The first thunderstorms of the monsoon season rolled through in the night, providing much needed water for the desert plants’ and animals’ survival as well as lightening my mood with the promise of rain-cooled air. Morning’s overcast skies chained me to bed until six instead of the intended 4:30 or 5:00, so timed for snapping photographs while the temperature was still tolerable. I persevered, however, hoping for picture taking in a temporarily cooler atmosphere but instead found East Coast-like humidity. Within moments, I was downright dewy. An overly wimpy heat-sensitive pretend shepherdess can’t win for losing.
I did find out something about myself. Part of my recent melancholy has to do with farm animal separation. While taking photos this morning, I felt like it had been forever since I had visited with my fleecy friends up close. I have to force myself to “suck it up,” Hunky Husband’s favorite mantra, and be out there if only for a little while each day. I have lost touch with the farm and have only a spoiled rotten baby turkey (seen here doing his best rubber chicken impersonation) as close physical evidence of what we have built here. If I have to go as far as wetting towels and putting them in the freezer the night before for application around my neck in order to be out there with the farmy bunch, that is what I have to do. Reconnecting with what I love about this place is the key. I know this now. Don’t think I’ve changed my mind about going to San Diego though. I’m being honest with myself, not masochistic.
Philosophical musings ended; let’s take a peak at the yarn on hooves.
Behold Madeline, still looking the baby bison, just a much larger baby bison. She is almost as big as her mother who, by the way, weaned Maddy just fine without any help from us. After hearing many differing viewpoints from the Shetland email group, I was concerned that once again, we would have to consider separating the sheep into pastures but we let nature take its course and, voila, it worked! Sometimes I think all the human interference is unnecessary, but then I remembered the whole elbow deep in the uterus business, too. Perhaps we shepherds should only interfere when the health of the animal is in danger.
Speaking of, look at poor skin and bones Daisy. She acts like she feels fine, eats and walks around, but she is a shadow of her former self. From her appearance, I’m afraid she’s not long for this world but I am not about to begin meat goat chemo. Hopefully, she’ll rally but I am not counting on it. The sad truth about farming is it is full of heartbreak.
On a lighter note, I present the handsomeness that is Darby O’Gill, blessed with lovely crimped moorit fleece, nicely set horns, and a physique any ewe would lust after. He’s a looker, that Darby.
His twin sister Fiona is as well, though her shy personality made photographing her a challenge. She and her mother, Charlotte, almost look like the true twins. Fiona is just slightly smaller and has that wee bit of grey around her mouth. Other than that, their lovely faces are almost identical.
Until my departure Friday morning, I will endeavor to continue rediscovering my inner farmer and furnish the photos for proof. A very handsome rooster was begging to be photographed for posterity and I wouldn’t want to disappoint him.
Thank you for the updated pics! They do grow up so fast. The way he sleeps, Zorro must think he is one of the dogs!
Yay monsoon!
Posted by: Margery | July 11, 2007 at 11:19 AM
I was just wondering what Meat Goat Chemo is? I love your baby turkey so much! He should be the poster boy for vegetarianism.
Posted by: Tava | July 11, 2007 at 01:16 PM
After agreeing that Zorro indeed does a "dead-on" (ha! get it?) rubber chicken impersonation, I'm here to be practical. Has Daisy been dewormed? If she acts fine but is getting thin, that would be my first thought. Secondly, Darby's horns look like they are pointing towards his neck at the tips. Keep an eye on them, and check Lois Moore's blog for a very good illustrated essay on horns (http://stonehavenfarm.com/blog/?p=91). I was surprised to see how wideset horns can be and STILL not turn out "safe." It's all in the direction those tips eventually take....
Frozen towels sound like a great idea to keep your cool while getting much needed "sheep therapy." Like every other "mental health medication," after we go off it we rarely realize why we are struggling so, because the mood shift comes on gradually and subtly. Should I ask you if you are getting your RDA of "farm" when you start sounding blue? Anything to help!
LOVE!
Posted by: Michelle | July 11, 2007 at 01:47 PM