As The Butter Churns

February 23rd The Tail End

 (Christina - the Obberhasli takes a nibble)

 (Carl- the rooster formerly known as Cluck-Cluck)
 
 

Lindsey was determined to take a picture of every animal before she went home. Most of the morning she was busy snapping pictures. She loved Frank. Probably because Lindsey, a born chatterbox, likes to talk and although all the animals patiently listen, Frank talks back. So Lindsey would scream and Franklin would gobble, and Lindsey would scream and Frank would gobble, Lindsey would scream and Frank would gobble and so on and so on and so on.

 (Lindsey and Franklin - chat)

While bustling around the farm, we were surprised to find that despite the chaos, Sir Edward settled down for an afternoon nap. He and Miracle have taken to spending their chilly winter evenings underneath the overgrown apple trees, but I guess with predators prowling about looking for a late night snack, they don’t sleep too soundly. So there they were equine in the sunshine.

  (Edward under the Kubota barn- soaking in the sun)

 (Miracle is sound asleep)

    Edward relaxed and fell into a deep sleep completely ignoring the other animals as they enjoyed their noon meal. Lindsey and I crept around watching him. We giggled as he wiggled and wriggled.

  (Edward is sound asleep in the middle of lunch)

 

    “What do you think horses dream about when they take a little horsie snooze? Look Linds, he’s dreaming of his glory days on the track” And Edward started to kick his legs like he was taking off at Del Mar. Lindsey ran too for her camera. When she got back she caught what must have been the finish line.

 

“Oh, at least I got some of it,” she smiled. "He was so cute, I’ve never seen a horse do that,”

“Neither have I,” I whispered.

 (a groggy Edward is disturbed from his nap)

 (Sir Edward and Carl -the rooster formerly known as Cluck-Cluck)

 (Edward lunching)
 
 
 

September 28th Horse Sense

 (Sir Edward out standing in his field)

    Being parsimonious, German, thrifty, poor or whatever you want to call it, I took Sir Edward onto the farm, not because taking a giant 16 and a half hand high ageing thoroughbred made any real financial sense, logical sense or any other sense, because in fact it didn’t.  I knew with Ferrier visits, the extra hay costs, and fixing up another place for him to sleep, he was going to really cost me, but we had a connection of the heart, he needed me and so I did it anyway.

 (Eddie and his girl)

    However, Sir Edward’s arrival has changed the dynamic on our farm in many ways I couldn’t have predicted. Ed is a relaxed, Henry-proof horse who takes everything in stride. This has led to our hitherto skittish donkey, Miracle going places she never would have dared on her own.

 (Tom snuggles Miracle but has to make room for the big guy)

    Before Edward I couldn’t get Miracle to go down to the cow pasture for love or money. And if Miracle didn’t go down to the cow pasture, then neither would the sheep or goats. If Miracle, the sheep and the goats wouldn’t go down to the cow pasture it meant there often times wasn’t enough food around the house to eat during the day, which meant I had to feed them more hay and treats. Which cost me money.

    Now that Edward’s here, Miracle brazenly goes all the way to the pond kicking up her heels. And if Miracle the Wonder Donkey, the guardian of my flock, goes down to the pond then the sheep and the goats go down to the pond wagging their tales behind them; feeding endlessly on wild grasses. Which means, I save money.

 (Edward leads, Miracle follows)

 (Miracle and Edward hang-out on the hill)

 (I've never seen Miracle happier- sorry Pea)

(Tom says we don't need a pig, we've already got a ham)

    Before Edward, Miracle, the goats and the sheep in addition to being fed, had to be locked in the barn tightly at night for fear of predator attacks. Which meant my schedule was dictated by their food and safety. Which meant more work and less money for me.

    Now the she equine and the he equine are a herd and the doors of the barn remain open in mild temperatures. This means the barn stays aired out which means I have to clean it less, which means I use less shavings. Which means I save money.

 (Sheryl, Apache, Angus and Mildred venture out)

 (It's hard to see, but the turkeys are waiting right at the door, followed by the goats, then the sheep and behind them are the geese - not pictured- everyone knows the routine - except)

    On the other hand, the idea of getting three tiny gentle-looking ducks seemed to make a lot of sense. They eat slugs, mosquitoes and a variety of other bugs we happen to have a plethora of and everyone knows geese and ducks coexist on ponds all over this country, so of course they’d share the goose pen. They weren’t going to cost me a dime and in fact their acquisition being a trade made a lot of sense because I got to get rid of a pair of uppity geese.

 (Benny, Quackless - Harpo- and Lucille)

    How three such small birds, Quackless, Lucille and (Jack) Benny can cause a disproportionate amount of trouble is beyond me. They have to be picked up and carried out to their private swimming hole because they can’t seem get along with the geese and their afraid of the turkeys. The latter not necessarily an irrational fear I’ll admit.  However, this means we have to run around and catch them at the end of the day. Their toe nails are sharp and someone always gets cut by the seemingly innocuous water foul. Which means they require private quarters, which means I have to build them a new place to live. And because they’re not socializing well they need their own place to swim, which means I had to buy them their own baby pool. And will have to dig them their own pond with the backhoe deep enough and wide enough to isolate themelves from the turkeys. Which means this diminutive trio hasn’t gotten out much lately which means they can’t forage for themselves which means I have to buy more food which means they are costing me both time and money.

 (Nick and Henry doing hazardous duck duty)

 (private Cayuga swimming facility)

    I guess all in all I’ve learned that the moment you think you know what is going to happen you make assumptions which means you make a donkey out of yourself. When in truth, you don’t know what the duck is going to happen.

 

 

 

September 4th What A Difference A Day Makes

   (In this picture - chickens on the inside of the coup - turkeys on the outside - at right and white fluff on the left - are sheep - something wrong with the camera setting - sorry)

    Since Michael's attack, we've kept the turkeys in the outside chicken run. This means the chickens have had to stay inside all day. So this morning, I decided to take a bold move and let the turkeys out in the barnyard. They are after all almost as big as the geese at this point and they can fly.

    Oddly, the sheep were drawn to them. All four: Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl, came up sniffing them and then sat down surrounding the chicken coup watching the chickens and allowing the turkeys to climb on their backs. It was so unexpected I couldn't help but laugh. I felt good leaving knowing the turkeys could roam about the property and be near the chickens, but no one would be injured today.

 (couldn't get the turkeys on the sheep, but here they all are milling around - still something wrong with the camera)

    Given that, off we went to the Department of Licensing. Nick being fifteen and eight months is more than eager to get his learner’s permit. So for the second time in a week we all walked into the Department of Licensing and took a number. Awesomez and her son sat down, while I went outside to enjoy the sunshine. Henry walked to the DQ for a chili-cheese dog. Thoughts of Michael preyed on my mind. I dialed Kulshan Animal Hospital and spoke to a doctor about his condition.

            “Well, without seeing him, I can’t really recommend anything over the counter. The problem with his injuries is, it depends how deep they are. I could give him a shot of antibiotics and something to make him more comfortable.” She said.

            “Is it more money to come in on Saturday?”

            “No it isn’t.”

            “It’s just that money’s tight. If I can treat him myself I’d like to, but I don’t want to be negligent. “

            “I understand. You’re doing what you can. The electrolytes you got at the farm store are a good idea.”

            “I know he’s just a chicken, but we love him.” I said deciding I had to take him in. I couldn’t live with myself. “Is there something early in the morning? I have to work at 10:00 at the Everybody Store on the 9.” I asked and was transferred to the front desk where I made an appointment for Michael at 8:45AM. I felt better. Money, pigs can’t eat it. Why else was I working if not to take care of my family?

        I walked back in to find a frustrated Awesomez and a disappointed Nick. Unfortunately, she’d grabbed the wrong birth certificate and accidently brought Lindsey’s instead of Nick's. They couldn’t get the permit without it or without her, so he’d have to wait until her eventual return.

        “What happened to you?” She asked.

        “I made an appointment for Michael in the morning.”

        “Let me get this straight. You won’t buy a sandwich for yourself because you don’t want to spend the money, but you’ll take your chicken to the vet?” She marveled.

        I looked into her big brown eyes trying to find the words to make her understand but I couldn’t. “That’s right,” was all I could think to say.

        “Mil!” she said with an eye roll.

    Just then Nick dropped his water bottle on the sidewalk, "Nick you're water broke." Henry said with a raise of his eyebrow. 

    "Henry!" Awesomez laughed her bawdy infectious laugh.

        After that we stopped at the Whistle Work. I’d gotten a call that my fall wardrobe had arrived. I’d ordered two ensembles for my birthday – Special order because I had to order my coveralls in “short”. Naturally, I got the traditional slimming navy and a lovely shade of olive to set off my eyes – they’ll both go beautifully with my chocolate work boots. I was now set for the season.

    “Maybe you should sell designer coveralls with paint splatters already on them” Awesomez said cracking herself up.

    From there we went to the notary and met my sister. I’d written up a temporary guardianship document so we would have some sort of official paper acknowledging Nick. Unbeknownst to me, Awesomez was now starving and so without realizing it, I callously headed off to gymnastics without getting her any food.

    This is where the day went south. You see, once again, I forgotten to feed the Awesomez her noon feeding. A Gremlin by nature, Awesomez my little Gizmo went berserk. Ok, not berserk exactly, but she wasn’t happy, in fact downright cranky. Fearing the wrath or cold shoulder of Awesomez, I dropped her, and Nick, off at a little place near gymnastics called the Common Ground. I have to admit I was afraid to return until I felt she’d been served so I stalled for a teensy bit.

    A fed Gizmo is a happy Gizmo. We ran errands trolled thrift shops looking for bargains. Awesomez bought me all sorts of things from a backrest to pizza plates she wanted to make sure we’d all be ok in her absence.

    “Ahh, a Crockpot™ from a Crackpot” I said thanking her for everything.

    That night, we stopped at Burger King on the way and finally arrived home to a dark barnyard. As my headlights illuminated the way I saw Deli standing motionless near the garden. Strange I thought, she looked odd, but I dismissed it.

    Tired, I pulled the car over to the barn and left the van lights on so we could see. The boys ran over to Amy’s to feed the gliders, pigeons and bunnies because she’d taken a trip up to Canada with her friend, Sarah.

    “Will it be hard to collect the turkeys?” Awesomez asked.

    "I don’t know, I’ve never left them out before, but the geese know safety is in the barn, so I imagine they will too. We’ll see. They might be more like the ducks, but I hope not.”

    The lights from the van cast eerie shadows as we walked up to the coup, and sure enough two of the turkeys were sitting next to the door waiting for to be let in. I could see the outline of another one walking around just a few feet away.

    “We’re missing a turkey!” I called to Awesomez who was filling up a water bucket.

    “Really? Keep looking.” She instructed.

    “Oh my gosh! It’s dead!” I screamed.

    “What?”

