Sheep Gal

Designer Lambs

My day started at 2 a.m. with the arrival of a pair of Cormo ram lambs, Valentino and Armani.   By dinner time, another six lambs had landed:  Dolce & Gabbana, Calvin & Blass,  Polo & Hilfiger joined newcomers Lagerfeld, Karan, Burberry and McQueen.   The idea to name this year's lambs for fashion designers came to me while watching this season's Project Runway program on Bravo.  I don't want much t.v. at all, and trust me, I am no fashionista, but I became hooked on this show last year and tuned in each week to watch Heidi Klum announce who was "in" and who was "out".   I thought this would be a fun theme, with lots of great names for sheep.  Now that I am about half way through, I am fishing a little bit for names, especially good ones for rams, since that seems to be this year's gender trend (sigh).   So, if you have any suggestions, let's hear them.

I thought I would share a few moments from a busy day in the birthing barn, to give some sense of how hard a ewe works in the process of delivering.

This is Carrera (taken this afternoon).  At 1:45 a.m. this morning I awoke to the sound of her snickering to lambs who hadn't yet arrived.  She delivered her first lamb shortly after I entered the barn, and then a second not long after.

[ This picture shows the series of birthing pens that line the east side of the barn.   New arrivals are tucked inside a 5 x 5 foot pen with their mom so they can bond, learn to nurse, and adjust to their vast new surroundings.

Some of the pens have fancy heat boxes, which the lambs adore.  Twins bond really well with each other when they share a golden pool of warmth in the corner of the pen.

Lambs and ewes stay in the pens for about 3 days.  Then the lambs are ear tagged and docked and sent out to the large nursery pen.]

Carrerra and her first lamb, taken at 2:30 a.m.

Later . . .

Mid afternoon, Holly called me to the barn.   First-time mother, Verbena, had been in labor for an hour and was having strong contractions.  Here she is in the early stages of pushing.  The reddish bubble is the sac of water emerging as she has a large contraction.

Her Lamaze coach arrives.

Fifteen minutes later,  here she is with a little ewe-ling, "Dolce".  Holly was so pleased.

Within the hour, Cayenne, another first-timer began labor.  Having delivered one lamb, here she struggles to deliver her second.   (easier to see if you enlarge the image)  Birthing is incredibly tiring for the ewes.   

Although exhausted, a  good ewe will lick each lamb all over its body, which cleans and dries the lambs and also stimulates their suckling instinct.  A soft dialog of snickers and cries accompanies the process.  The bonding between ewe and lamb strengthens.  In a barn full of 40 nearly identical lambs, ewes and lambs rely on scent (and voice to some extent)  to identify each other.

The afternoon wound down with Ursa's twins, one solid black and one white ram lamb.   My hands were pretty full by then, so no pics right now.   

I am always grateful when lambs arrive in the light of day.  As I write, I can hear many new voices over the baby monitor.  Maybe I will get lucky with a solid night's rest tonight.

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copyright 2008 Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.  All rights reserved.

Foxfire Fiber & Designs at Springdelle Farm

Spring Tide

It's been a busy twelve hours.  I'm short on sleep so I'll show now and tell more a little later . . . .

Pansy & new lambs:  Pucci & Gucci

Curious flock checks out the new arrivals:

Above, Donatella (using brother Gianni as a pillow).

A smug looking Hugo, almost a week old.

No pics of my latest arrivals, born around 6 this morning.  Buttercup delivered a ewe and ram: Chanel and Dior.

By now, you have probably figured out this year's name theme.

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copyright 2008, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.  All rights reserved.

A Good Day's Work

My week began with a barn check at day break.    The sound of rustling straw via the audio monitor pulled me from sleep, so I decided to head on over to the barn for a peek at the ewes.  It's early April, maple syrup season is winding down and my barn, brimming with expectant mothers, is still void  of lambs.  It feels a little weird.

An inspection of the birthing ward revealed nothing out of the ordinary.   As the sun filled the barn the girls were shuffling back and forth along the feeders, eyeing me, hoping for an early breakfast.    As I shook some flakes of hay,  they fanned out and voraciously attacked the feeders.  Clearly their lambs are creating appetites.

We were preparing for the shearer  this morning, so an early start worked well.  The game plan included shearing Leicesters and a couple of fine wool who we missed on the last round.

