It Makes You Feel Good

Everyone likes to get a little pat on the back now and again.  For example, when someone you don't know appreciates something you've done or made. It's been a good few days for that.
First, on Monday, was a call from a lady in Quebec.  Now calling from Quebec is no longer a big deal, what with long distance packages and all that.  But it just seems impressive, someone calling from the other side of the country to tell you that they really enjoyed the Crabapple Jelly that their sister-in-law in Abbotsford sent them.  Apparently the SIL thought the jelly was just like what her mother used to make, and sent a jar to her brother and his wife in Quebec for Christmas.  They thought it tasted pretty close to what mom used to make too, and phoned to let me know how much they enjoyed it.  And I told her that she had made my day, 'cause she had.  I felt good all day.

Then this morning, I had an email from someone in
Wales, asking if they could use one of my shearing pictures in their upcoming winter shearing fact sheet.  I said I'd be honoured:)

http://farmingconnect.menterabusnes.co.uk/farmingconnect/resources

As well I had an email from someone telling me how much they loved my blackberry jam, and could they order four large jars, as well as two of raspberry.  It's just nice to get good feedback, especially when there are days that you are fed up and feel like you never want to do it again.

Which makes me think that I need to remember to go that extra step to let someone know when I really like something they did or made or said.  We all need that little pat on the back now and again.

Bah Humbug

Trying to stay with a Christmas theme, but at the moment I'm not feeling very jolly.  There's words I'd much rather use, or one word, and it starts with F:(

We got hit again, as in something came and went on a killing spree in our north chicken field this time.  I was out yesterday afternoon, and Larry was just returning from a 40 minute walk with the dogs.  As he got close to home he heard a chicken cackling, and then more than one chicken.  He arrived home to discover another massacre.  No bodies this time, but 6 chickens missing, three injured, one of which was dead by last night.  He and David, who had been watching a football game on the TV at the time, hunted around.  They found chickens in shock hidden in weird places.  There were patches of feathers all around the field.  There was no evidence of where anything(s) had come in or out.  I did a pretty good search of the perimeter this morning, and there are no chicken feathers outside the fence.  No evidence of coyotes going over or under.  It's a bloody frustrating mystery.  I just feel so furious, and helpless.....and sick.

We went to bed last night (I guess that goes without saying).  My clock wasn't showing the time.  It is one of those things that broadcasts the time onto the wall or ceiling.  It's great!  Larry had been doing some cleaning and had knocked it to the floor.  I finally got the time working, but it was showing three hours later than it should.  Finally found the right button to fix that.
Luna usually sleeps in our room, on a mat in the corner, but sometimes she does that reverse sneezing thing, it can be quite bad and go on for a long time, usually around 5am.  And when she figures it's time for you to get up, if you happen to rustle the sheets even slightly, she walks over and pokes you with her cold nose, and 'encourages' you to get up.  Larry moves, and she comes and gives me the cold nose.  So I started shutting her out of our room so I would get a better sleep, since I need all the help I can get some nights.  If she's not in our room, when she thinks we should get up, she starts doing a gentle woof every ten seconds or so from the living room, which wakes me up.  Larry sleeps through it all.  So I'm damned if I do, and damned if I don't.  Last night she was in our room.  She must have eaten something gross, because she was stinking up our room something fierce.  Also, the Fat Ewe, was baaing the sheep field.  Kind of like Luna's morning living room woof.  Not loud, but regular.   Unusual for sure.  I listened for a while, and figured I had to check it out, because there was no way I'd fall asleep while that was going on.  It was already past midnight.   The Fat Ewe and Young Ewe were stood in the field, which was strange.  Normally they would have been in the barn. This is the field where the chicken massacre took place, it's also the sheep field.  The sheep were out in the hayfield when the killing took place.  I have to wonder what the result would have been in the sheep had been in there.   So there I am in my nightie and crocs with a flashlight, in the drizzle, trying not to slip in the mud.  (Going downstairs to get boots and a jacket is too much work and gets the dogs all wound up, barking etc). The Old Ewe is down on her side, thrashing away in the barn.  That was weird too.  She hasn't done that in more than a month.  Has actually been doing quite well for an old lady.  Anyway, I heaved her to her feet and went back in.  Shut Luna out of the bedroom.  Finally fell asleep.  Was the Fat Ewe looking out for her friend?  Something similar happened before.

