Sheep Gal

Just a little off the top, please

Some sheep are in dire need of winter haircuts. The wooly top-knot that covers the head like an afro is 4 inches thick, nearly covering his ears and eyes. When it begins to cascade downward toward the nose and over the face, it acts like a visor making it awfully difficult to see what's happening in the world. This condition is called "wool blind" and is easily remedied. When we noticed Cody stumbling around the barn like Mr. MaGoo we knew it was time to take out the scissors and get to work. 

Check out his salon makeover before & after:

 

Ta-dah! Whatta handsome guy.

Not everyone needs a winter trim. Some of our Cormos (mostly Trumpet offspring) have nice open faces because of the shape of their heads and top-knots that sit well back and do not migrate over the nose. Our crosses are all open face, due to their partial Border Leicester ancestors whose faces are clear of wool. Teaberry, our main breeding ram has a big daddy-o top knot which makes him look much taller than everyone else. He's passed this trait to his offspring - Cody and his sisters - who require an occasional trim of the bangs.

A nice open-face group of ewes - no trim needed!

************************************************************************************

copyright 2009, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs. All rights reserved.

Back to the Dressing Room

Yesterday we ushered the lambs into the barn for a winter wardrobe makover. While they are closer to being yearlings at this point, we still think of them as our  "designer lambs", since all were named for fashion industry icons. Although it's barely been eight weeks since the last coat check round up, some of them were beginning to look like stuffed sausages. While most of the adults are simply piling on the fleece in this season, the lambs are still growing in all directions which means a closer eye on the trim of their little jackets as they get taller, wider and more woolly.

The changing of coats is a pretty mellow process. Some of the lambs clearly like the attention and the opportunity to watch humans in action up close. There's no need to pull them away from their buddies so we carry the buckets of fresh coats right into the pen and work our way calmly through the flock. They poke their noses into the buckets, curiously inspecting the pile of clean coats. Chanel and Diesel press in closer to supervise. Others are less eager to participate. Perhaps Valentino (below)  thought we couldn't see him hiding beneath the feeder.

And maybe Polo and Beckham thought they could escape notice hiding behind the water bucket, where they were deftly out-maneuvered by Holly.

Calvin posed for this shot of his snowy midriff which has been protected from dirt and chaff all winter by the jacket. It takes two people to change a coat. You can do it alone, if using a halter, but my sheep absolutely hate being tied. We use a holistic approach that involves someone (usually me) holding them firmly but gently under the chin, while another person - usually Holly - works each hind leg up and out of the leg strap. I stroke their faces and whisper silly things to distract them while Holly lifts each hind hoof slowly off the ground and like a swedish masseuse, gently shakes and rotates the leg to loosen up the muscles. This keeps them from stiffening up and resisting as she flexes the hoof at the pastern and bends the knee, which is necessary in order to draw the hoof through the strap. Once the legs are free, we pull the coat up and over the shoulders. My task is to work it free of the dense neck wool and to shimmy the collar over their wooly top knots, taking care not to snag an ear. Most of the lambs put up little fuss when we do it this way. We paused to admire Calvin's handsome fleece. A grungy coat is replaced by a fresh one, one size larger.

Stella and Comet model their fresh pinafores for us.

And Calvin (below) returns to me for a little extra attention. 

The morning winds down with a heap of dirty sheep coats, but many clean and pretty fleeces which makes us very eager for shearing day - not terribly far off. 

It felt good to take advantage of a bright winter day to accomplish sheep tasks and get catch up on outdoor projects. For my husband Mike that meant chipping some of the stubborn ice from the driveway and unfortunately slipping and falling hard on the ice. His fall was broken by the shovel which caught him squarely in the ribcage, knocking the wind right out of him. By mid evening it was clear that he was in serious pain, so we bundled up and headed to the Baystate Franklin ER - which turned out to be quite the happening place on a Monday night. We arrived at 9:20 but didn't get to see a doctor until after many hours of bad sitcoms on the waiting room television. It was another hour and half before a CAT scan of his chest confirmed two broken ribs but no apparent lung or organ damage, thank goodness. It took another two hours for them to dismantle tubes and monitors, patch him up with little band aides and declare him ready to roll, which put us back home just before 4 am. This confused the heck out of our 3 golden retrievers, who evidently thought we were upstairs in bed.

At the start of this year, Mike and I promised each other that we would try to spend more time together away from the farm, but this was not exactly what we had in mind.

************************************************************************************

copyright 2009 Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs. All rights reserved.

Winterscapes

This season's pattern of snowy, cold, snowy, cold, snowy, followed by yet more cold has become tedious. While we've been without "snowy" since Sunday, things tonight once again take a turn toward "cold". A few consecutive days of temps in the mid twenties has felt like a break. Cocoa and Charlotte have been enjoying mornings in the sun on the south side of the barn, while the youngsters have ventured to the stone wall at the pasture's edge for the first time in weeks. The sheep aren't the only ones out for a look around this week. The deer have traced tidy meandering tracks as they loop their way through the fields, looking for forage. An apple tree just outside my front door is one of their favorite haunts.