When help arrived, we rounded up the gang and pulled off the coats that had been protecting the fleeces throughout the winter.  It's fairly easy to see which parts of the fleece have been covered.

At first the wool looks a little squished, but within a few minutes, the locks loosen and spring back to life.   We were really excited to see those glossy  longwool fleeces.    For comparison, here Cilantro & Fennel - two fine wool boys - bashfully wait their turn on the shearing board.   Their fleeces are far more dense and also heavier.  Fennel resembled a giant marshmallow.   Although not as long as the Leicesters, the wool is much finer and also much higher in lanolin content. 

In contrast to our first shearing on a brisk day in early March, this week we were practically working in shirt sleeves.  At last  the weather seems to have shifted, and it was the first day that truly felt like winter has at last let go.  Throughout the day we took turns sauntering over to the birthing barn to check on the ewes.  The only action, however, was in the shearing shed. 

Late afternoon, after stacking bags of freshly shorn wool, feeding the sheep and putting the barns back in order, it appeared that we were lamb-less yet another day.   

The exertion of catching sheep all day really knocked me out that evening.  However, just before midnight I heard (via the baby monitor) the unmistakable sound of a new arrival in the barn.  A quick glance at the lamb cam showed a soggy little lamb  getting a thorough tongue washing from his mom, Kodiak.  He was followed shortly by a second ram lamb.  After dipping their cords in iodine and getting the little trio settled in a bonding pen, I had a moment to grab my camera.

Meet Hugo, our first arrival,  conked out in the middle of mom's midnight snack.  While his brother, Boss (below) claimed the cozy corner under the heat lamp.    Shearing and  first lambs, all in one day.  Now, this is beginning to feel like April.

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copyright 2008, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.  All rights reserved.

http://www.foxfirefiber.com

Winter Retrospective

Six inches of fresh snow on Friday.  Although the calendar says spring, clearly winter hasn't released its hold on New England.   Ordinarily winter is a season I enjoy.  This year's impressive (record-breaking) snowfall amounts dampened my enthusiasm, however.  While I hope we have seen the last snow of the season, I'm taking this chance to share some scenes and observations from earlier this winter.

On days when the sheep were reluctant to leave the barn, feeding hay on fresh snow was one way to get them outside for some exercise.   Sheep love chasing a toboggan full of hay.  I was able to feed them outside until an ice storm in February put a nasty glaze on all surfaces.  Walking the fields became impossible and the sheep were then fed indoors.

The above was taken during one of the early storms, back in November.  The Leicesters were still up in the high pasture, so I had to truck hay and water up the hill.

Frozen water buckets, gates that wouldn't open, barn doors that wouldn't close properly, never-ending shoveling and plowing . . . it's amazing really that I haven't relocated the flock to Florida.

Even with its hard edges, there were moments of rare beauty that seemed to make up for the punishing weather.

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copyright 2008, Barbara Parry, all rights reserved. 

Shearing Day

It all starts here . . .

Shearing day marks a new beginning at the farm each year.  On the heels of winter, our shearer Andy Rice arrives in the morning, clippers ready to relieve the sheep of the heavy fleeces they've been wearing all year long.  Ten to twelve pounds of wool covers the back of each animal and some can barely see through the wooly top knots that have grown down over their faces.

A seasoned crew arrives to help.  The procession to the shearing barn is a bit like a parade, minus the floats, with our llama Crackerjack serving as Grand Marshall.  Excited to be GOING SOMEWHERE, the flock follows closely behind.

Here's a look at what happens next . . .

First, we de-frock the flock.

Next, the sheep spa pedicure.

The girls wait patiently. . .

for a new coif.

Only the wool grown under the blanket goes into the bag.

Leaving the shearing board with a svelte new silhouette, a ewe has instantly dropped one coat size.

Shearing now, with lambing just around the corner, makes sense for several reasons.  Newborn lambs have a much easier time navigating if they don't have to nose their way through a five inch blanket of wool to find their first meal.  Newly shorn ewes are instinctively more sensitive to barn temperature and protective of their little ones. Since lactation can sometimes cause a wool break, it's best to shear before the lambs arrive, which won't be far from now.  .  .  Stay tuned!

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copyright 2008, Barbara Parry, all rights reserved.   Photography by Ben Barnhart.

November Evening

Evening chores in late November.   At dusk I fill the mangers with hay,   top off water buckets and call the sheep home for the night.

