The Celina Public Library Story-time at The Graves Farm happened a week ago Friday now. I've been meaning to talk about how it went. Overall, it went wonderfully. The ingredients were 1 cup of internal struggle/turmoil, 3 cups of organized chaos, along with sprinkles of sheer pleasure mixed in. Blend well, bake at a high barn temperature, and the outcome is many happy children chasing farm animals.
We begin by putting balloons on the mailbox out at the road. This helps people find us, and alert them that they are indeed not lost. The string of cars come down the gravel road (that leads to the house) like a facet with a slow drip. Consistent, nonstop and methodically, the cars pull in and park. Parents unload kids out of minivans like clown cars. They all migrate, hesitantly, to someone who can tell them what to do next. Lauren, Youth Services Librarian, and a young unaware teenage family friend are manning the gate to this wonderment, showing them the way towards the barn not hardly a stones throw away. Most have traveled from the Celina area out to Gunter for this "show" of sorts. Storytime, we call it, but it's much more than that.
As the adults and children file in, they gather and look around, while becoming more brave to interact with the animals that are around, slowly. David and I encourage them to pet the sheep, hold a chicken, or pet/feed the donkeys. Some of the barn cats do allow petting, and 2 out of our 3 dogs rather enjoy all this attention. Whisper, whose name fits her well, is not a fan of the myriad of people. She's one of our Great Pyrenees dogs who guards the property with her brother, Levi. Events with this many people are not something she enjoys. Levi is the one who soaks it all in - for the both of them. Then there's Little Maybe, our King Charles spaniel who devours every bit of attention she gets. Loving literally every minute of it. We should have named her Happy.
Gathering everyone and corralling them into the barn for the actual story time part is always an interesting endeavor. By now, everyone is settling into the environment, and ready to mix and mingle with the animals. We (David, Lauren and I) begin to set the tone for the start of it all. We lure them into the barn, and Lauren welcomes everyone, then introduces David and I as the hosts. We go directly into singing our first song, Rise and Shine, to welcome everyone and get them in a singing mood. Then, straight into Itsy Bitsy Spider. I've got my music Bose box with my karaoke tunes I bought off of iTunes, and we are starting this off right. Next, comes the first book. No Sleep for the Sheep. A farm book, of course. David had gotten a projector, and Lauren had scanned the pictures from the books so we could show it on the side of the barn, for those who couldn't see the book I was holding very well. This was followed by a peppy rendition of Old McDonald Had A Farm - using the animals all around us. The sheep, mind you, are Baaaaa-ing in the barn along with us, and the donkeys are standing close by, sticking their faces in to watch what is happening. The chickens are mingling amongst the children sitting, while Lauren and I are making a spectacle of ourselves singing and dancing. Some children are singing along, and going through the hand motions with us, while the others are staring at us as if they are watching a show. The Lauren and Cyndi show, who doesn't always know the words, singing loudly and off pitch, just dancing our hearts out. I'm having a blast!
Next up, another book, Duck On A Bike, and then back to the music. We end it all with the Chicken Dance. You know that one. The music of the Chicken Dance is an all time favorite. Often played at roller skating rinks, hokey wedding receptions and anywhere people may have drank too much and there's a DJ involved. And there I was, leading this hand quacking, arm flapping, clapping type of dance in a packed barn with children staring blankly up at me. Many participated, while others watched the crazy lady doing the Chicken Dance. It was great.
I then had a word vomit moment, and said, "Let's head out to feed the donkeys now!". I had carrots ready for all the children. You know the ones, the carrots that are finger foods, already cut about two inches long.....and look just like a finger to the donkeys. David shot me a look, like what the &%$#? I opened one side of the barn gate, and the flood of children with adults in tow, picked their chosen carrot and made a b-line toward the donkeys. David quickly made his way through the crowd of people in a haste to get to the donkeys and referee this activity. I'll summarize it by saying the donkeys ate well that morning, and all the children did indeed leave with all fingers intact.
But that's not the end. It never is. You know all that hesitance and reservation people had when they first arrived? It's gone now. And kids are everywhere, chasing chickens, and doing things kids do. We had set up a craft table for stamping farm animals on paper, and some kids were making their masterpieces. Other children were out in the pasture, running wildly about. It takes time, a lot of time, for everybody to leave. It's like this every time. Families would like to make a day of this. What they all don't realize, is this is actually our house, where we live. Many people think we are a business. People will ask, "Are you open to the public?" or "Which days are you open" or my favorite, "Do you take donations?'"
The joy of seeing the children - and their parents - enjoying all that is The Graves Farm is priceless. In some ways, I don't want the people to leave. I want them to stay and enjoy it. On the other hand, I know it's best for them to leave while no one is hurt. There's wasps, large animals, and danger lurking for unsuspecting children. There's so many great things for the children to do here, but it's the 'danger' part that brings the struggle and turmoil to David and I. We had even considered having a waiver signed before entering. The liability for such an event, with close to 100 people, could be devastating.
Yet again, we are fortunate that everyone left safe and sound. The animals were exhausted. They are not used to being chased by small children, or being entertained by them for so long, either. I think the animals are just as curious as the children are, about each other. It's a wonderful opportunity for all involved.
As that particular day drew to a close, David and I were happy, relieved and extremely satisfied. A lot of hard work and planning went into it, and was worth every bead of sweat. Everyone left as they came. Children were exposed to things they may not normally not see up close.
We have a "small shop" here on The Graves Farm. Nothing fancy. A hobby farm, of sorts. Full of much love, gentleness and freedom. The 12 year old self inside me never tires of it. Neither does the 54 year old self.
My favorite part? Being a child that day, too. Singing and dancing as if no one was watching. Yet, they all were, and I just kept singing my song. Having the time of my life. Children bring this out in us. Carefree and no judgment.