The alarm went off  at 6am.  What the...?  All the messing around with the clock had somehow got the alarm turned on.  I fumbled in the dark and thought I turned it off.  It started up again 8 minutes later.  Fumbled around again and finally got it right, I think.  (I'd better remember to check it when I go to bed tonight) Luna knows that the alarm is all about.  Since there was no sounds of anyone moving in the bedroom, she started her woof, ten seconds of silence, woof, etc.  I wanted to just yell at her from the bedroom, but didn't want to wake Larry, (it amazes me what he can sleep through) so I stormed out there and gave her heck and tried to reassure Jake that it wasn't HIM that I was mad at.  Went back to bed.  Couldn't get back to sleep.  Got up earlier than usual, and was heading outside to have a look around, see if any chickens had come out of hiding.  Got downstairs to the utility room where Calli sleeps.  As most of you know, Calli has nerve damage, which among other things resulted in some loss of bladder control, and no bowel control.  We have to make sure she pees in the evening.  Larry thought he had accomplished that.  Obviously not, the utility room was a disaster area.  Feeling like the jolly Christmas elf I was not.

Anyway, after my long wander outside, in the field next door, I'm feeling just as frustrated.  There is no evidence of what happened to those chickens.  Mink or weasel, no, they wouldn't/couldn't have carried 6 chickens off.  A family of raccoons? maybe, but then we'd at least find some feathers on the other side of the fence. Same for coyotes, but how did they get in?   Eagles, sure, but they don't work in flocks, maybe in a pair, and we've had one grab a chicken before now, but 6 chickens?  It is just like the chickens were lifted off into the sky, and the worst thing is not knowing what we are up against.  Is it coincidence it happened when the dogs weren't here?

                                                                   Bah Humbug!

Frost on the Pumpkins

Thursday morning was the coldest morning so far.  Lots of frost, which only makes sense as we are on the downhill slide to the shortest day and the start of winter.  This is the biggest pumpkin I've ever grown, but it sure wouldn't win any prizes. Not that I've ever been much into growing pumpkins.  If I actually started my own from seed, I'd probably have more luck.  This was a plant I bought, and it sat there and did absolutely nothing for weeks after I planted it.  Finally the darn plant got things figured out and eventually produced these two measly pumpkins. The big one's not even ripe yet, and is just going to become sheep or chicken feed I guess.

Frost on the dahlias too, but still not enough to kill the plants off.

Gorgeous colours on the blueberry bushes

The kind of morning that makes you late for work because you can't figure out where you put that d*mn ice scraper

We have maple leaves everywhere

And if we have frost, it probably means the sky is clear and we don't need rain hats or umbrellas because we have sun!

We have maple leaves (Is this Texas?) big enough to serve as either though.

The Old Ewe is still hanging in there.  Getting special treatment.  One day at a time

And when we walked through our back bush this morning.....we saw bear poop!

Looked like Mr. Bear had been helping himself to some one's apple tree.

I'll be talking loudly if we walk through there tomorrow morning.

Livestock and Deadstock

The Old Ewe, who is the grand old lady of our three sheep flock, is about 15 years old, and looking her age.  Yesterday I noticed that she was not doing well at all, and Meredith said while that we were away, she looked depressed.  Not depressed because we were away, depressed as in not acting normal and looking, well, depressed, head hanging, not moving around much, not eating much.  This morning we were scrambling around to dash off to one of the pre-Christmas farmers markets at White Rock.  Larry came in to say that the old ewe did not look well at all.  She was laid out on her side in the barn and he couldn't get her to move.  It didn't surprise me at all, after seeing her yesterday I figured her time had come, and she would most likely be dead when we arrived back home this afternoon.  Sure, she's been here since birth, and I know her well, but she is a sheep and not a pet, and I can be a bit practical about that sort of thing.  In other words,  no heroic measures were going to be taken.

I was doing my usual post market Sunday , 'push her around the grocery store' visit with my mother.  We had two vehicles and Larry had headed home.  I received a text telling me to bring home molasses.  The Old Ewe was still alive, and she needed an energy boost.  After playing phone tag, I finally talked to Larry in person.  He said it was a mess at our place.  I asked him what he meant.  He said there were four dead chickens in the south field, and one badly injured one.  One hen from that field, and the rooster, where in the north field.  Another couple of hens were out on the driveway.  I drove home in the dark and pelting rain, and then climbed into some rain gear and we wandered around the field.  We found another dead hen, for a total of five.  The whole back half of one was all eaten.  The others appeared untouched, although they were rain drenched and it was hard to tell for sure.  No obvious wounds at least.  Tomorrow in the daylight we'll check the fence line for clues.  The death scene didn't fit any of these descriptions.