The maidens charge at the sound of the dinner bell, while my llama Caitlyn approaches more leisurely.

After bringing in the ewe-lings I make the rounds, checking water, filling feeders in each barn.  My last stop is at the top of the hill, a group of  leicester ewes who are grazing the last of the high pasture.

As I head back to the barn, darkness sets  in.   

Late fall marks  the end of grazing days.  Several hard frosts and one dusting of snow have halted the growth of grass.   I am taking down temporary fencing, bringing in water tanks, putting a winter's worth of  straw bales in the barn to bed the sheep in the cold months soon to come. 

Although the year is winding down, this is a also a time of new beginnings.  Last weekend,  Cormo rams Teaberry and Parsley joined the ewes, which with any luck, will put the arrival of my first lambs in early April 2008.   

It's always interesting to watch the initial interaction when first introducing the boys and girls.  Teaberry wasted no time in greeting the ladies.

And getting down to business . . .

While Parsley (at right below) was  apparently suffering from shyness on his "first date", although it didn't help that Buttercup was giving him the cold shoulder . . .

Hopefully, his  technique will improve.  While Tea and Parsely are the same age, Tea has proven himself with offspring from  last year.  Parsley's performance will tell in time.   He is courting a group of ewes who ordinarily would have been bred to Trumpet, my tried and proven Cormo ram who was killed in a predator attack in September.   

Looking back at the events from earlier this fall, I send a strong thank you to everyone for the expressions of  concern and also the suggestions following the attack on my flock.   There is a post script to that story - which I will share in the near future. 

Also, many thanks for the notes of congratulations on my ribbons from the Big E Fleece Show.   

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Copyright 2007, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.  All images and content property of Barbara Parry and may not be used in any way without written permission.

Fall Harvest

I  must admit, autumn is my favorite time of year.  By late August, summer's familiar green backdrop becomes tiresome.   When September rolls around,   I love that each day adds a new splash color to the maples on the ridgeline or on the verge of the pasture.  As the month unfolds, the colors become more vibrant.   The sheep become giddy as the temperatures drop, springing across the pasture for no apparent reason.

Attending the Eastern States Exposition (a.k.a. the Big E) is a favorite fall ritual for me and for many living in the Northeast and especially western Massachusetts.  Vying for blue ribbons, farms from throughout the Northeast display the best of what they produce in competitions ranging from livestock shows(dairy cattle, beefers, sheep llamas, alpacas) to agricultural product showcases featuring anything  from  Christmas trees to wool . . .

This year, as in year's past,  I gathered bags of the best of my fall harvest,  seven freshly shorn fleeces from my flock to  the fleece competion.    After the miserable events earlier this month, my enthusiasm for anything sheep related had ebbed to an all-time low.  I almost didn't bother with the fleece show.   

Imagine my surprise when, late afternoon on the day of competition,  I checked the results via cell phone while driving down I91.   Cheryl, the show official, recited the show results for the various categories I had entered:   blue and red ribbons for the Purebred Longwool fleeces,  blue and red for Natural Colored Longwool Handspinning fleeces,  a couple of 3rds and a 4th in other classes.  Great news!  I began thanking her and saying  how pleased I was.  "Hold on, I'm not done," she said.  When she told me I had received Champion for the Purebred competition and Supreme Champion for the entire show,  I dropped my cell phone and nearly drove into the breakdown lane.  I didn' think I had heard correctly.

But I had.  It was true.  For someone who lives for raising sheep and who loves watching wool grow, this was nirvana.  I couldn't wait to get to the fair to see whose fleece had garnered the purple rosettes.

The top honors came courtesy of this little gal.

Allegrita - who, by the way,  is much prettier in full fleece.  "Grita" is a three-year-old Leicester ewe, daughter of Annie, one of my original Border Leicesters.  Sweet and unassuming, she had no idea what the fuss what all about when I came out to the pasture to scratch her behind the ears, to tell her I was so proud, and to keep up the good work.

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Copyright 2007, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.  All images and content property of Barbara Parry.  Please do not use my words or images without written permission.

in September . . .

September . . . .

I took a break during afternoon chores to visit with Leucadia, my favorite ewe lamb (named for the southern California "surfdom" where my brother lives).  Time to catch my breath and reflect on recent events in this bizarre and busy month.

