Whew, We Made It Again




In one of our shortest lambing seasons ever, all but five ewes have given birth in just two weeks. So other than these few stragglers, we're done! As usual, I'm delighted, and Melissa's face grows longer and longer as reality sets in. She loves finding new baby lambs on the pasture, and thinks she has the best job on the planet.




Our helpers think it's pretty great as well.






Here I am trying to hold four bottle lambs in stairstep formation, but they're too squirmy for a photo!




Look at the little pipsqueak on the right in the photo below. She was a triplet (as are all the other bottle lambs) but came out 1/3 the size of a regular lamb. Luckily after a few shaky days, she's up and running, hopping around like a piece of popcorn, and has just gone to a new home.



Most ewes make great moms. Here are three wary ewes who don't like that I'm in the pasture. Each is standing guard over at least one lamb. The lambs snuggle down into the grass until you almost can't see them.




This ewe has just given birth to triplets. ChaChi has come over to check out the new ones, and is gently sniffing a lamb at his feet.




There's a whole lot of sleeping going on at this farm. Bottle lambs snooze after a big meal:




The calves are clearly uptight about their lives:



I'll leave you with a few pasture images....



(No, that black sheep above isn't standing on Zipper's back....just a photo issue!)





Our reward for the hard work of the last two weeks are all little strong, healthy, and robust babies running around on the pasture. One of these days I'll figure out the whole video thing and show you what I mean.

A Farm Play in One Act

Setting: Small barn on Rising Moon Farm
Characters: Lamb, Calf


Lamb: "What are you in for?"



Calf: "I think it's for being too cute. I keep hearing them say, "You are just too cute."



Lamb: "Bummer. So, how do we get outta this joint?"



Calf: "We have to stop being so cute."





Lamb: "Yeah, like that's ever going to happen."

THE END

What?

This morning after we finished feeding the calves, I went inside to start cleaning the house, and Melissa did a few more chores. Thirty minutes later she came inside, beaming. "Guess what?" she asked.

"No! It's too early! I haven't cleaned the house or bought groceries or anything." And we hadn't moved the sheep from the barn out onto the pasture, where they'd start lambing. We had a few more days until the lambs started coming.

Why do I think I have any control over these events?

Melissa had looked up toward the barn to see a ewe glancing furtively over her shoulder toward the barn, as if she was hiding something she didn't want Melissa to see. That's a clear sign that the ewe IS hiding something she doesn't want Melissa to see.

Melissa tramped up there, and found three sets of twins that had been born either last night or early this morning. It was barely 40 degrees this morning, but the three ewes had gone into the barn to give birth...not the most sanitary of places, but the warmest.

So, it's begun, again, and with a bang.

First set of twins:




Second set of twins:




Third set of twins:






Meanwhile, this ewe is still pregnant:



And this one is still pregnant:



And this ewe is still very, very pregnant (as are all the rest of the ladies):


It's fitting that the ewes started giving birth today, of all days:

Happy Mother's Day!

Cavorting Calves

We've had the calves about 2 1/2 weeks now. Each has gotten sick, and Melissa has nursed each one back to health. We've trained three of the four to drink from a bucket.

This involves letting the calf suck on your fingers, then immersing your hand in the milk and trying to keep the calf's head in the bucket long enough he sucks milk up between your fingers. You feel as if your entire arm is being sucked into the calf's mouth. Oh, and they now have lower teeth---massive white "Chiclet" teeth, only sharp. You repeat this process twice a day for about 3 days and they finally get it. Number 1, the youngest, is still on a bottle, but I'm gonna tackle that problem this weekend. My hand just hurts thinking about it.

Today it's 65 degrees and sunny, so it's time to get them out of their pens and used to being outside the barn. So I opened up the pens and got out of the way.



What we've been told: Jersey calves are skinny, so we're not to be alarmed. About 4 farmers have warned us not to overfeed Jersey calves because they can get really sick. So the three brown guys in these photos look leaner than I'd like, but what do I know about cattle? Not much yet.



They're a bit unsteady on their legs still, especially on uneven ground. They take a tumble, then leap right up and go again.








I'm just guessing, but I think these four calves are going to like it here. Once they're weaned off milk and have learned to eat grass, they'll have 53 acres to explore over the next 2 years. That experience will be good for them, good for the land, good for us, and good for our customers.

After an hour of running around, the calves all wandered back into the pens for naps, which made my job of re-penning them ridiculously easy. Of course No. 4 was in No. 2's pen, and No. 1 was in No. 3's pen, but I got everything sorted out. The best way to lead a calf from the wrong pen to the right one?

Let it suck on your fingers, of course.

Welcome to a Party!


Last night (April 30) Common Good Books of St. Paul (MN) hosted the book release party for my latest book (The Compassionate Carnivore, Or How to Keep Animals Happy, Save Old MacDonald's Farm, Reduce Your Hoofprint and Still Eat Meat.) It was scary and fun at the same time.



The party was held in the Virginia Street Swedenborgian Church, a small, charming church in an old St. Paul neighborhood.

Eric, the church's minister, introduced us. He and I are both shepherds, but I think my flock is easier to lead than his.

The event was hosted by the proprietor of Common Good Books, Mr. Garrison Keillor (aka Guy Noir for those of you who listen to A Prairie Home Companion every Saturday night.) Here's Garrison laughing.



Here's Garrison not laughing.



Here's me talking with my hands.



Here's the crowd dispersing after the talk and questions. I'd share what we talked about, but I can't remember. It took so much concentration to keep up with Garrison that I had to shut down the memory chips and was unable to record the conversation.


Every party needs cake.



Signing books....



And this is Melissa and our dear friend Willard, the guy who taught Melissa so much about farming. He loves to look at me with a twinkle in his eye and say he doesn't know if he should take the credit...or the blame... (I tell him he can take both.)



Thanks to Common Good Books, Garrison Keillor, my parents, family and friends, and some total strangers who came to celebrate with me.

What you can't see in this last photo is that the photographer managed to snap this shot just before exploding with pride. Dads are like that.