It's been weeks since I've felt much like cruising around out of doors, beyond the necessary rounds of sheep chores twice daily. I took advantage of this week's relative heat wave to catch up on work in the barn and to break up the icy rind at the edge of the studio steps - and also to appreciate winter's kinder side.

Mishka accompanies me to the barn on good days, though I have to shut the gate to keep her from chasing sheep. At home she has her very own lamb.

I'm pleased to report that Gypsy continues to improve. She and Butch are both getting restless. I'll turn them back out for r&r once we get beyond the oncoming cold snap.

Barn Call

Amidst yet another winter storm, I pulled up to the barn this morning to find Cilantro with his snout buried in the snow right up to his eyeballs. For reasons I do not completely understand, sheep like to eat snow. Sometimes they do it because they're thirsty, but the boys had a 40 gallon bucket of clean water in the barn. Maybe they're thinking, "hey,there's grass down there somewhere. If I can just get rid of this cold white stuff . . ." Maybe its a sign of boredom. It's their little secret.

While snowy, today feels balmy compared to the end of last week. Funny how four days of negative digits can make 26F seem nearly subtropical. The deep freeze was really hard on my granny ewes, Cocoa and Charlotte. Both have been moving about rather stiffly all week. Charlotte could barely stand one morning. I suspect she had folded her legs beneath herself and nestled down into the straw for warmth, not moving from her cozy spot all night until I arrived for breakfast. It was painful to watch her stiffly hobble to the feeder. On Thursday Dr. Steff from Green Mountain Bovine Clinic was in the neighborhood for a dairy herd check. I asked her to swing by for a look at the old timers and to also take a peek at Gypsy, who has had her own recent issues (more about that in a minute).

Charlotte is 12 this year. She has deep and soulful eyes and the wisest expression and she is a smart old gal. For the past week I've been sneaking her a little grain while the others eat hay outdoors. When I give her the secret sign, she shuffles right over to the corner of the barn where a little cache is hers. After a few savvy youngsters caught on, I decided to pen Charlotte and Cocoa in their own private corner for some extra t.l.c.

In addition to gimping, Charlotte's developed a deep cough on cold days, another good reason to have Dr Steff pay a visit. As with any animal, it's pretty hard to figure out the problem when they can't say exactly where it hurts. Charlotte stood stoically as Dr Steff looked her over. An examination of hooves and limbs revealed no issues. She was not running a temp. Her nose and lungs sounded clear, despite her raspy bark on cold mornings. Doc suspected it could be due the cold air or perhaps some residual damage from a cough for which I treated her last winter. Arthritis is the likely cause of her gimp. She put up very little fuss when I caught and held her for the vet, yet another sign of discomfort. Poor gal.

Cocoa is nearly the same age as Charlotte, but a bit bit more rugged. While she can still shoulder her way through a mob of teenagers and stands her ground against bigger ewes, she has shown undeniable signs of aging this winter, which makes me sad. Cocoa is one of our first pair of ewes and is dear to us for that reason. Unlike Charlotte, she put up quite a fight, careening into the water bucket and sending it sideways when I tried catching her. A good sign. I was relieved that that the examination revealed no obvious red flags. Doc suggested giving aspirin to both of them for their aches. I slipped a couple of orange chewables into their evening grain. There's really not much more you can do for old sheep, except keep them as comfortable as possible.

In this morning's milder temperatures, both girls seemed brighter and more limber than they've been in days. After breakfast, I sent them out to mill about the yard with the others. They'll be happier to stay in the common pen tonight.

Gypsy gave us worries last week, beginning with the soiling of her hind quarters followed by an odd arching of her back. She was not her usual chipper self at all.  An Angora goat's glorious mohair gown can mask deteriorating body condition. I was surprised to feel how bony she was under her pretty ringlets. We gave her a separate pen, right beside her pal, Butch, and supplemented her with grain during the cold snap. Suspecting internal parasites, I wormed her. I  also gave a dose of Kaopectate to stop the runs (which meant a trip to CVS in Greenfield; I never realized Kaopectate comes in so many flavors and studied them until I found the one I thought she'd like best: vanilla). She thought this was an extra special treat.

Gyspy was looking better before the vet's arrival. Doc pronounced her a bit thin but otherwise healthy. A fecal sample confirmed a small parasite load, which should be addressed by the paste wormer I gave last Monday (we'll test again in 10 days to be sure). Winter isn't usually a time for internal cootie issues, but she's still new here and perhaps the move and adjusting to a new setting weakened her resistance. She's enjoying the special treatment, the bonus grain, and not having to compete with Butch for hay. Butch is thoroughly annoyed!

