Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Black is the new... black?

Round Alaina
One of the many things that Windy Knob Farms prides itself in is its attention to details in breeding.  Having a background in the sciences and teaching genetics to high school students has paid dividends when it comes to selection and breeding programs with my sheep.  I will go as far as to say I am obsessed with the genetic possibilities.  While some mothers lay in labor hanging on the excitement of what lamb will pop out, I am yelling numbers at them and saying 'cmon 50% chance of a codon 171 with 25% chance badger faced ewe!  And yes. I do find that funny.

Last year there was one single black sheep on the farm.  Our amazing Alaina.  Her fleece is tremendous and to think its naturally colored that dark of black is truly amazing.  I hoped to bring that black color around in our flock, but time and time again I was getting variegated blacks and grays rather than solid black.  Until last spring when we had one black ram lamb our of Lisa.  His name was Peterson, after my favorite Peterson Park in Northport.

He of course became a keeper.  And I couldnt wait to use him in the flock breeidng managment, which I did this past fall. 

Helga only minutes old
Fast foward to last Tuesday, when Alaina became the first Ewe in labor and low and behold TWIN BLACK EWE LAMBS!  Wahoo!  I felt like Rosalyn Franklin, like I discovered something, not like Watson and Crick who just stole the idea.

Then came Rosalyns Baby.  A black ram.  Ella's Lamb? Black ram.   Holy cow people- I have black lambs running around all over the place!    Uh nice job Peterson.  Black is a gene that is hard to come by, but once you understand it and manage it in your flock, it truly is quite valuable and appearently predictable. 

Proud mom and her twins Ursula and Helga
We are now halfway in our lambing season, and things have gone quite well thus far.  Please visit us at http://www.windyknobfarms.com/ where you can contact us to be placed on our list for desired breeding stock of both registered and naturally colored Corriedales.    By the way, the theme this year is a throwback to our heritage.  This year you will find traditional slovak and german names.  Pavol, Bratislav Fritz and Helga just to name a few!

Saturday, February 4, 2012

Barn Door.

It's hard to believe lambing season is upon us.  The weather somehow is a cross between late October and early March, topped with the dark nights and mornings of January; confusing to say the least.  With or without a foot of snow on the ground, the ewes of Windy Knob are about to begin lambing season.  Normally early March, this year we shifted the season a few weeks earlier in an effort to time the lamb growth with the pastures prime season.  We just so happened to pick a mild winter to do so, but trust me, I'm knocking on wood and counting on the worst just to be sure we're ready.  Though still a week and a half a way, the lambing jugs were all assembled and fresh straw spread all around in anticipation of the next best thing to Christmas.

There is a lot that goes into properly preparing for the lamb arrivals.  Simple things like ear tags, docking bands and iodine are all necessary components for a sucessful season.  And while I feel much more confident heading into the season, I do find myself a bit lackidazical about the prepartation.  My Type A personality that had everything lined up and organized a month ahead of time, has somehow been replaced by the oh yeah,  almost forgot that, alter ego. 


Other preparations include increased calorie loads for the ewes the last few weeks before delivery.  The rams across the hall at WKF dormatory are left with the not so exciting usual flakes of hay, however the coeds are so full in the belly with their lambs, they can't quite get the nutrition necessary to maintain their health and those of the lambs inside.  We supplement their hay with upwards of a pound of grain per day.  And let me tell you, as crazy as it sounds, I have to remind myself it's sheep food; these oats and grains covered in molasses smells so sweet! To tell you the truth, I swear it looks like the granola bars in my lunch. 

Mary Jo awaits her buffet

The sunshine today brings a smile to my face.  It's one of those days where farm chores couldn't be more welcomed.  Putzing across the mud soaked driveway, dropping bales of hay from the upper loft, and spending some time with the girls in the paddock; not bad for an afternoon's work.   Mary Jo, our ambassador of peace (and food) waits in line as she associates my presence with a trough full of grain. 

I was just describing lambing season to a friend of mine.  It's the only time, where getting up at 2am has its perks- starts with throwing on the Carhartt jacket, somehow still stiff after several years of use, and stepping into my oversized snow boots; never tying the laces, only tucking them inside at best.  I reach for the door handle, grasping the air several times because my eyes still haven't adjusted quite yet.  I stumble down the stairs and head towards the barn where the glow from the porch light is now out of reach.  Down the sloped driveway, where the only way I know I'm avoiding the drop off is if I hear gravel under my boots, meaning I'm still on course.  If it is a good night, the moon will be reflecting off the snow, enough that the barn door handle has a luster that shines a little brighter then the old wood of the door itself.  At this point there is a bit of anticipation, where I put my hand on the handle, take a deep breath and slide the metal rollers down along the track.

If the trip is worth its troubles, I know right away.

Quietly, I shuffle past the parked tractor and listen for the bellowing of the newest, youngest Windy Knob-er.   Now I rush over to the stall and peek over, getting my first glimpse at the lambs that had been delivered since the previous barn check only a few hours ago. 

Maternity ward at Windy Knob

What color? What pattern?  How many?  Boy or Girl?  All questions answered within a pick up and a few roll overs.  Momma ewe will be watching my every move; instincts tell her no, but somehow she knows I'm not there for trouble.  A swipe of iodine on the belly's navel, and perhaps a cut of the cord, I then weigh the lambs and record who's who.  I usually end the greeting with a "good job mom." 

One last glance over my shoulder before turning off the lights.  I'm off to bed; see you ladies at 6.