    “The turkey! It’s dead! I can see the outline of its feathers from the lights. It's toward the compost”

    “How do you know it's dead?”

    “Come here. I can see a wing sticking up in the air. Look!” And Awesomez dutifully came to see the twisted carcass.

    “I’ll pull the car up so we can shine some light over there.”

    I kept working, giving Michael water, feeding the chickens, giving hay to the goats, when I heard the ducks quacking. “Quack! Quack! Quack, quack, quack.” I figured Awesomez was trying to wrangle them up on her own, a difficult task for one person.

    “Deli! GETOUTOFTHERE!! STOP!” I heard Awesomez bellowing. Dropping the hay, realizing it was Deli causing the ducks to quack. I knew she was attacking them. By the time I got to the garden where they were, Awesomez had already gotten Deli off of them.

    “She killed the turkey.” I said.

    “You think so?”

    “Absolutely. I saw her when we drove up and I wondered what was wrong.”  Awesomez held Deli at bay while I collected the ducks. The boys arrived on the scene just in time to form a sort of duck bucket brigade. I caught one handed it off to Henry who gave them in turn to Nick. When every goat, sheep, equine, goose, duck and chicken was fed and accounted for we walked over to the mangled turkey.

    “I think it’s breathing!” I yelped.

    “I thought so too,” Awesomez said quietly.

    “Do we kill it? I guess we should kill it.”

    “How?”

    “With a shovel? Or I could drive over it?” I suggested.

    “I’ll do it.” She generously offered. "You love it. I'll do it." 

    How do you thank someone for offering to kill your turkey with a shovel? I don't think Hallmark has a card for that. I knew she was again trying to take care of me. I so often push those attempts aside, but as I considered how horrible it would be to kill the eight-week old turkey I shuddered. I might just let her do it.

    Just then, the turkey lifted its head and looked me straight in the eye. “Oh my God! We can’t kill it! I can’t kill something that’s looking at me. Poor thing.”

    Henry rushed over to the turkey to comfort it. “This is worse than a soap opera.” He exclaimed.

    “What in heaven’s name do you mean very strange child?” I asked.

    “Well, yesterday I hated the turkeys and was ready to eat them. Now, I feel terrible for the little guy. It’s worse than All My Children. On that, they manipulate how you feel about a character one minute you hate them and and then the next you feel sorry for them.”

    “Huh. I see what you mean."

    "It's like Annie Lavery. They make her evil and then you feel sorry for her. I hated this turkey a couple of days ago and now I feel terrible. Poor thing is laying here barely alive," Henry whimpered wiping his eyes.

    "I’ll get the dog carrier out of the coup I've been using it for their shelter, let’s see if we can get him in and put him in my van. He’ll be safe in there for the night. It’s not cold and conveniently I just happen to have an appointment with the vet in the morning.”

    The boys bravely and carefully lifted the turkey into the carrier. We took the top half off, as he wasn’t going anywhere. “He has a broken leg,” Nick said. “It’s just dangling. Do you think it's Bucket?"

    "I can't tell with him lying down." I said.

    "You know which one Bucket is still?" Awesomez asked.

    "He's so much bigger than the others, I do when they're together." 

    “His wing is broken,” Henry said tearfully. “Do you think he’ll live?”

    “Well, I have no idea what his other injuries are. He might have ones we can’t see. There’s not much more I can do for him tonight. He might be dead by morning. You have to prepare yourself.”

    “Do you think he’s the turkey that attacked Michael?” Henry suggested.

    “I wondered the same thing.” Awesomez said.

    "Me too." Nick said.

    “I did too. It reminds me of my father. He was hit by a drunk driver on the freeway coming home from a gig in Santa Barbara, one the fourth of July. It was a horrible hit and run, his car was spun around and flipped. I was with him in the emergency room when they brought the drunk in and put him in the bed next to my father.”

    “Weird.” Nick said shaking his head.

    “Stupid Deli. I hate her!” Henry said as we all went in for the night. I know I should have said Deli was just being Deli, but Henry knew that and honestly I felt the same way. I couldn't defend her. I thought of all the animals she's probably attacking and leaving for dead on the mountain. 

    I fixed myself a cup of tea in the still of the house after I’d called, Tom and my sister. I’d gotten into bed when I realized it was getting really chilly. Fall was definitely on the way. So I got up went to the linen closet, found some old hair-dying towels and traipsed out to the van to keep my new patient warm.  I wondered if he’d be dead. I doubted he’d last until morning, but when I got there he looked up at me with his big turkey eyes. He seemed grateful.

    I went back inside and made another cup of Bengal Spice. Sleep would not come easily tonight. Awesomez was still awake. “You know, I was going to kill it.” She said walking in the kitchen as I was pouring a dollop of milk in my piping hot tea. “I thought about how I’d do it. I was going to take a shovel and close my eyes. I wondered how it would feel. And wondered how I’d feel afterward, but I didn’t want you to have to live with it.”

    “My sister said to be merciful we should take an axe and chop its head off tonight.” I informed her.

    “Easy to say until he's looking at you.” She said sleepily.

    "And what if it didn't die? Often times guillotines took several times. Henry was right, I could have served him up for Thanksgiving the other day when Michael was attacked, but tonight I'm doing all I can to keep him alive and I'm ready to get rid of Deli."

    "Tune in tomorrow," she said ironically shutting off the lights.

 (canine non grata)    

August 7th Getting To Know You

(Edward looks out on the yard)

  I didn’t know what to expect having a horse after all these years and with all these other animals. He’s pretty and sweet, but I didn’t know if he would be nervous, and spook or kick or what. I didn’t know how much of a personality he would really have next to my moody debutante of a donkey.

    I started by isolating him. I wanted him to get used to the place but allow him to hold court, meeting and greeting everybody. So I kept him in the paddock behind the barn. He could see over the fence and would whinny every so often at the passersby. The sheep and goats and geese could see him and could decide whether to go up to him or not.

    Miracle was not at all eager to make friends with the big fella. Suddenly she looked small and seemed to feel scruffy next to the towering, shiny Thoroughbred. She’d amble over, head held high but at the last moment stop and peer at him from behind a tree. Cautiously she’d sidle up near the fence where he was standing, bray, and kick her heels and race off, emphasizing his confinement as she demonstrated her freedom.

    The sheep came over one by one sniffing him and stomping their feet as they are prone to do. Perhaps it was no accident, the girls, Mildred and Sheryl usually the most shy, were the first to give him a good sniff followed eventually by the boys. The goats were non-plussed, either he had a treat for them in which case he was very interesting or he did not. He did not. The geese with their sudden and unexplainable bursts of honking and flapping were a curiosity to him at first, but he quickly saw they were harmless and didn’t even twirl an ear when they’d carry on. Apparently he’d grown up with a duck.

    His feet were cracked and dished out in front of him like he was wearing elf shoes. They looked painful and made me wince every time I looked at them.  I started calling farriers in the area and was happy to find one guy readily available. 

(Sir Edward's foot -dished and cracked)

    The morning the farrier came Miracle got more than a little antsy. Her eyes were full of fear. She was appalled I was suggesting she not only wear a halter, but couldn’t believe she was to stand still to be manhandled by some stranger in chaps. She did not feel this fitting a donkey of her caliber and she did not cooperate. In fact, she came just this side of throwing a donkey tantrum. She got a lesson in manners from the farrier, whom she quickly respected and consequently adored.

(Miracle plays hard to get)

(Miracle freaks out!)

(Dave Mehl - the farrier and our girl)

(Miracle makes friends with Dave)

     Over the last couple of years, the two of us have played the “Farrier Game” many times, a derivative of “Veterinarian Game" . It’s a simple game of trust. I put my hand down her leg and practice picking up her tootsies then we snuggle. Everyone’s happy. She loves hugs almost as much as I dislike hugging, but there is something irresistible about her donkieness. I watched proudly holding her lead rope, cooing to her, as Dave commended me on her behavior. She stood calmly and let him give her a pedicure. Afterward I rewarded her with a handful of packer pellets for a job well done.  She’d faced her fear, and was truly a noble steed.

(Miracle gets a pedicure)

    Next, it was Sir Edward’s turn. He’d obviously had his feet done many times, albeit a long time ago from the look of his feet.  Not as comfortable with him and a little leery he might be painful in his feet, I stood holding his lead hoping all was going to go smoothly. The farrier said, “I’m going to take them down as far as I dare”. I nodded in agreement; getting him sound was the first order of business. “He might be a little sore for the next few days, so I’d continue to keep him confined”. Again, I nodded and looked up.

(Edward gets the treatment from Dave)

I could see one eye and one ear, she was peeking from behind the barn watching him. Later in the afternoon she cozied up to the fence and did what equine do when they accept each other. They traded breath. Nose to nose, they stood inhaling each other. 

    It turns out Edward’s a bit of a kook. He likes to cram himself between the barn and the chicken coup and watch Poultry-TV. He stands for hours watching the chicks and turkeys flap around, pecking and strutting. He’s social too, stuffing himself through the tiny door Miracle can barely use, just to get inside with the rest of the troop. He’s also a bit of trouble. He stole hay from the goats and shared it with Miracle. He tears my pickets off my flower garden fence, picks trash out of garbage cans, rips bags apart and he even trounced my vegetable garden fence letting all the animals out into the pasture.The thing is, girls like bad boys. In fact, that night she decided not to go in the barn and spent the summer night in the little valley under the apple trees. With him.

(Mr. Ed - watches the chickens & turkeys)

(the fascinating fowl)

(Bucket looks back)

(Bucket is apparently a boy)

(it seems we did get at least one turkey hen)

(Edward makes himself at home)

(Edward gets comfortable)

(Henry hugs Edward)

(Edward and his new buddies)

(Quinn has fallen in love)

(Eddie Haskel is that you?)

(Edward is a bit destructive - perhaps he needs a toy)

(Edward gets paid a housecall by the same doctor who examined Apache- Dr. Amber Itle from Kulshan Veterinary Hospital in Lynden -she did find a heart murmer on the left side)

(Edward it seems doesn't need his teeth floated just yet - and he does have his racing tatoo)

 (Edward gets his privates looked at and cleaned with - Excalibur - sheath cleaner)

(Miracle's feet are lifting off the ground to kick Abe, who has mistakenly gotten too close to Sir Edward during his exam)

(Miracle is concerned and curious)

(Miracle tends to a sedated Edward)

(Miracle leans in to comfort Edward)

Now she goes wherever he goes and he goes where ever she goes. And when the vet came out and had to work on Edward, Miracle was there breathing in his nose calming him down. They look like the farm girl and the city boy, an equine Romeo and Juliet.

(Sir Edward (20) and Miracle (5) - a May/December romance? Or just friends?)

