An Ovine Adventure - Part II

First a quick recap. Dan suspected fly strike in the sheep so Yael and I corralled them in front of the red, red barn and I waited for our sheep expert, John, to come and evaluate them.

And I waited. In fact, I waited all day. I finally called Auckland at twilight to report that John had never called. See, the idea was that John would call when he got near our farm and I would go down to the corral and meet him. No John. At least, so I thought. During my phone call to Dan we agreed that I would go to Dave's place (sheep savvy neighbor) and get him to look at the flock.

Off I went. No Dave. Nobody home at his farm so I was on my own. Now I am not comfortable making major decisions, indeed, life changing decisions, on my own when these are not my sheep. But needs must. Climb the gate, walk very slowly to the corral and observe. Nothing! Only one ewe who twitched slightly. No head buttings, no twitching, no flies, etc. etc. So I follow plan C which is to release the sheep back to paddock #2. The corral is small and they have been there all day. They need space and fresh grass. BUT, there is one ewe that might have fly strike. I will need to keep her in the corral.

Now, how do you let 16 sheep out of a corral, up a rope line and into a paddock while simultaneously keeping one frantic ewe (and a mother no less!) from going with them? I didn't have a clue; I just knew that that was what I had to do. And do alone! I felt pretty much like a Survivor contestant. I am happy to relate that I rose to the challenge.

I had two things going for me. The first, the sheep wanted nothing to do with me. Wherever I was, they weren't. Second, they desperately wanted out of that corral. The gate to the rope line is long, wooden, wet and heavy. I could not swing it from near the hinges, I had to be out in the corral near the open end. But if I did that then the sheep wouldn't come near the gate because I was there. It took a few futile attempts but I managed to run with the gate back and forth, letting just a few sheep out at a time. All this while I am keeping on eye on the possibly infected ewe and trying to hustle her to the back of the queue.

Each time 2 or 3 scooted through, I had to shut the gate and scurry after them to chase them past the rope line and up far into the paddock. Then back to gate swinging duty and isolating of the "sick" ewe. Eventually it was all done. The 16 sheep were huddled around a tree halfway up paddock #2 telling war stories of their escape from Stalag 17. The one remaining ewe was standing huddled in the far corner of the corral too dispirited to even look at me.

I went home and called Auckland to report. "I couldn't find any sign of fly strike." I began. "But there was one ewe that was iffy so I kept her and released the rest back into the paddock." I was nervous. This was a major decision to make on my own. "Good news", Yael reported back. "John dropped by and didn't see any sign of fly strike either."

Yeah it was good news. Better news would have been if John had called me and we had met up at the corral. I could have let all 17 back into the paddock and not frantically worried about getting it wrong. So that poor, pent ewe was trapped in isolation. I thought about her all night. And scampered down to the corral at daybreak to let her out. Her baby was still calling for her and she was so frazzled that she bolted right by me, right through the rope line, and into the wrong paddock.

I tried to move her but the steers were in paddock #1 with her so I couldn't leave the gate between 1 and 2 open. She was totally berserk and I finally gave up. When Dan gets back, he and I can move her together. So for another 48 hours she and baby lamb will be separated. But at least the lamb is weaned and the ewe can move freely around the paddock.

And that it what she did. She hung close to the fence between 1 and 2 and seemed relatively content. That is until Dan and I came to move her. And that will be the third and final episode of my Ovine Adventure. Stay tuned.

An Ovine Adventure - Part I

I can say without fear of contradiction that I am not RAMbo’s favorite person. And yet he was cooperation itself in my latest ovine adventure. Before going down to Auckland, Dan inspected the flock and came back to the kitchen with an ominous concern. He thought he had seen evidence of fly strike in 2 of the ewes and one of the new rams.

What to do? What to do? There is only one thing to do. Gather the flock in the red, red barn’s corral and call in an ovine specialist. Our first line of defense is always Dave, our neighbor and stock specialist. Unfortunately Dave was at work. So then we turn to our sheep  specialists: the John and Paula team of sheep shearers and we rely on both of them for our information. Then if necessary we call in the vet.

So Dan called John who is very busy this time of year with shearing but agreed to drop by and take a look. But (a big but) he didn’t have time to hike paddock #2 and check out 17 sheep. They would have to be corralled for a concentrated viewing.

Since Dan had to work, It was necessary to fall back on the second team – Yael and me! Now I like being needed. I am always half afraid that I’ll do something particularly stupid (Yes even more stupid than those acts recorded in this blog) and I’ll be booted out of paradise.

So I accepted the challenge and Yael and I gathered a rope to make a guide line to usher the sheep through Paddock #1 (which for some reason you have to go through to get to the gate to #2.) Down we go and Yael doesn’t even hesitate at the broken gate but climbs over. I follow suit. Then we decide that I should circle up paddock #1, open the upper gate and drive the sheep down to the rope line where Yael will escort them to the corral.

