Tag Archives: sheep

Shepherding Camp!

Due to a late cancellation, we still have a couple of spots in JMF’s Fall Shepherding Camp. Of all the things we do at the farm all year Shepherding Camp is my very favorite!

One reason I love Shepherding Camp, is that it’s something I wish had been around when I was dreaming of owning a flock of sheep. I honestly had no idea if sheep would be a lot of work, or if I would be physically able to handle them. When I got started I had to rely on books, which had lots of facts about sheep but couldn’t answer my primary question: could I be a shepherd?

Hands down, the best part of Shepherding Camp is watching the participants amaze themselves. They often arrive having never touched a sheep, and by the time they leave, they can round up the flock, trim hooves, give oral medications and injections, look for signs of heavy parasite loads, and so much more.  Last year, we had our Fall campers build a little practice fence and let me tell you, they were so proud of that fence! (Camper Marla did a guest post for us last year that probably describes the experience far better than I ever could.)

If you’ve dreamed of tending your own flock of sheep, come spend a few days with us at the farm. It will be an experience you’ll never forget.

This Morning in Pictures

Good Morning, Buster (or Cosmo? I’m ashamed to admit that I still can’t keep them straight!)

Alabama is saying something hilarious to Bennett.

I love how it looks like Milkshakes & her family are holding goat-court on their dais of hay.

Peaceful cows (and watchful Gnocchi! Just like his father.)

Love that pup.

And, by poplar request, a special appendix of photos of Luna & Stella

This Morning in the Pastures

Cassiopeia

I can’t tell which picture of Demi I like more, so here are both of them.

Charley and Churchill. I just noticed that the tufty tip of Charley’s tail is bright red!

Milkshakes v. Hannah. It’s hard to tell who’s going to win this one.

Brooks & White

Monroe, I think, is trying to insinuate himself into the Luna/Stella family. No word yet on whether this is going to work, but I’ll keep you posted.

Sagitta, laughing at something.

Our baby ducks are growing up, but they are still small enough that five of them can swim in a grain pan.

I love how wildly different from one another their markings are.

Sabine and Gnocchi seem to be sharing a joke.

Saturday Morning in Pictures

Some of our many, many chickens.

Bingley

Happy Cini

Willoughby. The more I look at her, the more I think she looks like Alabama.

Perseus and Lyra, two peas in a pod.

Little Clark, and all the lambs behind him.

Corvus and Canis

Yesterday Evening in Faces

Sweet Sabine

Buster

Alabama

Cassiopeia

Happy Lucy

Callum, giving me the look.

Alien in the Pasture


Nothing ever stays the same around here.  This farming adventure allows us weekly opportunities to tweak and adjust our systems, so that everything works more smoothly, effectively, cheaper, and easier on the back.  That's great for someone like me who enjoys change and novelty.  Plus, it's my back that needs to be protected.

I've been ruminating for several years now about how to feed hay to our critters with the least amount of waste and work.  Though I had considered large round bales as an economical choice, I just didn't see how I could keep the hay out of our fleeces as the sheep or alpacas worked down those big bales, usually from the inside, out.  I thought about using a cattle panel/t-post contraption to contain them, but it seemed like a big hassle.

Young Dan delivers our bale from Poole Feed in Wylie
One round bale is like 12-14 small square bales
One of my favorite suppliers, Premier One Sheep Supply came up with a panel system that they swear works for sheep, and will save us money in the long run.  So I bit the bullet and bought their panels.  (I love to mess with the mind of our UPS driver who has to deliver such crazy packages to the farm.)

Tella is puzzled about being penned up.  She loves to help with projects.
I penned up the dogs to keep them out of the way while the hay was delivered and while I worked on the panels.  I also moved the sheep to the adjoining paddock to keep them from being underfoot - they are such absolute obstructionists when it comes to building projects.

The only tool I needed was pliers to untwist some wires.  Sweet.
Six heavy-duty welded wire panels, and six crazy pigtail wires that serve as hinges to connect them,  make up the system.  Strategically placed larger openings in the panels allow the sheep to get to the hay without destroying the bale or getting their heads caught.  Which would be a definite downer.

The pigtail wires twisted right onto the panel ends to hinge them together.  Brilliant.
Ta-Da!
 The panels went together very easily, and fit tightly around this bale.  Now, I just hope the sheep like the hay, and that as they eat it down, I can keep the panels pulled tightly around the bale.  This is supposed to reduce waste quite a bit.  If you've seen our sheep pens, you know how much hay gets completely trashed instead of eaten.  It's like burning cash with a blowtorch.

"What the...?"
Two brave sheep...
Now three...
Now the whole flock gathers round...
 When the project was done and I released the critters, you would think a spaceship had landed in the pasture.  Everyone, including the dogs, was hesitant to get close to it.  But they're all very curious critters, and they soon overcame their fears.  The dogs got bored and moved on, and the sheep relaxed and dove into the chomping.  I'll check back in 24 hours or so and see how much hay has been consumed.

It looks like it's going to work!


Sheep of the Week: Finch

Finch, eartag number 0110, is one of my favorite wethers from last year’s class of lambs.

When he was quite young– maybe only 3 or 4 weeks old– he wandered away from his mama, Catalina, and tripped into a serious quantity of red clay mud (this would have been in April, the tail end of our mud season). He soon became the lamb I could identify the most quickly, because he was the bright-red dirty-lamb.

But he washed up pretty nicely, didn’t he?