May 25th The Best Laid Plans

   

(flowers outside my laundry room door)

    It was just another cup of coffee, coverall, can of paint kind of day. I spent the morning on top of a ladder painstakingly working on the eaves above the front porch. The ones I did not paint last year when I did the entire rest of the house because of my resident bats. A fairly large colony lives in a small crevice between my eaves. When you look up from the porch floor you can usually see their tiny toes hanging out and hear their little chirps. You do not want to put your coffee cup on the table too close to the house as it could end up being sprinkled with bat guano. It’s not a real problem you just have to scoot it forward. They don’t have much range. Bats are sensitive little creatures who keep to themselves and do not care for paint fumes so I try to be accommodating as they are helpful little guys who eat mosquitoes by the thousands.

(one coat of white on the eaves - the black started- temp light)

    Although there is no glory in painting eaves, they've got to be done, and everything was going according to schedule. If I kept up my current pace I would indeed be completely finished by dark. I was systematically going across the deck and working my way around. Of course, my arm was always above my head giving me an entirely new appreciation for the Sistine Chapel. These particular eves would require three coats. The first coat was sort of exciting as I could see a huge and immediate difference, but then as I watched the paint dry I could see it yellow and the color of the wood seep through. The second coat is harder to do emotionally. I put it on thick in hopes it will be enough knowing full well it won’t and ultimately I will have to do the entire ceiling for a third time.

    This was my lot in life as the holiday weekend ticked by. Toby had flown in earlier in the week to close escrow on her farm in Courtenay on Vancouver Island. She said it would take her two days to finish packing and then she thought she might visit for a day or so and we’d still have a week or more to spend together. That was on Wednesday and five days later she is nowhere near done, so I have Dean who is having a grand old time playing with Henry.

(Dean and Henry way, way up in a pine tree)

(Dean and Henry)

(Dean and Henry painting my flower garden fence in their drawers)

(Miracle is getting cozy with Henry)

(Miracle tries one of Dean's Cool Ranch Doritos™- and likes them)

(Miracle's nose on right wondering I suppose what Irish might have to eat)

    Today I told them was a workday because “a girl I know through a couple of my friends, Jackie and Gina, both know Rowan. She moved here from California with her daughter Pearl. They live in Everson a little town near Lynden.”

    “Isn’t that where the Black Forest restaurant is?” Henry asked.

    “Yes it is. I can’t believe you remember that. Anyway, they’re going to be coming by today. You guys can play with Pearl while Rowan and I make margaritas,” I explained as I outlined their chores. So they vacuumed the house, loaded the dishwasher did some laundry and were making themselves a well deserved lunch. Consequently, it was quiet outside while I worked with the exception of the cowbells jingle, jangling. Every once in awhile I’d look up to hear Nutsy, the woodpecker, rat-a-tat-tatting on the metal roof of the Kubota™ barn or to chat with Miracle as she tried to make friends with Irish. The geese were somewhere unseen only to be heard every once in a while as they scolded each other or ganged up on Luther. The goats sought refuge from the heat of the day under the house chewing their cud while the sheep decorated the lawn continuously mowing.

(Sheryl and Mildred grazing)

It was a picturesque day with a blue, blue sky and little white puffy clouds and green green grass. When I looked up I noticed that while all the sheep had their heads down only three of the four were eating. Apache was staring at the grass motionless while the others moved about. I watched him for a time and realized there was something seriously wrong. I called Andrea, the breeder I’d gotten him from and asked her what she thought. She suspected bloat, a gassy condition that can and is fatal much of the time in ruminants such as horses, cows, goats and sheep.

    “Can you see him now?” She asked.

    “No. Hold on a second, I’ll look out the door, I can’t find the cordless phone.” I said hurriedly as I set the phone down and ran out the door where Henry and Dean were keeping an eye on Apache.

    “Henry, where’s Apache?” I asked.

    “He’s right over there around the corner.”

    “How is he, Andrea wants to know if his left side is distended.”

    “Well, I don’t know what distended means, but he’s vomiting green frothy stuff. Look it’s falling out of his mouth,” Henry answered worriedly. I ran back in the house and relayed the information.

    “OK well, it sounds like frothy bloat. Are they on a new pasture?” Andrea wondered.

    “Well, they are, but I did it gradually and the others are all fine.” Hoping I hadn’t made some fatal error in judgment.

    “You can have just one who for whatever reason just bloats. Take a syringe. Do you have a large syringe?”

    “Yes.” I answered meekly.

    “Mix a cup of water, vegetable oil and three tablespoons of baking soda. When you have most of it down him then put a stick in his mouth cross ways like a bridle, so he bites on it. This will help him begin to burp.”

    “Got it,” I said as I obediently began mixing up the concoction. Remembering the syringe was in the barn I grabbed the turkey baster instead and headed out the door. I held Apache as Henry shoved the mixture down our patient’s throat and Dean held the bowl full of “medication”. Successfully getting most of it down his throat I inserted the stick and allowed him to bite down on it several times before releasing him.

    The three of us stood there watching. Apache scooted away from us as quickly as he could. Dazed and confused he was stumbling around trying to get his bearings when green frothy stuff started erupting out of his mouth again this time followed by blood.

    “Mom! He’s vomiting blood!” Henry shrieked.

    “Lots of it!” Dean yelled. Not knowing what else to do I called Andrea back again. She said it probably was frothy bloat and that he was probably not going to make it. I hung up. I knew vomiting blood was never good but I wasn’t giving up.

    “Henry, I’m going to call Kulshan, but I have to tell you, Andrea said it’s a strong possibility Apache’s not going to make it. You have to be prepared." I knew he was upset, near tears, but I turned my back and went into the house to call the vet. I would have to deal with him later. After twelve years of Cancer with my mother I know there is always time to get upset. Now was the time for saving the sheep if I could. I called Kulshan and left a message for the on call large animal doctor. After I hung up I dialed Lisa.

    “Can I call you back? I’m on the phone with Annie.” She asked naively.

    “NO! I’m sorry. You can’t call me back. I’m having a sheep emergency. Apache’s vomiting blood,” I blurted. “I can’t stay on the phone I have Kulshan calling me back."

    “I’ll get my keys and I’ll walk out the door,” She responded without hesitation. I knew she’d come if she could; we were always a team in a crisis.  We’d had a lot of practice.

    Almost immediately Dr. Potts from Kulshan returned my call. He was a kind understanding man who helped me through the entire assessment process. I described the chain of events that had led to my call and then he began asking me questions.

    “Do you have any Rhododendron?’

    “No. I removed all Rhododendron.”

    “Do you have Oleander?”

    “No.” I said remembering Henry being on the heart monitor at one year and ten days of age from putting Oleander in his mouth. “I don’t have any Oleander or Azaleas.”

    “OK, Do you have any dog or cat food he could have gotten into? Are there any rotting weeds or hay?” He asked patiently.

    “Well, I did pull some weeds and they’re in a pile from my flower garden, but they’re only a couple days old and not rotting yet. And no, I feed all the house animals inside.”

    “Good.” he said, “That’s the best and safest way to do it.” I felt twinge of pride. I was doing something right despite this catastrophe that was almost certainly my fault somehow. “I’d like you to go to the barn and check on a few things and call me back. I’d like you to take his rectal. The temperature on a sheep on a hot day like today should, is he shorn?”

    “Yes just last week,” I answered mater-of-factly.

    “Then his temperature should be I’m hoping for below 103 degrees. I want you to use your finger but don’t hurt his eye and determine if he’s blind. Feel just past his last rib before his hip on the left side to determine if it’s bloat.”

    “I’m sorry, but what would it feel like?”

    “Well, if there is normal roughage in there you’ll feel harder clumps. If it’s bloat you’ll feel it to be like a balloon. After you do all that, call me and we’ll see if you need to bring him in.”
Henry, Dean and I herded the sheep in the barn and began our exam on Apache.

    “It doesn’t look big and distended to me.” Henry said using his new word.
“To me either.” I concurred. Using a cotton ball, instead of my finger, and throwing it up in the air as I’d seen my sister do in a neurology class I tried to determine if Apache tracked the movement with his eyes rather than just felt the movement.

    “I can’t tell can you?” I solicited Henry’s opinion.

    “No. I can’t.” He said just as worried as I was. We let him up and watched him walk across the barn. He was stumbling like a drunk, but negotiated the silver hay bucket with out too much trouble as he crossed the barn. So we thought he could see, but then wondered if just knew where it was and could sense it.  I called Dr. Potts.

    “I can’t find my thermometer so my sister is stopping at Walgreens™ and buying one so I don’t know his temperature yet, but he isn’t distended, he feels normal. He acts drunk and spacey.”

    “Well, there is a bacteria they can get from rotting food that causes them to have a condition we call star gazing.”

    “I did see a bad bale of hay in the barn. Truthfully, he could have gotten some of it without me noticing it. I just don’t know. I wouldn’t rule it out.”

    “Hmm. Give him some hay and see if he’ll eat. Call me back when you know his temperature.” Dr. Potts instructed. I went back to the barn and fed the hay. Apache ate immediately while the others did not.

    “They’re probably full because they’ve been grazing.” Henry theorized. “Mom, if Apache dies where will we bury him?” Henry said softly.

    “Near the goslings.” I replied.

    “How will we dig such a big hole?’ He wondered pragmatically.

    “With the tractor.” I answered.He sat silently for a while and then not wanting to dwell on the topic, he and Dean went to the gate to wait for Lisa while I sat and waited with the sheep. Angus immediately sat down and began chewing his cud followed by Sheryl. Mildred stood looking at me wide-eyed wondering I’m sure what I was doing sitting in her stall. Apache sat down struggling to keep his eyes open then just giving in putting his head down on the floor. Moments later the cavalry rode up in the form of my sister and Phoebe. Ponytailed, with her baseball hat on Lisa wore a stethoscope around her neck. Her very presence calmed me. Without wasting time she tore open the thermometer and inserted it while I held Apache.

    “A hundred and one, a hundred and one point five, a hundred and two, a hundred and ooops he’s pooping. We’ll have to go again, but that’s a good sign, no blockage.”

    “Something’s happening in there. He peed too.”  I grasped for the positive.

    “Good. OK a hundred and two a hundred and two point five, six, seven, eight and nine.” The thermometer beeped. “Well, it’s under a hundred and three.” She said hopefully.  “I brought my Pugh sheep book.” She said as she listened to his stomachs, took his heart rate and in general checked all his clinical signs.

(Lisa's tools)

    “I thought you would.”

    “I actually had it in the car just in case.” It occurred to me how thoughtful that was for her to carry around a book about sheep and goats so she’d be prepared if I needed her.

    Lisa called Dr. Potts and they began their discussion using much medical terms he hadn’t used with me. He wanted her to check for any strabismus, which I learned, is a fixation of the pupil. “In Siamese cats it often presents as cross-eyed.” Lisa explained. We checked. She felt his eyesight was sufficient, she agreed there was no bloat and in general thought he was goofy and we were going to have to take him in. Lisa called Chris while I put a tarp and a furniture blanket in the back of the van and loaded up.

