Saying Good bye

We had to say good bye to a friend today.

Junior and his brother Buddy were the first two animals we brought to the farm.  We moved here 2005.  The farm was owned by a family who ran horses in the pastures.  We spent the first year moving fences, reseeding the pastures and prepping for animals.  Then in the spring of 2006 we found a couple of rams for sale at a near-by farm.  The brothers were under a year old and sweet animals.  The owners brought them to our farm in the back of a Subaru hatchback with a sheet thrown down.

As they grew they battled with each other.  Some times we would come home to find one or both bloody from ramming.  Buddy also was very aggressive with us. So when it was time to choose which to keep and breed with, we chose Junior.

Shortly after that, Jeremy's Grandpa called and asked us if we could take a bummer calf that had been bottle fed by the neighbor girl and now would not go out to the pasture.  Gladys moved in with Junior and became fast friends.  They would head butt too.  However, Gladys grew quickly and got very big.  Junior quick trying to play with her when she got fed up being rammed, put her head under his belly and threw him.

Junior was a loving soul.  His warm eyes were always gentle and playful.  But he was strong and had no idea that he could do damage.  If you hopped the fence to see him and you weren't ready he would knock you to the ground.  One afternoon, our neighbor Lola came over with a cast on her arm.  She was asked by another neighbor who was having their tree pruned if she could move Junior so they could clean up the branches.  We weren't home and Lola thought since Junior was so sweet, that she could move him by tempting him with some oats.  When she opened the gate, he thought she was there to play and rammed her.  She fell over, realizing she should not be trying to move him. As she got up and turned to leave, he rammed her again and broke her arm.  She was embarrassed when she came over to tell me because, as she said "I know better than going in with a ram."

But with a fence separating you from him, Junior was a lover.  He would come a-running when he saw anyone coming.  He would run down to the road to greet walkers and kids on bikes.  He loved getting his nose rubbed and the treats people brought.  Junior was almost famous in our little area.

He was also loud.  When you opened the front door, he heard it and would call out for oats or hay.  Is call was short and loud - BA!  I remember when a friend of mine came to visit.  She was from Seattle and not a farm-type person.  She arrived at night, pulled up and got out.  I heard Junior call to her.  I opened the door and she said "What the hell was that?!"  "That's our boy Junior."

About a year ago Junior feet started giving him trouble.  We treated for hoof-rot, but he never showed any symptoms of hoof-rot.  We trimmed and trimmed his hooves.  But nothing worked.  Then his knees started to swell with arthritis.  We treated that with aspirin and molasses.  Finally he was too sore to go out and graze.  We moved him from his pasture to the pig pen (we didn't raise pigs this year).  That way we could easily feed him and he could be next to the ewes.  Notag, our matriarch ewe, would lay against the fence and him on the other side.

For a while, he stayed the same, but the past week or so he stopped getting up to eat, even when we were serving oats.  He lost a lot of weight.  So we called Dr. Scott.

Tonight, Jeremy, Jordan and I all sat petting his nose and telling him we love him as he passed away.  We buried him under his favorite tree in his pasture.  We will miss him dearly.

Junior with Jordan when he first came to the farm.

Playing in the snow.

This is how I will remember him the most - getting some love through the fence.

Our handsome boy.

Why Junior Scares Me

Junior is the nicest ram ever! He is a mix of Tunis, Suffolk and Katadhin and he loves to be loved. When people go on walks they all stop to say 'hi' to Junior and he will coming running from the furthest end of the pasture if he sees he has visitors. Sometimes when we give Junior oats, if he is feeling particularly lonely, he will skip devouring the feed and opt for pets instead.

This is all well and good as long as there is a fence separating you from Junior. But if you go on the other side of the fence, it is a totally different story.

Rams don't come by there name accidentally. They actually do ram, hard. When we first got Junior he came with is brother Buddy. As they started growing up and going through sheep puberty they started a game of back up and ram each other as hard as is possible. After coming home one day to both bloody we decided it was time to choose one ram for keeps and one to eat. Junior had a better temperament, so we kept him.

Without his playmate, Junior has to invent other things to ram the hell out of. We learn the hard way that if the hay trough isn't secure you'll find it broken to a few dozen pieces and laying in the middle of the pasture. Sometimes he gets so desperate he'll be out there attacking the vine maple. So you can imagine that if anything as big and interactive as a person goes in with him, you become the play thing.

