 pound Great Dane.  The energy that he used to spend chasing mice and farm animals is now erupting from within, so much in fact that if he catches himself too close to the doorwall when I'm letting dogs out, something (my foot) somehow accidentally (totally on purpose) coerces (pushes) him outside.  You see little cat paws around the deck, but within 5 minutes he is back in, for what appears to be yet another cat nap.

Best when unexpected.

 Yes. Somehow I have become that person that dresses their dog up.  It started when I visited my parents over Christmas.  They have a rough and tough winter dog, in addition to a thin skinned, short fur coat huntin dog.  My mom had purchased a jacket for the dog, and puts it on the poor dog every time she takes it outside.  "Because she comes in shivering from outside" Mom says, that and "she likes it."   Then there is my dog Milos, and the other day after having visited the rents, I could hear his teeth chattering after coming back inside, he had done this before too.  So I started with wrapping him up in my blanket, he didn't resist. Clearly it didn't stop there; and he didn't seem to mind.  God help me.  I'm THAT dog person now.

Lots of snow lately.  It just keeps coming and coming, it really makes Windy Knob a winter wonderland .  I love that I look out the back window and see the pastures and barn, and sure I long for the spring time green grass and warmer temperatures, but its nice to get out and snowshoe or ski on a sunny winter day.  The views are truly amazing and a blessing. 

The coolest thing happened to me the other day.  I received a gift.  No, stay with me, I know it was just Christmas and all, and sure it was technically a Christmas gift, but there is so much more to the story.  Of course Windy Knob has been selling yarn and fleeces and what not, and some of the customers are co-workers of mine.  Well, sure enough a woman in my office had purchase a couple of skeins of wool, one Mary Jo and one of Ella's.  Several weeks had past since she recieved them, and on the day before we all left for Christmas vacation, this co-worker of mine came up to me and wrapped this scarf around my neck and told me it was my present.

I'll try my best to describe that instant and the thoughts that went through my head.  My momma raised me right, please and thank you- yes sir, no maam; to be kind to others and to return favors.  But I'll admit, I'm a lot more likely to return a favor than I am to start one- know what I mean?  I instantly felt awkward with the pure joy. Why? Why would this woman do this I thought?  It's expected to get gifts from parents and siblings, spouses of course, and even good friends.  But just a co-worker? Why would she do something as nice as this.  Its not like she merely held the door open, or brought it cookies or something.  She spent a lot of time to create something amazing, and then just to give it away.  I flat out asked her.  Why? Surely she could tell my social awkwardness was kicking in, "why would you do this for me?"  Her reply was because she knew, she knew I would appreciate having something made from my own wool.

I just about teared up.  All I could do was offer a hug. To just do something like that, for no reason, was amazing.    It struck a chord in me, and challenged me to think about others more.  Not just the ones Im supposed to think about and do stuff for, but all people.  The scarf you guys is amazing.  The quality, the style, the soft feel of the wool around your neck on a cold winter's day.  Because she thought of me. Thats all, just cause.

Soon after the last day, I went to a bookstore searching for last minute gifts for family, I came across a new release of a book about a particular historical painter.  Instantly, I had thought of an aquaintance whom had a poster of said artist on his wall.  While I had every intention to express my gratitude to Ms. Scarf Knitter, I saw this as my chance to learn from her as well, and to pay it forward  (enter cheesy movie title echo here).  But seriously, it felt good to know that someone else would be surprised and they too could pass it on.  I can't take credit for it, I merely sustained it. So for what its worth.  The holidays are over, but there are still warm stories, and golden opportunities all around us.  Cheers.

My new Mary Jo and Ella wool scarf.  More special then one would think.

Waking up in the new year.

I'm not that old, really.  But you'd never guess it sometimes- particularly when the last thing I remember about New Year's Eve last night, was watching the football game and seeing that it was still only 10:15.   I dont think I even finished the thought of how am I going to stay up till... zzzzz.

But you wake up just the same as everyone that partied hard.  And you know what? It's still the new year just the same.  So Happy New Year to everyone.  I even hope to finish this post by 1:11.  1-1-11 at 1:11.  That and lose 15 pounds.  Like everyone else I suppose.

I also realize that this means Christmas break is about over.  I am lucky enough to get 7 days off at the holiday.  A nice break from students, and people in general.  Its tough being social and interacting with people all day long.  Usually I come home from work and am greeted by the three who run the house.  Milos, Ronin and the cat Noah.  They all run through the house and stop at the stairs waiting to greet me and get petted and stuff. 

However, I just got back from working with Gunnar, my horse who boards at the neighbors farm. I got home, come to the top of the stairs- still not a peep at this point from the animals, and I call for them.  Nothing.  I'm getting worried at this point. A) where are they and B) what have they gotten into that they wont even come and greet me.  But I soon realized that this is what happens when I'm home all day on vacation.  They dont care, they hear the door open and its like eh, I just saw you like an hour ago.  I realized this of course, when I got through the rest of the house and saw Ronin conked out on the floor sleeping, Milos in his usual spot- on the couch, and even Noah was passed out on the bed.  Gee thanks guys, good to see you too.

The weather has been crazy lately, warm, fog, snow melt.  I walked over to see Gunnar, and I noticed evern the Cherry Trees have received their spring triming-albeit a little early.  Not a bad idea to get it done a little early and out of the way.  Anyway, I went over to work with him on lunging and on a lead line.  Spent some time cleaning stalls, brining down hay and what not. 

 I got the halter on Gunnar and he instantly becomes aware that a training session is about to occur, which we have only had one other one in the last two months because of the weather of course.  So he was a bit of a brat and definitely a little rusty.  He wants to run away and be free of course.  Until I let him off lead, done with the lesson and begin working on the stalls.  Then he wants to hang out and stand right in the spots I'm trying to work in.  Animals are funny.  A bit weird even.  But  still are alot easier than humans.

The sheep are still fat and happy. Good thing they are only half way through pregnancy.  The warm weather brings a familiarity that only March knows.  And if they were a little further along Id be watching for some early lambs.   Nope.  Instead its just a big muddy mess out there.  I talk about the girls a lot lately, females of course get priority, but George is coming along nicely.  George is our registered Corriedale out of Johnny and Vera Lyn.  George is the dream Corriedale with his black nose and toes, clean pointed ears that stand strong and a great body size.  He was the ram I wasn't in need of, but just so darn good I had to keep him.  He was bred to three ewes this year, and now that he is 9 months old, Im getting a better idea of his size.  He is a good ram I tell you, Im looking forward to seeing his lambs in March.



George on the left, with Johnny in the background