(Me and Apache - not our best day)

    “Rowan! I’ve got to call Rowan, she and Pearl are coming over.” I said frantically looking for her phone number to let her know we wouldn’t be here.

    “You had plans?” Lisa said looking at how I was dressed and covered in paint.

    “Yes. Rowan was just going to swing by for a chat and a margarita to mark the day. She lives in Everson.” I said with the mutual understanding that her living in out in the county completely forgave my appearance.

(Phoebe, Apache & Dean en route)

(Kulshan in Lynden - where Irish recovered last July)

    Dr. Potts drove up just as we did. There was another doctor already there. “Hi, I’m Amber” she said smiling. “How are you?”

    “I’ve been better.” I smiled shaking her outstretched hand. I was relived she didn't have a limp fish handshake as I was about to entrust her with my little lamb.

 

(Apache gets check out)

    “Well, let’s see what we can do.” She said and with that, Lisa, Dr. Potts and Amber began discussing, theorizing and talking in medical shorthand. While I listened garnering what I could from the conversation. They’d ask me a question and I’d see sideways glances I knew meant something, but wasn’t sure what.
It turned out he was anemic and the diagnosis was a suspected large parasite burden. “I think Apache here has a belly full of worms. Eighty percent of your parasites will be in twenty percent of your herd.” Amber explained. “I’ll check the fecal sample which will take a while longer, but I’m sure it’s going to come out high. But with some de-worming he should be fine. The good news is we can fix it.” She was the nicest, kindest person, so helpful and considerate, she made the experience a lot easier.

(Me with paint in my hair, Apache, Phoebe, Henry & Dean wait)

    We talked a while longer, and then Lisa and Phoebe headed home. On our way back through Everson I thought of Rowan and Pearl and our dashed plans. I wondered where they lived. It must be near here. Trying to drive as steadily as I could so Apache wouldn’t fall I checked my rear view mirror I and saw flashing lights. Hoping the K9 unit was on its way to an emergency I pulled over. It seems highway 9 drops from 50 miles an hour to 35 for a brief stint and I was doing 45 a steady. I got a ticket. I had no idea how I was going to tell Tom.

    While I was pulled over Amber called. “You got a ticket? No! So many of our veterinarians have gotten tickets there. They just sit and wait. You should fight it. Really. Anyway yep, the fecal came back and it’s way high. I stopped counting. Worm everyone in your barn once but worm Apache three days in a row. Keep them all in so you can clean up all the poop and remove it. In fact, you should pick up all the goat and sheep poop in your yard for the last two weeks.”

    “What? Do you know how much that is? It’s everywhere. In little holes, clumps of grass everywhere.”

    “It would be worth it.” She said before going to a barbecue at Dr. Potts’ house.

    I drove home thinking of how my two hundred dollar vet bill just got a lot more expensive. I’d go to court like she suggested. It’s all I could do now.  We got home and Alexis helped me de-worm everyone before closing up the barn for the night. Tired, I looked at the paint container with the brushes still in it sitting on the ladder. I'd barely gotten started. Grabbing the bucket I went in and began rinsing the brushes. I had one more call to make.

    “Hey Andrea, it’s Denise again. I just wanted to let you know what happened to Apache.” I said as I loosened the stiffened hairs of the brushes and I went on to explain what had happened.

    “Well, I’m so relieved. After I spoke with you I thought that if he died, I’d try and meet you in Ellensburg and give you another lamb. I know how much he means to the kids.”

    “That is so sweet of you. Thankfully, it’s not necessary today was a win.” I said tears coming to my eyes at how thoughtful a gesture that was.

    “Yes it was.”

    “The day didn’t go exactly as planned, but I thought the money I spent on vet bills I was going to have to spend on euthanasia so I consider myself lucky. Everyone’s alive.

    “I think that’s it.” She agreed. “On a farm death is just another part of life and if you think you’re in charge the animals and the elements will let you know otherwise. You do what they tell you to do.”

    “And they’re awfully bossy. Did I tell you the vet wanted me to pick up two weeks of goat and sheep poop?” I said amused

    “You’re kidding!” Andrea laughed uproariously. “She was kidding wasn’t she? She had to be."

    “No. She was completely serious. Can you imagine?” I said incredulously sharing a  conspiratal farm girl laugh releasing the tension of the day.

    “Well, she may treat them, but she never owned ‘em that’s impossible. You’d never be able to find them all.” She laughed again.

    “I know.I know.” I agreed.

May 17th Weekend Update

 

(Christina and Riley brunch)

      Weekends with blue skies and sunshine in Washington demand outside projects. They whisper promises of short-sleeves; warm skin and ice-filled jelly jars sweating drips of cold water.

     Recently, the mother of all outdoor projects has been the badly needed perimeter fence and the essential front gate. The last bastion before we could let the animals graze. At first we were going to settle for using an old metal gate we had rusting somewhere on the property. Not our first choice, just something functional to get it done. However, due to the fact that we thought Tom might have a nervous collapse, Alexis kindly offered to save Tom’s sanity and build a proper gate. He designed, measured and went about planning the new gate. To keep from purchasing anything he borrowed wood from the top rung of the pasture fence, chipped notches in the supports and glued, screwed and attached wire. For a brief time it was “rigged” with a bungee cord so we could at least get the animals out to graze but this weekend, the final latch was put on and voila, we have a grand entrance. After he finished the gate, Alexis was on fire. He started in cleaning the barn before he went to work. (Alexis notches)

(Alexis setting it up- under Luther's constant supervision)
(front gate)

    While he was gone, Henry and I finished up and have now adopted a lock-the-animals-outside-all-day policy. This means more eating of the lawn and less cleaning of the barn. A win-win situation if I ever heard of one. There is one drawback. These four-legged lawnmowers do leave little nuggets scattered about. Heck nothing’s perfect. I don’t have to run the lawn mower down steep hills with a worry it’ll tip over. I don’t have lawn cuttings to rake, nor do I have high growth where predators can hide or dense areas collecting moisture providing nesting areas for mosquitoes.
(Lawn being mowed)

(Henry planting his rows garden)

(Henry just hanging around the house)

    Later Henry and I worked in the garden. I had to hoe the rows again from the pounding they got from the rain while Henry planted eggplant and broccoli.  Afterward we went in the lower pasture for a softball throw practice. We rolled out the large yellow measuring tape and Henry stood launching the ball. His farthest so far is 130’. We gave up as the light dimmed over the mountains.

    The next day we began again. Alexis and I put up another area of fence, as we were afraid an old section we’d reinforced just wasn’t enough. Henry did laundry, watered the vegetable garden and read his new book, “Beekeeping for Dummies”.

(Abe and Andy and the flower garden)

    I worked on weeding the flower garden. A luxury perhaps, we don’t need flowers to survive but I wanted something pretty, something special, something just for me.  Flowers bring butterflies and hummingbirds and happiness.  I love everything about the flower garden, the picket fence the little garden gate and I even love weeding. It’s so gratifying. I get to get down in the dirt on my hands and knees and grip at the base of a weed. I begin to pull and then there’s the moment when I can tell the whole thing is either going to tear or give way. There’s nothing so satisfying as feeling the entire root system come out of the ground. I know at that moment I’ve won one small battle. I’ve cleared the way for a daisy or a lupine. That pesky intrusive weed is not going to steal precious water, room or nutrients from my garlic or iceberg floribunda. I know there are places where you can pay to hit things and smash things and of course you can pay to talk to people about your frustrations, but really weeding a garden is incredibly therapeutic and enough for me. I can remove all my aggression pulling and yanking a common everyday foxtail. When I’m done, my flowerbed looks so neat and tidy revealing my soon to bloom petal pink peonies.

    Knee-deep in weeds I heard a truck pull up. It was Dirk, our new sheep shearer, in a little red pick-up. He waved hello and I opened the front gate hushing Vivian so he could pass. Dirk inched up the driveway allowing Andy to skedaddle bell clanging down toward the apple trees.

    The sheep shearing went well. No one but Dirk was injured. Cut on his shears while changing blades, Dirk was bleeding an alarmingly steady stream of beefy blood drops. I instructed Henry to run to the house for the hydrogen peroxide and some bandages. I knew better than to express concern, men like Tom and Dirk don’t like coddling. I simply asked if he’d like to rinse the wound. “I don’t trust water. Shepherds are a tough lot,” he laughed in his thick Belgian accent. I’d have to concur as he poured some peroxide over the fairly deep cuts threw a Band-Aid™ around one of them and kept going. I’ve never heard anyone call himself a shepherd before, suddenly I was thinking of the possible origin of syphilis and the entire sheep-shearing event drifted in another direction in my thoughts as we baked in the hot sun entranced by the hum of the shears.    

(Henry watches Dirk shearing Sheryl)

    Dirk mentioned that the Leicester’s wool wasn’t as long as it could be and agreed with my decision to only shear them once a year. He trimmed their feet and did the goats too to help me out. Still intimidated I’ll hurt one of them Dirk reassured me “You can’t worry about hurting them. You will on occasion, but it doesn’t last and you won’t do it again.” I watched him carefully in case I was the one to do it next time.
Collecting the wool it was obvious Dirk was more skilled than the last shearer. You could tell this by his ability to make the wool fall away from the sheep almost like a blanket. He didn’t have to go back and re-cut creating short little pieces. Henry helped me clearly mark each bag. We planned to wash it and maybe card it so we’ll have it ready to sell to spinners at the fair in August. As a precautionary measure we took our four bags full out of the barn and put them in a safe place so this time the wool wouldn’t be ruined by trouble-making goats.

    

After Dirk left I went back to pulling weeds as the evening shadows grew and the smell of rain in hung the air. I piled up my weeds putting my project aside and began to think about dinner and the start of another week.

May 10th Are You My Mama?

(leader of the band)     

    At 5:30 A.M.I heard a deafening racket outside my window. It was as if some gang of marauding teenagers had pulled up and cranked their stereo. It was the crooning of every flipping ding-dang songbird in the forest greeting the dawn. I pried my eyes open realizing sleep would not return with battle of the bands outside my window. I perked up as I remembered Alexis’ Mother’s Day gift. The bag of Deadman’s Reach was downstairs waiting to be ground into an aromatic elixir sure to revive me. As I poured my first medicinal cup Henry bestowed on me a compass drawing he did in school and then I received a pastel pink and yellow heart on printer paper only slightly crumpled on one side like it had been stuffed in a sixth-grade's notebook. I gazed upon the drawing "Happy Mother's Day, I love you" was scrolled in tidy penmanship. It was full of emotion and care save the crumpled part. But then out came the piece de resistance a card with a fold and a saying. It wasn’t full of scribbles or too much erasing. It didn't have creases, rips or tears. I welled up. He’d listened. My son, a husband in training.

