The Accidental FarmerLearning how to farm on the fly

It started in early May.

After laying out the footings, I promptly buried my bobcat to within an inch of its life trying to dig them. Apparently, it was too wet.

It was a source of some aggravation and a sore spot until it was pulled out. Looking at it made me grumpy. Really grumpy.

It took a month before I lined up a large excavator parked down the road to come do the deed and finish the digging properly. Others with smaller machines offered to help but I envisioned something like the old woman who swallowed a fly with a line of successively bigger equipment buried in the mud.

Once the holes were dug, it was still too wet to pour footings so things sat for another month.

In July, the footings got poured and the framing began.

Automatic Chicken Door

In early summer, I wore gum boots and a rain slicker. In late summer and early fall it was jeans, t-shirt and straw hat. In winter, fleece tights, multiple layers, down coat and warm woolly hat.

It was supposed to be done by the end of September and then October and I couldn’t stand to see it run into the New Year. I hit the ground running in late November and blew out my back picking up a coffee cup. Three weeks passed before I could move like a normal human.

On December 19^th , my birthday, Dave Good came and helped me celebrate by priming the inside of the coop. Us farmers know how to party.

Over Christmas, my brother-in-law Duncan became an unwitting accomplice. On Christmas Eve Day, we painted. On Christmas day, we finished the wiring. On Boxing Day, we put down the lino and the following day, the entrance ramp, roosting stand and automatic door. We moved feed, water, laying boxes and finally, chickens.

Rebar roosts

I fear I may have overdone it but my tendency as the builder is to look towards its deficiencies, things I might improve. It still lacks a sound system, high speed internet, motion and light activated sensors, and live video feed.

Next I need to remove the steel roofing from the old coop and burn it down. Beyond being deeply satisfying on a personal level, we can’t have our hens running back to their slummy roots at first chance. Old habits die hard.

I get a 3 month reprieve from coop matters until next spring when I get to finish the other half. Granted, the foundation and floor assembly are in and it will be un-insulated with minimal wiring but still.

The remaining section will be used for meat chicken and turkey production in the summer and fall and needs to be done by late spring. The structure also needs permanent water and power which will go in next summer or fall along with cedar shingles for siding that have been taking up space in the hay loft for far too long.

It needs some tweaking but the birds are in and I can do something else with my spare time.

It’s time for some winter projects. Things like applications for slaughter licenses, farm status, farm identity card and farm plates for our farm vehicles.

At the top of the list of projects is rewarding the farmer and for this farmer, it means loading my sled, tying on my skis and heading for the hills.

Last Saturday, we had another dog attack on our farm.

Not all dog attacks or dog owners are created equal and it is important that people understand the difference.

The first attacks happened shortly after I bought my farm. My neighbours, Bob and Ramona Carpenter, had an airedale that had killed 3 geese and both my peacocks. It also attacked a ewe and lamb, leaving me with bills for medication, etc. and two weeks of work in the barn. Upon hearing that her dog had killed my geese and peacocks, Ramona responded, “That is what happens to birds, they die.” As she shooed me out of her house amidst profanities, I told her I’d heard the same thing about airedales.

The Carpenter’s never did take any responsibility for their dog’s actions. Two years later when it attacked Bob, he shot it and went and bought another airedale that runs around the neighbourhood just like the one he shot. Enough said.

Deep gashes through to muscle tissue. An ear almost torn off.

On Saturday as I worked on our new chicken coop, Louise came running up the road screaming. She and her kids had just been making candles with our family and I couldn’t figure out what was going on. As I ran to the road she told me her dogs had attacked Blackie. We ran into the swamp but couldn’t find her. Louise went back to the road to console her two hysterical children. I searched the swamp and found Blackie stuck in the mud with the back of her head ripped up bad. When she got stuck, a log was fortuitously under her neck or she would have been dead with her throat torn out.

I hollered to my neighbour, Bob Crutch, and he came down to help get Blackie out of the mud and swamp, no small feat. Thank god he was home. Once on dry land, she walked back to the barn on her own.

Fifteen plus stitches and two hours later. A hope, a wing and a prayer.

When I contacted Louise later, she expressed sincere sorrow and anguish and offered to pay for a vet or any costs. I told her that a sheep is worth $250 and a Saturday night Vet visit likely $1000-2000. We would deal with it ourselves. She insisted on paying for any costs. Louise told me that when the dogs attacked, she grabbed Blackie to try and get her away but the dogs kept attacking Blackie’s legs and she bolted. When Louise caught up to Blackie, stuck in the mud, she could do little but sit on Blackie and fight off her two full grown huskies with her bare hands. She’s not a big woman. She came to the barn this morning to help me inject Blackie as I was alone. We discussed her dogs and I told her my concerns regarding livestock, wildlife and people, children in particular.