 
There were only 27 hens in that coop tonight.  It's been a while since we've counted them, and some of the older hens have dropped dead in the last while, but there's an awful lot of hens unaccounted for.
We are guessing that it is coyotes again.  Was there a whole pack in the field while everyone was gone for the day?  I feel bad that we didn't keep the chickens safe, and subjected them to the stress of whatever predator was after them.  It must have happened in the morning, as there were only 16 eggs in that coop when they were collected tonight, and there should have been twice that many. Quite a few hens didn't get a chance to lay today.  It's so bloody frustrating.  If it wasn't for the income the hens bring it, I'd just get right out of the egg business.  Four of the dead hens were the young ones that have only been laying a few months.  They have a black band around one leg.  The fifth body had no legs, but I think it might have been an older hen.  We'll have to pull the other fence back across and keep the hens in 'jail' (a smaller more confined area) again.  I'd just let them out a week or so ago, after the previous attack.

The Old Ewe looks like death warmed over, but she drank some warm molasses water, ate an apple, as well as a bunch of soaked in warm water soy hull pellets, and is munching on some hay.  I guess it's not quite her time yet.  Unfortunately some of the hens can't say that.

Getting By With Help From Your Friends

I was woken early, before daylight (or maybe I was already awake?) by Luna barking down by the family room door, a floor below and at the other end of the house.  Just a quick sharp bark, to tell whom ever's listening, that she needs to go out.  Seems that the only one ever listening is me.  The only reason I can figure that she goes to that door, which is not a door that we go out very often at all, is because it was the first door she was let out of when she came here.  Sometimes it only takes doing it once to teach something to a border collie:)
I dragged myself out of bed and called her up and let her out the back door onto the deck, with it's nine stairs that leads to the patio and the back lawn.  A few minutes later I opened the door to let her back in, and heard a sheep bawl.  A rather feeble, mournful bawl.  Sounded like The Fat Ewe.  It was rather weird. There was no need for them to bawl, they had access to the hayfield, they hadn't been getting any grain, so weren't expecting any.  I opened the door again, and another mournful bawl, and The Young Ewe bawled at me as well.  Time to take a look.  There were no shoes near the back door, and I didn't want to go downstairs which would cause a mad rush of border collies, because SOMETHING EXCITING MUST BE HAPPENING OUTSIDE.  I figured I'd just tiptoe across the gravel driveway in my bare feet and nightie, and see what I could see.  Thankfully there was a flashlight in the kitchen.  I did take note of a few frozen snowflakes on the deck.  When I get across the driveway, the two aforementioned ewes stared back at me through the gate, but I could hear some banging from in the barn.  The Old Ewe must be stuck in something.  So I figured I'd already come that far, what the heck.  On I went, through the gate, tromped through the mud and sheep muck to the barn, where The Old Ewe was flat on her side, legs flailing, unable to get up.  Heaved her over, and pulled her up, and tromped back through the muck to the driveway.  (Larry asked me later why I didn't go up the driveway and through the barn to the end where the sheep were, which would have avoided most of the muck, but isn't it already obvious I wasn't thinking very straight at that time in the morning?)  

The stuff I  slopped through last night with today's moisture added to it.    Not deep, just slimy.

 There was a hose hanging there, so I stood on the grass and turned it on and tried to spray my feet off.  Got my feet a bit cleaned off, but then the water stopped, as it was just cold enough outside to freeze part of the hose.  Continued to the patio and then stood on one foot and then the other, swishing the opposite one in the water in the dog pool.  Back inside, dragged something out of the clothes hamper to rub my hopefully relatively clean feet dry. No lights were turned on during this whole episode, well other than the flashlight.  Climbed back into bed and actually managed to fall back to sleep for a little bit.  The Old Ewe was not looking particularly thrilled about life this morning, although she did take a bit of grain I offered her, and then later drank quite a bit of warm water with molasses in it.  Time will tell.  But I have to wonder....were those other two ewes really trying to tell me something was wrong?

PS - By this afternoon, between rain and snow storms, (it's been a very weird day weather wise) all three ewes were back out grazing.  The Old Ewe's ears are still hanging a bit low, a sign that not everything is necessarily all right in her world.  April would have been 16 this year, so this ewe could easily be 14 years old.