The Big Chill

Saturday's storm dumped another 14 inches of fluffy white stuff on Patten Hill, making Sunday morning's commute to Webs to teach my handspinning workshop rather interesting. After getting the pickup truck with the snow plow hung up in the driveway and a heart-stopping sideways slide down a slick, unsanded town road, I finally managed to make it to interstate 91, which was slushy but otherwise okay.

Knee-deep snow for a llama is chest deep for sheep and goats, but this doesn't seem to bother them. Like little bulldozers, they plow right through to keep up with me and the hay sleigh. What they do mind is harsh wind and biting cold, which moved in this morning and will be with us right through the weekend. Temperatures hovered in the low teens today - tolerable but not fun. By evening chore time the wind kicked up. My hands went numb when I made the silly mistake of taking off my gloves for a minute to unfasten a hose coupling. While sipping latte with Melissa at the coffee shop I heard rumors of potentially record setting negative double digits for Friday morning. Good grief.

An overnight prediction of 5F with wind chill of minus 5F called for special measures. After feeding everyone, Mike and I closed all barn doors to keep sheep in and the wind out - as much as possible. To everyone's delight, a small supplement of grain accompanied the evening hay ration, a few extra calories to burn on a long, cold night. Hopefully, they'll have the good sense to huddle together for warmth. I left the water running at a trickle in the milk room sink to keep the pipes from freezing.

On a brighter note, harmony reigns again this week in the carriage barn. After days of jostling and sparring among the boys, I detected an entirely mellow vibe when I entered the barn Monday morning. Allies once again, my rams Parsley and Teaberry have called a truce. The tension that's been in the air for days is gone, I could sense it the moment I entered the building to find them lounging in the straw, chewing their cud. 

It's easy to understand why they fought in the first place: Teaberry is upset to have been pulled from his ladies and Parsley is really ticked off that he didn't get to visit the ladies at all. But what makes them one day decide to stop smashing the #*%! out of each other? Nearly equal in size, there's no obvious victor or loser.I can't help but wonder if they lose interest or simply forget why they were fighting in the first place. It's a relief to see the aggression and hostility subside. Holly and I restored their pen to its normal size, removed the summer tires and opened the door so they could go out for a stretch. They tentatively filed out into the yard, no pushing or shoving. A peaceable kingdom once again.

************************************************************************************************

copyright 2009, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs

photos by Ben Barnhart

Cold War

The post-holiday reality of winter has set in. Over the last four weeks we've experienced nearly every known form of precipitation interspersed with bouts of mind-numbing single digit temperatures and hellish winds. Yesterday brought the second ice storm of the new year, followed the new year's second snowfall. Welcome 2009.

The reserves of hay we stockpiled last August are shrinking at a brisk pace, as we've been feeding a little extra during extreme cold snaps. From the lack of hoof prints in the yard (and the piles of droppings in the barn) I can tell the sheep are not venturing outdoors. I don't blame them. While they don't mind the cold, the wind is another story.

On cold but tranquil days I force them out by dragging a toboggan full of breakfast. They follow the hay sleigh as I pull it across the field, dropping flakes on the snow every five yards or so. Feeding on clean snow is about the only way to feed directly off the ground - a practice which can otherwise invite all sorts of nasty health issues. The wind whisks away any leftovers before trodden by dirty little hooves. The march around the pasture is about the only exercise they get. It gives me an opportunity for house keeping. Bedding straw has been hard to come by this winter and my supply is going fast this year.

Amy stops mid-breakfast to show her gratitude. I mind the cold less in moments like this. The blue bucket in the back is heated (thankfully)  and holds 40 gallons of water. The flock has been thirsty so we fill it twice a day.

Things are less settled in the carriage barn where our ram, Teaberry, recently returned from courting, has been re-introduced to his buddies. Bringing a ram back into the guy's club is never a smooth process. There is always a period of duking it out as the boys reestablish their social hierarchy. Parsley, my back-up cormo ram whose services were not needed this year, is rather bellicose. He and Teaberry  battle it out in the shot below. Everything is an excuse to pick a fight: who gets to eat from the long feeder, who gets to stand closest to the gate, who gets to drink first from the fresh water bucket. The others in the group are wethers who just try to stay out of the way, with the exception of Cilantro, a wether who seems to have a bit more in the way of testosterone. Sometimes it's two against one.

To avoid bloodied heads, we reduce the size of their pen to practically standing room only at first. As they begin to chill, we add an additional panel each day to give them a little more room. 

Adding a few tires to the pen makes it harder for them to back up any distance for head bashing (and puts our summer tires to good use). The war lasts anywhere from a few days to a couple of weeks. Eventually, they get tired of shoving each other around and seem to forget why they were fighting in the first place. As they mellow, I can sense the change in vibe. That's when it's safe to restore the pen to its usual size and allow them access to the yard. We're making progress, but not quite there yet!

January One

Wishing you health, love and laughter in the new year!

Barb