It's National Hug a Sheep Day! (and a heart-warming story)

In case you were not aware, today is National Hug a Sheep Day! Finley, however, prefers skritching since hugging is much too confining (as in uh-oh the wormer must be coming next). He suggested I tell his story.

Five years ago I rescued Finley's mother, Phoebe, off the highway where she stood motionless for four days. I had no idea what kind of animal she was, all black with beaten up horns and white for eyes. She was emaciated and blind from a case of pinkeye that had obviously gone long untreated. She was, at the very least, frightening looking.

There were no other similar animals around, nor could I locate an owner, so I convinced Farmer Rick to help me bring her home. She could only run in circles, so we were able to grab her, and after much struggling, got her into the back of the SUV. We put on a head harness and basically had to drag her to back to the pen.

My vet identified her as a Barbados Blackbelly (hair) sheep with possibly some Rambouillet (wool) sheep mixed in and said the animal had neurological damage. Perhaps she had been hit by a car. At first Phoebe was wary of us, but she really liked having a steady supply of water and nutritional sheep kibble. For a wild sheep, she was full of personality. We got rid of the pinkeye, but she was still blind. Her eyes looked like large blue Earths. She started putting on weight.

A lot of weight. In about three weeks she had become more friendly and almost doubled in size. Then one morning she swished her tail and I saw them. Milk bags! I called my knowledgeable shepherding friend over at Punkin's Patch and she said ewes usually lamb in February. So I ordered a book about ewe and lamb care.

Finley arrived before the book! We had a rooster named Avo living with Phoebe (he's featured in my masthead). He had been a little rough with the hens so we built him an apartment on the side of the sheep shed. Little did we know that he would fall in love with the blind sheep, who became his "fuzzy hen". He would mount her and ride her around, and would tidbit at her food dish so she could find her food. They grazed together. It was very sweet.

The day Finley arrived I knew something was up, because Avo was pacing frantically back and forth at the gate and Phoebe was nowhere in sight. Just as I looked behind the shed, there was Finley popping out! The vet did not think either of them would live. Phoebe lived another three years, and considering her former abused life, lived to be an old lady. Finley is a strapping lad. I hope someday to get a few more sheep and learn to spin.

 

Be sure to hug a sheep!

Farm Friend Friday: After the Freeze

Amy over at Verde Farm is starting Farm Friend Friday. I became acquainted with her when we both participated in National Hug a Sheep Day hosted by my friend Sara over at Punkin's Patch at Equinox Farm. I've been looking for something like this to feature our small farm.

She says "Farm Friend Friday will be about: house, cooking, crafting, animals, gardening, photography and more. It will be a great way to meet new farm friends and see lots of different views and perspectives on farm life." How cool is that?

If you've been watching the strange weather (which I call Wonky World Weather) you'll know that Texas has been briefly plunged  back into the Ice Age. Even down here in the semi-arid desert Southwest, an hour as the crow (or, in our case, the Cara Cara) flies from Mexico, we had three days solidly frozen at 12 degrees.

 Ribbons of sap being extruded from our Frostweed (Verbesina virginica)

I'm sure to many of you this doesn't sound so terrible as you deal with this every Winter. However, we live three months of the year over 100 degrees, even attaining 117 degrees one day last summer. Truth be told, in our diurnal climate Winter consists of freezing temperatures most nights, and 60 plus degrees each day. You could say Winter only comes at night--the rest of the time we are running around in t-shirts!

The things we call coats most people would probably consider windbreakers. We have been wearing three at a time just to stay warm in this old farmhouse. Built over 70 years ago--before air conditioning was the mode--our house has little insulation and is 50% single pane glass operable windows for catching those breezes.

 This Fall photo gives you an idea how much glass we are talking about.

Fortunately we have a fireplace, because Wednesday our electricity (and thus our heat) went out for the arctic day! Living remotely as we do we are in an electric co-op. Mostly we experience outages from electrical storms that come in more temperate seasons and those don't generally last more than a couple hours, if that.

Farmer Rick took the tractor down to the creek to load kindling, but the icy hill proved too steep for traction and the wood had to be carried armload by armload. While he was laying in firewood, I made the decision to move all the seedlings from the rapidly cooling greenhouse into the living room.