One afternoon there was a knock on the door. I opened it to find Lola, our neighbor, standing there with her arm in a cast. "What happened?!" I blurted out. She said "Well, I'm embarrassed to say because I know better, but I have to tell you." Ok, that's a weird intro to a story. Here's what followed ...

"The neighbors on the other side of Junior's pasture - Ryan's aunt and uncle - hired a landscaper to come trim their laurel bushes along the fence. Lots of the branches fell into Junior's side. They thought of going in to get the branches, but decided not to because of Junior. They came to ask you if you could move him but you weren't home so they asked me. I said sure. I could just move him through the gate onto our upper pasture." Long pause while I shook my head. "So I grabbed a scoop of oats to entice him and opened the gate to our pasture. Well, he charged. The oats went flying and knocking me over. As I got up he charged again hitting my arm. At that point I ran backwards and slammed the gate before anymore damage could be done. I told the landscapers to leave the branches and you'd take care of them when you got home. Then I asked Eric (her husband) to drive me to the hospital."

"I'm so sorry Lola!" Was all I could think to say. "No, it's not your fault. I feel so stupid. I know better than to go in with a ram. I shouldn't have even tried it. I should have just told them to leave the branches."

Since that day I only going in with Junior when Jeremy has grabbed him around the neck and I can halter him and chain him to the fence post to do work. Even then, Junior has almost crushed my hand by pinching it between his jam and the fence.

Moral of the story - rams are called rams for a reason and you'd do well to give them space to do what they will do, lest you end up with a broken arm and bruised pride.

Pearl The Interactive Play-Thing

Went down to feed the animals this evening and noticed that Pearl, the friendly hen, was in the pasture with Junior, the ram. Very strange.

First of all, the chickens are relegated to the "orchard" and although George, the mean hen, frequently gets out onto the driveway, mostly the hens stay in the orchard. Both the sheep and the chickens and the pigs have access to the pole barn. So I think what must have happened is that Pearl squeezed her way through the fencing that separates the sheep's section of the pole barn from the chickens' section.

This would have been no problem if the ewes had still been on the pasture attached to the pole barn. But last weekend we moved the ladies over to Eric and Lola's pasture and put Junior where the ladies' were. Junior assumes anything in his general vicinity, that isn't grass or secured down, is a playing-thing to head-butt around. He has made short work of a non-nailed down hay trough and broke Lola's arm. So Pearl must have looked like the best interactive play-thing of all time. He'd get to chase her before smacking her across the pasture.

When we came down, she look frantic to get out. She was trying to squeeze through the fence and hopping up and down. Problem is that I can't go in to get her because then I become another interactive play-thing for Junior and I value my intact bones. The solution was that Jeremy would distract Junior with oats and attention. Then I would reach through the fence and (now imagine what this looks like) lift Pearl with one hand as I high as I can. Then reach through the fence with the other hand. Transfer to the high hand, then lift her up as high as I can and transfer again. It took 4 transfers to get her to the top. Thankfully, she seemed to understand that I was helping and didn't flap. Just as I was gingerly trying to lift Pearl over the top, Jeremy yelled "Junior's on his way Mama!" But I got her out before feeling the brunt of his blow. Pearl cuddled into my chest and cooed. Whew!

The New Girl

When we first moved to the farm we knew we wanted to raise animals. At first we thought goats would be perfect. They are small, easy to manage, we could do milk or meat breeds and they eat anything. Anything is correct, including the bark right off a tree. I learned, through talking to a rancher at the Clark County Fair, that goats prefer Doug fir bark to grass and will girdle our trees. Since we have many beautiful Doug firs that we would like to keep, we decided goats weren't the right animal. The next in line were sheep.

Our current sheep are a mix of Sufolk, Tunis and Katahdin. The mix is great because, like dogs and cats, mixed breeds are less susceptible to diseases. But I have wanted to start raising full-bred sheep primarily because they full-breeds get top dollar but also if Jordan decides to do 4-H she can show our animals. So today we purchased our first full-bred Sufolk to add to the farm. She is beautiful - black face and legs, thick white wool, except that with all the rain she is gray with dirt. She is 3 years old and proven, which means that she has lamb successfully.

