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.