Driving Day!

Taxes and Weddings

Who...me?

Those bad sheep are at it again!

I brought the ewes and their lambs down to the neighbor's pasture where they ought to be able to graze contentedly for the next month or even two without griping. But do they appreciate it? No. Yesterday I donned by favorite Farm Diva outfit (but I did put on pants this time) and walked down around the corner to check on them. On the way, I spotted a wedding, and thought to myself I'd better get some pictures! But first, I needed to check on the sheep.

I got to the crest of the hill and what did I see? My tax collectors are all loose! On the road!!! Four ewes, three lambs, all out for a walk and insisting that they be paid taxes from everyone's lawns! Baaaaaaad girls. I was going to take a picture, but I could hear a car behind me somewhere, so decided I'd better scoot down to the bottom of the hill pretty quick.

When the tax collectors saw me, they began bellowing out loudly for popcorn. That's become their favorite tax, and they'll knock you down and tap dance on your head if you haven't got any with you. Fortunately, I had a small bag left over from the day before in my pocket (I'd cheated on my taxes, don't tell the girls!) They ran wildly up to me and followed me back into their pasture, where I spent a great deal of time trying to figure out exactly where they'd escaped from and fixing up the fence.

We're not baaa-aaad! We just sound that way!

Thankfully, the wedding was still in progress when I walked back home. I just couldn't resist snapping a few shots of the happy couple and their guests! Thankfully, they were kind enough to allow me to post their photos here for you to enjoy.

The happy couple. The bride is wearing a lovely cherry blossom gown.

Their families traveled for feet, sometimes even yards away to attend the wedding feast.

Uncle Sylvester loved the fresh flowers, but what he really wanted was dandilion wine.

I know...I need to get a life.

I found out yesterday I've been tagged! Seven wierd things about me. Gee...where do I start? Well, since this post is already done for today, I guess I'll wait until tomorrow to divulge a few wierd facts. Not that you probably haven't figured a few of them out just from today's post alone...

Bale of hay to feed sheep: $8

Hiring someone to shear wool: $6 per sheep

Look on ram's face when lambs think they can get milk out of his 'udder'?

Yup. 'Udderly' priceless!

Say what? Hey...stop that!

I was picking up Darling from school the other day, and because I was early and had nothing better to do, I climbed from the cab and began picking up the loose change that had fallen onto and beneath the mat under my feet. And you know what I found? The gold cap from my tooth.

A few years back I had a dentist who did a root canal and then a gold overlay on one of my molars. They offered silver or gold, but convinced me that the price of the gold would be well worth it, as it would hold up and not need replacing.

I guess they didn't bank on my eating caramel. I love caramel, don't you? Smothered in chocolate...mmmm... And one day I was eating such a delicious piece, when I felt this little suction from the back of my mouth. And then, my caramel became somewhat difficult to chew... I spit it out to find a gold tooth!

So much for gold lasting.

I wonder how much the gold is worth? Can you sell a gold tooth? I wonder if I were to bring it into one of those places that deals with coins and precious metals, if they'd think I stole it out of a dead person's mouth?

I wonder if ebay would let me sell it there? I could probably make up some really cool story, don't you think? Perhaps a fight between a couple of ruffians over a woman...one of them dies; it's her true love, and the only thing she kept of him was the gold tooth, which she wore as a necklace until her dying day...

Okay, help me out with this story. I need something clever if I'm going to make enough money to by a new pair of boots. I need something that rivals the old Ghost in a Jar... Come on, y'all. Inspire me!

A Day at the Sheep Spa

Spa Day? What's that?

It was a day at the spa for my sheepies today. Time for a little extra attention. Time for a little pampering; a little 'ewe' time. Time to get a pedicure and a hair cut. My sheepies just love spa day!

Not.

My sheepies do not like spa day. Why? Well, first you get drug from your new pasture, which your people only just put you in last night. Who wants to leave lush, green grass, only to be drug on a half mile walk back to your home, which has no grass? Certainly not my sheepies.