The place we got her from was a tiny hobby farm in Cascade Locks, which is about 1 hour from our place. We don't have a trailer to transport animals. We have a huge cage, like you'd use to move a big, big dog. The sheep just barely fit inside and refused to sit down, so she kept loosing her balance as we drove around corners. Jeremy was afraid the whole cage would give under she shifting weight (approx. 150 lbs). Consequently, we had to drive about 10 miles under the speed limit. Long lines of cars kept getting stuck behind us because Highway 14 is a single-lane, extremely curvy stretch of road. At one point, an impatient idiot decided he couldn't take it anymore and spread around us causing momentary panic but avoided any collisions.

The last leg of the trip was up 164th, which is a main thoroughfare in eat Vancouver. We got many confused stares and finger pointing from passangers in other cars and people walking on the sidewalk.

The topic of conversation on the drive was what we should name our new addition. Jordan's first thought was "Oreo" due to her black-and-white look. But after mulling it over, Jordan announced "I don't like that name." I said "Well, what would fit with Notag, Lilly and Junior?" "It needs to start with an F," was her response. Jeremy said "How about Francis?" "Yeah!" So, Francis it is.

We moved Junior over to Eric's pasture and let Francis loose on Junior's. We figured that would give her some time to get use to the surroundings before Junior starts harassing her. About a week should do it. That will also give Francis time to come into heat. Sheep go into heat when they are with a ram, maybe it's the lovely ram-musky that sets them off. Junior and Francis can sniff each other through the fence. The week will also give us time to appraise Francis. I gave her a shot of dewormer, but you never know what an animal might have brought in from another farm.

Next weekend Junior will be a happy boy again with a new friend.

City Chicken

I have to share this article from the New York Times that was forwarded to me by my co-worker. As way of background on the article, all of my co-workers live in Portland proper. Portland is a very chicken-friendly city, which you may have seen recently on Portlandia. When the woman asks to see the doseier on the chicken she is about to order for dinner I blushed because I have sat in a restaurant in Portland and asked "Can you tell me what farm this lamb is from?" What was I going to do? Not order the lamb if the waitress said "I'm not sure"? Anyway, many Portlanders own the standard 3 hens, kept in portable coops that roam around their backyards.

The NYT story, not to give anything away in case you decide to read it, is about chickens that live in a front yard and become neighborhood celebrities. On our farm, Junior could qualify as somewhat of a celeb. Junior is quite friendly. Anyone walking by gets a big "Baaahhh!" and if the person strolls over to the fence, Junior will come running down looking for a handout or just a few pets. When the weather is nice, I catch families making special trips to say hi to Junior.

One day a few summers back, I was walking down to get the newspaper and found 3 kids on parked bicycles feeding Junior blackberries. I stopped and they informed me that they had begged their parents to let them ride alone down the big hill to visit "the ram." I welcomed them back any time but suggested that Junior would prefer carrots or apples.

Eventually, hopefully not for a very long time, Junior will get old and die. We will probably have to have a service for the neighbors and put a memorial at the end of the driveway for passersby to pay their respects.

Ok - here is the link to the article http://www.nytimes.com/2011/02/03/garden/03domestic.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1 Enjoy!

Chasing Tail

Yesterday was a good day for Junior. We put the ladies with him for some baby-making.

The timing of breeding is based on when we want to have lambs born. We learned the first year that having lambs born in the rain is a bad, bad thing. We decided that from then on lambs should be born in June, then the grass is growing, the days are warm(er) and the chance of rain is much lower. Since the gestation time for a sheep is 5 months that means February is a happy month for Junior.

First, Junior had to be moved over to Eric and Lola's pasture (our neighbors) so we could open the gate on the driveway where the ewes would walk through. Then we had to move the girls over. Simple, right?

Of the lambs born last year, two didn't sell. They are Juniors off-spring, which put a wrinkle in the plan. Usually we just bring Junior over to the ladies' pasture and call it good. This time we had to separate Notag and Lilly from the lambs. I went into the pasture and closed the gate so that all four were confined to the pole barn. Then Jeremy opened the gate that leads to the driveway. Notag and Lilly came right over to Jeremy (humans equal oats) but so did the lambs. Jeremy let Notag and Lilly pass then attempted to close the gate and physically block the lambs. One lamb ran by his leg and he grabbed her. The other lamb attempted to jump over Jeremy and he caught her, one handed, in mid air. I ran over, took the jumper and put her back in the pole barn at the same time Jeremy pushed the other one in. I hopped out and slammed the gate.

At this point Notag and Lilly were just milling about. Jeremy walked over to Junior's gate and they followed obediently right onto the pasture. Next Jeremy crossed the pasture and opened the gate between Eric and Lola's and our's. In came Junior.