I have 4 dogs. Two are cupcakes but two can be ferocious and have caused issues. One is a livestock guardian dog and the other a blue heeler. Both consider the livestock and farm their personal property and while the maremma looks ferocious, it’s the heeler that will defend our farm until she’s dead. The heeler once defended our girls from an attack by Carpenter’s airedale, thrice her size. As I ran towards the girls, a blue streak came from the right and tore into that dog something fierce and chased it all the way to its front door. I work hard to maintain control of my dogs. They’re here for a reason and it’s not to attack people, livestock or wildlife. If left with no other choice, I will shoot my own dog or any of my neighbour’s. To date, I’ve never shot a neighbour’s dog, though I have been tempted.

The Champ. Her right ear will likely never rise due to muscle and ligament damage, if she survives.

I do not support the Dog Bylaw in Area H and likely won’t.

It is light on dealing with big issues and heavy on barking dogs. Penalties for attacks and barking are similar. It is poorly crafted, and I use that term lightly, but did meet my expectations of the RDCK.

You can’t introduce a bylaw that will create personal responsibility amongst bad dog owners and I’d far rather deal with my neighbour than any bylaw enforcement officer, police officer or legal process.

What kind of dog owner are you? Are you a Carpenter, or are you a Louise? The RCMP say I can shoot your dog on my property. Will you leave me to make that decision and carry that responsibility?

The Master

The plans are set, the tickets purchased and the farm sitter organized. We’re set to go to Roots and Blues in Salmon Arm. It is to be my first trip away with my family in years. I usually get left at home to tend the farm so I’m pretty excited. Tah Mahal is playing and he’s always been a favourite of mine.

My longest and only extended stint away from the farm is to go to Royal Jubilee in Victoria for 3 weeks to have my heart rewired. My roommates and I make the best of it. First they close our door, then they add an RCMP officer who is as fun as a bowl full of thumbtacks (he has a bad heart) and then they split us up. We were having too much fun which is disruptive on a cardiac ward, apparently. They even send an undercover psych nurse to assess us but she stands out like a fawn in a pen full of pigs and we play her like a deck of cards. We’re trying hard but she’s not laughing. We never see her again.

But you can’t keep a good man down, for long anyhow.

The message comes via Facebook. Our farm sitter and friend, Nick, has fallen ill with coxsackie virus and feeling ridden hard and put up wet, but still optimistic he can come. I google this nasty virus and find that it has a similar effect to getting measles or chicken pox as an adult. It kicks your ass, even if you’re bullet proof like handsome Nick. I’m not feeling so optimistic.

I put the word out and get offers from many folks to come and feed animals twice a day.

I hold out for a farm sitter as I’m not comfortable leaving the whole scene to two visits a day. With 4 dogs, 2 puppies, 7 pigs, 20 or so sheep, 17 turkeys, 100 layers and various other critters, anything can happen and does. Sheep get caught in fences or lambs end up miles away. Pigs escape and if you know what you’re doing, getting them back is easy. If you don’t, it’s a big job and something I can’t describe over a cell phone from a music festival after a few drinks.

It’s not like we’re growing vegetables or hay. Our crops have legs and know how to use them. Some have wings. We’re also selling animals at the moment and most of our calls and sales come on weekends.

I digress. I doubt I’ll see any of my sheep in a hot-rod but do have some gorgeous ewes.

When Nick sends me a message saying he is looking for cheap plane tickets into Castlegar because he is too wasted to make the drive from the coast, I put the brakes on him. Originally he was coming for a 2 week visit anyhow but this is out of control. He is planning to go back to university in the fall and as much as we’ll miss seeing him, I tell him not to come. I give him orders to chill out and get better but know he feels bad. He’s the best farm help we’ve ever had and one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet.

Dohhh!

I spend two hours on the phone with a friend I haven’t talked to in decades. Time flies as we talk about our lives and afterwards, I feel blessed.

While I feel like selling the farm Saturday, I know I need to find a way to make it work. What we have is too good to abandon but I know I can’t hold this pace forever, let alone the next 12 months.

My family comes home tonight.

Nothing notable happens on the farm.