We like it here in the fresh green grass!

Nor did my sheepies apprciate my luring them with a full bucket of grain into the back of a pick up truck, only to have me take the grain away instead of leaving them with the whole bucket. This, they felt, was unfair and not part of the loading bargain.

No promises of pampering and good looks could convince them that this was to be a pleasant journey. They dug their cloven hooves into City Boy's green grass, locking their legs and pulled back against their halters. Pokey decided to take the possum approach in his struggle, collapsing to the ground as though I'd killed him. Quest decided on the bouncing bunny approach, suddenly developing springs where her legs once were.

But in just over half an hour, I had them loaded. Three down, three to go!

A board is set down to help keep the wool clean. Carrot looks like a German Shorthair Pointer under that wool!

Taffy get's set up on her butt.

The breast area is done first, working from under the chin and down the belly.

The wool under the belly and down the legs generally hits the trash as it's too short and dirty for use.


Licorice's ram lamb rests on Darling's lap while his mamma gets pretty.

Licorice was born black, but has begun to turn a lovely silver.

The smallest in our flock, Licorice had the largest fleece.

Shearing was being done at my neighbor's house down the road. She had five of her own to get done, and I had six. Shearing is hard, back breaking labor. I could never do it. In fact, it took me two days to shear Licorice one year. Marcia had all eleven of these sheep done in under two hours!

Pokey sports his new do!

Despite the nice, new hair cuts and pedicures, I think we're all happy that Sheep Spa Day only comes once a year!

Dodson's IGA

We live in between towns. And by towns, perhaps I ought to clarify. One is a city; it comes complete with a mall and I-5 running through it's center. The other is...well...a hick town. Don't get me wrong, there's nothing the matter with a hick town. In fact, Darling is ready to move there.

The hick town in question has all the amenities one could want. At least, according to Darling. There's a post office, a gas station, a casino. I've never seen a fire truck there, but we did see Hick Town police officers dining at the greasy spoon, so there must be a police department. I'm not sure why they'd need more than just a few officers because the town is only five blocks long. I think Barney Fife could handle the job most days.

Darling loves hick towns. Darling loves Dodson's IGA even more!

Aside from these amenities, there is the grocery store. Dodson's IGA. Dodson's has been doing business out there for something like 100 years. Or maybe that's just how old the founder is? They have everything you could want at Dodson's. Need to pick up the makings for a salad? They've got the goods. Got a late night craving for some ice cream? No problem, their freezer is stocked with dozens of varieties. Need to dig a trench? You'll find shovels at Dodson's.

Darling loves Dodson's; she insists on stopping there nearly every afternoon after school. They've got a terrific selection of soft drinks there, and not just the kind in a can, either. No, you can get the real fancy stuff that comes in a glass bottle!

A couple months ago Darling and I decided we wanted to make some cheese. Trouble was, we didn't have any cheese cloth. I had to decide...did I want to run into the city? Or drive out to Dodson's and risk them not carrying cheese cloth. Darling looked at me like I was insane. Of course Dodson's would have cheese cloth, she insisted. So out we drove. We looked all over the bloomin' store for the cheese cloth. I couldn't figure out where they'd put it; the store isn't organized like your usual grocery. Then again, your usual grocery doesn't carry shovels. We finally asked, and found the cheese cloth in the tool isle. If you ever stop there and need cheese cloth, you'll find it next to the paint brushes, just beneath the screw drivers. Should you be an electrician, Dodson's will carry tape for you. I think it's next to the produce. Duct tape? Across from the jam. Or somewhere in that area.

The other day Darling and I stopped to grab a bag of chips on our way through Hick Town. "I wonder where they keep the chips?" asked Darling. "Probably across from the pitch forks, " I said with a chuckle. Darling nodded, "Makes sense." I'm not sure how it made sense. I had no clue where the pitchforks were, but Darling headed down the isle, found the pitchforks and did an about face. Potato Chips! Darling smiled, and said, "Mom, can we get a pitchfork while we're here?"