He promptly when to Notag and gave her a good sniff. Notag was not thrilled about this and started walking away. Junior followed, still sniffing. Notag started to run and so did Junior. He chased her all around the pasture. At one point they circled a tree about 15 times. Finally both where exhausted and Junior gave up on Notag for a bit. Lilly's turn. Below is a short video of the courtship between Junior and Lilly. Don't worry, it is not graphic. Now we just wait and in a about 2 weeks both ladies should be pregnant.

Junior's New Home

Seems like new items are constantly appearing on the to-do list and older items are never disappearing. But this weekend one big one is done!

When we moved in to our place almost 6 years ago, there was a barn and a "pole" barn on the property. The ladies have fortunate to call the pole barn home, so have pigs. But poor Junior is stuck on the far pasture with no cover save a huge Western Hemlock to huddle under during bad weather. Now granted, there are plenty of sheep in pastures around the world that don't even have trees for cover and they do just fine. That doesn't mean we shouldn't spoil Junior a little considering he was our first farm animal and has been an excellent breeder and good 'pet'.

It took years of thinking about it and 2 days to execute a 10 x 12 pole barn. Our good friend Kyle came to help. He even braved the framing, on posts in cement that wasn't cured, to attach the roof. Without Kyle, the 2-day "barn raising" would have taken at least 4. They worked until dusk and got it set, framed, roofed and two walls attached. It's good farm-quality craftsmanship - sturdy, secure, nice looking from afar and but with no straight lines when you get close. Not that Junior is going to be checking for right angles.

The morning of day two, I was headed down to feed the chickens and heard from Juniors pasture "What the ...!" I went over check. Turns out when Jeremy cut the fence, he cut it about 5 inches too short from reaching and being attached to the new pole barn. Fortunately it was easily remedied by removing a couple extra T-posts to get some slack. By 4 pm, Jeremy released Junior back onto his pasture and introduced him to his new home. I can't be sure but Junior seemed to smile as he ate his oats while standing out of the rain.

Long Weekend

Last weekend, Jordan and I went to Dallas (TX) to visit my best friend and her new baby. We were gone for four days. It was a nice long weekend that included hanging by the pool, mani's and pedi's, longhorns (it was Texas) and lots of baby-time. But now I'm behind!

Don't get me wrong - Jeremy is wonderful on the farm. Here is a run down of what he accomplished while we were out of town. First, the branches that came off the black cottonwood were moved off the driveway, cut up and nicely stacked in the truck ready to be taken to our friend's that heat by wood stove. Second, he fixed the irrigation. That's right - the irrigation debacle is over. After getting some advice from the "wood stove friend", aka George, Jeremy decided to get rid of the elbows in the pipe. He had to dig out more and cut the pipe, again. He also had to visit Wilco, again, to get new pipe fittings that, well, fit. Four hours later, all the piping was assembled (no need for the 2-hour drying to cement) and the water was back. There was a slight leak, which was remedied by pipe wrench. He even came up with an ingenious idea so we can reach the shut off valve without digging it out again. He cut the bottom out of 3 large black plastic pots and stacking them up - nice!

Third, Jeremy trimmed up the sheep some more. Since we don't have a pinch cage/sheering station, we 'sheer' the sheep while petting them. This is a very long process that lasts multiple weekends and during that time the sheep often look funny. When Jordan and I got home, we headed straight down to visit the animals. Junior, with his newly trimmed chest/front shoulders, is now resembling an armadillo. Lilly also got trimmed, but she only had patience for one side, so her butt is lopsided.

So with all the work Jeremy did, why do I feel behind. Well, for one, the garden needs to be agitated. I swear I can hear the weeds sprouting. Agitation is the best way to keep the weeds down, but it has to be done every week - no excuses. Guess I'll fit it in tomorrow.

Also, the chicken coop needs cleaning out. Not a full spray down, although if the weather holds we can do it next weekend, but the poo needs to be scrapped out. I noticed that Pearl (my favorite of the chickens) has a gunky vent. Ever since she was just a chick her vent gunks up. Every few months, I put on gloves and get in there. It's icky, but necessary. Anyway, she is all gunked up again. Guess I'll fit it in tomorrow or maybe Wednesday. (BTW - If anyone has suggestions about how to prevent the gunky build up, I'd love to hear it.)