Love that,
Cyndi
Sunday, June 17, 2018
Saturday, June 9, 2018
Seasons of my life
I live at the corner of No-Time-to-Spare and Go-Man-Go. It's a place where my soul resides. A place I belong, feel good about, and enjoy residing. While my future imaginary house of Don't-Save-Anything has not come to fruition, I enjoy this corner where I currently live.
No time to spare is something my Nanny used to say, long ago. Not all the time, but sometimes when time was of the essence. Now, I enjoy living my life as if there's no time to spare. Because there's not.
No time in my life is spare time. Time is all I really have, with family, friends and with my farm and animals. I enjoy many other things as well, that occupy my time. Biking, running, swimming, yoga, gardening, blogging, surfing the net, emailing, working, walking, daydreaming, mowing, driving, shopping at the feed store, and don't forget sleep. I could go on and on, as we all could. Talking/connecting with my husband, and running/being with my daughter are two of my favorite pastimes. None of this is spare time. I have none to spare. I'm a time-sponge. I want to soak it all up.
I look at it as if I have a limited amount of time on earth. The only thing certain in life is death. Everything in between is Go Big or Go Home. Yes, I do like going home. And sometimes I'll take a nap when I get there. But time is my most valuable commodity. I can get more money. But I can't get more time. I desire to use it well.
Recently, I made a change in my work environment. A change of seasons, if you will. It was time, and I knew it. I have found over time, that in my life I've fallen into being who others wanted me to be. I followed the natural course of things. And great things happened. Mostly. But over time, I realized they were not necessarily great for me. They were maybe someone else's great things, and it seemed as if I was taking up the space that was meant for them and not standing in my own space. Like wearing someone else's shoes.
Walking away from what others told me I should do, and walk my own path has brought me into a new season in my life. I've enjoyed all seasons I've lived. All of them, yet some more than others. Now, my secret soul has guided me toward a understanding of deciding how I want to live. Work-wise and in my personal life. Just because a wide swath of people think one thing, does not mean it's what I should think. Understanding my own spirit, my path in life and my desires has been a new way of thinking these past few years. I'm giving myself permission to fall into my own life. I have a set of loves, dreams and idiosyncrasies. Tapping into this part of me has allowed me to speak my truth about what I love and who I am. This is my life. It doesn't matter what's lovely for others, what matters is does it fit me. I'm all about each person speaking their truth, and walking their own path.
I've been a work-in-progress in this chapter of the Book of Cyndi the last 5 or so years, and they have been growing ones for me. Walking away from what others think I should do, and live life doing what I desire to do. It's no longer about Most-this, and Most-that like in the high school yearbook days. It's about having the privilege to make my life. And re-make it. Which I have done multiple times. It has been frowned upon by people around me. Yet, I keep owning myself, and staying true. In my mind, I have a window that's open, with SO many things I desire to do, calling me. It's endless. I love it that there's more things in life I want to do and not enough time to do it all. It's like I get to live several lives, all in one lifetime. And I get to decide. If only I was more confident earlier in life to speak my truth. Be my authentic self. God has blessed me with this ability now, and I am most grateful. I'm at the edge of it all, at the beginning of owning my life. What I choose to do and not have to feel like I need to justify my actions. I'm just going to be me. Live my little life. And in my little life, I have no time to spare. Busy, busy. I don't want to wear other people's shoes. I want to walk in my own shoes. And being able to acknowledge that, was my first step, only a few years back. And what a huge step it was. It was like I woke up and decided not to live for what others expected and wanted for me, but to shed all that weight my soul carried and become simply me. I was there, waiting my arrival like a baby bird from an egg. I hatched and there I was. Ready for the world.
In this season of my life, my heart overflows with gratitude. Words that I'm choosing for this season are passion, love, authenticity, grace and spirit. I want to soak up every minute. Being me. Loving myself for who God has made.
The world will tell you how to live life if you let it. Don't let it. Living at the corner of Go, Man, Go and No-Time-To-Spare, there's so much opportunity awaiting me. My soul is screaming out: Be you. Let yourself live the life you desire. Sing your song. While I've struggled to find my footing at times, I'm thankful for solid ground. I continue to grow my spirit, and nurture myself. I know it will take a lifetime for me to learn and grow. Two steps forward, one step back, as going backwards is often the best way to move forward. That took me awhile to figure out.
And when my monkey mind tries to take hold of me, I've learned to use silence and solitude to teach me things I know, in ways I never thought to know them. Truly alone, I can listen to my life. Silence can be my anchor, along with moving meditation that assists me in quieting my mind and calming the waves that life brings. Feeling calm when life is rocky and finding peace through it all is a gift. This ability has freed me to truly live. Picking and choosing what serves me. Singing my own song.
"You wander from room to room hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck"
-Rumi
Thank goodness I found it,
Cyndi
No time to spare is something my Nanny used to say, long ago. Not all the time, but sometimes when time was of the essence. Now, I enjoy living my life as if there's no time to spare. Because there's not.
No time in my life is spare time. Time is all I really have, with family, friends and with my farm and animals. I enjoy many other things as well, that occupy my time. Biking, running, swimming, yoga, gardening, blogging, surfing the net, emailing, working, walking, daydreaming, mowing, driving, shopping at the feed store, and don't forget sleep. I could go on and on, as we all could. Talking/connecting with my husband, and running/being with my daughter are two of my favorite pastimes. None of this is spare time. I have none to spare. I'm a time-sponge. I want to soak it all up.
I look at it as if I have a limited amount of time on earth. The only thing certain in life is death. Everything in between is Go Big or Go Home. Yes, I do like going home. And sometimes I'll take a nap when I get there. But time is my most valuable commodity. I can get more money. But I can't get more time. I desire to use it well.
