Report from a Farmsitter

Our new friend Bonnie calls herself a 'farmaholic.' The best way for her to get a fix is to take care of our farm now and then so we get a break. Her last stay was typical---lots of quiet time, and a few exciting times. She left us a fun report and I'd like to share parts of it. (Bonnie, if you read this, I promise I won't publish any more farm reports, so you don't have to get all uptight about grammar and cute drawings!) Here's the report from a farmsitting farmaholic [with a few comments by yours truly]:

"Hi there, Melissa and Catherine!

Everything went smoothly...I'll tell you some things in case you have FMS syndrome (Fear of Missing Something). I have FMS, and love knowing what went on when I wasn't home. So...

Rob and Soph [dogs] were great company....Rob has me well trained; we played for hours...

[During the heavy rains last week, a peahen sitting on an exposed nest lasted as long as she could, but after days of rain, finally gave up and abandoned the nest. Melissa put the eggs in a box on a heating pad.] The peababies are in the cage. Second chick gave final push out of egg at 2 pm on Saturday and third chick busted out fully at 2:30 am this morning. I got to see both. How cool it was!...

[Here's what a baby peafowl looks like:]



Last night 11 renegade ewes hopped the coiled gate and were grazing the pasture to the south of the driveway. I could see that they hopped the fence there because the two strands were tangled in the middle like this:


I set up a water tub in the field and left them there until A. [a local teenager we're training to do chores] came this a.m. because I knew I couldn't get them back alone.

Well! This a.m. when A. and I went to check and move them, ALL the renegades had crossed back over the gate. Now it looked like this:



Sheesh! So after a head count, we moved them all into the Sunday pasture. Mysterious sheep.

I love the kittens. If they are missing, I know nothing of their abduction. Same with the two peachicks in the big bird pen.

[Here's Bonnie's note on the bag of kitten food:]



Thanks for letting me be here!"

No, Bonnie, thank you. While you dealt with renegade sheep and watched the peachicks hatch, I sat on the deck of a lake cabin reading a novel and Melissa spent hours in a boat fishing for walleye.

A farmer gives thanks for healthy animals, enough rain, plenty of sunshine, and farmsitters like Bonnie.

Just What I Needed


Sometimes the farm totally mucks up my day. Sometimes the farm gives me just what I need.

I've just finished ten intense days of writing from 5 am until 8 pm, trying to finish a draft of my next nonfiction book. (Writing a book is messy and terrifying because you don't know what to include, what to leave out, what's boring, what's not, what's confusing, what's not.) By the end of Day Five, my brain was totally fried and I had to stop. There wasn't time in my schedule to stop...I had to get back to work, but I just couldn't.

Instead, I looked out the dining room window and noticed something looked odd in the pasture. The sheep were closer than they should be, and there was LOTS of baa-ing going on. Melissa was asleep, trying to shake a headache, so I slipped on my purple Birkenstock barn boots and tramped out to investigate.

What a mess. Half the flock was where they should be, with water but nothing left to eat. The other half had broken through a fence into the next run up, where they had food but no water. Mamas and babies were separated by an electric fence, and crying for each other. On top of that, two ewes had managed to find their way into a third paddock altogether.

I mentally rubbed my hands together in anticipation. Moving sheep is challenging and fun and if you're lucky and smart about it, sometimes it goes well. (Sometimes it goes poorly, no matter how lucky and smart you are.)

I found where they'd broken through the fence, so I disconnected the electricity and began trying to get the two main groups together. I managed to get both groups walking alongside each other, separated by a three-wire fence, until we reached an opening at the end of the fence where the two groups could merge. Mamas and babies ran for each other. I locked everyone into the new paddock and brought them a water trough, which they swarmed.

Then I worked on the two ewes---back and forth, back and forth, until I was hot and sweaty and the ewes were unhappy, but I finally got them into the right place. Moving an entire flock is easier than moving one or two sheep.

As I was walking back to the house, Melissa showed up on her 4-wheeler. I was proud to explain everyone was once again in the right place. Melissa was surprised I hadn't waited for her. I was surprised too.

But then it hit me. Chasing sheep, even though it was 90 degrees out, was exactly what I needed. The activity used different muscles, both body and brain, and gave me instant feedback and satisfaction.

I climbed back up to the house, changed out of my sweaty clothes, ate two banana popsicles, then started writing again.