Living room scene on a 12 degree day with no heat.

So, snuggled around the fire with us were four dogs, four cats, one rooster (Junior's been recuperating) and 439 plants! I feel bad that I was unable to bring in the remaining 49 chickens who usually stay warm with heat lamps, but that would have been total chaos. Unfortunately several of our roosters in Coop Two appear to have suffered some frostbite. (This morning it's looking a little better--fingers crossed).

Marco Marans showing some frostbite on the tips of his comb.

Finley the sheep is lame in a foreleg. I suspect he's been watching me break his trough ice with the sledgehammer and has perhaps tried this himself.

But I don't like snow cones!

Amazingly our lettuce which had been covered with clear plastic withstood the ordeal.

Butterhead lettuce makes it through!

I'm sure there were some losses among our honeybees, but the good news is today it's warmed above 50 degrees and the girls are coming and going from both hives and doing housekeeping.

Workers carrying out the dead after three days of freezing temperatures.

What is this object you say? Why it's a frozen cylinder of coffee grounds! No, no, we don't drink that much. We are fortunate enough to have connected with a local coffee shop and are able to compost all their grounds!

Cafe glace!

It's time to take advantage of the sun and get outside to cut back the asparagus. The first spears were already peeking through this time last year. (I hope they held off). We'll be looking forward to eating it soon!

For more farm fun visit Farm Friend Friday. (Say that ten times!)

Cookie Monster

Finley has started asking for cookies with his foot, a signal he's always used to show that he likes something. Cookies (alfalfa cubes) definitely have his stamp of approval!

National Hug a Sheep Day

Finley, did you know it is National Hug a Sheep Day? I thought we'd do some hugging!

But I don't like hugs! Not even for cookies!

It would make your Aunt Sara very happy if we could participate. She's launched National Hug a Sheep Day in honor of Punkin, who was my godsheep. If I had never known Punkin I might not have you today. What do you say?

 Isn't being cute...enough?

 How about we pretend it's National Skritch a Sheep Day instead! 

I have quite a few itches needing skritches.

{skritch, skritch, skritch}

Ahhhh.....that's more like it!

Snow!

Finley gives the snow a thumbs hoof up. (Have your sound turned on).

Want

It's been over two weeks now since Avo's untimely death and I have been distracted by handymen replacing our crumbling and clogged 80 year old pipes. I decided to buck up this afternoon and go out to the sheep pen and visit Finley.

He was very stiff in stance and looked older, less innocent. A small trickle of blood was coming down one of his horns which appeared to have a small puncture wound, like maybe he butted his head against a nail...or perhaps it was part of the unfortunate scenario. (Later Rick and I flushed it out. He had noticed it, but badly needing new glasses, thought it was just a glump of dirt).

I went to the shed and began picking up feathers, making a little bouquet in my hand, tears streaming down my face. As it started to come together and look like a familiar chicken Finley came over. I held it out to him and he sniffed it. Then he lowered his head and used his hoof to make the 'I want' sign and I started weeping.

I want him back, too, Finley.

So whatever happened involving the sheep that ended the life we knew as Avo it was very clear Finley was missing him, too.

Until Death Do Us Part | Part Two

After coming home from judging UIL Storytelling this evening I found Avo's crumpled and muddy body next to the sheep shed. It appears he was stomped to death by Finley. I had noticed a little aggression recently and the thought that this could happen even briefly ran through my head this morning.

But they had lived together for three years since Finley's birth, and just the other day on our walk Finley was concerned his chicken had fallen behind. I cannot claim to know what goes on in the sheep mind. Avo could fly up and out of the pen if he needed to I told myself. He did it all the time. I wish I had listened to that little voice. I even had the thought since Phoebe's passing that maybe it was time for Avo to live with his own feathered people again. Take up with a nice Ameraucana hen.

Avo is in my blog mast head, and in my lap on the holiday cards yet to print. The card that won't get printed now. He's all over my blog as he loved to be photographed. So much for our peaceable kingdom. I can hardly bear the heaviness this season has already brought. He was the best chicken, and will be in my heart forever. There will never be another chicken like him. I knew this day would be hard, but I never knew it would come so soon or by the hoof of another loved one. I feel like it was my fault for not listening to my intuition. This is a tough one. We just buried him on top of his beloved Phoebe.