And to be honest, I never thought I'd be buying a pitchfork at the grocery store...but hey, it's a Hick Town!

It's a sheep's life...

Dolly plays hide and seek in the garden.

Meet Dolly. She's a sheep. Dolly is without a doubt the smartest sheep I've ever met. If you stake Dolly out to graze, and should she be tied, say, to a tree...well, like most animals she'd go round and round until she had very little rope left. But unlike most animals, Dolly figured out how to go around the other way, thereby lengthening her rope again. Pretty smart for a sheep!

Dolly meanders casually across the yard as though she belongs out there.

Dolly is also an escape artist. Last year at this time I would sit down to the computer and look out the window. If I didn't see Dolly out in my front yard, I'd become worried. Not that Dolly was supposed to be in my front yard, and certainly City Boy didn't appreciate the natural fertilizer she left behind. No, Dolly should have been in the pasture with everyone else. But since she never was, and since she was always in my front yard, if I didn't see her I'd wonder what had happened and go outside to see where she was.

Dolly was always my first ewe to lamb in the spring. This was taken almost a year ago to the day. Look how wide her body is! Look at that huge udder! And she waited another week before giving birth.

Mory and Tevy were born March 26. Mory was just over 11 pounds, Tevy was just under. Dolly is an excellent mother!

Mory and Tevy visit with 'Uncle Walter'
They are approximately 12 hours old here.

Mory and Tevy, less than 24 hours, out grazing with Dolly.

Did you know that lambs were born with tails? Some sheep, such as icelandics, have naturally short tails. But others like Dolly (she's a suffolk dorset cross) have long tails. When the lambs are a couple days old, a band is put around their tails. As they grow, the band becomes gradually tighter, killing off the nerves. After about 14 days, the tail falls off. Now, don't get all squeamish! It's rather like sitting with your foot under you, and having it fall asleep. When the tail is small, it will grow into the band the there's minimal discomfort; even then, it's only a few moments before the lamb feels nothing.

Why would we dock the tail to begin with? Those tails have a lot of wool, and feces and urine will stick in it, drawing flies. This creates a problem known as fly strike, which can cause illness in your sheep. Better to have a pinching moment at two days than get sick later on from fly strike.

Tevy runs for joy!

Darling and Tevy.
Who wouldn't just snuggle their face down into that sweet lambs wool?

I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into lambing here at Carpenter Creek!

Some days are just like that...

Perfectly wonderful and glorious, that is.

Then there are the rest of them.

A couple months back I had three ewes here for breeding to one of my East Friesian rams. Carrot was more than willing to do the job; in fact, quite anxious the moment he smelled 'girl' getting out of the truck. He was convinced one of the ewe lambs was ready to go right then and there. Ewe lamb did not agree. So Carrot began romancing the ewe...and let me tell you, City Boy couldn't do it any better...worse?..well, they've got about the same style. (Sorry, City Boy, but you bought me a toilet bowl brush!)

The thing is, ewe lamb, or (plink! brain-o-pause attack...what is her name?) wasn't interested. In fact, she tucked her tail, threw him the most bewildered look and ran as fast as she could away from him. Being a man...or ram...he followed, thinking she was just playing hard to get. You know...that whole no must really mean yes because I think you've got a cute hiney thing. Brie! That's her name. I knew it would come to me eventually.

Ewe's the only one for me, Brie!

Anyway, Brie wanted nothing to do with Carrot. However, there was Lady, the experienced girl of the crowd, the been there, done that, wanna do it some more girl in the crowd. Lady thought Carrot smelled good, and she began to hunt him down. So while Carrot ran after bewildered, virginal Brie, Lady ran after Carrot. It was like some warped Shakespearean love triangle going on in my sheep pasture. Carrot could not figure out how to convince Brie that she really meant yes, and Lady couldn't convince Carrot that she may be older, but she was definitely wiser and more experienced and he'd have a great time if he just forgot about her age... (oh, this is just sounding all too familiar...)