Labor Day Weekend - I celebrated by tending to a ram lamb who had cast himself and nearly died out in the field.  A sheep can become "cast" when resting on a hillside or in a dingle or on any uneven terrain.  While reclining, this little guy had turned too far onto his side and ended up flipping  completely onto  his back.  I found him late afternoon in that postition, weakly struggling to right himself with four legs flailing in the air.  Clearly he had been inverted for some time.  Even when I stood him up, his legs would instantly collapse and he would pitch himself onto the ground again.   I could see a bulge in his side - his rumen was distended.   In the process of flipping, his gut had twisted causing trapped gas to build and put severe pressure on his diaphragm.  His breathing was quite labored.    Had I not found him, he would have died a slow and painful death.

After ferrying him back to the barn and forcing some Gas X down his throat.  I brewed a special blend of peppermint, comfrey, chamomile tea to soothe his stomach.    Since he was too weak to drink, he "sipped" his tea via a 5 cc syringe.  I was able to get 4 - 6 oz into him each hour that way.

He spent the night propped up between two straw bales.  I checked hourly to be sure he hadn't flipped himself again.   When he was still too weak to stand the second day, I had my doubts about his ability to recover.  A friend suggested injectable vitamin B, which I happened to have on hand.   Within two hours of an injection, he was on his feet and showing interest in the hay.  When I saw signs that things were moving through his system once again, I became cautiously optimistic.    Maybe he would be ok.

We continued the hourly tea ceremony, which he clearly began to enjoy.  After swallowing a mouthful of hay he would politely turn to me for "more tea".  On day three I released him into the pen with the Cormo girls and lambs to keep him mobileand see if he could maintain coordination.  He brightened right up to be outdoors with other sheep.  I began to think I had dodged a bullet, but continued to watch him closely. 

Day four:  When I caught him in the act of mounting a Cormo ewe that morning, I knew we were out of the woods.  Back to the pasture he went.

The following week was consumed with haying.  Making the most of  a window of clear-skied,  warm days, we put close to 1300 bales in the barn.

Mike and Holly riding the wagon back to the barn .  .   .   .

Welcome rain arrived near the end of the second week.  I say welcome for two reasons:  the grass in the pasture was turning a toasty brown, and we were sick of tossing hay bales and glad for a little break. 

I was feeling pretty good about September, having saved a ram lamb and putting up most of what I needed for winter feed  - until the morning of September 11. 

I was at the barn when Mike frantically called me back home.   We keep a group of  Cormo rams and wethers in a large pasture enlcosed with electronet behind our house at the top of the hill.  When I arrived, we could only find three of the seven boys and they were clearly stressed.  After shutting them  into their shed, we began searching the pasture for the missing boys.  Steady rain and a heavy mist prevented us from seeing very far.  At the pasture's edge, we made the grim discovery that  two of our Cormos, Trumpet and Phaeton,  had been savagely attacked and killed during the night.   Not far away, we found Jack, another wether,  had also been killed.       There are no words to describe how  truly aweful we felt.  To make matters worse,  Cosmos, one of the wethers, was missing.   Armed with baseball bats and fire extinguishers, we searched the brushy thicket and woods surrounding  the pasture for hours, with no luck.  Either he was on the run or had been taken down elsewhere.

This was easily the saddest and most distressing incident we've ever had on the farm.   "The boys" were the sheep who lived closest to our house.  We watched them graze from nearly every window, said hello to them  whenever we stepped outdoors.  It was inconceivable that a predator could take them down within 50 yards of our back door without any sound of alarm.  Trumpet, the biggest, meanest ram we've ever had, weighed close to 250 pounds.   The wethers were solid, at least  225 pounds.   We were in a state of shock.

A biologist from Mass Fish and Wildlife arrived the next day and after doing some tracking, located our missing sheep.  He had been killed in a similar fashion in the woods downhill from the house.  Tracks found at both kill sites revealed that the damage was done by a very large,  single canine predator.     To this day we do not know if it was a domestic dog, a large coyote or a wolf hybrid.

Since then, we have beefed up security for the rest of the flock.  No one stays out in electronet at night, although we do need to rely on it for grazing during the day.    With our confidence badly jarred, we realize that there's only so much we can do to keep the sheep safe.  Hopefully, our woven wire fence with hot wires at the top will keep whatever is lurking the woods away from our flock.