This is why farmers don't vacation! I'm just a hobby farmer who took a long weekend. Imagine if I had a real farm!

Of Weather and Trees

The first winter we lived here we learned a bit about weather in the country. First and foremost, folks in the country are on the bottom of list to get power back on. Not surprising - between fixing a line and restoring power to 100's of people in a neighborhood or fixing a line and restoring power to 10 people, the 100's always win out. That first winter we lost power three times due to wind knocking down tree limbs.

The largest storm happened right before dinner. We could here limbs falling on the house and being blown across the roof. Many limbs fell on the cover over the deck, which at that time was plastic. The plastic was pierced and broken. The power went out and stayed out until sometime in the middle of the night. Dinner consisted of crackers and cheese - not bad actually. Jordan was too young to be scared (now she freaks out when the power is out and has to sleep with us). We were at least prepared enough to have lots of candles and flashlights. Personally, I think it's kind of fun as long as it doesn't mess with my morning shower and coffee!

The storms really just Mother Nature's pruning - getting rid of the weak limbs so the strong may thrive. I just wish the results were less expensive. We ended up completely roofing in the deck. Small limbs have no effect now.

Today Mother Nature decided it was time for the annual spring pruning. Nasty, stiff, swirly winds, accompanied by rain and hail, whipped through. Jeremy and I were at work, but Eric was at his house working in the yard. He heard lots of cracking and breaking and went to check out what fell. It was two of the largest branches on the biggest cottonwood by the driveway. One branch crushed the fence along Junior's pasture and the other branch took out the fence by the orchard. Thankfully Eric was able to jimmy-rig Junior's fence together so that he couldn't get out and 'ram' every passerby. This was no easy job for Eric. About two months ago Eric was working on his rental house's shed and fell through the roof. He crushed his wrist and has been one-armed, one-handed since. Even with just the use of his left arm, he got the fence wired up and pulled the branches off the driveway.

When Jeremy got home he mended the fence enough to make it until Saturday and cleared the rest of the debris to the side of the driveway. Guess we'll be burning this weekend.

Moving Junior - Round 1

During most of the year our ram, Junior, is kept on his own pasture across the driveway from the ewes. This ensures that we only have lambs once a year, in the spring, when the sun is shining and the grass is growing.

It works well to have Junior on his own pasture, except that in January we have to move him approximately 50 ft over to the ewes and then in February we have to move him back. You're probably wondering why we don't just leave him with the ewes until they give birth; let him enjoy the company of other sheep. It would be less work for us to feed animals on two different pastures. The reason we move him back after just a month is because after he gets what he wants, a little nookie, he becomes a complete jackass. He starts ramming the now pregnant ewes, keeping them from the oats and hay. So back he goes.

The first time we move Junior we had no clue what we were doing. Junior wasn't full grown either, maybe just 125 lbs, so Jeremy could still man-handle him if necessary. I actually don't remember the move over to the ewes, it must have been smooth. Junior was probably so excited about the ewes he just ran over. But the move back was different.

The strategy was to for me to 'lead' Junior with a bowl of oats while Jeremy shut the ewes' gate and then 'pushed' from behind. Jeremy opened the gate and Junior came out. He went for the oats and I kept moving 10 feet or so at a time getting him to follow me. But then he noticed the lillies and decided they needed trimming. I kept trying to get his attention with the oats but he got by me. As I moved toward him, he spooked and started trotting. I panic and started after him. Which made him break out in a full run towards the road, which would mean he was loose. (My rancher's skill have come a long way since that day.)

I was still holding the oats, jogging, and screaming "JUNIOR, OATS!" Then Jeremy yelled, the loadest he has ever yelled or maybe that anyone has ever yelled, "MINDY! STOP!" My reaction was to sit down, in the middle of the driveway, cross legged, with the bowl of oats in my lap. The booming, very mannly voice also made Junior stop in his tracks. He took notice of the flowers again and started eatting.

In a pathetic little voice I kept saying, from seated position on the gravel, "Junior, oats." And slightly shaking bowl, trying to get his attention. Meanwhile, Jeremy snuck around behind me and Junior and got between him and the road. Then he causually 'pushed' Junior my way. When Junior got about to me, I got up, slowly. He took notice of the oats again and followed me to his pasture where Jeremy slammed the gate behind us. Then I slid out quickly and locked the chain.
Deep breath.

We have learn a lot since then. We can move Junior easily just holding his neck (but it takes both me and Jeremy).