I'm going to take a break from blogging for a while.

Until Death Do Us Part

I should have known something was up when Avo was crowing at 2:30 a.m. This morning we found Phoebe laid out cold on our morning rounds, and on closer inspection her remaining blind eye, as blue as the Earth from space, blinked. We moved her into the sun where I fed her warm molasses water with electrolytes. She perked up a little and gummed an apple and some alfalfa, but went slowly downhill and passed in my arms.

She had been feisty, her usual self in the days before. The only thing I noticed was she was foaming around the mouth whenever she ate the last couple days, and today discovered a hard mass under her jaw and she appeared anemic. 

Nobody knew how old she was when we found her three years ago by the side of the road, poorly cared for, blind, and presumably hit by a car. She always looked sort of rag tag, but we gave her the best of care and loved her just the same. Because of the neurological damage she always walked in circles and her hooves grew shaped like bananas because she always went in the same direction. You could tell her general mood by the diameter of the circle. Our vet didn't think she'd make it, but she was one tough sheep. So tough--and much to our surprise--she dropped a lamb a few weeks later--two rescues for the price of one!

The vet did not expect Finley to live either, but, of course, he did too. For Avo the outcast rooster, she became the big fuzzy hen of his dreams and she put up with him in a way no one else would. They were inseparable. Farmer Rick and I are heartbroken, and Finley and Avo will be at a loss without her.

This video was taken just last month, you can see the happy trio together.





Interestingly, right before Phoebe passed a raven flew overhead in the direction of North. Native Americans believed the raven was an omen of death, and that they carried the souls of the dead away. North represented winter and old age.

Farmer Rick had to leave for a school rehearsal, and we will bury her before the evening performance. Death is never convenient. We put Finley out to graze earlier and I just let him back into the pen to say farewell. He did not seem to recognize or even be curious about the lifeless body of his mother; instead he looked in all directions crying out for the life force he once knew her as.

Macro Monday: Have You Hugged Your Flower Today?

Still about flowers, only a little lighter this Monday!

I figure if Ed can use Spidey in his macros I would pull out my Flower finger puppet! She was rediscovered when cleaning out the bathroom closet this weekend, along with a a $100 bill I'd forgotten about! See, there is incentive in cleaning my house!

It's a chilly 52 degrees here today and we've received 2 inches of gentle rain all morning. This should help our well which has slowly been recharging over the past couple of weeks. I'm ecstatic over the promise of having running water in the house again.

Flower goes out to check on Finley. Just look at those smiles!

I've heard of stuffed animals before, but I've never seen a stuffed flower... 

um, you got any alfalfa cookies with you?

For a close range view from other photographers, visit Macro Monday!

Animal Communication on the Farm

Avo and Finley as his "peep"

Lately, I have seen evidence of communication between chickens and sheep.

First, we noticed Avo the rooster is able to call Phoebe, our blind ewe, to food. When we throw "salad" (garden weeds) into the sheep pen Avo engages in "tidbitting," a form of communication between a rooster and his hens, where the rooster picks up a found object (usually edible), drops it repeatedly while clucking, in an attempt to draw his hens to him. Because Phoebe is blind, she can't easily find her pile of weeds as her son Finley can find his. So Avo tidbits over her weed pile until she locates it by the sound.

Sunday I discovered our sheep understand rooster warnings. While the sheep were grazing the garden paths under my supervision, Avo noticed the neighbor's dog through the fence running on the far side of their property. Chickens have a disctinctive high trill for airborne predators, and a low growl for ground predators. Avo let out a long, low growl and Finley, who was grazing with his back to the fence and could not possibly have seen the dog, jumped up in the air and ran to me, clearly understanding there was danger.

Finley and I have our own communication language. He has a way of "pawing" me when he wants attention. It's his way of saying "I want." If I mimic his motions first, he understands that if he comes I will pet him. Here are a couple of videos.





He is more like a dog than a sheep, and he wasn't a bottle baby.  He loves attention so much I call him the mutton glutton!

