Muy, Muy, Caliente*

*very, very hot




It's a long story, but we currently have 6 sheep on the farm who missed their March shearing. And since it's so &^% hot outside, we gotta get that fleece off. They've been living in and around the barn so they can get out of the sun, but it's still too 'caliente' for them.

So imagine this. It's shearing day in late June, three months after the usual shearing day. It's nearly 90 degrees outside, and the sun is beating down on the roof of the barn. You're in the back of the barn where there's no air flow. Every movement you makes sends the sweat pouring down your face, trickling down your back. You feel soggy, sticky, and close to fainting.




If you can imagine all this, then you can imagine what I felt like in that barn....

....taking photos of Melissa and Robin shearing the sheep.

Oh, I was hot. After I'd taken my seven photos, I staggered back to the house and drank a gallon of water to replace the lost fluids. I rested under the ceiling fan for an hour until I felt slightly restored. Melissa and Robin sheared for a few hours, plagued by dull shearer blades and an overheating machine that tended to smoke if it wasn't given a regular rest.




I'm sure they were cool since they seemed to be in high spirits. And besides, their clothing was totally soaked through with sweat, as were their headbands, so I'm sure the breeze blowing across the wet fabric cooled them... oh, except there wasn't any breeze.

Anywho... most of the sheep got sheared, but that overheating shearer (the mechanical clippers, not the human) need some work before Melissa can finish.

Speaking of clipping, our cat Pumpkin had his annual spring shearing, which leaves him a bit naked but free of the horrible matts that form during the winter. I actually was part of that shearing, getting to hold him, wrapped in a towel, as he squirmed and cussed us out the thirty minutes it took to shear him. Pumpkin has claimed the new deck table as his, as well as my knee.









The garden is growing as if on steriods, the lambs are getting huge (photos soon), and we're staying cool. Today for noon dinner we had steamed asparagus (ours), spinach salad (ours), and lamb kabobs (also ours.) Felt really, really good.

An Actual Garden

We, being country dwellers, are constantly asked about our 'garden,' as if it's a given: live in the country, grow vegetables. For fifteen years I have rolled my eyes at this question and tartly replied, "We don't have time to garden." Not only that, but I hate to weed, and lack the necessary green thumbs. Melissa's a plant freak, but lacks the time.

I don't know what happened this year, but we have a garden, an actual garden. Our neighbor Jaycee is mostly responsible. All we did was casually mention we were thinking of planting one this year, and she was over like a flash, helping Melissa set up the lumber, tilling the soil, and planting....all in one afternoon. It was a good thing I was gone, or I'd have fainted from the idea alone. I suspect Jaycee has been waiting 15 years to help us plant a garden.

Here it is!




Plants are actually growing. I have actually weeded a bit. The snow peas and regular peas and beans and potatoes and spinach and squash are all doing well. We thought the line of basil looked nice until our neighbor Karen took Melissa in hand and pointed out there was only one basil plant in that row...the rest were lovely, basil-like weeds. Basically if you get down on your knees and put your face into the soil, you can see this basil plant. My plans for mass-producing our own pesto might be in jeopardy.




Another spring project---I realized early May that our retired friend Joe faced a long, boring summer of doing nothing but golfing. Can you imagine the strain of that? Concerned, I offered to let him build us a small deck to avoid the tedium of hitting a little ball around all day. He gratefully accepted my offer, and by the end of May we had this lovely deck.

Now I must stain it, then plant stuff around it, and track down some real patio furniture. I'm just so grateful to finally have a flat place on which to sit. I intend to spend the summer sitting here, drinking wine and watching my vegetable garden grow.

And finally, there's our rock garden, which over the last few years had been taken over by weeds. Our friend Mary stayed with us for a few days to help with lambing, and ended up redoing most of the rock garden. Isn't it lovely?






We have a growing garden, a great deck, and a lovely rock garden...not because we're skilled at these things.... but because we're brilliant when it comes to choosing friends....

My Dad Called....

No, I'm not in trouble, at least not that much. My dad is so busy that sometimes, early in the morning when he's practicing his insomnia, he reads my blog to find out what's new with me. When he checks a few times and there's nothing new, it's time for a phone call to remind me to keep posting.

Some dads nag their kids to pay their bills and file their taxes on time. Mine bugs me to post.

So here it is: Lambing is done for the year. Of course with 1/3 of our usual number of pregnant ewes, we have fewer lambs. Twenty-five live lambs, which is great. (We had a few tragedies, as is typical, and lost a few.) We had lots of birthing problems, so I spent some time lying on the wet, cold ground holding ewes down at their shoulders while Melissa did her thing at the other end. The steers, immensely curious, would gather at the fence and watch, wide-eyed, at the activity, treating us like their own personal reality TV.

Here are a few bottle lambs we 'arrested' for Excessive Cuteness: Mint 129 and Green 6087. If seen, do not approach. Instead, call a professional shepherd, as we are immune to those big eyes and floppy ears and the happy little hops lambs make as they follow you around the yard.








As you can see, my mother didn't take my advice and has succumbed to Mint 129's charms. These animals are dangerous, people. Approach with caution.



All the bottle lambs went to wonderful homes, so now we're in our two-week Post-Lambing Recovery Period, meaning we're too tired to think straight. Melissa might have been too tired to operate the tractor yesterday: Sitting in the loader bucket was a container of old, rotten eggs she was going to bury in a compost pile. (Sometimes chickens and ducks hide their eggs and we don't find them until the eggs are too old.) Inside the tractor cab she dropped a heavy tool chest, which fell against the controls for the bucket, which lowered the bucket and tipped the container of icky eggs out onto the driveway.

I wasn't there, but I'm sure very bad words were said.

Last night I cleaned up to go in town to the movie (we'd been trying for 2 weeks, failing every night.) Then I remembered I hadn't fed the lamb in the barn. Her mom doesn't have enough milk for both twins, so I'm feeding one, who's going to a good home tomorrow.

I'm in the barn in my clean clothes, trying not to touch anything as the lamb drinks enthusiastically from the bottle. Suddenly the heavens open up and rain pounds the roof. Oh, great.

But the rain lets up a bit, I turn to look out the barn door, and see the most incredible double-rainbow arching across the sky. It's a perfect rainbow, and I wish I could tell Melissa about it but she's in the house. By the time the lamb finished the bottle, the rainbow had faded away and the rain stopped. I walked back to the house, miraculously still clean and dry.

Inside Melissa paced. "Where were you? I was trying to find you to show you the rainbows."

I like that after 25 years, we still want to show each other the beautiful things we see.

Triple Treat

The first spring lambs have arrived---triplets!

(Since most of our ovine hussies got pregant three months early and had their lambs in February, we only have 13 pregnant sheep this spring. We've never had such a light lambing load.)

Some ewes are calm and let the camera approach. But #2 is not quite so cooperative.

Here she is leading her babies away from the camera:




Hiding behind a tree:




Glowering at the camera, head lowered threateningly as her babies take a nap:


(Note the pregnant ewe in the above photo, wistfully wishing she, too, had lambs able to walk on their own instead of having to lug them around inside her.)


Finally, everyone is up and standing still.




Yesterday's winds have died down, and the sun is shining. #11's been in labor too long, so I'm off to help Melissa and Mary corral the old girl and give her a hand.

This past winter is just a really bad memory. Today's a lovely day on Rising Moon Farm.

Only One Casualty

The Farmer has returned from her California trip, refreshed, renewed, and ready to jump right back into letting me do chores every day.

Ha. Not so fast, I said.

She's now outside checking on all the animals, making sure I did, in fact, keep them alive.

All went well. The steers got themselves locked into a pen by pushing the gate closed, which I didn't discover until the next morning. No wonder they were whining like a bunch of 700-pound babies the night before. (There is no sound like a steer's angry 'moo' when he's excited or frustrated.) The sheep are happy that the grass has begun growing, so they've abandoned their hay bales to rip the tiniest blades of grass from the ground.

I'm sad to report there was one casualty. One morning it was cold, so I wore my lovely wool fleece earmuffs out to do chores. Of course I quickly heated up and thoughtlessly draped the earmuffs over a nearby fence, forgetting that the steers now had access to that pen, and to that fence.

Thirty minutes later I'm done with chores, look for my ear muffs, and find them ground into the mud inside the pen. One of the steers had pulled the muffs off the fence, used them as a soccer ball, stepped on them a few times, then---shudder---enthusiastically sucked on them.

I was mortified and raced inside with the poor muffs. I will try washing them, but I'm not sure how interested I am in hugging my ears with something that was once drenched in cow spit.

Sigh.

Roll Call

The Farmer has flown the coop. As I type this, she's somewhere over the western half of the US, heading for San Francisco to help friends with a house project. She foolishly has left me in charge for six days.

So with trusty camera in hand, I took roll call this afternoon to make sure I was starting my shift as Head Farmer with all the animals I'm supposed to have.

Four beef steer?



Check.


Too many chickens scattered around the farm?


Check.

Nest of eggs?



Check.

Peacock named Ben?



Check. Up in the opening in the house.


Golden pheasant named Pharoah?


Check, and his mate Trixie is hiding in the grass.

Sheep?


Check.

Two lambs left from the February breeding debacle, which definitely is going in my next book?


Check. (They are the round butts in front.)

Elderly #66, who's 13 and could leave us any day now?



Check.

Three llamas?



Check,


Check,


And check.


Two rams?




Check and check.


Two barn cats?


Too lazy to show up for photo, but check.


Three dogs?


Check.

Writer?


Check


Okay. Everyone is present and accounted for. Let's hope the same is true six days from now!

Don't Believe It!

So I must take a minute and comment on a farm-related topic, but not our farm. The topic is a youtube link being passed around called "Extreme shepherding."

I've been sent the link by many people. The first time I watched it my mouth dropped open. What? That's impossible! Sheep would never do that. Then I realized the unbelievable parts were generated on the computer, and I found it funny.

But the more I chatted with people, the more I realized that many people actually believe the video depicts reality. That's almost funnier than the video itself. (Sorry---if you were drawn in and believed it, I'm laughing with you, not at you.)

I suspect people are easily convinced because of the skillful editing job. The video shows some real sheep, some real border collies, and some real men. There's herding going on, sheep baaing, and whistling for the dogs. You think, Hey, that's cool.

Then the camera pans way back so you're looking at a far hill, supposedly the one with the sheep. The dogs suddenly herd the flock into the shape of a huge sheep that begins walking across the hill. Ha! Funny, but impossible.

Then you once again see reality---men attaching coats to the sheep that light up. Dusk falls. You see the far hill again, and it's dark. The only lights are attached to the sheep, and now the dogs are herding the sheep into a game of Pong. (Google this if you're too young to remember the now-dinosaur of a video game.) Then they're herding them into a fireworks display.

Uff-da, people. First, sheep won't run like that in the dark. They can't see where they're going. Second, border collies are brilliant, but they can't split up flocks into exploding fireworks. Unfortunately the world's expectations of these brave dogs have now been unfairly raised, and people will expect them to herd sheep into the shape of the Mona Lisa. I see therapy in many of their futures.

The 'night' scenes are computer-generated. But because the video showed real men, dogs, and sheep first, your brain wants to believe that's what you're seeing.

Here's the link, but remember, it's not real!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2FX9rviEhw