Chicken Math and Ram Raising

Ahhhh, Sam The Ram. Where do I start? He was a bottle-fed baby who, next to Belle, is the friendlist sheep I have come across. He loves to be loved, sticks his tongue out when he Baa's, and is looking to be a lamb-daddy pretty soon. Or so he thinks. He's still young, so we are not sure of the timing of him being a dad anytime soon, as he's still being a toddler and learning about life. David and I are new at this lambing thing. We have learned that it's around 145 days gestation period, but know very little about sheep sex. The Raising Sheep book I use as a reference tells me that his testicles should be about 16 inches around and that the sheep are most likely to breed around September. This brings Spring lambs, and who doesn't love a new lamb when the grass is turning green, the birds are singing, and the weather is mild. Luckily, I have more time to learn about breeding and having lambs of our own, as Sam continues to grow into the size of a small chest freezer. The idea of having baby lambs is that same feeling I used to get when the new Avon catalog showed up at the house when I was young. The excitement, the possibilities of new things - and affordable. Yes, my shepherd-wannabe life is slowly evolving. I want many sheep in the pasture, yet that thought scares me because I don't know if I can keep them all alive. I've done well so far, but is that a true predictor of the future?
Sam is already very interested in the ewes. They are fond of him, but the ewes do not appear to be in heat. What I did learn is that a ram is protective and sees the ewes as his very own. He has grown horns, and was butting us relentlessly for awhile, but lately, seems to have calmed down with that business. He enjoys having his head scratched and rubbed, and his tail just wags and wags when we rub and pet him, just like a dog's tail does. Speaking of, he's fond of the dogs (all the dogs) and wants to play with them. The dogs are not fond of his head butting rituals, and growl enough to "put him in his place". Sam knows when to stop, and he does.
One thing I've been combating lately is the misconceptions of sheep in general. Despite what people may thing, they are not just white blobs on a hill. They each have very distinct personalities. Some of the attributes people use to describe sheep are stupid, timid, meek, forgetful or damaging to grasslands. After having sheep, I realize they are very smart, desire nurturing from people, remember every nook and crannie of the things around them, recognize my car, know where to go when it's raining - and to get out of the rain, and who is going to feed them and exactly when. They react quickly to the guard dogs actions, they can run a lot faster than I ever knew,  and feel comfortable talking to me whenever they see me. Maaaaaaaam. They can even smell me before they see me. The wind carries my scent, they smell it in the air, and start looking around for me. And it's not just because I'm sweaty or stinky. Sam always wants to interact with me no matter what I'm doing, and Belle looks at me as if I'm her Mama. I can see deep into her eyes as she looks into mine, and see the love. She smells me with her little nose, and would follow me around everywhere if she could.
While Belle and Sam were bottle fed and extremely tame and loving to people, Eve is getting there. She allows us to love her, pet her, and brush her, but is not as fond of other people. She's a bit leary of others until she gets used to the idea that the people around her are "okay". She's a beauty, and would win the beauty contest hands down. Belle is a ewe that me, as her mama, finds unconditionally beautiful. Some might consider her a big-girl. Happiness weighs more, Belle. Stay true.
The anticipation of lambing is a little overwhelming. No one is pregnant yet, but I still wonder if I will know enough to do this. Will I be able to help them if needed? Will I know when they are pregnant? So many questions. I have begin to read more in my Sheep Raising book about lambing, as well as internet sites like Sheep 101. Actually, lambing took me straight to Sheep 201. Oh dear. That story will continue and the next chapter in lamb raising will be a huge learning curve. Hope I pass the test.
The ground opened up and my heart tumbled in when we began this process of acquiring farm animals. My 12 year old self lives here on the Graves Farm. I consider it a hobby farm, a small-holding if you will. We don't make any money from farming, but that's not the goal - yet. I don't know what the goal is, I'm no pioneer women, all I know is I'm finally home. I no longer look for that perfect house, that next place we'll move to, or have a desire to be anywhere else. I'm home.
Many people - I have come to realize - never knew they were chicken-people. Along with my love of all my animals, I am a chicken person. We have had too much change in our chicken community over the last few months, mostly sad things. Chickens are fragile, and to go as long as we did with no "incidents" was certainly rare. The change is not over, as we came home the other day to one of our silkies who had passed. Out of the blue, dead, with no indications or prior understanding that something was wrong. My heart aches.
It's been hard, even for me, to keep up with the Chicken Math. We started with two, Ginger and Butterscotch. Then I needed more, so I decided on 4 more of two breeds. They were so beautiful that with time, I decided that I needed to add a different dab of color, and brought in two more. That's 6 now? Now wait, 8. I had promised David we would stay at 6. But do the two original ones really count in the total tally? My coop is too small now, so I must buy a bigger one. Perfect.
Now, I have too much room in my coop, and the feed store had the cutest lap-dog chickens ever! I buy them, and now have two polish with top hats to add to the mix. But can they be counted because I'm not sure I can let them free-range with the flock? So I get to thinking (which is often dangerous when it comes to chickens) if they aren't a part of my bigger flock egg layers, do I count them in my allotment?
However, to my dismay, I began to lose my sweet chickens. To illness, to predators, and a horrible hawk incident that I will need therapy for.  Somehow, 2 chickens have turned into 14. Wait, I'm only supposed to have 6. After all, I have space for more now, with the new coop and all. And there's lots of room for chickens to free range around here. This chicken math includes all the accidental roosters that I've had to move to a "funny farm" somewhere. Oh yeah, don't forget the new purchase of two polish to heal my heart from the two polish that perished. I had to do that, I just had to. Plus three more silkies because the hawk incident left a hole in my heart, and I needed to show myself that I can protect them after all. David and I worked hard to create a coop for the sweet polish and silkies with a overhang that keeps the hawks out. They are just too small to be out on their own.
So my ways of leaving the house to go grocery shop, and coming back with a chicken seems normal now. I'm trying hard to control myself, as we have entered into nirvana with our chicken numbers. 2 + 4 + 2 + 2 - 1 - 1 + 2 - 3  + 3 - 1 = how many? 6, right? No, 13. Yep, we have 13 now. If I were superstitious, I would need to go get another chicken to round out that number. And you can't buy just one chicken at a time, can you? Chicken math is awesome, because you can rationalize everything. But they are so cute, but they were abandoned, but they are so cheap, but we have more room in the coop, but we lost one so we should get another.......but really, I just need them. I want them, I need them, and I love them so much. And it's not because I'm a big egg eater. Just like my sheep, my chickens each have a unique personality, and I adore them. My favorite thing about them? Is how they run across the yard. Run, I mean real fast, their little legs moving, their bottoms shaking back and forth. So cute, that I usually have to snapchat it. People HAVE to see this. Lifestyles of the Chicken Famous around here.
Happy Day,
Cyndi