Where's My Kayak?

Today we finally got a big storm. Real rain. As in over 5 inches! Everything just let out a big sigh of relief. The dry creek ran. Cracked soil expanded, trying to confiscate my sandals as I rushed around checking on the animals.

We'd gotten 3/8 of an inch last night, so this new amount is causing some flooding! Not enough to worry about yet, although Phoebe and Finley were not amused standing in their sheep "pond" this morning. Also, rain blew into the new coop from the unfinished overhang creating a small playa lake in the middle of the pine shavings. The chickens were all standing around looking at it while King Avelino tested the water with a foot and complained loudly.

It's temporarily brought the river back up to something worth kayaking--from near 0 to 260 cfs. Our dry well, however, has yet to see any results. There's more rain in the forecast for tonight and the rest of the week, so we can hope!

Sunday Stills: Rule of Thirds

After telling everybody I've been using the Rule of Thirds for a while, do you think I could get the animals to cooperate?

Avo, King of the Sheep (or Fuzzy Hens as he prefers) kept trying to explain the Rule of Twenty Sevenths. It was beyond me.

Finley suggested I use the fence to do my proportioning, although he says he prefers using the fence to scratch his rear ear.

Zoe the Apenzeller Spitzhauben hen and the yet unnamed White Crested Black Polish rooster just gave me a look like I am crazy...and of course, I am the Crazy Chicken Lady around these parts. If you have a good name for him, I'm taking suggestions.

For more Rule of Thirds visit Sunday Stills!

Sunday Stills: Eyes

These eyes belong to Francisco, our Husky-wolf rescue dog. He's afraid of storms, gunshots, fireworks, and other dogs. Oddly, he gets along well with cats.

This fearful eye belongs to Cody, our Chow mix that was severely abused by his first owner. I have spent years helping to restore his trust in people.

This is the blind eye of Phoebe, our rescue sheep, looking like the Earth from the moon. Her other eye unfortunately had to be removed because of damage. I found her dying on the side of the road, where we suspect she'd been hit by a car. The vet did not want to tell me she probably wouldn't make it.

But she did, through much nurturing. And--a big surprise to us all--delivered Finley a month later. We had no idea we were rescuing two! He has beautiful eyes.

And of course, the eye of Avo, their rooster. He thinks Phoebe is his big, fuzzy "hen" and is certain Finley is his son. His secret desire is for all of us to be part of his flock.

Check out all the other eyes at Sunday Stills.

Ideal

This morning I caught this beetle on a flower known as Crow Poison, Nothoscordum bivalve. Over the next week I will be sharing the various native wildflowers blooming on the farm. Because of the exceptional drought there aren't the usual big stands of things, but most species are represented if you are willing to look for them. I had the pleasure of guiding some folks from out of state recently who were interested in the flora of the Hill Country.

Normally the short grass prairie would be so full of flowers you could not leave the path without stepping on one.

The garden is looking good, although we are behind on planting many things.

The lettuce grew so slowly, even with irrigation, that by the time it was the right size to eat it was already bitter.

Farmer Rick has been doing a great job with the compost process. We will be adding more bins across the creek near the new coop once it is finished.

A week ago we heard the Chuck Wills Widow calling from the creek. It is such an ethereal sound. Wednesday the Hooded Oriole and his gal showed up at their feeder. It's nice to have them back.

I wish I could say the same for the bird that sings (if you can call it that!) so loudly by my bedroom window that I cannot get a good night's sleep. He showed up for the second year in a row on Tuesday. My friend Bob B. helped me identify it as the Yellow-Breasted Chat, Icteria virens. Their song is described as "an odd, variable mixture of cackles, clucks, whistles and hoots. Their calls are harsh chak's". To this I would add very loud, and continuous from midnight to 5 a.m. I've started turning the sprinkler on under the tree all night to shoo him off. I hear him in the back keeping the sheep awake now.

After all, Finley is already used to annoying birds.

Avo...well he's just Avo. What can be said for a rooster in love with a blind sheep and thinks he has fathered Finley? (Notice how he's posing by the word Ideal?)

Here's Finley's idea of the ideal rooster...