Recently, I made a change in my work environment. A change of seasons, if you will. It was time, and I knew it. I have found over time, that in my life I've fallen into being who others wanted me to be. I followed the natural course of things. And great things happened. Mostly. But over time, I realized they were not necessarily great for me. They were maybe someone else's great things, and it seemed as if I was taking up the space that was meant for them and not standing in my own space. Like wearing someone else's shoes.
Walking away from what others told me I should do, and walk my own path has brought me into a new season in my life. I've enjoyed all seasons I've lived. All of them, yet some more than others. Now, my secret soul has guided me toward a understanding of deciding how I want to live. Work-wise and in my personal life. Just because a wide swath of people think one thing, does not mean it's what I should think. Understanding my own spirit, my path in life and my desires has been a new way of thinking these past few years. I'm giving myself permission to fall into my own life. I have a set of loves, dreams and idiosyncrasies. Tapping into this part of me has allowed me to speak my truth about what I love and who I am. This is my life. It doesn't matter what's lovely for others, what matters is does it fit me. I'm all about each person speaking their truth, and walking their own path.
I've been a work-in-progress in this chapter of the Book of Cyndi the last 5 or so years, and they have been growing ones for me. Walking away from what others think I should do, and live life doing what I desire to do. It's no longer about Most-this, and Most-that like in the high school yearbook days. It's about having the privilege to make my life. And re-make it. Which I have done multiple times. It has been frowned upon by people around me. Yet, I keep owning myself, and staying true. In my mind, I have a window that's open, with SO many things I desire to do, calling me. It's endless. I love it that there's more things in life I want to do and not enough time to do it all. It's like I get to live several lives, all in one lifetime. And I get to decide. If only I was more confident earlier in life to speak my truth. Be my authentic self. God has blessed me with this ability now, and I am most grateful. I'm at the edge of it all, at the beginning of owning my life. What I choose to do and not have to feel like I need to justify my actions. I'm just going to be me. Live my little life. And in my little life, I have no time to spare. Busy, busy. I don't want to wear other people's shoes. I want to walk in my own shoes. And being able to acknowledge that, was my first step, only a few years back. And what a huge step it was. It was like I woke up and decided not to live for what others expected and wanted for me, but to shed all that weight my soul carried and become simply me. I was there, waiting my arrival like a baby bird from an egg. I hatched and there I was. Ready for the world.
In this season of my life, my heart overflows with gratitude. Words that I'm choosing for this season are passion, love, authenticity, grace and spirit. I want to soak up every minute. Being me. Loving myself for who God has made.
The world will tell you how to live life if you let it. Don't let it. Living at the corner of Go, Man, Go and No-Time-To-Spare, there's so much opportunity awaiting me. My soul is screaming out: Be you. Let yourself live the life you desire. Sing your song. While I've struggled to find my footing at times, I'm thankful for solid ground. I continue to grow my spirit, and nurture myself. I know it will take a lifetime for me to learn and grow. Two steps forward, one step back, as going backwards is often the best way to move forward. That took me awhile to figure out.
And when my monkey mind tries to take hold of me, I've learned to use silence and solitude to teach me things I know, in ways I never thought to know them. Truly alone, I can listen to my life. Silence can be my anchor, along with moving meditation that assists me in quieting my mind and calming the waves that life brings. Feeling calm when life is rocky and finding peace through it all is a gift. This ability has freed me to truly live. Picking and choosing what serves me. Singing my own song.
"You wander from room to room hunting for the diamond necklace that is already around your neck"
-Rumi
Thank goodness I found it,
Cyndi
Sunday, June 3, 2018
FriDay FarmDay
As I sit at my desk and listen to the wind howl, I think about what the animals must think. It's a early, warm morning, 75 degrees and 25+ mph winds. It's different here, as the pasture out front gives the wind ample opportunity to pick up speed so that when it gets to the house and barn, it's strong. Real strong.
My first thought is that it feels good, the wind. But does the excessive wind scare them? Does it make things sound different and unusual? Because it does to me. I know it will be blowing the chicken's feathers around later in the morning, as they move about free-ranging. I will hear it making whipping noises as it glides through the barn when I check the Barn Cam, while I am away from the house. During these warm months, all door and windows are open in the barn, which then acts as a tunnel for this heavy air gallivanting along it's journey. Things that usually do not move, get blown around in this fresh gale. The donkeys will stand behind the barn - or the house - to not be in the direct gust. I'm pretty sure that whether it's cold or hot, the donkeys do not care for the wind.
The sheep don't seem to mind at all, nor the Great Pyrenees. As they lay peacefully, I see them through the window in the moonlight. It's this quiet of the morning, listening to the wind, that I think a lot. I think about how I'll leave for work, and everybody here moves about their day. Do they think about time? Or is everything instinctual for them? I often think about them randomly during the day. I wonder if Junie B is feeling better, she seems to be sneezing lately. Is Belle too hot? The flies are bad this year and bothering the donkeys. I need to get something for them. These random thoughts flutter into my mind during the day (usually at work), then I resolve them in my head temporarily, and move forward.
It's during these thought processes that I begin to wonder if any of our animals are self aware? If I were to have any of the farm animals look in a mirror, would they recognize themselves? The mirror recognition test is used as a measure of self awareness. So it seems, the pig is able to do so. But other farm animals, while smart, are not self aware. Chickens and sheep rank high in intelligence, despite what people might think. A study I read even suggest they may be smarter than a dog. Chickens can learn to do puzzles and play games. Chickens can show object permanence, meaning they have the ability to understand an object exists, even when they can't see it. Baby chicks develop this around Day 2 while an infant takes about 6 months to master this. And sheep, oh my, many people think sheep are not smart. I can tell you first hand, that I was surprised at how smart and crafty they are. They can recognize all kinds of faces, and know all the faces in their flock. They are aware when one is missing. They can recognize who cares for them, who guards them, and can remember for years if you have made them mad. I've read that both donkeys and sheep can hold a grudge when they have been treated poorly. They remember those things well.