I love the look he has on his face as Emily shears him: (Welp, looks like there’s nothin’ I can do ’bout this.)

He still looks pretty lamb-like in this photo from early this past spring.

But, how quickly they grow up!

His nose is longer, his deep Cormo neck-wrinkle is larger, and the perspective is, I admit, a little forced.

But I’m mainly so glad of the fact that he’s kept his bottle-baby sweetness and lack of fear, but somehow never acquired that famous bottle-baby brattiness. He’s a perfectly gentle, absolutely lovely sheep.

Requiem for a Good Sheep

This morning I woke up in Seattle to find an email from Zac telling me that Ernie passed away last night. Maybe it’ was because I was thousands of miles away when I got the news, but it seemed like a bad dream, something too painful and surreal to be true.  I felt completely numb, which may have been a blessing because I had a day filled with unbreakable commitments.

I refused to allow myself to think about Ernie all day. I told no one what had happened because I had to hold myself together and power through the day, not even my mom and sister. I kept my appointments and did what I had to do until I walked through the door of my hotel room, fell to my knees, and dissolved into sobs. It was like a dam had broken in my heart.

If you’re thinking that it’s crazy to have such a dramatic reaction to the death of a sheep, I can state with dead certainty that you never met Ernie. He was a sheep in a million.

I will never forget the first time I laid eyes on E. He was a bottle baby lamb at The Stone Barns Center for Food and Agriculture where I was working. We just sort of took up with each other and, noticing our abiding fondness for one another, livestock manager Craig Haney let me take Ernie home to my own farm to join my own small flock of sheep.

This is my favorite picture of me and E because we are both so happy.

Ernie, a Cotswold, grew and grew and grew into a giant sheep, dwarfing all the other member of the flock. And Ernie had a personality that was just as big as he was. If most of the sheep at JMF work in  production, Ernie was the head of the PR department. Every visitor to the farm was enamored of this gentle giant. He charmed them all, nosing in their pockets in search of treats and encouraging them to rub his ears.

Ernie and Cini, our chief of security, were the best of friends. They used to spend hours playing a sort of combination of tag and hide-and-seek, chasing each other around the run-in shed. When Ernie want to play, he would walk right up to a sleeping Cini and kick him until Cini gave up and played with him. Zac’s email this morning said that when he found Ernie this morning, Cini was right beside him, protecting his friend to the very end.

The fact that I was so far away when Ernie died seems so unnecessarily cruel. I didn’t have the chance to say goodbye. I’m just so broken hearted. For Ernie, and for the end of  the era of Ernie. How much longer will I have to spend with Buster and Cosmo? With Cini? They have been with me for so long, coming along at a time in my life when I needed a purpose, needed someone to be responsible for. During my divorce, there were days when my only reason getting out of bed in the morning were those animals. They saved me.

I feel like someone has ripped something out of me, and I know that I’m going to be hurting for a very long time. But I know that I was terribly lucky to have known Ernie, to have had him in my life for so long. He was a good sheep and I’m a better person for having known him.

I’ve gather a few of my favorite Ernie posts here for those of you that didn’t get the chance to meet him in person. I hope they give you a glimpse into this amazing creature’s personality.

Ernie Gets Shorn

Ernie’s Lament

Sexy Fun Time

Sheep of the Week

Pastures New

Remember how, about three days ago, all the sheep turned up with an orange stripe down their noses? Three days after worming, we rotate the sheep to a new pasture. Not only is the grass greener and lusher in the new pasture, but it’s also been cleaned of sheep parasites by our three cows and two donkeys.

The flock lost no time at all, and went straight to grazing. I know I say this frequently, but turning sheep out onto fresh pasture is such a wonderful feeling.

cormo sheep and border leicester

Lindbergh and Ara

cormo lamb

Lewis

ewe

Willoughby

cormo ewe lambs

Diane and Cordelia

maremma

Happy Cini

maremma

and Happy Lucy.

llama

Jerry was happy to stick his head over the fence and eat everything that the other animals couldn’t reach. He cleans up our fencelines better than any string trimmer, though, so we don’t mind a bit.

border leicester lamb queen anne's lace

Canis, on the other hand, jumped through the fence in a weak spot, but still wanted to eat pasture grass (don’t worry: after taking this, Zac and I caught him and put him back on the right side of the fence).

geese

The only ones less than happy about having the flock in a new pasture?

Lucky for the sheep, though, the geese don’t get to vote.

Sheep of the Week: Callum

I’m absolutely boggled by the fact that I seem to never have featured Callum as Sheep of the Week here on the blog before. In my opinion, he’s one of the most photogenic animals on the farm.

That doesn’t necessarily mean that he’s the most beautiful animals we have, or the most personable. For whatever reason, Callum has always been able to pose.

He’s an Icelandic sheep, Feenat’s lamb from Spring 2011, and he belongs to Erin.

Ever since he was little, though, he’s always walked right up the camera and stared.

It’s undoubted brave– and even un-sheeplike– behavior, and I wonder if he doesn’t have a touch of leadersheep in him.

Since Feenat is polled (naturally doesn’t have any horns) and his father, Cyo, had horns, Callum’s caught in the middle. I think that, were he not a wether, he’d have an impressive set. As it is, they’re growing in a little lopsided, and he’s broken them a few times.

 He’s just as big as Feenat is, now, and looks remarkably like her– same face, same fleece, same knobbly knees.

It’s just so funny to me that, nearly every time I go out to take pictures of the flock, I end up with a picture of Callum, staring me down: