Toms

For much of this winter we were visited daily by a quintet of tom turkeys. Their glossy iridescent feathers stand out plainly against a monochromatic, snowy landscape.

These turkeys are part of a larger group, well over a hundred birds that inhabit Finley Point throughout the year. Combinations of toms and hens that visit the farm ebb and flow depending on season, availability of forage, and whether they are breeding.

Initially the birds came here to glean from the sheep dropped grain or the random insect. They continued to return as they discovered the bird feeders, and then the cracked corn I bought for them.

Turkeys are definitely not dumb birds. It took less than a week for them to learn that I was not a threat, and was, in fact, the source of their grainy snacks. I talk to them whenever I see them, and call, “Here, turk, turk, turk, turk,” when I put out their feed. In less than two weeks, they would run from wherever they were on the property to be fed. And soon after that, they were checking the windows on the house to see if I was coming out to feed them. When I would come to the door, they would gobble in unison, a hearty greeting, indeed!

They arrive from the woods to our west each morning about an hour after dawn, and leave each evening as the sun sets. On very weathery days they wouldn’t come, and I imagined them hunkered down in their tree roosts, feathers puffed up against the cold and snow. On very cold days they would stand in the wan sun, and shift between one foot and the other every five minutes or so, I assume to keep their toes warm.

Two of “our” toms are obviously fully adult males. Their beards are nearly down to the ground and as thick as a pony tails. They engage in a great deal of display, strutting and cooing, thrumming and gobbling, intended to intimidate and as practice for gathering their future harems. I think of them as our senior birds. The other three are more like sophomores. Their beards are not as impressive in length or girth and you can see that they haven’t quite reached their full weights. They are definitely deferential to the senior birds.

All five of them stopped coming last week, just a few days shy of spring. I imagine they have been cavorting with the ladies in anticipation of warmer weather and the joys of procreating. I have missed their antics and greetings.

Two days ago the three sophomore birds returned. They are much shyer without the big toms, hesitant to come too near, and with no shows of tail feathers or any audible greetings. They have followed the same routine of coming and going, spending the entire day within 100 yards of our home.

This afternoon, they were joined by some new friends. Three very young toms, or possibly hirsute females, half the weight of our original three, long-legged, with short little beards, and extremely skittish. Calling them freshmen would be generous, more like junior high. They stayed well-back from me, 50’ at least, and would not go near the sheep.

They are calling for snow overnight, possibly three inches. I am eager to see if our old friends return tomorrow and bring their new friends with them. I am certain they will soon discover that all are welcome here.

Babes in Bins

At five months a lamb isn’t really a baby anymore, although they retain their playfulness, sweetness, and goofiness. They have yet to take on the more dignified manners that their parents, aunties, and uncles display.

Since their birth, this year’s lambs have loved to cozy up inside something. In the beginning it was an empty sweet lick tub or old picking bin. As they got older, they liked to curl up in the small containers in which we fed them hay. Once they were able to jump high enough, they took to the adults’ feeding bins, 35 gallon galvanized sheep tanks. Unfortunately, I was never able to get a good shot of them nestled in the tanks, especially when more than one hopped in.

We are getting close to the time to separate them from their mothers so they can move to their new homes. The lambs are isolated in the smaller sheep pen, and since grazing is scarce in there, we are giving them alfalfa hay, a big treat.

This morning when I went out to say good morning, each of the three bins had a fuzzy lamb’s head sticking up above the rim. It happened that they were all brown lambs, so the effect was particularly endearing.

By this time next week they will be settled into their new homes and hopefully the ewe-mammas will have stopped looking for them. It will be quiet again as fall transitions into winter and we await the arrival of next year’s babies.

Little Lamb Lost

We recently lost one of our first lambs, an event that I fought with all my resources. In the end I had to make the unpleasant decision to put her down, even though, at that moment, she seemed to be rallying. But I listened closely to what the vet was telling me, the hopelessness of the situation, and made the hard decision that I knew in my heart was right for her.

The vet’s office offered to dispose of her little body, but I knew it was better for her and me to come home and to nourish the land from which she came. She was so lovely and peaceful and clean at her passing that it seemed wrong somehow to simply put her directly into the earth, so I cut up an old worn soft sheet, wrapped her in it and sewed it up. I carefully placed some lavender in a fold and placed her in the ground, under one of our grand old pines, in an area the sheep graze in the spring. She looked like the precursor to an Egyptian mummy lying there in the earth.

The weather that afternoon was abysmal, but I took the time to say some words to thank her for her gentle spirit, said a prayer to ask for her welcome to the fields of the Lord, with special gratitude to Saint Francis in appreciation of his loving care of us during this awful time. The whole experience was surprisingly healing.

A couple of weeks later, we opened the field where the lamb is buried up to grazing by the ewes and their lambs. After some frenetic grazing, they settled down for a nice long rumination, and I was delighted to see that the lambs where closely grouped together and lying on top of the lost lambs grave. They repeatedly have returned to that spot for their quiet time.

Do the lambs know their sister lies beneath them? Are they comforted by her presence? Or was it just by chance that I chose that particular spot? In the end it doesn’t really matter. My belief is that they are all connected, in this plane and beyond, and that they are drawn there by a feeling of peace and safety. I am thankful we are blessed to provide our animals this tranquil sanctuary.

The Proud Papa

Muffin enjoys a well deserved rest and a proud moment of reflection. So far we have six lambs out of three ewes with three left to lamb, all his doing.

New Life at the Orchard

My blogging is spotty, I know. But I like to tell myself that it's because I am so busy. Whatever the reason, sometimes you just have to post something.

Very early this morning I was blessed with the opportunity to act as midwife to Eclair as she delivered the first of her triplets after a very long night in mid-labor. She wasn't our first to lamb this season, but the first I actually got to observe.

I am posting a a short video of the first moments after he arrived and the bonding that transpires immediately. You can hear her chortling to him and see the steam coming off of his warm little body. It's truly magical.

She took a long time to deliver the other two, and didn't act like she was still in labor, so we missed the other two births. Our first triplets from our flock!

From another time

In the midst of an early spring dusk, the turkeys move slowly across the hill. It is easy to see the remnants of their dinosaur ancestors in their plodding steps.

Disappointed

While I am disappointed that the Massachusetts election went the way it did, I think I understand why it happened.

When Obama was elected president, I believed that we had created an opportunity to move away from politics as usual. But the actions of both parties, especially the democrats, didn’t reveal any changes. In fact, the outright cynicism reflected in their actions so aptly demonstrated by the deal making around the “health care” bill, only confirmed that nothing had changed.

Who are these people in our congress today? As a group they could not do the right thing due to fear of a republican filibuster? Let them filibuster. Let them show themselves for the obstructionist, negative, no new idea people that they are. Let them hold up the process. We have been without comprehensive health care until now. We can wait a little longer if that is what is necessary to get it right. They couldn’t do what was right for fear of not being reelected? Shame on them.

I think that how I am feeling, disenchanted, disheartened, and disenfranchised, is how many people are feeling right now. There isn’t much to feel positive about and our powers that be, unfortunately including the president, appear to be completely disconnected from reality. It seems that who they are and what they are doing has nothing to do with life as the rest of us are experiencing it. I think people who feel like me walked away from the process today. I don't approve, but I understand.

While I remain an optimist and an eternal Pollyanna, I fear that we will go through some dark times before things take a turn for the better. Perhaps this is something we need to do to mature more as a nation. I still believe there are people ready to serve who are creative, honorable, smart and courageous. How they will reveal themselves remains a mystery but I am hopeful.