The sheer enthusiasm my farm animals have for life always amazes me. The chickens are happy and living their little lives free ranging and laying eggs. The sheep are busy grazing, chewing their cud under a tree, or baaaaa-ing to have a treat of grain. The donkeys see me drive up, and walked to the fence to say hello. They just want to interact directly with me. The cats and dogs all love to be loved and acknowledged. It's always my pleasure to reach to them, scratch and tell them how much I love them. I know they like hearing it. We all need to be told how much we are loved.
Speaking of petting and loving on the animals, we will have the pleasure of having The Graves Farm Story Time again this coming Friday. The Celina Public Library will host their story time in our barn, and there will be children everywhere. Speaking of self awareness, having multitudes of care-free and spontaneous children around farm animals is always exciting. When everyone leaves each time, I'm always happy when no one is hurt. Between the pure abandonment of children and the unpredictability of farm animals, it's a recipe for the unknown to occur. It's during this time though, that I am able to read stories and allow them to connect with the animals. Stories like No Sleep For The Sheep and Duck On A Bike are meant to help instill a lifelong love for animals - and reading. To illustrate that animals are like us in many ways. Desiring love, recognition, care and human touch. The children have the opportunity to pet the animals, and the animals love every minute of it. It's as much a treat for the animals as it is for the children.
On Friday, if the wind howls through the barn that morning, it will be a bonus. It's an opportunity for the children to feel what the animals feel, to see how they live, to pet them and love them. It's a privilege to be able to share this. And as always, I'll update you on how it goes.
Keep your fingers crossed that all children leave with all their fingers. That's my goal.
Friday Farmday is just around the corner,
Cyndi
My first thought is that it feels good, the wind. But does the excessive wind scare them? Does it make things sound different and unusual? Because it does to me. I know it will be blowing the chicken's feathers around later in the morning, as they move about free-ranging. I will hear it making whipping noises as it glides through the barn when I check the Barn Cam, while I am away from the house. During these warm months, all door and windows are open in the barn, which then acts as a tunnel for this heavy air gallivanting along it's journey. Things that usually do not move, get blown around in this fresh gale. The donkeys will stand behind the barn - or the house - to not be in the direct gust. I'm pretty sure that whether it's cold or hot, the donkeys do not care for the wind.
The sheep don't seem to mind at all, nor the Great Pyrenees. As they lay peacefully, I see them through the window in the moonlight. It's this quiet of the morning, listening to the wind, that I think a lot. I think about how I'll leave for work, and everybody here moves about their day. Do they think about time? Or is everything instinctual for them? I often think about them randomly during the day. I wonder if Junie B is feeling better, she seems to be sneezing lately. Is Belle too hot? The flies are bad this year and bothering the donkeys. I need to get something for them. These random thoughts flutter into my mind during the day (usually at work), then I resolve them in my head temporarily, and move forward.
It's during these thought processes that I begin to wonder if any of our animals are self aware? If I were to have any of the farm animals look in a mirror, would they recognize themselves? The mirror recognition test is used as a measure of self awareness. So it seems, the pig is able to do so. But other farm animals, while smart, are not self aware. Chickens and sheep rank high in intelligence, despite what people might think. A study I read even suggest they may be smarter than a dog. Chickens can learn to do puzzles and play games. Chickens can show object permanence, meaning they have the ability to understand an object exists, even when they can't see it. Baby chicks develop this around Day 2 while an infant takes about 6 months to master this. And sheep, oh my, many people think sheep are not smart. I can tell you first hand, that I was surprised at how smart and crafty they are. They can recognize all kinds of faces, and know all the faces in their flock. They are aware when one is missing. They can recognize who cares for them, who guards them, and can remember for years if you have made them mad. I've read that both donkeys and sheep can hold a grudge when they have been treated poorly. They remember those things well.
The sheer enthusiasm my farm animals have for life always amazes me. The chickens are happy and living their little lives free ranging and laying eggs. The sheep are busy grazing, chewing their cud under a tree, or baaaaa-ing to have a treat of grain. The donkeys see me drive up, and walked to the fence to say hello. They just want to interact directly with me. The cats and dogs all love to be loved and acknowledged. It's always my pleasure to reach to them, scratch and tell them how much I love them. I know they like hearing it. We all need to be told how much we are loved.
Speaking of petting and loving on the animals, we will have the pleasure of having The Graves Farm Story Time again this coming Friday. The Celina Public Library will host their story time in our barn, and there will be children everywhere. Speaking of self awareness, having multitudes of care-free and spontaneous children around farm animals is always exciting. When everyone leaves each time, I'm always happy when no one is hurt. Between the pure abandonment of children and the unpredictability of farm animals, it's a recipe for the unknown to occur. It's during this time though, that I am able to read stories and allow them to connect with the animals. Stories like No Sleep For The Sheep and Duck On A Bike are meant to help instill a lifelong love for animals - and reading. To illustrate that animals are like us in many ways. Desiring love, recognition, care and human touch. The children have the opportunity to pet the animals, and the animals love every minute of it. It's as much a treat for the animals as it is for the children.
On Friday, if the wind howls through the barn that morning, it will be a bonus. It's an opportunity for the children to feel what the animals feel, to see how they live, to pet them and love them. It's a privilege to be able to share this. And as always, I'll update you on how it goes.
Keep your fingers crossed that all children leave with all their fingers. That's my goal.