(My card- lettering learned from Miss Elberfeld (4th grade) - yellow is my favorite color)

(sweet)

    Dressed and ready for the day I met Alexis outside. He’d already fired up the tractor and true to his word was scraping the mat of weeds off with the sharp edge of the bucket. It was a bright sunshiny day and now that the fence was finished my four-legged lawnmowers, the goats, sheep and Miracle were out chomping the lawn. This is the way I dreamed it would be:  goats meandering by like they stepped out of “Heidi” taking nibbles of pine while the sheep drifted by the purple Agapanthus like strange clouds, the geese chatted by the barn while Miracle kept watchful eye on everyone as I sipped my coffee.

(Alexis clearing the land)

    After Alexis went off to work, my sister called and said she, Chris and the kids were going to head out for the afternoon. All the better to garden I thought.

    Before Team Donaldson arrived, Henry and I started to work. “Mama. I just want to let you know, I almost put you were more special than Awesomez on the card, but I erased it. I just couldn’t say it. I mean I love you and you’re my Mama, but well you understand, she is Awesomez.” Henry explained tap dancing as fast as he could.

    “I understand, I love her too.” I assured him."Now hush up and pull the Rhododendron the whole plant is poisonous to the goats."

    I’d let the cows out of the pasture again. This time I felt confident because we’d installed two gates. One gate blocks the barn animals from going into the road and the other gate keeps them from going down toward the pond. This in turn will keep Abe, Anna and Andy down munching on grass in what was our old cornfield. Or so I thought, until I looked up and saw Andy giving me the eye as we worked in the garden and before I knew it he'd found the one weak spot in the fence and charged through it. He wasn’t exactly a raging bull, but he got the job done. Suddenly Abe and Anna were in hot pursuit. Miracle was stunned at the sight of these new ruminants. I worried she might be like Quinn who does not like to be in the company of someone older and taller than her. “A person can be older or taller, but not both. Actually, I like to be older and taller if possible,” Quinn says whenever anyone will listen. If Miracle was like Quinn we might have a barnyard brawl. Would she attack or would the cows chase the goats like true “bullies”? I stood ready to react, but it was as calm as a nativity.

(Deciding the best place to be is on the other side of any fence)

(mowing my lawn)

(everybody eats)

(happy cows)

    We set back to work hoeing and taking tractor loads of debris away. We were hard at work when the Donaldsons pulled up. After some quick hugs and hellos we decided to break for lunch. In the kitchen Quinn asked “So what did Henry give you for Mother’s Day?”

    “He cleaned my room.” I said proudly.

    “Girl clean? Or boy clean?” Phoebe inquired.

    “Girl clean.” I assured her. “He vacuumed, put stuff away and I got a card too, plus a neck warmer-thingy.”

    “Girl clean? That’s good Henry.” Phoebe praised.

(Phoebe and Henry climb trees for entertainment)

(monkey-boy)

(Lunch is served in the tree as requested)

(Miracle with her fly mask on relaxing)

(working girls)

    After sandwiches we jumped back on the project. Phoebe and I manned the tractor bringing in loads from the compost pile.

    “This is some goooood shit.” I exclaimed as I savored the aroma, digging out a nice big load.

    “Really” she confirmed as we examined the sample teeming with earthworms.Lisa and Chris were hard at work mixing up the amendments and leveling the ground while Henry insisted on throwing knives at a tree and Quinn read a book.

    “Do we have to keep the garden gate closed all the time?” Lisa yelled over the tractor.

    “Actually yes, it seems the sheep like blueberries.” I yelled back.

    “Hey! Stop!” Lisa giggled. I turned back to see what she was talking about. “It’s nothing," she waved, "I just never had a sheep nibble my ankle before.” Apache was giving her kisses.

    Phoebe, Lisa, Chris and I got the garden to a point where we were ready to put in rows when we noticed there were no bells.

    “No bells that can only mean one thing.” I said wondering how they could have gotten out. “Do you think they knocked down the fence?” I asked. “I mean I know that’s not what you’d expect from a cow, but how else?” I asked half to myself as we began to walk the fence line with Anna who was also wondering where those good for nothing steers went off to leaving her behind.

    “I hear them.” I said listening to the faint clinking of cowbells. Turning my head toward the sound. I saw them in my only neighbor’s yard they’d hopped the fence.

    “Who wants a cookie?” Lisa yelled in a high-pitched voice. "Who wants a cookie?" She repeated. In only a couple of times, the boys were running not walking back, and over the fence they went.

    “It surprises me every time how nimble they are.” I reflected.  “But you know “ I said imitating my father, “there was that one f----- who went over the moon.” Lisa laughed. It was still funny.

    We came back to find Quinn in the garden. She’d finished her book and was wondering if they could still make it to the bookstore tonight. As she stood around not helping she began standing on one of the garden stakes. Balancing on one foot she said, “If this was a little wider this would be like Survivor.” 

    “Hey let me try.” Chris said as he climbed up on the stick. “One-one-thousand-two-one-thousand. . .” the girls chanted in unison until Chris dramatically fell off.

(Chris doesn't survive)

    “You two are the slowest counters I’ve ever heard.” He complained.

    “I did it longer.” Quinn said all smiles.

    “Let me try.” Phoebe insisted and then naturally, Lisa and I had to have a turn. We were now counting and competing for the best time.

    “This is fun.” Phoebe laughed, “Farm fun.”

    “Hey Quinn, you could do this at your birthday party.” Lisa laughed. "You young'ens would have a lot of fun." she hillbillied.

    “Great. My friends will say, gosh that party was fun. Quinn had us stand on a stick. No. They wouldn’t get it, but just so you know I think I've won with the best time.”

    “No. I did.” I corrected.

    “No. I did.” She said incorrectly. Being younger, I let her believe she was right poor thing, but as the winner I knew. I knew I had the better time she just couldn’t handle it.

    With all our falderal we got the stakes up and the string, but it was time to call it quits. Henry and Phoebe wanted one last knife throwing demonstration over by their tree. Most of us went to watch, but Quinn disappeared until she came out the front door. “Denise? Who’s this?” Quinn asked holding up a gosling. I gasped.

    “I don’t know! We’ve never met!” I was stunned. “Quinn where did you get that?” I asked completely confused. That was not one of Clara’s it was yellow and downy. I looked at it again. Its bill was black just like it’s feet. Clearly this was a Canada gosling. 

(in search of a Mother)

    “I found it walking across the lawn. I heard it peep and looked up and there it was, so I picked it up before the dogs saw it. Then Bruno took off like a shot for the fence down by the pasture. Maybe there are more.” So Quinn holding on to her charge showed us where Bruno had gone and we formed a search party. Looking and listening for peeping. I went and got Mabel to see if her honks would flesh anyone out of the tall grass. Just as we were all about to give up, Quinn found another one in a most remote area. We looked for the mother. The two goslings had been quite a distance away, and no one could locate a possible nest. I’d seen Canada geese in the pasture, but not hanging around the creek nor did I have any idea where the nest could be.

    “This is so weird, they need to find a mother on Mother’s Day.” Henry remarked. “Hey Quinn does this make them your babies? You’re the goose girl.” Quinn smiled wryly as she wiped goose poop out of the nest in her sweatshirt.

(twice the fun on Mother's Day)

    “It’s OK they’re just babies.” She replied cheerfully as we went to the barn and decided to try Mabel with the goslings.

    “She sat on her eggs for a good long time, maybe she’ll think they’d hatched while she was out. “ I suggested.

    “That’s some while you were out.” Phoebe laughed. Lisa took the goslings and rubbed her scent on them while she wasn’t looking. Mabel wanted nothing to do with them, so we tried Ruthie. She wouldn’t take them under her wing either. Next, we tried Clara, the proven mother, but she was too consumed with worry over her goslings that she didn’t relax.

    So we tried another tactic. We got Quackmire involved, after all, he’d been an excellent guardian to Clara’s hatch. Then we tried Ruthie again. No good, she just acted like she wanted to get away from Quackie. So we brought Mabel back in. Perhaps they’d be OK if the two of them were in there like Lloyd and Clara. I put the incubation light a safe distance away from the straw. We didn’t really need the adults to care for them as long as they protected them from any nocturnal predators like barn rats.

(Foster Family)

    “What do you want to name them?” Henry asked about 43 times.

    “I don’t know, some kind of outcast name like the elf who wants to be a dentist. What was his name?” Quinn mused.

    “I don’t remember.” Henry answered. “How about Romulus and Remus? Or Oenone, the wood-nymph?”

    “Uhhh no.” Quinn responded authoritatively.

    “Look we can’t keep them. They’re migratory birds they need to learn to fly.” Lisa said.

    “They do? Won’t they just know?” Quinn was confused.

    “Didn’t you watch ‘Fly Away Home about 35 times?” Lisa asked incredulously

    “Henry, the guy who shot ‘Fly Away Home’ Caleb, is the dad of Zooey Deschanel the girl in ‘Yes Man’. Anyway, I think the goslings are ok for the night. I’ll keep checking on them, but in the morning I’m calling the Wildlife Refuge.” I announced as we shut the barn door.

    “Mama, you relax, I’ll make dinner.” Henry said losing interest in the idea before he got to the kitchen. The phone rang as I got out the steamer. It was Awesomez’ daughter, little Lindsey, “Rizzo,I want to make my mom dinner, but I don’t know what to make. I need help.” she bleated.

    “Whatdya got?” I said pulling out my ingredients.

  (Henry and his buddy, Irish, have forgotten about making dinner)

February 21st Sixth Sense

   

(forest for the trees)

    Just as I was about to walk out the door, the phone rang. I didn’t want to answer it as I had just enough time to get to school to pick up Henry, but as I glanced at the caller id I saw it was the school.

    “Hello?”

    “Hey Mama, do I have to go to gymnastics today?” He asked full of hope. My mind quickly processed the situation. He was going to miss more than half the workout today anyway because I’d let him stay until the end of wrestling and gymnastics started early. He obviously wanted to do something which meant a possible friend.

    “Sure you can miss gymnastics. Why?”

    “Well, my friend Robby wants me to come over and maybe go to the movies.”

    “OK, but call me when you get there and call me before you go to the movies and then I’ll come and pick you up”

    “OK, Mama, thanks!”

    “Have fun!” I called as the phone hung up. I stood there wanting to be happy. It seemed great. He had someone who wanted him to come over. A friend. That’s what I’d hoped for when he started wrestling and yet, I stood in the kitchen filled with uncertainty. I tried to shake the strange, but all too familiar feeling. I hoped it was just an overprotective mother mode kicking in, but I feared it was more of an intuitive feeling.

    Over the years, I’ve learned to trust the nagging little voice tugging at my heart. Very bad things happen when I don’t. One moment lives in infamy.

    I stood looking at the big beautiful home on Orange Grove just off Sunset. My soon to be roommate Dixon looked at me and said, “What are you thinking?”