Up Close and Personal

Quite often we bring April and The Old Ewe out of their field and let them have some other grazing.  The two younger fatter ones protest loudly, but they don't need any extra feed.

What's that stuck on the bottom of your sandal......sheep muck?

Standoff

Baa Baa Black Sheep

Have you any wool? 

Yes sir, yes sir, three bags full.

The sheep shearer came today. Here he is shearing April.  I'm stood in the kitchen, stirring apricot jam with one hand, and trying to take brilliant photographs with the other.  

Not going to happen I'm afraid.

Eventually Pride wandered down.  He must have thought he was missing something.

This is sheep number 3, known as 'the young ewe'.  

You can see 'the fat ewe' over Pride's back.  Actually, 'the young ewe' could now be known as the 'the fat ewe', or maybe she should be called 'the young fat ewe'.  But who really cares:)

One of the 'three bags full'

April and 'the old ewe', and Luna of course.

Poor April.  At 15 1/2 years old she's like an old lady with dementia.  She still toddles around and eats, but isn't carrying any weight.  It was tough to shear her, so she looks a little rough.  The shearer moves and bends the sheep in various ways to round out the part he is shearing, to create a nice smooth surface to run the shears over.  It was hard to create any smooth surfaces on April, there is no fat, she is all points and angles.

I don't think she'll be around much longer, but so far she isn't suffering.  She's the closest thing to a pet sheep we have.

Buckets of blackberries picked - 4 

Total - 11

Dandelions

The fields are full of them.

When we are not seeing much sun, they are a cheery sight.

Some people spray their lawns and fields to be rid of them.

Fools.

We should all be eating them.

http://www.squidoo.com/dandelion-benefits

The sheep know.

Pride loves them too.

The dandelion has a very long tap root that accesses minerals that many other plants can't.

A Pedicure for April

April, our old Dorset X ewe, got a pedicure the other day.  Our sheep might only get their hooves trimmed once a year, when the shearer comes.  In fact that's all most of them get, and their feet are fine.  They do lots of walking around and seem to keep their feet in relatively decent shape.  April is the exception.

She has the same kind of feet as her mother, and for some unknown reason the outer claw on the front feet  grows much faster than the inner claw.  I knew she needed her feet doing, and was just waiting for a good day and time, which would be a day that was dry, with dry ground.  This particular day she was laid by herself in the old horse stall that is an add-on to the front of the barn.  We have a few bales of hay stored in there, and since the door is falling apart and falling off it's hinges, we've just allowed the sheep to help themselves to the hay, since the hayfield has been eaten down.  The other three ewes had wandered out to the field, and April was laid there by herself.  Since she is a former bottle lamb, and I've been feeding her grain in the morning, she is fairly tame.  Also, she is a couple of weeks short of turning 15, so she doesn't move too fast anymore.

Since three of her four feet were visible while she was laid there, I was going to try and trim her hooves without getting her up and flipping her onto her backside.

Here's my rather ancient looking hoof trimmers.  A good oiling would probably help them out. Like I said, I don't use them much.  There are much nicer, easier to use trimmers around now, but this was the standard variety about 30 years ago.

And yes, gulp, that is blood on the end of them.  I cut a little close, trying to cut the messy part away.

Here's one front hoof before I started

And here it is after I've finished.  The two claws never look the same, as the longer one is also much wider, but at least now they are relatively the same length.

There's usually some infection in the bottom of the big claw, so I pour a bit of Kopertox on it.  It's like a foot bath in a bottle.

I wish I could say she was as good as new when I was done.  Not really.  She's quite arthritic in her hip joints.  I'm pretty sure she won't be around for another winter.  She still gets around though, and seems happy enough.  Look at the first picture and you can see that she is still bright eyed and alert.

The other day though, I was feeding her the grain.  She got some stuck in her throat I guess.  She stopped eating and her head was hung down.  Saliva was bubbling.  She flung her head around and strings of saliva and wet grain were thrown every where. She sneezed and snorted.  I left her alone while we took the dogs through the bush, as usually the sheep manage to sort this out themselves.  When we came back she was with the other ewes, but wasn't grazing, was still stood with her head hanging.  I went inside, got my sheep book out, and mixed up some baking soda and warm water that I use for bloat.  April's cute, but she has had her issues over the years, including bloating four or five times.  I figured that if I got some of that down her throat, I might help flush the blockage out, or help it go down. Just as I got it mixed, I looked out and she had her head down and was grazing.