A couple of calls about animals don’t turn into anything.  They expect WALMART pricing. Nobody abandons trash or unwanted animals at our front gate. (It happens.)

With hindsight…

This is our first year of ramping up meat production and we have put out thousands over the last year to ensure a good harvest. With property and income taxes due, it is time to realize a return on our investment. A nice way of saying we are killing some animals.

To prepare, I need to find a professional slaughter/butcher master and a group of 3 helpers. I run through several possible scenarios in my head and come up with a plan that will ensure the animals are contained and easy to deal with. I can use the infrastructure I have without building pens or extra temporary fencing.

I call my friend Glenn and ask him if he will come out and make things go smoothly. He is a seasoned butcher and slaughter master but at about 70 years of age, I know he may not be able to come as his back has been bothering him. Glenn loves what he does and even with a tender back he jumps at the opportunity to come and do the important bits as long as I have lots of help. I assure him it will be so and wonder where the other 3 helpers will come from.

My neighbour Bob who is taking two of the pigs offers to come with his buddy and our own Chris Shepherd offers his help as soon as he gets a whiff of it. Of all involved, only Glenn is being paid. For everyone else it is sport, curiosity or necessity. I am the latter.

The night before slaughter, I go to the barn with a can of lime green spray paint and mark the 5 biggest pigs on the back of the neck. Then I split out those pigs. Nobody is watching which is good as I am constantly outsmarted by pigs. At 10:45 pm, some 2 hours later, all little piggies are happy in their pens. Those that won’t be slaughtered are penned in on the opposite side of the barn where they will not see what will occur and the green pigs are in the barn and will be lead out one at a time.

If all goes to plan.

Glenn shows up a half hour early as usual. Fifteen minutes later, Bob arrives without his buddy and as we are getting ready to take the first pig, Chris arrives. We’re on time, on schedule and one helper short. We are scrapping pigs instead of skinning or torching them and this is more work and benefits from many of hands on deck.

The lucky ones.

I lead the first pig out and away we go. Once the pig is shot, it is bleed and cuts are made in its legs. We attach ropes through the cuts and lift the pig with the loader and dunk it in a bathtub of 170 F water. After a minute or so, we pick it up with loader and place it on the scrapping table. My neighbour Paul arrives unannounced, a welcome addition. We work feverishly to get the hair off the pig. I accidentally cut the hide in several spots and have to take a deep breath. Glenn tells me my knife sucks so I grab another.

Pigs 2 and 3 go like clockwork and Bob takes off to the cooler as the temps are rising. I picked the hottest day so far to slaughter so the meat needs to move quickly and that is Bob’s job, which he does impeccably. He even knows our butcher Jake, who can be a bit crusty, an added bonus.

In a slow moment, Chris is gathering guts with a shovel which is a bit like eating jello with a knife. I grab the guts with my hands and put them in the bin. Chris comments on what a city boy he is.

Pigs 4 and 5 go well and Bob disappears to the cooler as we go looking for two lambs born in November of last year. The ram lamb is my buddy and taking him is tough. He lets me scratch his head and seeks me out when I enter his pasture. The ewe lamb is loud and generally a pain in the ass so it doesn’t bother me so much.

Suddenly, the lambs are off to the cooler. I help Chris put his lamb heart and liver in plastic bag and he disappears to play ultimate Frisbee. Paul goes home to pick Saskatoon berries. I go to get cash for Glenn and refreshments. When I return to the farm, all is quiet, like nothing happened.

It is a bit smelly though and when Bob returns, we dump the guts before settling down in the shade for a well deserved beverage.

Funniest Comedian I've ever seen.

We saw Derek Edwards at the Capital Thursday night. Our friends pitched in and picked up our children from school and delivered them to soccer and music, made them dinner and brought them home.

We love our friends.

It was perfect and Rachel and I both needed a laugh and a night out. I got up at 4:30 and Rachel got up at 5 so it was a bit of a pull but with the help of our friends, Aaron and Sue, we made it. We both struggled to think of the last time we had done such a thing.

Of course, we were in a hurry to feed animals and apparently, when I closed the inside gate to the pig stall, it didn’t quite hasp properly.

When I looked into the pasture early Friday morning, I just assumed I saw sheep as it was still pretty dark and my eyes fuzzy so I went back to bed and slumbered until I heard squealing, lots of squealing.

Big White Dog

Our new Maremma, Coco has made friends with one of the pigs who likes to race along the fence and play with her. She assumes all pigs are keen pals and was trying to encourage them to play when the squealing erupted.

