Poop

Yep, that's right - this entry is entitled 'poop'. All parents will understand, trust me, you will. Think back about your first child. When you brought home that bundle of joy from the hospital, you were nervous, excited and completely ignorant. The doctors told you to keep track of everything - the last time you nursed, how long it took and which boob the baby started on/finished on. You kept track of how long the baby napped and when. And you kept track of pees and poops. You wrote down when the baby pooped and you noticed the consistency, color, odor - all of it. And when you baby started eating rice cereal, puree carrots and mushed peas, you definitely noticed how her poop changed.

You can tell so much by poop. You can tell if you child is sick, not getting enough fiber, dehydrated, etc. This is true of animals as well.

All of the books spend many chapters on disease. The best way to tell if an animal is sick is if they 1) start acting differently then they normally do; or 2) poop is the wrong consistency or color. If a sheep's poop become all diarrhea-ish, then you have a sick sheep.

This happened to Norman Jr. Last winter, Norman got very sick. What was so bad about it was that we didn't notice his poop soon enough; or else we would have reacted sooner and he wouldn't have nearly died. One morning he was sleeping in the hay trough and wouldn't get up. Finally I got in and picked him up. He was laying in his own poo and he had lots of poo dried to his haunches, obviously he had been sick for a while. Bad, bad farmers we were!

We quarantined Norman, but kept him in the outside pen. We gave him a dose of dewormer. For a couple days he looked better. Then (I think it was the day after Christmas) Jeremy went down to feed the sheep and chickens. When he came back up he said "Mama, you might need to go down and say your good byes to Norman.''

Now for anyone who knows me (or who has read Pets vs Food), Norman is a pet and he is my pet. I bottle fed him. He gives me nose kisses. So having to say good bye to Norman made me queasy and choked up.

I went down the pen. He was laying on his side and couldn't get up. He was so thin. I picked him up and set him on his feet. When he tried to walk, he fell over. My first thought was that he may be dehydrated, so I got a plastic syringe (like you give medicine to babies with) and force fed him water. He didn't like this but he drank. We decided to move him into the barn and put a heat lamp on him.

Over the next couple of days we had to go down and lift him to his food and water. When he was strong enough, we let him out behind the barn to eat, but he kept falling over and we had to stay with him to right him again and again. This went on for a few weeks. Finally in late January, he was walking around and getting food without falling over. We put him back in the outside pen. A couple weeks later we put him back with the other sheep.

Today Norman is doing great. He is alert, eating great, defending his place at the oat trough against Notag, which is serious feat since she out weighs him by at least 50 lbs. And the most convincing sign he is fully recovered - his poops are back to nice little pellets!

Morning Mystery

This morning, as per our usual routine, we fed the sheep and chickens on the way down to the bus. It was pouring down rain and we were running late (we are running late 50% of the time). I got out of the car, left Jordan inside to avoid the rain, and walked to the pole barn.

I heard a baaaah coming from behind me, not inside the pen with the other sheep, but in the rush I was only vaguely aware that something was off. Next I saw that two of black garbage cans, which hold the bags of oats, chicken feed and scratch, were uncovered. Then Norman walked up next to me. "What are you doing out?!" I asked him. He didn't reply. I looked around - all the gates were closed, there weren't any signs of him pushing under the fence. "How did you get out?" I asked, but again he offered no explanation.

I am glad it was Norman and not one of the other sheep. Norman, being that he was bottle-fed, thinks I am his mom; so he is more than happy to follow me around. The other sheep (except Notag, who loves all people, and Junior, who wants to ram the heck out of you) don't follow me and don't want me to touch them (see Essence of Sheep post). My first thought was to lift Norman back into the pen. But seeing as how I was in work clothes and heels and didn't have time to change, and the bus was coming, I decided to consider other options. It's funny how slow my brain works in the morning. There is a gate on the other side of the pen, away from the trough where the sheep were munching oats, that Norman would follow me through. So we walked around to the gate. I opened it and in he went. Easy-peasy. And we didn't miss the bus. My shoes were only slightly muddy.

Still, there is a mystery to solve - How did Norman get out? Did he escape? And if so, was he smart enought to knock the lids off only the cans with oats and scratch, but not the can with chicken feed? Hmmmm, I wonder?

Pets vs Farm Animals

There is a big difference between a pet and a farm animal. You respect a farm animal, treat it with kindness, care for it and even like it. You do the same for a pet, but you also love your pet. (Not to mention, you eat farm animals and not pets - I hope not anyway.)

This line between farm animal and pet has been clear for me - until Norman Jr was born.

It was the last weekend of May (2009) and Daisy was ready to pop. She was the last pregnant ewe. We already had 4 other lambs born earlier that spring. It was a warm day, with no forcasted cool weather, so we didn't put Daisy in the barn to birth like we did with the other ewes. She started to give birth on Saturday. We watched her struggle for a while and then decided to intervene. At this point, the lamb's head and front hooves where showing.

My only experience with birth was when I had Jordan. So apparently that gave me the creds to be 'the vet'. However, being on the recieving end instead of the providing end is very, very different.

Daisy did let me get close - I think she knew she needed help. With Jeremy and Jordan watching, I grabbed a hold of the lambs front hooves and pulled.

I'm not going to describe all the 'stuff' that came out with the lamb, but it was warm, wet, sticky and covered my arms up to the elbow. But the lamb was out. Daisy cleaned the little lamb and it started breathing, baaaing and got up all alone. (After this, I'm sure we won't ever have to explain "where babies come from" to Jordan.)

The problem was that Daisy wouldn't let the lamb nurse. Every time the lamb got close, she would spin around. We decided to move them into a smaller, enclosed section under the pole barn and let them alone for a few hours. (While moving the lamb we figured out it was a he.) When we came back down two hours later; not only wasn't she letting nurse, she was also headbutting him when he got impatient.

Jeremy suggested we try to help him nurse by holding Daisy still and assisting him latch on. It did work. He nursed for a bit, which made his little tale wag. But it didn't calm Daisy down at all. After we let her go, she would still spin around and headbut him. The next decision was a big one - to bottle feed him for the next 3 months - 4 times a day for the next 3 months. Since he was staying, we named him Norman Jr. (Norman was the name of his dad.)

For the first couple of days, Norman lived in Jordan's old play pen (picture) and I bottle fed him. This is how I became his mom.

Almost a year later, he still baaaa's when he sees me. He comes running and wants 'nose kisses' from all of us. We can also let him out of the pasture and he will follow us around the yard like a dog; a dog that nibbles on all the landscaping. He is a runt and is much smaller than the females born that spring.

The dilema is that all the farm animals are here either to breed or eat. We can't breed Norman Jr. - he is related to half the ewes, same dad. And there is no way I can eat him! He is my little Norman Jr who gives nose kisses!

Farm animal or pet? Jordan and I say pet. Not sure Jeremy agrees. We'll see.