Friday Farmday is just around the corner,
Cyndi
Monday, May 28, 2018
Summer days
What happens when it gets to be 90-something degrees around here? I put on sunscreen, a hat, long sleeves and pants even though it's hot. That's because I have skin cancer things (nothing serious, thank goodness) but I have to keep the sun off of me as much as possible. I'm training for a triathlon so that means staying covered up while running and biking. It takes effort, but I have to do that for myself.
Then there's the animals. How do they hold up in the hot weather? Some better than others. The sheep are my biggest concern right now. I have three Dorper sheep, Belle, Eve and Sam The Ram. They are classified as self-shedding sheep, which means I do not shear them, as their wool will fall/rub off on it's own. Kind of like most animals that shed naturally when warm weather is coming. Eve and Sam's wool is coming off in droves. It looks like material just hanging from their sides, and looks a little silly, actually. It's a good thing, as they need to have that large layer of wool off them. But Belle, poor thing, she's still got her full coat on with no signs of shedding. She shedded last year, so it seems like it would have started already. But no, she's got this enormous coat of wool on in the 90 degree weather. I did what any good Sheep-Mama would do, and bought me some sheep shears. No, I don't know how to shear a sheep, but I did YouTube it: 20 easy steps to shearing. Geeeezzz. Can you shear a self-shedding sheep? (I think that's a good tongue twister.) I googled that, too, and it appears you can. So, off I went to the barn with my ginormous sheep shears that I ordered from Sears online. They could actually cut my leg off in one fail swoop. I plugged in my extension cord, tied Belle close to the gate so she couldn't get away, and turned these monster clippers on. It scared the pee-doodle out of her, and she just about choked herself trying to get off the leash/collar I had her tied up with. She would rather die by asphyxiation, then with me accidentally cutting a artery. That's fair.
I turned the clippers off and freed her from the self harm of choking. That's not going to work, I thought. Now, I know you can tilt sheep onto their bottoms, and get them off-kilter so that you have control of them. But I can't do that - and clip her - all at the same time. Professionals can. Not me though. Moving on, she's just going to have to shed - or I need to find a professional sheep shearer. I called around. No luck.
My two Great Pyrenees, Levi and Whisper have 32 layers of fur (that's a made-up number). But that's just how that breed is. It's two-fold: 1) it protects them from the cold weather and living outdoors with whoever they protect, and 2) protects them from coyotes getting their teeth into their skin, esp around their neck. Last year, Levi's coat was SO thick, I did shave him with my regular dog shears. I know he was secretly grateful - and much cooler. This year will be no different, and I did begin this process yesterday. I got about 25% (if that) of him shaved, and will keep attempting to do so, as he's not a fan. He looks real crazy-looking until I get the job finished.
The donkeys also still have their winter coats and I've been brushing and brushing them. The ground where I brush them looks like a pack of animals have been slaughtered there. There's donkey hair all over the place. As I brush them, they stand patiently, enjoying the process. Papa doesn't stand as long as Mama does for this brushing event, but Mama would stand there all day, letting me brush her, if I would. Their fur will be as smooth as butter after their winter coat is shed. It just takes a little time. I also put "pour-on" fly-repellent down their backs, which will absorb into their skin and assist in keeping the flies off them. It's a necessity - as flies are damaging to their legs, creating wounds that are horrible. Flies and wasps, a lovely part of the farm experience. With the heat, comes bugs and insects.
My chickens are not fond of the severe heat, but they seem to tolerate it pretty well. During the heat of the day, they honker-down in a grassy, shady area trying to stay cool. They pant, with their little beaks open, trying to cool themselves. I make sure to have lots of water available - for all the animals - at all times. The chickens do molt, and that helps them get rid of their unneeded and old feathers. They also prune themselves, trying to keep control of the insects that want to live under their feathers. I put out plenty of diatomaceous dirt for the chickens - and sheep - to dust bathe in. This particular dirt assists with killing the lice, and repelling the insects that plague them.
The barn does get quite warm, but I have a fan in there, and all the doors and windows open. Everyone seems to be acclimating to the heat nicely, thus far. The animals just continue to live their lives no matter what weather comes along. They figure it out, no complaining. Sometimes, I think about what it would be like if I lived in the barn, too. If I didn't have to go to work, it would be okay, and I would adjust, too. I would be stinky, sweaty, and dirty. But if I had no where to go, and no one to judge me for my appearance, then it would be perfect. I could hose off, jump in the pond like the dogs do, or just not care. I have this tendency for wanting to live life off the grid. I can understand those people who live in the woods, or wander the country as they wish. I understand the people who live in the country, and go to Walmart looking dirty - and happy. They are just that, perfectly content in their own skin. Just as they are. That could be me.
Freedom = Happiness. That's my formula. And on this Memorial Day, I thank those who serve - and served - so that we can all be free. And happy. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
What a wonderful life.
I'm so grateful,
Cyndi
Then there's the animals. How do they hold up in the hot weather? Some better than others. The sheep are my biggest concern right now. I have three Dorper sheep, Belle, Eve and Sam The Ram. They are classified as self-shedding sheep, which means I do not shear them, as their wool will fall/rub off on it's own. Kind of like most animals that shed naturally when warm weather is coming. Eve and Sam's wool is coming off in droves. It looks like material just hanging from their sides, and looks a little silly, actually. It's a good thing, as they need to have that large layer of wool off them. But Belle, poor thing, she's still got her full coat on with no signs of shedding. She shedded last year, so it seems like it would have started already. But no, she's got this enormous coat of wool on in the 90 degree weather. I did what any good Sheep-Mama would do, and bought me some sheep shears. No, I don't know how to shear a sheep, but I did YouTube it: 20 easy steps to shearing. Geeeezzz. Can you shear a self-shedding sheep? (I think that's a good tongue twister.) I googled that, too, and it appears you can. So, off I went to the barn with my ginormous sheep shears that I ordered from Sears online. They could actually cut my leg off in one fail swoop. I plugged in my extension cord, tied Belle close to the gate so she couldn't get away, and turned these monster clippers on. It scared the pee-doodle out of her, and she just about choked herself trying to get off the leash/collar I had her tied up with. She would rather die by asphyxiation, then with me accidentally cutting a artery. That's fair.