An hour later I had all the pigs in their pen, or so I thought. I went to the house, helped our sheep shearer shear our dog, Mabel the Table, and then quickly changed into my clean clothes and went to my other job, the one that pays the bills.

When I arrived home, Rachel told me that one of the pigs had decided to hang with the sheep and was out in the pasture with them pretending to be a short, fat, hairless sheep. Apparently she was quite happy and it took Rachel another half hour to convince her she was a pig and should join her brethren.

Sheep or Pig? Tough to tell at 5 am.

They made a mess of the inside of the barn before escaping into the pasture that took an hour to clean up.

They’re such pigs.

Fortunately when they escaped, they stayed within the confines of our property and didn’t wonder off to root up the neighbours’ gardens as our steers and sheep have done in the past. It presents an awkward situation and one we are glad to have avoided this time around.

The piggies are all happily in their pen tonight and I hope they stay there. It’s not like they are short of room or mud pits and pasture to root up already.

We’re the 12 little piggies and we are going to huff and puff and blow your house down or at least, drive you crazy.

Oink.

Nice Pig

My recent foray into farming more than 2 pigs has put me on the warpath for food waste, preferably vegetables and fruit.

I stopped by many businesses this week to ask for food waste and what I found was interesting.

The larger the business, the more likely it is to landfill food waste.

Those large businesses come up with an amazing list of reasons why they are not willing to make the effort. Most involve liability but some involve people taking lettuce and feeding it to deer when they said they were feeding it to pigs. The Conservation Office arrives and spanks the produce manager at this facility so he is less keen to help which is understandable given he was trying to do the right thing.

Here is a summary of businesses I have visited and their responses.

Slocan Valley Coop is with the program and willingly saves waste food aside for those who want it. Because they are a small, efficient business, they do not produce much waste.

Safeway, Castlegar, Nelson and Trail, all send their food waste to the landfill. They generally state liability concerns as the reason but the Assistant Manager in Nelson talked about a Corporate Responsibility Program and said that in larger centers, Safeway gives it to a third party who takes care of it. Nothing like this exists in the interior of BC and while these stores contribute to our communities in many ways, they still landfill all food waste at considerable cost to themselves and the environment.

Save On Foods in Nelson was the same as Safeway excepting the assistant manager didn’t stand and talk with me for 20 minutes nor was I offered any way to comment or contact anyone as I was at Safeway.

The Kootenay Market in Castlegar did give me some old produce but told me the story about the Conservation Officer and several folks who started fighting over the compost. The produce manager was not terribly keen and stated the owner had a policy of not giving out food waste, largely as a result of this static and honestly, can you blame him?

Evergreen in Crescent Valley likely has the best program. They put it all out and people come and get it. First come, first served. Rules for taking compost are clearly posted and because they have been at it for so long, there is rarely anything left as regulars know when to pick up.

The Kootenay Coop in Nelson has a great program also, on par with Evergreen, but like most small businesses, they produce little waste given the volume of product they sell.

I should mention that my survey is very random and spotty to date.

Staff working in the trenches at all stores were sympathetic or apologetic if they were not able to give out waste. At large chains, these folks see the full impact of corporate policy at a local level. They would love to do the right thing but are bound by policy. Some are willing to point to the waste and go for coffee but many are 5 years into a 25 year mortgage with kids and debts and can’t risk losing their jobs over a ton of food waste.

Next time you visit one of the large businesses who landfill food waste, why not take 5 minutes and fill out a comment card or speak with the manager? If they don’t know it is an issue, how can they respond?

Twelve new pigs just arrived on the farm.

Six are sold to neighbours, two we will keep and two are spares but we are reserving 2 pigs for a special cause.

We would like to raise these 2 pigs for local food banks in the Slocan Valley and Castlegar and are looking for a group of people to sponsor these animals with donations of cash and food waste.

We are willing to contribute our time but need others to cover the costs of purchase, feed, slaughter, curing, cut and wrap.

If we deliver a 200 pound pig at $3 a pound, cut and wrapped, it is worth $600.  I anticipate the cost of sponsoring each animal to be about $400 or $2 a pound but won’t know the final cost until all the bills are in and I’ve gone through another pair of gumboots.

Pigs are omnivores and will eat anything. We feed a blended hog ration (all grains and good stuff, no pellets here) but using food waste can cut feed costs in half, grow bigger pigs that taste better, and save a lot of food from being wasted.

How we should deal with waste food.