Don't touch me! I'm the Princess...and no means no!

The ewes stayed here and...um...got acquainted with Carrot for about a month. After that they went home. However, it would appear that perhaps one ewe did not get bred, and the services of one of the rams would be needed once again. So this morning I was going to bring Pokey down to visit. That was the plan.


I love it when a plan comes together. This was nothing like that. I got up bright and early, went out to feed everyone. I tossed the chickens their feed, put hay in Quiet Storm's manger, and placed hay out with the sheep. Then there was Sunny...sweet, beautiful, wild Sunny. I grabbed the grain scoop and brought it into the paddock in an attempt to lure her close, hoping she'd eat out of it this morning. I don't know how long I spent there trying to get my sweet girl to let go of her fear, but it was evidently too long. I was late, which meant my little window of morning opportunity to deliver Pokey had slipped by. The ewe's owner had a meeting at 10, so now I had to wait until afternoon before driving down.


City Boy was home, which meant I had to pretend I actually accomplish things during the day. I did a load of laundry (bleck!), actually used that stinking gift of a toilet bowl brush (double bleck! Have you any clue how long I'd been growing that culture for science?) and even considered washing my truck. Oh, but that would just be silly...it's still winter and will get dirty again in no time. Scratch the truck idea.

I'm nearly out of hay, so had to make a quick run to Brigget's to pick up a couple bales to take along with Pokey. By now, I'd wasted enough time to consider loading him up. Normally a very friendly sheep, I didn't think there'd be any trouble taking him away from his harem of ladies. I thought wrong. Pokey suddenly erupted into a wild beast from (I'll spell it out so I don't have to say it, okay?) H-e-l-l (I know you appreciated that!) He wouldn't walk with me, he wouldn't lead, he wouldn't follow the grain. And he's too derned big to lift up and carry! What takes me two minutes with a ewe took twenty with Pokey. The girls know that there's grain in the back of the truck, so when it's backed up to the loading area, they race to see who can get there first. Winner gets the most grain. Pokey didn't know the rules, or maybe he realized there was no competition and he'd get all the grain no matter what. Either way, I was again running late.

You're kidding, right? I'm not going anywhere today...

My truck was nearly out of gas. Great. Stop at the credit union to grab some cash. Run grab a couple bales of hay to accompany Pokey. Get into a conversation with Brigget and now I'm even later! Plus, I'm hungry, so I stopped at Mickey D's for a burger...and the fries must have been cooked in old oil, they were barfy!

Get down to M's house and unload Pokey. The ewe's are all huddled around the gate, anxiously awaiting their man. Pokey gets out and immediately thinks he's died and gone to ram heaven...then quickly realizes that three women is only good in fantasy land. In reality it's a nightmare. The girls are all jealous of each other because he's looking at each them with a wicked gleam in his eye, and instead of his fantasy of them fighting one another to win his affection, they gang up on him and try to kill him. Poor Pokey, this is not what he signed up for! But it turns out our experienced Lady was actually bred, so she's moved out of the pasture. Now that the younger girls are a bit more relaxed without Lady to educate them, Pokey thinks about getting down to business. And which of these two lovely ladies does he find the most attractive? Our little goodie four shoes, Brie! When I left, Pokey was chasing her about the field, trying to convince her that no really meant yes...

Look deep into my eyes, dear...

By now it's getting to be late enough for me to be thinking about going home. I decided to take the long way since it was still light enough for pictures. Drove a road I was unfamiliar with, hoping to find an old barn or some such thing. At the bottom of the hill I spotted a big barn near a berry field. There was a road turning off to the left, so I turned down in order to get a better shot of the barn. That's when I saw it...the Bow Hill Cemetery!

Guess it wasn't such a bad day after all.... :)

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!