Yes, They Were

In answer to my question of a few blogs ago: Are they or aren’t they. Yes, they are, or were, pregnant. We had a pretty hectic rain storm the other day and I didn’t get into the back paddock for 2 days.

 

When I did, it seems that my timing was impeccable. One ewe stood up rapidly, obviously ready to protect her young. And young they were. The umbilical cord was still dangling and one of the twins’ eyes were still shut. My untimely intrusion was not viewed with aplomb. There was serious bleating, shifting of hooves, and a rallying of the other members of the Borg. Those sheep really stick together!

So I waited 4 days and went back again today. All 5 of the lambs – 2 sets of twins and a single – were prancing around and the mothers were much more laid back. Not laid back enough to let me come close but one lamb had not gotten the memo (or wasn’t old enough to read) that I was Darth Vader and came right up to say hello. A furious Baa was enough to send him/her racing back to Mom.

 

It is cold and rainy and life is beating me up these days but I still thrill to watch the tiny lambs and marvel at them and their stalwart Moms. I sometimes think that this farm is saving my sanity. It feels magical to me and when an inquisitive lamb gambols over wanting to be f riends, I know I am one of the luckiest people on the planet.

Stormy Weather

We have had a spate of bad weather topped by the worst storm in 10 years. This monster had gale force winds, heavy rain, and cold temperatures for THREE days. I used to hate writers who wrote in caps but having lived through the storm, nothing else conveys the immensity of it. The above picture is of the solid metal bench that the wind blew over.

First of all you have to remember that we live on a farm. Our toilets flush, our water runs, and the stock are watered by a pump – an electric pump. Guess what happens when you don’t have electricity for 3 days. Yup, you use buckets of rain water to flush the toilets. That gets old real fast.

Without electricity you can’t cook. You can’t heat the house. My heat pump is useless. The big house’s wood burning fireplace has an electronic something or other so we couldn’t use that. The hen hearted of us – the kids, Yael, and I – beat feet back to the apartment in Auckland which did have power.

Dan, the intrepid one, stayed behind. But after 3 days of having been told by the power company that:

The power would be back on within 2 hours 

The power would be back on within 4 hours

The power was on (it wasn’t! Did they think we wouldn’t have noticed?)

Dan decided to take matters into his own hands. He went driving the back roads of Warkworth until he found a crew working on the lines and convinced one of the men to stop by our pole at the end of his shift. Turns out that all the rest of our area had had power the entire 3 days.  All we needed was for this true gentleman to flick a switch and we had power.

With all that going on, I had not been keeping eyes on the sheep. The result was that when we moved them to a new paddock, I noticed that some of the Suffolk were bulking up. Now I can’t swear they are pregnant but they certainly look it. Do you agree? Perhaps we’ll have a bumper crop of lamb chops after all.

 

Are They Or Aren't They?

 

Remember the old Clairol ad “Does She or Doesn’t She?” Asking if some luscious (usually) blonde dyed her hair? You probably don’t if you are under 60 and/or are not an American. However, it became a slang expression back in the day and I use it now.

Are they or aren’t they? Pregnant, of course. These are the Borg (aka Suffolk sheep) in the paddock with the Suffolk ram for several months. As I have said before, he avoided them like the plague and I think the results speak for themselves. They sure don’t look pregnant to me!

The Romneys, on the other hand, are becoming a tad rotund. Perhaps their wool just grows thicker, or they are eating fatty grass but there is a definite difference. I would have taken a comparison picture but I am still persona non grata and they bolt at the sound of my crunchy little footsteps. Since I think they are facing motherhood, I don’t want to scare them any more than they already are. So you’ll have to take my word for it. The Romneys (with whom the ram spent all his time and energies) are porking up big time.

Last week we moved all the sheep from paddock #1 up to the new barn paddock so I could keep a closer eye on them. Did you notice the ‘we’ in that sentence? Yes, I finally had something more to do than just stand there by the car and stick out my arms like a scarecrow when the sheep rushed by.

Oh, Dan wanted me doing the scarecrow bit but events overcame him. He has been fighting a sinus infection for several months and when he had run up and down paddock #1 about 5 times (okay maybe only 4 but I stick to the 4), he decided he couldn’t round up 29 sheep by himself. He was just too wiped out. He had to call for help.

And who was providentially standing by her car, arms akimbo? That’s right, little ole me. Well, I hustled on over, flashed a smirky grin and stood in my scarecrow pose in the left side of the lower paddock, effectively cutting off the sheep’ prime escape route.

Dan herded them down the hill, panting only slightly. They began to wheel to their right preparing to bolt when the 3 lead ewes lifted their heads and saw…wait for it! ME. Hah, the moment was sweet. I was not just a straw-filled face any more. Remember, all 29 of those sheep have a mental image of me as Torquemada. They want nothing to do with me. They were a broken flock and trotted out to the driveway without even a token bolt movement.

Dan shouted a “Great” at me as he loped after them. I am taking that ‘great’ as referring to me.

Until next time.