Surprisingly, some large stores, like Tom’s No Frills in Castlegar, have a strict company policy that forbids giving food waste away for fear it will get into the human food chain and expose them to some liability. They offer great prices but a low level of creativity and a very poor solution that keeps their lawyers happy but accomplishes nothing else.

Thanks to the Slocan Valley Co-op for our piggies first taste of lettuce, celery, pears, mushrooms and other goodies. They went wild for it.

A special thanks to Michael Mills for picking up our 12 pigs when he got 18 of his own. These pigs look great and Michael did a fantastic job of keeping them healthy during a stressful move from the Lethbridge area. I saw him at 7:25 am Monday and he arrived home in the wee hours Tuesday. He wouldn’t take any cash for his time and only accepted gas money.

I have no idea how this is going to work. There are a lot of questions at this point.  How will we get food waste in the quantities we require? Will the grain truck show up in time with the second load of feed? Will we lose any animals. (We are saving two aside, just in case.) Will they bust out and turn into a pack of marauding garden raiders?

Twelve happy pigs.

Shit happens.

If you are interested in sponsoring one of these handsome devils, please let me know.

This needs to happen quickly so please spread the word.

Exciting news on the farm!

We’re applying for farm status.

At the moment, we are gearing up for 12 pigs, 100 meat chickens, 25 turkeys that are all arriving Wednesday. We already have 10 lambs, 40 active layers, 65 new heritage layers and 18 mixed sex Silkies we hope to raise chicks from. I’m feeling a bit stunned at the moment. We’ve been bleeding cash for about a month and getting through the next two months will involve some creative financing.

As my father is fond of saying, “You’re better to ask for forgiveness than permission, some of the time.”

Doohhh! It never hurts to ask.

The new poultry abattoir that is projected to open this summer in Passmore has helped spur us on.  We will run some of our meat chickens through that abattoir but are likely to do our turkeys at the farm as the new facility has set a size limit of 30 pounds. We rarely have a turkey less than 30 pounds and the $4-5 per animal will raise the cost from $20 to $25/ per bird (for chickens, more for turkeys), on average, if you wish to purchase a government approved bird and see any value in that.

If you are willing to sign an agreement that says you are purchasing it as dog food, we will slaughter the chickens ourselves and sell them to you at a reduced cost.

The pigs are being sold for $120, our initial cost, minus the freezer full of feed we purchased 3 weeks ago. We will charge you to raise your pig and give you a receipt for it when we get your 120 beans.

If you wish to come and slaughter and cut your pig yourself, you are more than welcome to do so or take it to the meat cutter of your choosing. It all costs money and if you want to come and do the dirty work and take care of the carcass, guts, cutting, etc., you save yourself $50 and about $1 a pound, otherwise your pig is worth $3 a pound, hanging weight, cut and wrapped. If you want hams and bacon, you need to work that out with the meat cutter you choose as that costs extra.

Why waste food when you can feed your pig?

If you purchase a pig, you are expected to bring your compost and canvass all your friends and families who may own restaurants and businesses that throw out food. You dump it in a large bin on the side of the road and I feed it to the pigs.

We take all our own meat to Kozianciks in Crescent Valley because the quality of the finished product is the best I have ever tasted. The bacon and hams are unbelievable (not exaggerating here folks) and the sausage and cured meats are amazing. Everyone raves about Legendary Meats but these folks put out the best product I have ever tasted.

This is an experiment. I’ll be quite open about that. How it will all work out in the end will likely be interesting, to say the least. The only goals I have are to not lose money and cover my costs and time.

I should probably charge a little extra as these pigs will be raised with love, baby, and that matters.

I'm open to suggestions

I spoke with my friend Kevin Sutherland this morning at 7:20 after he and I had voted. (If you didn’t vote, leave your name and number and I will spank you personally.) He suggested taking some fallow land and planting a combination of early Russetts and some later white spuds in rows with clover between. If you use portable fencing, you can use this to feed your hogs without purchasing much feed after 6 weeks of age if you have planned ahead which we have not. Another friend suggested sugar beats and artichokes. Even if this batch of pigs does not eat it, winter pigs will.

I struggle each day trying to figure out how we will pull this off. We are planning on a second round of meat chickens and I am pushing for 200 and a possible third round. I’d like to do some winter pigs.

Rachel thinks I’m crazy.

If you have any bright ideas, advice or comments, I would love to hear from you.

My friend Arron wanted to bring his son, Torin, over to see our new lambs.