It looks so nice and neat written that way in my Ariel font. Reality is a lot messier. First it had rained, making climbing steep hills a whole lot of fun. Second, the sheep weren’t too enthusiastic about leaving paddock #2. Actually it was probably more that they weren’t enthusiastic about anything I wanted them to do. But I kept at it. I zigzagged back and forth trying to keep the flock together. No such luck. They insisted on splitting into factions.

One faction would hug the fence line and the other would trot smartly across the entire paddock and hug the other fence line. Then they would swap sides. Finally, they stood waiting for King RAMbo to amble down and lead the way. In this fashion I finally got them down to within sniffing distance of the gate, Yael, and the rope line. At which point they turned and ran back up the paddock.

I waited for a few sour words to leave my mouth, softly so I wouldn’t offend Yael whose biggest curse is “sugar” and that rarely. Back up I went. This time Yael entered the paddock and I gestured her to stand point at the far fence to  prevent flock splitting. Our next concern was that the sheep would bolt down the paddock, through the rope line and mingle with the steers in paddock #1.

I am happy to report that none of that happened. The sheep whirled away from Yael (and me) and followed a determined ewe down the paddock, along the rope line and into the corral as slick as you please. Yael and I scampered down to close gates, push our way through 17 sheep in one small corral, and return to the kitchen to report progress.

Then Yael and Dan packed up the girls and headed down to Auckland and I went back to my room to read and wait for John to call. And that will be my next blog. The adventure continues! Just like an old Pearl White continuing cliff hanger. The only difference is that mine is real. Talk to you soon.

And Yet Another Challenge

Just when I thought it was safe to meander through the pastures, Dan came up with yet another new challenge. It was a doozy; at least to me. The steers are in paddock 1, the sheep are in paddock 2. Switch them!

I spent some sleepless nights (okay 2 sleepless nights) trying to figure out what combination of gates, running up and down Mt. Everest, scare tactics on the steers (RAMbo leads a guerilla trained flock so no scaring them) and blind luck will I need to "switch them".

At the outset I have to tell you that I am exceedingly proud of myself. I did it with no harm to any living animal. Well, unless you count the bump on my forehead and the three puncture wounds in the same area. Don't worry, they quit bleeding within the hour.

Here's how it went. We have gates at the top and bottom of the fence between the 2 paddocks. My 'plan' was dependent on where the two sets of animals were when I shouldered my way through those recalcitrant 3 wooden gates. I was in luck: the steers were at the bottom of 2. So I opened the lower gate and started shooing them through. Very slowly and very gently since steers can be quirky. Four went through easily. Guess which one ambled in the other direction?

But I stuck to my plan. I ignored #104 and slugged my way up to the top gate. My path took me past Mr. Stupid and he moseyed the other way, which happened to be down the hill toward the gate. Notice I did not  say "through the gate". That would be too easy. A part of me hoped that he would still be in 2 when RAMbo showed up. RAMbo could get that steer through that gate at the speed of light. Of course, then RAMbo would go too and I'd have to try to round him up again.

Anyway, the next step in my plan was to find the sheep and herd them through the upper gate. Then I would go down the hill and close the lower gate. This is obviously dependent on #104 having moved his tail into 1 and the other 4 staying in 1. But I didn't have to worry about that yet. A quick glance down the hill showed Mr. Stupid grazing literally in the gateway. The other 4 had wandered farther away from the gate and were munching nicely.

Okay! Where are the sheep? Can't see them. Deep grass and gullies abound on the far side of paddock 1 (also known as Mt. Everest). So I figure out where I think they must be and attempt a flanking manuever to keep them from moving down the hill away from the upper gate. It is almost impossible for one person to execute an effective flanking manuever. I would have succeeded except that I was so elated at spotting the sheep that I forgot to look where I was going and slipped on wet, poo grass and slid down into a tree branch. That is how I got the puncture wounds. The knot on my forehead was (I think) administered when my forward propulsion sent me headfirst into the tree trunk.

This, needless to say, startled the sheep. Startled them sufficiently that they moved to the right in the general direction of paddock 2. All I had to do was keep them on the crest of the hill and moving in the right direction.

Have I told you before that I love my parka? Well, I do and I certainly missed it as I was shepherding sheep. I didn't have a sleeve to swipe away the blood trickling steadily down my face. I used my T-shirt. I'm pretty sure that shirt is doomed now. Funny how blood stains continue to look like blood stains no matter what you do. I don't want to scare anyone to death or get arrested as a female Freddie Kruger so I think the rag bag will get another contribution.

While I was tending my wounds, RAMbo was herded his flock across the line and into 2. No fuss, no hassle and no steers! I was home free. Almost. I shut the upper gate. I hurried down and shut the lower gate. Mission accomplished! I'm getting pretty good at this farming gig. Now if I could just learn not to bang myself up each time I'm faced with a new challenge. The psychologist side of me is shrieking that this is subconscious avoidance manifesting as physical pain. Right! Whatever. I'm feeling pretty darn proud of myself.