I turned the clippers off and freed her from the self harm of choking. That's not going to work, I thought. Now, I know you can tilt sheep onto their bottoms, and get them off-kilter so that you have control of them. But I can't do that - and clip her - all at the same time. Professionals can. Not me though. Moving on, she's just going to have to shed - or I need to find a professional sheep shearer. I called around. No luck.
My two Great Pyrenees, Levi and Whisper have 32 layers of fur (that's a made-up number). But that's just how that breed is. It's two-fold: 1) it protects them from the cold weather and living outdoors with whoever they protect, and 2) protects them from coyotes getting their teeth into their skin, esp around their neck. Last year, Levi's coat was SO thick, I did shave him with my regular dog shears. I know he was secretly grateful - and much cooler. This year will be no different, and I did begin this process yesterday. I got about 25% (if that) of him shaved, and will keep attempting to do so, as he's not a fan. He looks real crazy-looking until I get the job finished.
The donkeys also still have their winter coats and I've been brushing and brushing them. The ground where I brush them looks like a pack of animals have been slaughtered there. There's donkey hair all over the place. As I brush them, they stand patiently, enjoying the process. Papa doesn't stand as long as Mama does for this brushing event, but Mama would stand there all day, letting me brush her, if I would. Their fur will be as smooth as butter after their winter coat is shed. It just takes a little time. I also put "pour-on" fly-repellent down their backs, which will absorb into their skin and assist in keeping the flies off them. It's a necessity - as flies are damaging to their legs, creating wounds that are horrible. Flies and wasps, a lovely part of the farm experience. With the heat, comes bugs and insects.
My chickens are not fond of the severe heat, but they seem to tolerate it pretty well. During the heat of the day, they honker-down in a grassy, shady area trying to stay cool. They pant, with their little beaks open, trying to cool themselves. I make sure to have lots of water available - for all the animals - at all times. The chickens do molt, and that helps them get rid of their unneeded and old feathers. They also prune themselves, trying to keep control of the insects that want to live under their feathers. I put out plenty of diatomaceous dirt for the chickens - and sheep - to dust bathe in. This particular dirt assists with killing the lice, and repelling the insects that plague them.
The barn does get quite warm, but I have a fan in there, and all the doors and windows open. Everyone seems to be acclimating to the heat nicely, thus far. The animals just continue to live their lives no matter what weather comes along. They figure it out, no complaining. Sometimes, I think about what it would be like if I lived in the barn, too. If I didn't have to go to work, it would be okay, and I would adjust, too. I would be stinky, sweaty, and dirty. But if I had no where to go, and no one to judge me for my appearance, then it would be perfect. I could hose off, jump in the pond like the dogs do, or just not care. I have this tendency for wanting to live life off the grid. I can understand those people who live in the woods, or wander the country as they wish. I understand the people who live in the country, and go to Walmart looking dirty - and happy. They are just that, perfectly content in their own skin. Just as they are. That could be me.
Freedom = Happiness. That's my formula. And on this Memorial Day, I thank those who serve - and served - so that we can all be free. And happy. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
What a wonderful life.
I'm so grateful,
Cyndi
Thursday, May 17, 2018
3 years of blogging
It was back in 2015 that I decided to give blogging a try, in an effort to track my progress as I made my way on foot across the US. I would write each day about my adventures, and wanted to keep family and friends in the loop on what it was like to live life on the side of the road. From that experience, living with complete freedom every day, based only on what I decide to do, and where I was going, has been my life's biggest take-away thus far. Had I not experienced it, I would not know what it feels like. It has been the most impactive concept I've encountered in my life, and although I wish for it almost daily, it's not a sustainable lifestyle. It's a misunderstood phenomenon, whereby people who desire to roam the land on foot "appear" to be drifters. There's no doubt I was pity'd by many people on my travels, yet the ability to move down the road and see the U.S. on foot is the best way I have found to do so. Unconventional, yes. A form of nonconformity, if you will. Which seems to a be underlying theme in my little life. Which by the way, I renamed my blog (not my address to it, just the title of it).
Never during that time, would I have guessed I would end up on a hobby farm in Gunter, Texas. I may have thought it as a dream back then, but never thinking I would actually figure out how to do it. I am a big advocate of 'dream, then realize your dreams". Ironically, it wasn't like I sat down and planned it, although that would be the optimal way of making a drastic change - or realizing a dream - in life. I digress. I look back at my life now, and realize I always (quietly) wondered what it was like to live in the country, have farm animals and not have neighbors too close by. And just to think it all started on a warm day, early in 2016. I'm still not sure how I found it, but I'm pretty sure I was glancing at zillow online, and came across it. For Sale, it screamed at me. Come take a look, it said. I told David about it, and with the warm sun on us, we made our way to Gunter to see what this was all about. It happened so fast, as I remember it. The realtor cancelled as we drove there, and said the owner would 'show us around'. When we arrived, a gravel road led us to a old house with a barn and separate garage. On the first visit there, I fell in love with that gravel road that led to where I would eventually live. The acreage spoke to me, as did the nature sounds and abundant land. No HOA, no neighbors, just a simple life with the ability to do as you wished, without anyone watching. Freedom in how you live. The owner was kind and sincere, and we were kindred spirits in many ways (that is a book in itself). Her need to make a lifestyle change was sincere. God sent us there, for her family.....and ours. I could feel the opportunity, the flexibility and the free reign of life there.