Our "big wooly boys"  - taken just a few days before the attack.  That's Jack with his chin resting on the feeder. . .

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Copyright 2007, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.   All images and content property of Barbara Parry.  Please do not use my words or images without written permission.

Summer Lambs

This morning I solved a little mystery.  For the past few days I have been finding weaned lambs that have strayed under the electric fence  into  the adjacent ewe grazing pasture.   The two groups have been divided  for grazing purposes for quite a while.    While it's not unusual for a lamb to occasionally end up somewhere it doesn't belong,  I was surprised three times this week to find a youngster or two amidst the adult flock. 

Upon my arrival at the farm today,  I discoverd a pair of lambs happily cavorting through the hay field - definitely off limits in late summer.  Further investigation revealed the reason - no juice on the electric fence.  Evidently a lightning strike earlier in the week had cooked the fence energizer.    Rather than risk a lamb or ewe getting tangled in non-electrified net, I dismantled the fence separating the two groups.   

So the ewes and spring lambs are now enjoying a reunion of sorts.   I was amused to see how quickly the lambs sought out their own mothers.  No one attempted to nurse, though some of the more developed ram lambs attempted some very ram-like behaviour. . .

In the big barn across the road, there are two lambs who still very much belong with their moms.  Mystic and Cody were both born in June during my highly anticipated "late lambing" .   Back in January when I introduced Teaberry, our new young ram, to a group of late-blooming ewes,   I was hoping for  a handful of  June lambs.  The results, pictured below, were somewhat less than expected.   Only two ewes were bred, each delivering a single lamb. 

Here's Mystic with her mom, Calypso, back in July.

And  Cody with his mother Cassandra, earlier this week:

While  perfectly dear, the sight of  young lambs nursing in mid-August is slightly  incongruous.  From a management standpoint,  it's just plain nuts.    Since the needs of this group are quite different than the rest of the flock, they remain a flock apart.    They need their own barn space,  their own waterers,   minerals,  feeders with grain (since the ewes are lactating),  a creep  pen with grain (since the lambs are "creeping),  and a guardian llama to keep them safe.

That responsibility has fallen on the shoulders of Caitlyn.    A retiree from a friend's breeding herd, Cait arrived last fall with no previous sheep experience.  While she can't compare with Crackerjack's loyalty and sense of duty, she has adapted rather well to life in the fold.

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Copyright 2007, Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs

All images and content property of Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.

Ambush

I was ambushed by a pair of   hijackers while delivering water to the flock in the high pasture yesterday afternoon.  Meet Butch and Sundance, our Angora goats.  They  currrently share pasture in the uppermost reach of the farm with our ewes who were recently parted from their lambs. 

Ordinarily, I do not like running the sheep with the goats.  The goats tend to bully the sheep, barring them access to the barn and the feeders.    I've spoken to many people who keep sheep and goats and almost everyone sees this goat-sheep aggression.  So I don't think Butch and Sunny are mean.  They are just following goat protocol, when it comes to sheep.

The goats appear less interested in harassing sheep in the middle of summer when they share sizable tracts of pasture and are able stay out of each other's hair - or wool and mohair, I should say.   I think it's just too hot for them to bother.  The sheep spend their days nosing through the grassy field, taking their rest near a fallen tree in the center of the pasture.  The goats haunt the woody-brush along the perimeter.  I sometimes drive right by them without seeing them camouflaged in the thicket like a pair of highwaymen.

Once a day I arrive by 4x4 mule to fill water tanks in the outlying pastures.    In the hot summer months ,  the many springs throughout the meadow run dry.   The flock relies on these tanks as their sole source of water and it's important to keep them clean and fresh.

Marauding goats emerge from the shadows . . .

(click for closer view)

While I swat deerfly and heave 30 pound jugs of water from the back of the Mule,  Butch and Sunny search for contraband.

Notice  the sheep in the background have zero interest in my arrival.  The two species clearly have different agendas.

Disappointed with their inspection of my cargo,  (no carrots,  no grain), Butch and Sunny attempt to smuggle the leather key fob from the ignition and the rubber cap to the power outlet when they think I'm not looking.   In the end,  they satisfy themselves by using the mule as a back-scratching device before returning to their lair.

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Copyright 2007,  Barbara Parry,  Foxfire Fiber & Designs

All images and content property of Barbara Parry, Foxfire Fiber & Designs.

http://www.foxfirefiber.com