I had an ulterior motive and knew things would go better with Arron and Torin’s help. With Rachel at the head, Aaron at the tail and me in the middle, things were bound to go well.

After nutting three lambs, I managed to get Torin to record the last job on his iPod. Torin Graham is the video guy for this footage. He did a great job of capturing what we were doing.

Torin said he felt funny about recording it so he didn’t record the first three.

Understandable.

Torin Graham. Awesome Video Dude!

It’s 1:30 am, Sunday, as I start this post. Please forgive me if I am verbose. I’m trying to stay awake.

I should go to bed but if I do, I will miss my 3:30 visit with a young lamb who is struggling. On top of that, it is cold and other ewes are close. On my last visit, one was walking around her pen grunting every time she had a contraction.

The Struggler battling to his feet.

Both our new ewes lambed prematurely. The first lamb didn’t open his eyes for two days but was strong from the start. The second, born 15 hours ago, is struggling for his life. Too weak to stand and eyes shut at birth, it took Rachel a lot of effort to get him nursing so he got the colostrum he needed in time to save him.

Getting a weak lamb to nurse on a new mom takes patience. The older ewes, the pros, help them along and are used to lambing, us and being handled. The first time moms are wild eyed and scared shitless. When their lambs can’t see, it creates problems.

Throughout the day, with each feeding and nap, the struggler gains strength and this afternoon, he stands on his own. He still needs to be guided to the nipple but once there he is able to feed on his own.

After roughly 50 lambs, I know you can’t turn your back on them and must pay attention. Just looking doesn’t count. You must spend time with your animals and observe them in more than a casual way. You need to check their heart rate, temperature and put their nose to your ear and listen.

When I do this with the struggler tonight, I hear the unmistakable sound of gurgling, which is a probable sign of pneumonia, not unusual in a lamb born at -14 and a week early to a first time mom.

When I go to the medicine cabinet, the Pen Aqueous I need is in date and with a good shaking, ready to go. I find a small syringe and sharp that fits. I struggle to remember how much to give a young lamb and how to inject it. It has  been two years since I have done so and regrettably, I don’t keep the written records I should. I never intended to be a farmer. Why should I keep records?

Tools of the trade

My friend, Jane Lee, responds quickly on Facebook. She worked as a nurse for years and her advice is timely and includes a link to the manufacturer’s site. Why didn’t I think of that? Any advice she can give me at 12:30 am on a Sunday morning is golden.

Thank god she is a night owl.

I follow her advice.

The best way to get this medication to an animal is by injecting close the heart in a neck muscle but as he is skin and bones, this will be difficult. Doing it alone will be touch and go but I have no choice. He needs two mL of medication, twice a day for five days.

2:30 am. Went to the barn early on a whisper and found two healthy new lambs. Helped dry them off and mom took over. Inject the struggler and he takes it like a champ. Place tarp over his pen and come back to the house to get an extension cord for a heater.

2:30 pm, Sunday. Punched. Smell like sheep urine, feces and afterbirth and feel similar.  I get shit on putting the struggler to a boob. I should be skiing or sleeping. Two and a half hours of sleep isn’t cutting it.

The emergency room.

The two lambs born last night are healthy and frolicking. Their mom, Teapot, is the shortest and widest ewe in our flock and an attentive mom. Her largest lamb is a girl and a keeper.

12:30 am Monday. The struggler is half dead and cold as ice when I get to the barn. In two hours, he has tanked. I quickly stuff him in my jacket and take him back the ER, our kitchen. I fill two hot water bottles, place  him on top and wrap him in my down jacket and wait. I warm a syringe of antibiotics and inject him. At 2 am, I hear him calling for his mom so I take him and his warm cocoon to the barn for a feeding. It takes 20 minutes to get him feeding but with every hour, he picks up. I feed, place him in his cocoon and try to get 45 minutes sleep on the couch, fully clothed, then do it over.

3:30 am Tuesday. Take the kettle to the barn and refill the hot water bottles. The antibiotics are working and the hot box is a life saver.

5:30 am. His eyes are opening which means a lot less work for me.

8 pm. One of our old ewes, Cousin, is not interested in her grain and pacing…….

9 pm. Cousin had triplets, two girls and a boy. That makes 7 not including two born last fall and those to come.

Grandma is the only ewe left to lamb. She is usually a hold out so it could be two weeks before she lambs, but the truth is, I never know for sure.

Three days of sleep deprivation are coming to an end and I hope to get up only twice tonight…