That's what ultimately sealed it for me. The freedom of country life. If I was not to live a life of roaming the country on foot/bike, this was freedom along with my family, that I had been looking for, without even knowing what I was looking for. I could be with my family and feel what my heart desires - all at the same time. It was adventure, peace, and family all wrapped up in what would be known as The Graves Farm. The only place I have felt truly "at home". I've lived many houses, but now, I was home.
It's been a couple of years now, and we continue to adore this lifestyle. Then, another change came up on the horizon for me. After 14 years of working as a Operating Room RN, I began to realize it was time to make a change that would take me into the next 10 - 15 years, as I think about retirement. OR nursing is physical - and exciting. It's what I crave, and a lot of who I am. Yet, something happened though as I began to approach a year in which I would turn 55. I decided I needed to quit risking my back (injury) - and body - for a career that could be kinder to my physical self. Nursing has many great options, and I would pick a Medical Office as my new work destination. I will still be able to use my critical thinking skills, nursing abilities and OR knowledge in an office position with the same ENT physician group that I currently work with. If I'm going to risk possible injury to myself, I'll do it on my own terms with my chosen passions and hobbies. But at work, I'm going to have self-compassion, and give my body a break. Freedom to choose, with the power and privilege to make a choice that serves me (as well as the patients and doctors I will be working with) has been a blessing. I am so very grateful for my health, and desire to be more mindful and diligent in respecting myself physically. I need this body to last awhile longer, as I have more living to do. Change is not always easy. Tears will be shed. But starting this Monday, I've officially retired from the OR. I'll be driving (or biking in) to my new work establishment of a medical office. It's a start of a new chapter that will bring about a large learning curve, new people and different opportunities. It's frightening, exciting and calming all at the same time. Tomorrow I say 'see you later' to many coworkers that I've worked with for years and years. Seems I've cried a lot lately and tomorrow will be no different. I used to tell Lauren, "It's okay to cry", and tomorrow I will walk that talk.
So as I move forward in this little life of mine, I look forward to all the new things that are to come. Everything, every day is good. Even when it's bad, it's good. I will be brave when I am afraid next week. I have my Farm Sweet Farm waiting for me each and every day, along with Farmer Graves and Little LoLo close by. That's just what I need.
Grateful for all the freedom in my life,
Cyndi
Never during that time, would I have guessed I would end up on a hobby farm in Gunter, Texas. I may have thought it as a dream back then, but never thinking I would actually figure out how to do it. I am a big advocate of 'dream, then realize your dreams". Ironically, it wasn't like I sat down and planned it, although that would be the optimal way of making a drastic change - or realizing a dream - in life. I digress. I look back at my life now, and realize I always (quietly) wondered what it was like to live in the country, have farm animals and not have neighbors too close by. And just to think it all started on a warm day, early in 2016. I'm still not sure how I found it, but I'm pretty sure I was glancing at zillow online, and came across it. For Sale, it screamed at me. Come take a look, it said. I told David about it, and with the warm sun on us, we made our way to Gunter to see what this was all about. It happened so fast, as I remember it. The realtor cancelled as we drove there, and said the owner would 'show us around'. When we arrived, a gravel road led us to a old house with a barn and separate garage. On the first visit there, I fell in love with that gravel road that led to where I would eventually live. The acreage spoke to me, as did the nature sounds and abundant land. No HOA, no neighbors, just a simple life with the ability to do as you wished, without anyone watching. Freedom in how you live. The owner was kind and sincere, and we were kindred spirits in many ways (that is a book in itself). Her need to make a lifestyle change was sincere. God sent us there, for her family.....and ours. I could feel the opportunity, the flexibility and the free reign of life there.
That's what ultimately sealed it for me. The freedom of country life. If I was not to live a life of roaming the country on foot/bike, this was freedom along with my family, that I had been looking for, without even knowing what I was looking for. I could be with my family and feel what my heart desires - all at the same time. It was adventure, peace, and family all wrapped up in what would be known as The Graves Farm. The only place I have felt truly "at home". I've lived many houses, but now, I was home.
It's been a couple of years now, and we continue to adore this lifestyle. Then, another change came up on the horizon for me. After 14 years of working as a Operating Room RN, I began to realize it was time to make a change that would take me into the next 10 - 15 years, as I think about retirement. OR nursing is physical - and exciting. It's what I crave, and a lot of who I am. Yet, something happened though as I began to approach a year in which I would turn 55. I decided I needed to quit risking my back (injury) - and body - for a career that could be kinder to my physical self. Nursing has many great options, and I would pick a Medical Office as my new work destination. I will still be able to use my critical thinking skills, nursing abilities and OR knowledge in an office position with the same ENT physician group that I currently work with. If I'm going to risk possible injury to myself, I'll do it on my own terms with my chosen passions and hobbies. But at work, I'm going to have self-compassion, and give my body a break. Freedom to choose, with the power and privilege to make a choice that serves me (as well as the patients and doctors I will be working with) has been a blessing. I am so very grateful for my health, and desire to be more mindful and diligent in respecting myself physically. I need this body to last awhile longer, as I have more living to do. Change is not always easy. Tears will be shed. But starting this Monday, I've officially retired from the OR. I'll be driving (or biking in) to my new work establishment of a medical office. It's a start of a new chapter that will bring about a large learning curve, new people and different opportunities. It's frightening, exciting and calming all at the same time. Tomorrow I say 'see you later' to many coworkers that I've worked with for years and years. Seems I've cried a lot lately and tomorrow will be no different. I used to tell Lauren, "It's okay to cry", and tomorrow I will walk that talk.
So as I move forward in this little life of mine, I look forward to all the new things that are to come. Everything, every day is good. Even when it's bad, it's good. I will be brave when I am afraid next week. I have my Farm Sweet Farm waiting for me each and every day, along with Farmer Graves and Little LoLo close by. That's just what I need.
