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.

What?

Heard this morning on NPR:

Citibank, which has had some struggles, is doing better now by borrowing money from the government at 0% and then loaning that money back to the government at 3% as treasuries.

Either the government is not too bright, or I am really dumb, because this makes no sense to me, but at a minimum, I’ll take some of that 0% loan action, please.

Using someone else's bootstraps

I was checking my credit card online last night and saw a strange charge for $170+ dollars from the Encyclopedia Britannica online. Hmmmm. I hadn’t purchased anything and apparently Albert hadn’t either.

A call to the credit card company (Bank of America) wasn’t helpful. The fraud department wasn’t there on a Sunday night.

This morning there was a second charge to Encyclopedia Britannica for ~$70, as well as an email from B of A and an automated phone call telling me there was a problem with my account and that they were freezing it. It’s gratifying to know that they are on top of things. Unfortunately for me, I’ll have to do a little financial housecleaning to straighten up this little mess.

Several months ago I had a charge on the card from someone purchasing a textbook from Barnes and Noble online which was shipped to Utah to the tune of $150. Now these charges for some kind of research materials.

I am a person who is strongly in support of formal education to improve oneself. But doing it by stealing someone else’s credit card information just seems wrong somehow. Perhaps I am being close-minded?

I am so curious to know what the textbook was (they wouldn’t tell me) or exactly what the research materials are (they won’t tell me that either). I do hope that the person making these purchases chooses a better path to higher learning. Perhaps they will have the opportunity to access the library at the jail until then?

Muffin's Not So Great Adventure

Albert very nicely went out alone to clean up the sheep pen yesterday. With this crazy weather, their enclosure is quite muddy and not very pleasant for any of us.

Hands full of the various tools he might need, Albert was over-encumbered when he attempted to open the gate. (Stud)Muffin, our ram, was there to greet him, and took the opportunity to slip past Albert and out into the wild world.

From inside the house I faintly heard, “Leeesannnne.” Through the window I saw Albert in the sheep pen with all his tools and surrounded by inquisitive sheep, and Muffin, outside the pen head-up and trotting to and fro, exploring his newly found freedom.

I hastily put on my sheep shoes, grabbed my jacket and went outside.

“Muffin, what are you doing, sweet boy?” I calmly asked as I walked between him and the gate. When the sheep are separated from one another, or when they are in new surroundings, even the most docile of them can become dangerous if only due to their size.

Even though Muffin was clearly interested in exploring, he is bonded with me, and came towards me and the gate as I spoke to him. We reached the gate at the same time, Albert opened it enough to get Muffin’s head inside, and we gently pushed him the rest of the way in. Order restored.

I share this story because for us it is another example of how we are learning to work with the sheep, and to work with each other. After almost 22 years as a couple, you would think that it would be second nature, working together, but what we are doing now is so very different from our life “before,” that we have to learn whole new ways of dealing with things. It is sometimes painful, sometimes funny, and always rewarding when we get it right.

Now if we could just get the sheep to poo in one spot.

Note to self

Microfleece and farming don't mix. The hay never comes out.

I’m Not a Cattle

I ran across this little piece that I never posted to the blog. It goes back to 2008, when the sheep were lambs, and we only had Forrest to care for...

Today was Forrest’s first day to be alone outside in his fancy garage enclosure. We arranged a cattle panel in front of the garage doors which makes an area for him to come outside, but have the ability to retreat inside if he wants.

A little before it was time to take George the cat to the vets, I placed Forrest in his enclosure, and he readily settled down in the warm sun in the doorway. Good, I thought. This is going to work out perfectly. Assured that he was safe and sound, George and I drove away.

About an hour and a half later we returned, and I looked into the garage as I drove up. Hmm, where was Forrest? Perhaps he was hiding behind the door? Something to the right caught my eye, and there was the little darling curled up on the back doorstep. He jumped up right away and came down to the car.

Baaaa ba baaa, said he, which I interpreted to mean, hey, I’m not a cattle, I’m a sheep. If you want me to stay in there, you are going to have to treat me as the superior critter I am.

Sixteen feet of two by four wire later, his cattle panel has been converted to a lamb panel.

Sorry, Forrest. No disrespect intended.

Neutrogena

Until a few years ago, I made our bath soap. When I gave that up (I don’t know why), and since I am loathe to buy soap, I came to rely on Albert to bring home hotel soaps from his travels.

While they are not homemade, most of these soaps are pretty nice, and since they are small, you can change fragrances or colors at whim.

Albert’s most recent acquisition was a few bars of Neutrogena glycerin soap, a brand I hadn’t seen for a while and certainly hadn’t purchased in at least 30 years. Before I stepped into the shower yesterday, I carefully unwrapped one of the bars. I was transported to my teens, when Neutrogena was all I wanted to use. The bar with its slight tackiness and amber translucence. The smell so precisely the same that it was, for an instant, the summer of 1974 in my red and white “Love” bathroom, the window is open, the radio is playing, and I’m 13 years old again.

They say that our sense of smell is our oldest sense, and the one for which we make the strongest and most lasting memories. When I think back to my childhood, I can remember vividly smells like, and I know this sounds like a cliché, the aroma of my great-aunt Aunty’s sugar cookies, and my great-uncle Joe’s scent of wood shavings combined with motor oil, good loamy earth and something akin to “man.” There are scent memories of cooking hotdogs over a driftwood fire at the beach, and exploring the Manzanita scrub below our house.

What is so fascinating about scent memories is the complexity of them. They not only conjure up the sense of the smell, but also the emotion attached to that smell, the temperature of the air on your skin, the quality of the light, the ambient sounds. They are not the “oh, remember when…” kind of memory, but more of a wham-up-the-side-of-the-head experience. I can taste Aunty’s cookies, feel the warmth of Uncle Joe’s chest, hear the roar of the ocean waves, and see the dust motes floating in the shady canopy. And they can trigger either by catching that scent anew or by bringing something to mind.

I don’t experience any other sensate memories in that way.

My species could beat up your species

I heard a report on NPR this morning that spoke to the creativity and intelligence of our near-relatives, the Neanderthal. Apparently, they were using pigments on their skin for no other discernible reason than for decoration for beauty or perhaps to show status.

In discussing this, one anthropologist made the claim that Neanderthal undoubtedly learned how to do this by seeing Homo sapiens do it, or by finding caches of these pigments left behind by them.

The sites where these pigments are found predate modern humans in Europe by nearly 10,000 years. Interesting. That would seem to indicate that the Neanderthal developed this technology on their own.

While I find the archaeology fascinating, I am amazed that we still have this need to one-up other species, including extinct humanoids. “Cavemen” couldn’t possibly have come up with make-up without our help. We are superior to other animals because we “fill-in-the-blank” and they don’t. It is particularly bizarre to hear this kind of sentiment from scientists who should know better than most how much we don’t know.

Pop psychology, I am sure, but doesn't it seem like we suffer from some kind of species' inferiority complex?