 “I think this house is going to change our lives” was my response. She said later she had been struck the enormity by my statement. She’d expected me to say something fun or positive and was puzzled by ominous remark. But the truth is I didn’t want to move in to the house, yet I couldn’t come up with one logical reason not to. It was very cheap, my ex-boyfriend, Franz owned the place and was giving us a screaming deal. It was in the area, Dixon and my sister had wanted to live and we’d looked at so many dumps, this was a real opportunity. Still, I knew in my heart it was wrong. Suffice to say we lived there two weeks. And those two weeks changed our lives forever. We were stalked, held at gunpoint and I was raped. Despite the terrible events I learned a lot about myself and have been able to help other women along the way.

    When I moved to Minneapolis, I didn’t have a job. And I didn’t have a place to live so when I was offered a job at an advertising agency, I felt I had to take it. Yet, I hesitated. I didn’t like the feel of the place; I didn’t like anything about it, their clients, the décor anything. It felt sterile and unhappy. But I really needed the money and I knew I should take it. Little did I know the owner of the agency was a convicted sex offender who was only allowed to be on the premises a certain amount of time a month. I’d taken a job working for the devil. Once again, I paid. The details of which I cannot elaborate upon due to a non-disclosure statement, but it did help me learn how to really stand up for myself.

    Conversely, when I “foolishly” defied logic and purchased a little fixer-upper in foreclosure, it turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life, I made money and was deliriously happy with being a homeowner, painting my living room bright yellow with an orange ceiling to go with my purple sofa.

    It’s a funny thing about following your instincts. You don’t get handy dandy print out of all the bad things that could have happened. 1. Didn’t fall victim to freakish street magician by attending party in tawdry neighborhood 2. Didn’t hire bad-tempered untalented, insecure girl who would later cause all sorts of havoc with sundry threats and lawsuits. If we did get these reinforcements of what might have been perhaps we wouldn’t let our guard down. Ever. But alas, we don’t get those validations and so once again the universe must teach us a lesson.

    I waited uneasily for Henry’s call. And as promised he called, but this time he pushed me farther asking me to spend the night. There was a tone in his voice I found unsettling, but he said all the right words and I wanted him to have fun and not to miss out.

    When the mother got on the phone, a tingling went through my body. Every alarm bell I had was ringing loud and clear. Yet, she said all the right things and I didn’t have any reason to say no.

    “Well, I’d like to pick him up around 10:00 so I’ll give you a call in the morning. I hope he’ll behave and be polite for you.” I said, knowing he would.

    “Well, if he isn’t Robby’s big brother will take care of him.” She said laughing. “No. I’m just kidding.” She recanted.

    “People who are kidding don’t need to say they’re just kidding.” I told Tom later.

    Since I had no logic to support me and there was nothing I could do about it I tried to enjoy the evening. I poured a glass of wine and sat on the sofa in front of a roaring fire chatting on the phone intending to watch a documentary on Lincoln’s body but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out how to work the darn thing without Henry. I just kept getting a blue screen with the DirecTV logo bouncing around like a game of pong.

    In the morning I called the sleepover three times before my first cup of coffee. No answer. No answer? You have eight boys over for a sleepover and you don't answer the phone? I left messages and my phone number. I didn’t leave the house even to feed the animals because I’ve been having trouble with my call forwarding. Finally, I put on my navy coveralls at 10:30 asked Wayne to answer the phone and went to clean the barn with Alexis.

(me with Apache as I scrape the junk out)

     Surrounded by the animals, I tried to relax. Cleaning the barn is one of the things I dread, but love once I get started. It’s physically exhausting and yet rewarding. I love the smell of the barn and talking to the animals. It’s like going to the gym but better. The cold air in my face and the pitchfork in my hand I let my mind wander. I thought dark thoughts of Henry’s friend Harry going over to the neighbors and dying just afterward. Murder was never proven, but as the police said things don’t work like CSI. Just because someone is your neighbor doesn’t mean they’re a person to be trusted, “some one lived next door to Jeffrey Dahmer”.  Time moved slowly. I didn’t think Henry was going to die, but something wasn’t right. I knew it or at least I was letting my imagination get the better of me. He’d probably call having had a wonderful time and I’d have stewed for nothing.

(Ruthie laid an egg and built an uber nest - while Mabel looks on)

(a pile of poop and urine soaked straw)
  (If only I could whistle while I worked)

  (Alexander on another poop pile)

(A nice cozy clean barn)

(Miracle peeks)

  (Miracle refuses to come in for the night unless she gets a packer pellet)

(Clara sitting pretty)

    I went in the house to check and sure enough there was a message from The Boy. “Hey Mama, heard you called. Call me back.” He sounded fine.

    So I called and got the address. I knew I couldn’t get there for about an hour and it was already noon. I called Lisa. “I’ll get him within ten minutes.” She said reassuringly.

    I finished phase one of the barn with Alexis and headed out to town covered in gunk. When I came into cell range, I called and spoke to Henry.

    “Hey Sweetie! Did you have a great time?” I asked as upbeat as I could muster.

    “No.” He said sullenly. “I’ll tell you later. I’m hanging out with Chris. We’re male bonding. Lisa went to the hospital cause Lauren broke her arm playing soccer.”

    “I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” I was stunned. I had been right. I wondered what could have happened, but no matter he was safe now.

    On the way home Henry said “Robby just acted completely different when we were at his house. He was mean. He screamed at his mom calling her a crack-head and a pothead. His older brother does drugs and beats their mother. She had to have surgery on her back. She told me she had Robby taken away from her and she worked hard to get him back and then he’s like that to her. There was no respect. I was appalled.”

    “Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.”

    “I don’t know. I should have. They watched horror movies and I knew I just couldn’t do that so I went in another room.”

    “Well, I’m glad you knew how to take care of yourself. You know I had a bad feeling about the place, but I thought you’d have been broken-hearted if I’d have said you couldn’t stay. Next time I feel that way I’m going to follow my instincts.”

    “Sounds good to me. The place smelled funny – and I was scared. His mother told me I shouldn’t upset his brother. It worried me. His brother said he wished his mother would be raped and murdered and that he'd pee and poop on her grave. I couldn’t sleep. I don’t know why I can’t find normal friends like I used to have like Kyle, Sam, Brady and Nick Melvin.”

    “His brother is disgusting. The whole thing sounds like a nightmare. I have to admit, this is harder than I ever thought it would be. Quinn has nice friends like Marnie and Lauren. At least you're in middle school and not elementary.”

    "I'd go back to elementary if I could go Woodland Hills and be with my friends - even if Mrs. Feig was principal again." That was saying something.

    Later Lisa called to see how Henry was, "He's fine. He's having teriyaki chicken on a bed of angel hair with a side of edamame and brownies for desert."

    "Did Wayne cook?" She laughed.

    "Shut-up." She laughed at me.

     We ate in front of the TV snuggled up under a blanket with the dogs catching up on  "Grey's Anatomy". 

    “Henry I’m so tired I’ve got to go to sleep.” I said with my eyes closed on the sofa.

    “OK. Mama, I’m just  going to clear the dishes.”  I lay there for a few more minutes as I heard clanking. I got up and walked into the kitchen where I was surprised to see my boy unloading the dishwasher.

    “What are you doing?”

    “I thought I’d unload and load the dishes so you won't have to do it in the morning”

    “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

    “Well, I guess that sleepover made an impression on me. Maybe it was good I went. I thought about how Robby treated his mother and while I would never talk to you that way, I thought about how I do treat you and I realize I don’t do very much around here except for myself or if you ask me. I’m going to help out around here more. You do everything for me and I don’t do very much for you.”

    I guess everything happens for a reason.

December 15th Clothes Horse?

(our first snowfall this winter - the house in need of the black plank shutters Tom is going to make when he "has time")

    I woke up this morning to find that, due to extreme cold, all Bellingham Schools had been delayed two hours. I looked at the temperature: 7 degrees, much colder than we ever got last year. I began to worry about the animals. Really worry. If it’s 7 degrees now, how cold was it last night? Would they all be alive this morning? I know they’re animals and, except for the geese, none of them go south for the winter, but this was an extreme drop in temperature. I thought of the geese huddled together. Were they like penguins, taking turns being on the outside of the huddle?

    Riley is over a year old now, but would the goats be able to withstand such a drop? They weren’t dressed in wool like the lambs. I wasn’t too worried about the lambs, as their wool has come in nicely since the shearing. And what of Miracle? None of the other animals snuggle with her. True, she has more body mass, but 7 degrees?

    I went to make some coffee and call Lisa. Certainly, she’d have some thoughts on the subject. She’d tell me not to worry – I thought. I turned on the faucet and, after a stutter and hiccup, a tiny trickle came out and then stopped. Our pipes had frozen. My mind reeled. This had so many ramifications. I couldn’t make coffee. No coffee and no shower, when I more than desperately needed a shower yesterday. It’s not often I do my hair for the cows, but I do try to stay within social norms. Good thing it’s hat weather. Frozen pipes? No coffee? We’d turned on the light and even added a heater to the pump house. No coffee? The pipes must be frozen somewhere else. I worried again about who would be alive in the barn when I got there. I didn’t want to go. I stalled, went upstairs and woke Henry, preparing him for what I might find in the barn.
(not much snow, but blue skies and cold, cold, cold)

    Lisa had cautioned me about the importance of the animals'  water. She warned me that the temperature has to be brought up somewhat or they won’t drink enough, even if they can. “After all, who likes to drink ice water when they’re freezing?” she said practically. I’d brought a bucket in last night to heat up some water and take it to the barn to warm up their water. Seeing as the faucets weren’t working, I went to the toilet tank. I took off the lid and started bailing out water with a mason jar. I heated the water on the stove in my cast iron pot, while I rooted around the house until I found a discarded cup of coffee from yesterday. Tossing it in the microwave, I threw on Pea’s red robe with the tattered tie, slipped into my blue duck boots, put on my brown leather rain hat with the chin strap (the one Wayne calls my “Indiana Jones” hat), and made my way out to the barn with my stale, but steaming, cup of coffee in one hand and my bucket of boiling water in the other. I was trudging along just about at the chicken coop when I heard the glorious sound of Miracle braying “Good Morning”. She was alive! Relief went through me and I walked a little quicker.
(Angus, Sheryl and Mildred getting their fleece back)

(Apache wants attention)

    Once inside, I began counting animals and was relieved to find everyone alive, though sluggish from the cold. Their water buckets had more than an inch of ice. I couldn’t imagine how cold it must have been. The geese’s metal water dispenser was a solid ice cube. I shuddered at the night they must have had. Animals might be able to survive like this, but these are my babies, my responsibility. I couldn’t stand it. Money or no money, they weren’t going to spend another night like this.

     Chipping away at the ice layer until it was clear, I poured the boiling water into the water bucket. Then I fed everyone and went down to the pasture to give Abe, Andy and Anna an extra serving of grain. Before we left for school I wrote Alexis a short note explaining the water situation. We were going to have to do something because the animals needed more water and I draw the line for their well-being at Evian. A bucket brigade from the pond was the most obvious solution

(loafing shed for cattle)

    After I dropped Henry off, I met up with Lisa and we headed to the feed store. We were lucky enough to find a water heater for the cows' 200-gallon tank and a smaller one for the barn animals, but I’d have to change their water bucket. We realized I still had the big black tub the goslings used when they lived in Henry’s room. While I was at the register, Lisa started looking for dog collars and I struck up a conversation with the gum-chewing, blue eye-shadowed girl who was ringing me up. I told her how worried I was about the goats, despite what everyone said. She looked up sheepishly, and said, “I just bought my Nubian a coat.”

    “You did!? Where did you get it? I wanted to get coats for my goats last winter, but everyone laughed at me.”

    “Me, too, but I feel better. Mine are pets. I got it here. A lady came in and said she’d bought a dog coat and it fit her goat. So I bought mine and it fit even my Boer. What do you have?”

    “Oberhasli. Nubians are kind of small. My son, Henry, wanted a Nubian. He thought they were dolls.”

    “They are,” she agreed authoritatively.

    “But Boers are big. Which aisle?” I queried. She pointed me in the correct direction and, after her next customer, came over and helped Lisa and me sort through the coats. Once we’d determined the appropriate sizes, there was the matter of color. I simply couldn’t put Alexander in pink; he’s already a wether and I don’t think his ego could take it.

    After purchasing my wares, Lisa and I parted company as she headed off to Costco and I hit two more feed stores looking for a coat for Miracle and something to give the geese water. After finding both items lickety-split at Laurel Feed Supply, I shoehorned in a conversation at the register about possibly piggy-backing an order of Silver Dorking and Black Java chicks and maybe a couple of turkey poults with theirs. The woman said she’d look into it and took my number. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
(Alexis - heaven sent - on water patrol)

    I raced home with my packages, eager to get everything set up. When I got there, Alexis was already bringing pond water to the barn in 5-gallon buckets in his trusty Jeep™. He filled up the new water container for the goats, sheep and Miracle, while I unloaded the feed, set up the water heaters and screwed the hook in place to position the geese’s new, heated bucket snugly between two studs. (the water heater assembled. Gray protective coating around wiring - cage around heating element - so plastic buckets won't melt)

(the transferring of water)
(cows' water trough with new heater)

(cord heats up entire bucket)

    Finally, it was time to dress the goats. I started with Rachel; she’s the queen and, if she does it, the rest are more likely to follow along. Her coat fit pretty well, if a tad tight around the girth. Other than that, she didn’t seem to mind it at all. Next came Christina, then Alexander and finally Riley. Alexander bucked a couple of times, but a few packer pellets calmed him right down.

(Riley in his orange coat to match his collar)

(three goats in coats - Rachel pink, Riley orange and Alexander red)
(Alexander)

(the sheep - Apache, Angus, Mildred and Sheryl - and the geese opt for natural fibers to keep warm)

    Imagine, if you will, trying to get a spooked, stubborn little girl to try on something she doesn’t want to. Now, imagine she can beat you up. At first, Miracle ran from the coat. I put it down on the snow and walked away as if she weren’t there. She came up and sniffed it. I came back. It was a few times around the pen before she let me slide it over her back. Hooking it was going to be another matter entirely. I was nervous. I didn’t want her to launch one of her missiles in my direction. So, I stood there talking to her. “Shhh, Miracle, it’s ok. I’m just going to hook this around your tummy. It’s not going to hurt. It’s going to keep you warm. I’m just going to tighten up your belt so it hangs properly. Purple actually looks very nice on you. You must be a winter because you look stunning in true red. You look lovely. No, it doesn’t make you look fat at all. Don’t be an ass.” I got all the hooks done except the last one. I was supposed to hook it under her tail. Seriously. Under her tail. This is a little like “Pin the Tail on the Donkey”.  Well, if she was longer it would go under her bell, but she isn't, so I slowly and gently pulled her tail up as if I were dealing with nitroglycerin. I moved delicately. All the while, Miracle was holding her hoof ready to kick out if things didn’t feel right. Luckily, she looks swanky in her royal purple blanket and I don’t have any bruises to show for it. (Miracle prancing around with her price tag on like she's Minnie Pearl)

(the challenge)

(Miracle - wondering if she looks like an ass?)

(I 'm alive; I win!)

    When everyone had their jammies on, I went to get Henry to shuttle him to gymnastics and buy 17 gallons of water. My phone rang. It was Mike.

    "Did you get the water taken care of?" he asked, concerned.

    "Yes, and I got the goats some coats and fed the cows some oats," I unwittingly rhymed.

    "What?"

    "I said, I got the goats some coats," I repeated.

    "That's what I thought you said. I couldn't believe my ears. I never imagined you got the goats coats. I thought It sounded like you were reciting a Dr. Seuss." We both laughed. I guess it did.

    When we got home, I microwaved some of the water to wash my face and poured the rest over my head in the sink to wash my hair. I had forgotten that the water had sat for three hours in cold storage in my car. Ruing I hadn’t microwaved more water, I stood in the bathroom wondering how long this was going to last. I eyed the bathtub. We could heat up the kettle and fill the bathtub. The colonists stank up all thirteen colonies since they rarely bathed. Perhaps I'm being historical.

September 30th Rumplestilskin

    (homemade wool drying contraption)

    Toby arrived intending to stay two days and now she’s been here twenty. Funny, she keeps thinking she’s intruding, but I’ve never eaten such well-balanced meals and had all my laundry washed and put away and my bathroom organized complete with tea candles by my bathtub. Of course, she can be snarly and cranky, but I love her anyway. As far as I’m concerned she can stay forever, but alas she feels it’s time for her to move on in the morning
. (Bruno having stolen Luther's special spot)

    One last hurrah to go, she’s decided to spin some of the lambs’wool. First, she washed it and made a funky contraption over the stove to dry it. Then broke out the spinning wheel. It’s a newer looking thing, not exactly what I would get if I took up spinning because it doesn’t look colonial. (Toby carding the wool in her egg buying pjs)

Nonetheless, everyone was fascinated. Henry wanted a turn, I wanted a turn and mostly Irish wanted a turn. He couldn’t keep his nose out of it. Thrusting his snout in the wheel to make it stop. Stomping on the pedals. Trying to taste the newly spun thread. Pawing the tools Toby uses to card the wool; he couldn’t get enough.
(Irish carding wool)

    Irish is a funny thing, truly a mimic. I wonder if it comes from so many years of breeding to live with different livestock. Perhaps it’s part of the breed to take on the characteristics of animals around them. The other day, I heard spooky music coming from the game room. Knowing I was the only one home I bravely went to investigate. Only to find Irish on his hind legs playing the piano presumably while trying to catch a moth. When he’s with the cattle he tries the hay. When he’s with the cats he starts to knead the rugs and now he’s a spinner.
(Irish take note of how Toby does it)

    The thread Toby spun was very pretty. She did some “regular” wool first so we could see the difference in the different textures and lengths. She’d feed some wool in and then slowly lean back and let it pull. Over and over it was almost hypnotic. I thought I should consider spinning although I’ve never been a capable knitter or had any aptitude for crocheting. My grandmother, Irene tried endlessly to teach me, but I didn’t have the patience I guess. Bye the bye. I think I dying the wool and spinning it would be fun.
(Irish paying close attention)

    So in the morning, Toby and Dean will move forward on their adventure to who knows where. Somewhere in Los Angeles where Toby can resume work as a script supervisor and Dean can attend a special day class. As for Eric, we think he’s leaving Canada tomorrow, but then again we’ve thought that every day for more than three weeks now.

(Learning new things can be so exhausting)

September 28th I Want My Mummy

   

(Halloween has arrived early)

    I’ve had a dream. It’s not a big dream like world peace or even a lofty dream like financial independence.  I simply want to park in my garage. It’s not something I thought would happen, after Wayne moved all his bikes and and tools and stuff in, but I clung to it nonetheless.

    Just after lunchtime while I was painting - what else but trim,  Wayne came to tell me there was something big in the garage and he didn’t know what to do with it. He and Tom were putting together some shelves and they needed to know where to put this. I was stunned to see my “mobile barn” transformed into a normal suburban vehicle sitting in a ship shape garage with shelves. A newly painted garage I might add. (Wayne makes my dreams come true)

    Like the garage, I know little by little things are improving around here. Last year we were so overwhelmed we were completely holiday free. No Christmas tree, no stockings, no Easter eggs and certainly no Halloween decorations were ever so much as lifted out of their storage boxes. And we have decorations. A plethora of skulls, Marcus the Carcass various mummies, black cat silhouettes a giant witch for the top of the house and best of all our graveyard perfect to complete the haunted house feel.
(Henry and Pea get going)
    Tom announced since he could now access the Halloween decorations out of the garage he was getting out all the tombstones. A few years ago we made tombstones for the front yard. Tom constructed them out of foam core, I did the research – as they’re all actual tombstones – Henry and I burned the letters and did some of the “stone” painting, but as you might have guessed, Pea did the construction and little flourishes. During the move and subsequent storage they’d incurred some damage and needed repair.  So as I went back to my new career – painting the trim on the house, they set to starting Halloween.
  (Miracle helps Tom)
    There was much discussion as to what to put where. We all walked up and down the road to find the best position for the graveyard. Should it be facing the road or the pasture. Should the witch be put on the house or the apartment? Toby, Bruno, Henry Pea and I stood there staring. Envisioning. Dean thought the whole thing a waste of time because who would ever drive down Mosquito Lake Road and see it? He had a point, but we ignored it as he was spoiling our fun. We came to a group consensus and were walking back when we saw fresh bear scat.
(Henry,Pea & friends make repairs)
    “Well, now we know what the dogs were barking at last night.” Tom laughed at the thought of Laurie running into a black bear on the way to the car. We looked around and found a well-worn path from the road to the apple trees. (Dean relaxes by Zeke) (one of the tombstones) (another tombstone)
(and another) (Pea give Alexander a hand)

    Almost out of hay, we let the goats, sheep and Miracle graze in the yard as the graveyard progressed all afternoon. First repairs, then lighting, then the timer ad to be rigged. The skeleton was strung over the entry and the mummy put into place.
 (graveyard)

(skeleton hanging from the entry)

 (Our Halloween House)
(Ahh finally my Mummy)
    The final touch? The doorbell was changed from the cougar scream which was set to torment me after my near death experience in July to a more appropriate ghoulish ghost moan. Our nightmare before Christmas was now complete.

September 7th Yes Sir, 4 Bags Full

(Spider web amongst the fall leaves)

   

At the last minute we decided to make our sheep shearing a family event. Lisa, Chris and the girls came out to the farm, as did Annie and Kim (Annie’s brother) and his wife Vivian. Kim and Vivian brought decadently ripe figs from their tree, which we devoured throughout the day.

    Our sheep shearing team arrived at 10:00AM. I don’t know what I expected, but I found the experience a bit traumatic. I’d seen sheep shearing before at fairs, but of course, those were just sheep they weren’t my babies. (Henry and Apache just before the big event)

    Apache went first. Not our best idea as Navajo Churro fleece is thick and tough to sheer. He was accidentally cut a few times. Henry and Quinn had to leave. Phoebe hung in there with Lisa and me. A few sheep and a cut or two later, we lost Lisa for a while. Everybody else was in and out. (Apache with a cut) (Phoebe & Lisa gathering wool)

(Apache with his new "do")

    The process was interesting. The shearers didn’t want any assistance. It seems the shearer must do the entire holding him or herself. They put the sheep on their bottoms, which puts them in this Zen-like trance. Immediately, they are rendered motionless – that is if they stay in that spot – which Mildred did not. She’s a kicker. (Angus in the position) (Apache, Cheryl and Angus)
(Mildred, Angus and Apache)

    I decided to keep a little on the top so they’d each have a bit of a hairdo. Nakedy, they all look like babies again. Now it’s easier to tell these little lambs apart. Angus has a small black spot on his neck and Mildred has a tiny ponytail down the back.

    Cheryl who is usually the shyest of the bunch has surprised everyone by suddenly eating out of my hand. Food seems to have overcome her fears.
(Cheryl looking pretty cute)

    The nice thing about a farm is you really don’t have to entertain anyone. While Phoebe and I tended to the sheering everyone else was busy with various things. Kim and Lisa took a walk and visited the cows. Vivian and Annie dove headfirst into the garden trying to free my iceberg rose from the clutches of some unidentified weed. Chris went for a bike ride and Wayne changed his oil, checking in on the Seahawks every little bit.

    With the sheering behind us we all ate a hearty lunch of lemonade, chili and hot cornbread with butter. Soon after with hugs and promises to see them at the farm festival we said good bye to Kim and Vivan. Then it was off to the river for one last summer tubing escapade. It was beautiful and warm for most of the time, but as the sun began to slip behind the mountains, you could feel autumn in the air.

August 20th Dancing Queen

(Emmett surveys his home)

    Our sunny streak ended and it rained hard most of the day Tuesday. Henry and I put buckets in the barn to catch drips near the hay and in several places inside the goose pen. The drips rhythmic symphony was annoying and stirred up my feathered-friends. I’d have to patch the roof when the sun emerged. Henry tended to the feeding while wired the last sections of fence water dripping in my eyes. Bruno darted in and out while we were working.

    Bruno is no purse dog. He is pure farm dog through and through. Zooming by, darting here and there. You could almost hear the “Mission Impossible” theme song as he squeezed through the gate into the goat pen grabbed some highly coveted goat poop and trotted quickly out before downing it. It's almost impossible to fence him in. He can squeeze through the pickets in the garden. He goes between the gate and the post - I might have to get him a shock collar for some of these places.
(Bruno in the grass)
(Bruno on the run- but not frightened) (Bruno getting to know Miracle - I am worried about him getting in with her- he doesn't get how lethal she is)

    In the morning, I opened all the doors in the barn so all the animals could all enjoy the fresh green grass. Miracle quickly came out to investigate. She began trotting around and nibbling at the grass contentedly, but as soon as any of the others came out she pinned her ears back and ran them out of the area. I watched for a while as they slowly they all tried again. She tolerated them briefly and ran them out again.
(Tolerant Miracle welcoming guests)
(The queen is not receiving visitors)

They continued this dance until we left for football camp. As we drove away Miracle gave us a bray farewell. She’d watched us intently the last couple of days and I guess she thought Tom had built this area just for her.  I think she's right.
(I guess they can all kiss her. . .)

August 10th When It Rains

(Henry goes William Tell on a rotten round bale)

    We had many plans, we didn’t do this weekend. We were going to go to a
Civil war re-enactment at Hovander Park and to a Blues jamboree at the Deming Logging Show grounds, but it rained. Every time I mentioned going somewhere, the kids looked at me incredulously from the sofa wrapped in blankets still in their pajamas as the Olympics blared non-stop from the television. Rain doesn’t generally stop us, but it rained as hard as I’ve ever seen. Loud pounding rain that punished my metal barn roof seams creating drips and drabs all over my hay, which causes all sorts of rot.

(Irish makes sure Bruno doesn't steel his thunder)

   So the kids and I spent most of our time indoors playing Clue™ and Pictionary™ while we made Brown Sugar Peach ice cream (no one liked the chunks of peach) and tried our hand at Banana(Kimona learned pureeing doesn't mean squishing with your hands). None of us liked either as much as the Pumpkin Pie ice cream. Kimona is determined to try the Banana Maple recipe she saw in Hobby Farm™ magazine and she keeps muttering things like “Do you have a vanilla bean? Is heavy cream the same as whipping cream?”
(Sam after target practice)
    We did do a couple of things that marked the weekend. I spoke to my friend Russ who grew up on a farm in Ohio and he gave me tips on sheep and pigs (just in case).

    We mixed the goats, sheep and Miracle together. The goats it turns out are bullies. Rachel was constantly rearing up trying to establish her royalty and the goats, like the children stare blankly back wondering if she realizes they’re sheep. Miracle chased them around, but stopped every time I caught her. I’d yell “What do you think you’re doing?” and she’d come to an abrupt halt, put her head down and peer over at me. Guilty. I know this look. This is the same look I get from Henry when I ask him if he’s cleaned the cat box.
(Kimona covered more in cement than the walkway)

    Wayne came over and worked on the attic, taping seams, mudding and sanding. Kimona and I did some cement in the momentsbetween deluges while Sam practiced shooting and Henry honed his archery skills. We even did some laundry.
(Lloyd once again tries a taste of the cement - I have to once again rinse his mouth out in the baby pool before it hardens)

 

    As I was going to sleep, I noticed I hadn’t seen Alvin and Scarlett in some time. I put food in their dishes and waited. Only Emmett arrived on the scene. I went looking for them, but didn’t see them anywhere. I listened and heard the tiniest faintest mew. I followed the sound up into the attic. I looked around but neither cat was in view. I called their names and stood there listening, wondering where they could be. I heard the mew again. It was coming behind a small attic door that Wayne had screwed shut. They were entombed Indiana Jones style. I went and found a screw gun and opened the door. The noise must have freaked them out because they were nowhere to be seen. I propped the door open and went back to bed. Waiting. Suddenly, there they were on top of my dresser eating hungrily. Safe.
(kitty tomb)

    I tried impossibly to find a place to put my foot, to get comfortable, but it was no use. Henry is sleeping in my bed as Sam is in his. We also have to make room for a disgruntled Vivian a shivering Luther an angry Emmett (seriously annoyed at the arrival of Bruno, the rat-sized dog) and a snuggly Bruno under the covers. Deli is sleeping with Kimona and Irish is the only one currently acting like a dog sleeping on a dog bed. I lay in bed positioned like a pretzel listening to the rain as I thought about the men’s Olympic relay team beating the French. I wondered how that was going over in Paris. "Smash the Americans" huh? Au contraire mon ami.

August 2nd And Along Came Sheryl

    

(Apache, Angus, Mildred & Sheryl hiding in back)

   

    I got up early, fed the animals packed a lunch and the requisite thermos™ of coffee, woke the sleeping dead and threw them in the back of the van. Grabbed a tarp, programmed my “navi” for the Flying J truck stop in Ellensburg – three and a half hours away and we were off.

    The kids watched “Get Smart” episodes all the way there while I listened to Max and 99 declare their love for the first time before they realized they could escape certain death by trying the “old double door trick”. The time flew by until we were suddenly at the Flying J. Andrea; our sheep breeder was only minutes behind us. She pulled up and quickly transformed the back of my van into a mobile barn. Andrea meets us at the Flying J in Ellensburg)

(transform Honda to barn)
  (lambs about to move from truck to van)

     I pulled my sliding door up to the back of her truck and the two of us hoisted the lambs through the passageway. First we got one full Navajo-Churro, Apache – he’s latte colored. He was a bottle-fed baby and is easily handled. Second went the one full Leicester Longwool wether, Angus. Next hopped the full bred Leicester Longwool ewe, Mildred and a finally the scardy cat or timid one, Sheryl, a 3/4 Leicester/Churro cross. She’s a little nervous about traveling, but she made it. (Apache looking at Henry & Sam) (Apache & Angus watch the boys carefully)

    The ride home was full of discovery. We learned that for hundreds of years, children everywhere have been deceived by a certain nursery rhyme. Sheep do not say, “Baa baa”. Clearly whoever wrote that had a problem with their phonemic awareness. Sheep or in this case lambs say, “Maaa maaa” After three hours we are all completely sure. We talked about our collection of animals. I believe Fort Flashback now has one of the most unique collections of colonial animals this side of Williamsburg. We have the Milking Devon, Oberhasli goats, Cotton Patch geese, Leicester Logwools, a Churro and your basic drama queen donkey. Now all we need are some Silver Dorking chickens and a turkey. OK , Tom's daughter, Laura wants some ducks so we'll have to consider a couple. Twist my arm.

    "You mean they had donkeys in colonial times?" Henry asked.

    "Yes. Donkeys have been around a long time."

    "So I can say kiss my colonial ass?" Henry grinned as Sam howled. Proving once again, the ass jokes never get old.

    Upon arriving home, I backed the van up to the barn doors so the lambs couldn’t go anywhere but in the barn. The kids took unpainted fence boards and created a shoot so the lambs couldn’t go out into the goat/donkey area. Angus hopped out and one by one the others followed until even Sheryl decided she’d rather brave the barn than be alone. You’ve got to love the herd instinct. (Abbey checks out the lambs and lambs check out Abbey)

(Thinking about getting out)

(sheep going into their new digs)

    Just as the lambs were skittering into their part of the barn, Miracle came completely unglued. She started screaming and braying as if I brought four fuzzy coyotes into the barn. She screamed and danced around until I shut their door. I was shocked at her reaction, but I guess she thought this was just about the last straw. First she had to coexist with the pushy pellet-grabbing-goats, next, the noisy neighbors’ honk and carry on all night and now these unidentified fuzzy critters prance in. She turned her back and wouldn’t even look at them after that. Everyone else couldn’t get enough of them. Vivian was riveted, the goats were fascinated and even the geese came to take a gander.
 

(Vivian peeks through the bars)
(Rachel and Christina and Riley our peeping goats)
(Sam works at cleaning up the barn) (Miracle ignores the lambs)

    The kids worked at cleaning up the barn, while I made dinner and called TLC Sheep Shearing. I'd seen them on Craigslist and Andrea told me to not waste time making an appointment to have them sheared. She said spinners will be lining up for their wool. I did as I was told.

    I was called to the barn to check their work and although they did a good job there is certainly more to do tomorrow.