Sheepish

It's been a busy couple of days. Yesterday I had to run get some hay from Brigget. She went up into the loft and found this rather odd sort of thing. It was hard, roundish and split in half. Looked like the inside of a honey comb. I'd seen it up there last week, but had left it behind as it was kinda...I dunno...creepy.

Anyway, there sat Brigget up there in the doorway showing me this thing, pointing out that she thought there were spider legs coming out of it. And if anything is creepy beyond all creepiness, it's spiders. Their legs coming out of some sort of unknown object just makes them all the more creepy. She asked if I'd like it, no doubt thinking I'd take pictures for the blog.

"No, thank you," was my reply. Somethings are just too creepy even for me, I told her. She gave me a puzzled look. "You brought home the head of a dead horse in your trunk, and you don't think that's just a little bit creepy?" Okay, she had me there.

Anyway, most of Brigget's ewes have lambed now. Take a look at these adorable Icelandic babies!

Three weeks old, and look at those horn buds!

These are Sunday's babies; remember the caption contest with the kissing ewe and lamb?

Astrid lambed last week; her boy has lovely silver flecks, and check out those horns already!

Lovely spotted ram lamb. His mamma has a name I can barely pronounce, let alone spell. It means Pancake, so that's what I call her.

This morning I got up and was amazed at how many people had already visited this blog. Blown away, really. I get all sucked up by the statistics and comments. It's like my little cyberspace living room, and you all are my visitors throughout the day. And it amazes me how many of you pop in to see my decorating!

So here I sat, utterly enthralled, when I ought to have looked out the window. Why? Licorice was giving birth! By the time I finally yawned, stretched, and dawned my rubber boots, she'd licked the boy clean and he'd had his first visit to the milk bar. Like last year's lamb, and the lambs before that, he's a curly little black baby. His papa was an icelandic, and I'm hoping someone who'd like a pet wether will come along. He's bound to have a beautiful fleece with his genetics.

Still wet, and with a dangly umbelical cord.

Of course, I can't let you go without an updated pic of Ohren and Baron!

Ohren's ears are still just a little tippy!

Don't forget, tomorrow is Winsday and there'll be a new contest!

As promised, a surprise contest for today!

But first, check out the nominees for the 'coveted' Booger Blog Award! Either click, or scroll down to below the duckies and my whining about not getting breakfast. Clicking may be quicker.

Now...guess what happened out at Brigget's house last night? Lambs!

Brigget's ewe, Sunday, delivered healthy twins, a ewe and a ram. Both are black, and the ram lamb already has little horn buds! A bit too dark to get a good picture of them, but rest assured that by next week I'll have some good shots for you. You won't believe how quickly the horns on an icelandic ram can grow! The photo above is of Brigget and the little ewe lamb. Go ahead, everybody say "Aaaaahhhhh"! (Of course, they're not as cute as my lambs, right? But pretty darned close.)

Caption Contest!

Sunday is such a good mamma! This is her first time lambing, and twins were not expected as she was pretty tiny around the tummy, unlike the older, wiser girls pictured below.

Here are, from left to right, Fiola, Hulda, Cinnamon and Brekka. Can you believe how wide Brekka is? Last year she lost her twins and was so unhappy. Hopefully she'll have a successful delivery this year. Brigget is hoping all that weight is from the babies and not the taxes Brekka has been collecting.

Did you notice that Hulda has horns? Both ewes and rams can grow horns in the icelandic breed.

Meanwhile, back on the farm... The Baron and Orhen are a full week old today. Taffy has relaxed and they trot about without her becoming terribly anxious. Today they were practicing being rams. Head down, rock your weight back over your hindquarters and...

Charge!

Boys will be boys, eh?

Now, you've got two things to do. Vote for your favorite Booger Blog, and give me a caption!

All That's Left of Walter...

I was so excited to get my new little ram lamb, Walter! Oh, what a cutie he was. Most of my sheep are naturally colored, meaning anything but white. Which is nice, and I like it, but I'd been wanting white so I could do some fun dying. And Walter was white.

Walter was a young icelandic, and at the tender age of 6 months he knew exactly what he was there for. The girls insisted on a bit of courting first, though...they insisted on knowing him at least 24 hours before allowing him to do his studly thing with them. And once he'd made the rounds, everyone was content.

I had a ewe named Dolly who used to get out quite a bit, and Walter realized if he stuck close to her backside he could follow along in her tailwind. So before too long, instead of just Dolly out roaming my front yard, Walter was there, too. Walter, unlike Dolly, began to get irritated with the routine of getting loose only to be put back into the pasture. He began to object. When a ram objects, you're in trouble, even a little ram. And this little ram had horns which were growing longer each day.

One day Walter and Dolly were out grazing near the barn, but of course on the outside of the fence, when I went out to feed. I went to get some hay to toss to the sheep on the inside when I noticed Walter staring at me. It wasn't a pleasant stare; it wasn't even a worried "Darn, she's caught us again" stare. No, this stare was a challenge; a dare; a "Go ahead, make my day" glare that I was receiving. I had in my hand the top of the grain can, which was just downright lucky as Walter lifted himself up on his back feet, then did what I've only seen the sheep on National Geographic do...he tucked his chin down to his neck and thrust himself forward towards me!

That was that. I don't need a mean, aggressive ram, especially one that's just seven months old! New fencing was in order, and I made certain that all the girls had been bred. Then I called my friends at the slaughter house and made arrangements for Walter to go to freezer camp.

We'd never eaten our own sheep before that. City Boy wanted to see what pepperoni would be like, so we had that and sausage made. Darling found the whole thing rather amusing (warped child that she is) and called it Wausage and Walteroni. She'd offer her friends Walteroni when they'd come to visit, and since these weren't kids raised on a farm (it is to a farm, City Boy!), they'd often gag, and we'd never see them again after that. I think it became a bit of a game to Darling, to see how many friends she could go through before running out of Walteroni.

City Boy decided we oughtn't waste that lovely head of Walter's, since he had such nice horns. He wanted to find someone to clean it up, but turns out it's a do it yourself type job. So City Boy took Walter's face out back and hung it in the trees by his horns. Yes, it was his face. The hide was still on that head, and the eyes were still in the skull. Disgusting, really. I don't recommend this for the weak stomach crowd. In fact, I don't recommend it at all.

Anyway, I wasn't really sure exactly where Walter was, just that he was hanging from a tree. One morning I walked back there with the dogs, who were busy chasing a coyote. I heard a little noise behind me and, camera in hand, thought I'd turn to find the dogs and their little friend. Instead I came face to face with Walter! Yuk! His eyes had sunken back into their sockets, and the hide was still on his skull, but a bit mangy looking. Totally gross! Be thankful I was too freaked out to take a picture. City Boy was dismayed to learn that Walter wasn't decomposing as quickly as he'd hoped, while I was left I wondering how many years I'd be stuck with the image of Walter's head swinging from a branch in my mind.

Once I knew where Walter was, I was sure to avoid him when I walked out back. But that didn't keep Walter from coming to me... One morning I got up after a huge windstorm and found one of the dogs with something in it's mouth. I called her up to the door to see what she had; it was one of Walter's horns! I ran out back to the tree to see the only thing left, the other horn still swinging from it's rope. The skull was no where to be found.

And that's all that remains of Walter...two horns, a host of bad memories and a couple packages of Walteroni!