April lives another day. 

Check out Farm Friend Friday over at Verde Farm

Cow Bell Calli

I've mentioned before how Calli likes to take the path less travelled when we do our bush walk in the morning.  The last few months have been a bit of a trial at times.  We are walking along the trail, maybe talking a bit to each other, or maybe listening to those voices in our heads, and then one of us will suddenly remember and say, 'have you seen Calli?'

And the other one will say 'the last time I saw her, she was....'  Probably she was heading in the same direction as us at that point, but may have stopped along the way to root something up, or do some other disgusting thing that dogs revel in.  She's in her own little world out there.  Some days she doesn't walk down the trail at all, but goes through the underbrush, following the little trails that she and the coyotes have made.

We do want her to have 'fun' out there.  This is the highlight of her morning.  If we go somewhere off the property we don't have this problem, but I think it is that she is so familiar with the walk and since we have to circle and come back to the same gate we started through, that she knows we truly won't be abandoning her.  She has that old dog selective hearing when she's out there.  If she was fully mobile, we'd probably just leave her and let her come back on her own time.  The way she is though, there's a chance she could get stuck or caught up in something, and there are coyotes....

The problem is that we get back to the gate, which we'd really rather close behind us, we don't know where Calli is.  Usually Luna will be waiting there, and Jake too, or he will come when called, even though we might not have seen them much on the actual walk.

So we do a lot of calling, and then yelling, and then listening for the sounds of cracking branches.

You can see how hard it is to spot her out there at times.  Imagine when all those salmonberries have leaves on.

So I suggested that we 'bell' her.  I knew that somewhere we had a cowbell.  Never remembered it until we were already out in the bush, but one morning I did actually remember it before we were more than a few hundred feet from the house, so went back and managed to find it, which is an amazing thing in itself. 

Calli was not impressed.  She was so not impressed that she plodded along behind us down the trail for the whole walk.  She didn't have any fun.  The cow bell was heavy, and it was loud, and she looked like she wasn't happy.

So the next morning I tried a different plan

Four little bells.  She liked it. It didn't bother her at all.  She headed off on her excursion.  We couldn't hear a thing.

Yesterday when I was at the Co-op, I checked out smaller cowbells.  Would that work?

Cheap me decided I didn't want to spend the $9 to find out.

And here's a funny sheep story to go along with that cowbell.

A lot of years ago, well less than 15, I put the bell on April, (our old ewe who is almost 15).  I wanted to put the sheep out in the back hayfield, which is mostly visible from the house, and I thought the bell might help to discourage any coyotes.

April wasn't thrilled about it.  The more she moved the more it clanked.  The other sheep were less thrilled. They moved away from April.  She wanted to get back with the flock.  The bell clanked more as she tried to catch up.  The rest of the flock moved faster to keep away. 

Well I'm sure you can see where this is going.  Before long the flock was racing around the field, with clanking April bringing up the rear.  I thought they were going to run themselves to death.  I think I managed to snag April and remove the bell before that became reality.

The flock said 'thank ewe'

Feeding Time at the Farm

Yesterday the chickens had chicken.... for breakfast.  Are we making cannibals out of them?

Well not quite.

When I visit my 81 year old mother, she often hands me a bag of goodies for the chickens.  All her bread crusts, leftovers she didn't like, anything edible she doesn't want that doesn't go in her compost, all gets added to a bag in her freezer.  When it's full enough she gives it to me to bring home for the chickens.  

And if you didn't already know, well chickens eat just about anything, and yes, they will eat chicken.

But this was fake chicken.

My mother isn't quite vegetarian, but she doesn't cook any meat, although she will eat real chicken at a restaurant.

She thought this fake chicken might be good, but I guess it wasn't.

The real chickens thought the fake chicken was pretty good though.

I think there was a baked potato to go along with it, along with various varieties of bread crusts.

A real dog's breakfast.

And if the dogs could have got through the gate, they would be right in there grabbing what they could.

When I feed April and TOE, there is always some grain that gets dropped

TOE lifts her head out of the bucket and drops grain on the ground.

The clean up crew is standing by though.  

April's feed bag  bucket is still working really well.  She doesn't spill anything.

The dogs are quite happy to clean up any spilled grain that the chickens and sheep don't get.

Nothing much gets wasted around here.

....And just because I have to share the beauty, here's tonight's sunset. 

We've certainly had some lovely ones lately.