We don't have alot to say about today...

Except that we are dealing with more of this:

Late Bloomers... err.. Lambers

We love looking at the pictures of the new Pygora kids at Painted Shadow Farm, and although it is quite pleasurable to watch the early lambers... such as Leyden Glen Farm and Romney Ridge Farm...
we are quite content for the time being to sit on the sidelines and observe... living vicariously through their tales of vaginal prolapses and bottle babies, and of course rejoicing with them in their triumphs over adversity.

And really never, have we been ever so grateful for our decision to be among the late lambers as we have been this winter. The thought of dealing with all this snow and lambing is just intolerable. It makes the thought of bringing newborn lambs and mama up over the hill... well after midnight... in the pouring rain... seem almost pleasant.

We are truly looking forward to days like these...

Aaahhh... sunshine... and baby lambs... anticipation... allowing us to somewhat ignore the 3-day winter storm watch once again coming our way.

Sunday Muse

Mother Winter

Storm by Robert Pack

Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form
The surge of swirling wind defines
As if your human shape were what the storm
Sought to contrive, intending to express
Its consciousness of my white consciousness,
Sculpting each tree to fit your ghostly form.
Cascading snowflakes settle in the pines,
Swaying in unison beneath the snow,
Calling me to you with wild gesturings
Homeward into the howling woods, although
Thinking of your abiding spirit brings
Only a whiter absence to my mind,
Only whirled snow heaped up by whirled snow,
Only a fox whose den I cannot find.

Perimeter Fencing

perimeter fencing... or lack thereof...

luckily at this point not even the predators are venturing out

the snow just keeps coming.

Murder of Crows

The murder of crows gathers in small groups... watching... waiting... for what must seem to them to be the perfect moment.





One by one, they fly in... deliver a short hypnotic speech, then proceed to pick at the ice that has formed on the sheep's backs. Once loosened the ice is plucked from the sheep and carried off to the tree tops.
This has become a somewhat bizarre morning ritual, and has prompted the questions...
Are they thirsty? Hungry? Or could this peculiar behavior be caused by their fondness of dog food?

Sheep Feeding Olympics

Feeding the sheep has become a 3 to 4 hour series of Olympic events...

Weight Lifting


Snow-Shoeing (beyond the blower-paths, it is nearly impossible to get anywhere without snowshoes)


The Human-Tractor Pull (would really like to magically transform this event into bob-sledding... no luck so far)


A Gold Medal goes to Terry for his Olympic-proportion snow-blowing, keeping these narrow roads, old logging roads and paths open, enabling us to reach all the sheep.


And, a very special Gold Medal goes to our Lantz Ridge neighbors, Junior and Alma, for the best production of icicles!


A special Olympic shout-out to those orange-clad Dutch Speed Skating Fans! We are crazy about them... from their orange pig-tail wigs to their great spontaneous celebrations!
(Honestly... it's really all about the orange pig-tail wigs.)

Stranded

Saul's group stranded at the bottom of the hill, luckily at the end of an old logging road


10-month old lambs stranded at the bottom of the graveyard field


Samson stranded at the middle shelter (note the perimeter fencing in the foreground)

Liam's group stranded in a small circle at the top of the hill

Remaining sheep stranded in a small area, but luckily at the barn... the two goats are also stranded in this area... this is pleasant for no one

(to be continued...)

Under the Weather

Just popping in to say that we have been under the weather... both figuratively and quite literally. Hope to get back to a somewhat more normal posting schedule after the weekend.

Weekend Wrap-Up, Day 2

Sunday dawned cold and frosty! The wind chill only reached -3 so the temperatures had everybody scrambling for their own little spot in the sun.

Everyone but Samson... he spent most of his time guarding his dog food because of the day long game/battle he had going on with a murder of crows.

Weekend Wrap-Up, Day 1

Saturday was to have been sheep moving day, but by feeding time the wind chill had only risen to -9 degrees and our 30% chance of snow looked like this.

So... following the best laid plans of mice and men adage, we moved into the fiber room and skirted a few of the remaining lambs' fleeces and watched some naturally-dyed logwood purple yarn dry.