Grateful for all the freedom in my life,
Cyndi
Sunday, May 13, 2018
There comes a day
It all started as a family event, to drive 2 hours away and go pick out a Weimaraner puppy. The original intent was so I would have a running dog to be with me, esp in the early mornings and late evenings, as a safety element. This would be our first "big dog" and the thought of how to handle he/she seemed daunting. When we arrived, and saw a large litter of big puppies, and I knew this experience was going to be special. It was Lauren that picked her out. Thank you, Lauren, as you did indeed pick the perfect puppy for our family. The drive back home consisted primarily of ogling over an adorable grey, female puppy - and, of course what to name her. After much deliberation and disagreements, we all could agree on Bridgette. A beautiful name for a beautiful weimaraner puppy. Her paws were huge, and even though she was female, she would likely be a large sized dog for her breed, as her mom was over 100 lbs.
As we took her home and settled her in, we had a crate ready (although unsure of how to utilize it properly), a doggie door, and no idea of how to handle a high energy, large puppy. At our first vet visit, the doctor told us about a dog trainer that he used, and recommended we consider professional training to help mould our sweet Bridgey into the best dog she could be. That would turn out to be one of the best things for us all. We did indeed do that, and Bridgette did fantastic with it. We learned to be good pack leaders, and how to give Bridgette the things she needed to succeed.
During her first year, she and I began our running. It became a "job" she looked forward to, and she was great at it! We were told these types of dogs need a job, and running seemed the perfect fit. It's hard to believe now, that looking back, she had at many points run 30 miles at a time with me. She was always up to doing what I did, and had endless energy. She was a awesome running dog, and we spent many hours together doing so. For many years, she and I walked, and ran, and she also enjoyed riding in the car while I did errands.
As Bridgette aged, she ran less and begin a life of being a regular dog. We did much more walking, and still lots of car riding. She was well-mannered, and always loyal. She was "that dog" that never let you out of her site, never ran off, and could be let off a leash at any time and would stay near. Loyal. We could take her anywhere. David got her a Service Dog vest, and she really could go anywhere with us. No, she wasn't a Service Dog, silly us, and we didn't really use the vest, but her manners could allow her to be perceived as such. She was great with kids, and always loved being with us, wherever we went.
It's during these times that I never thought about end-of-life scenarios. Bridge would live forever, and that's just the way it was. She's healthy, happy, kind, and the best dog we have ever had. Then, hip problems arose. She had two hip surgeries, and they helped some. Later in her life, she had laser treatments for it, to help generate blood circulation in that area. She had realignments done, as if she was a regular at a chiropractor. Those treatments along with pain meds were her escape from her pain. What I found fascinating is she never complained, whimpered or let it stop her. Her little tail would always wag when it was walking time, and she followed me all around the farm despite her limp. She was strong when the struggle was so real. But I could see it in her eyes, and still can. Her eyes asking me Why? Why is this happening?
She has always slept on a crib mattress on the floor, and awhile back, I upgraded her to a twin size, so she could spread out even more on it. She would lay out so completely she could cover most of the mattress. I'm glad she was comfortable.
Not long ago, she could no longer get in the car. Nor could she tolerate the walks we used to take. She was only able to walk around the farm slowly, and would often find a place to lay and watch us. My heart knew what was happening, but my mind did not want to accept it. Then, it happened. The corner you never want to see turned. She was staying on her bed more, getting up less. Not really hungry, and looking up at me with those sad eyes. Why?
I have a lump in my throat when I see it all replay in my head. The corner now turned, and time is short. We assumed she would "rally" again as she always had done. A few bad days, then back up again as usual. This cycle of rallying back had run it's course. She was tired. Her body was not able to function as it once did. It's a hard thing to watch. And I'm sure even harder to be Bridgette and endure it all.
We wanted to allow her to be at home if at all possible, And she was, until her breathing was so labored that David and I could no longer allow her to suffer. We carried her to the car and headed up to the vet. I had called them earlier in the day to talk with them about her condition. They were so helpful in guiding us through this process. They are not advocates for putting any animal to sleep. To my surprise, the vet suggested it as the only option to alleviate her suffering and struggle. There was no rallying. They was no fixing her. It was time to let her go.
David and I were able to spend a little more time with her, but she was not able to focus or understand what was happening, which I suppose is a blessing. We said our goodbyes, kissed her sweet forehead and cried. The vet would make sure she was comfortable and take away the pain and suffering.
We all have that dog, that one dog that's different than all the rest. Granted, I have only written a snippet of who she was, and what our 11 years together consisted of. Yet, it's a record that plays in my head now, of all the wonderful memories. I come home now, and she's not here. It makes no sense to me, as somehow I was convinced she always would be.
I become so emotional at the thought of her passing, realizing how great the paw print she left on my heart really is. It's indescribable. Her loyalty, her smile, and her spirit are all displayed in a portrait that was drawn of her many years ago. It hangs on the wall, so that I can see her eyes when they were smiling.
Thank you, Bridgey, for all those years you blessed upon us. You are my biggest reward when I walk through those gates in heaven, as you will be the first I hug. And I know you'll be there waiting for me, as that's how you lived your life here on earth. Always beside us, always ready. Your sweet eyes always on us.
I Loved You Best
So this is where we part, My friend,
And you'll run on, around the bend.
Gone from site, but not from mind,
New treasures there, you'll truly find.
Your place I hold, you will be missed,
The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey, to your final rest,
Take with you this, I loved you best.
-Jim Willis
I can't hide the tears when I say your name. God is Good, and together, my heart will heal, and I'll keep you there always. I cherish the joy you brought to my life.
As we took her home and settled her in, we had a crate ready (although unsure of how to utilize it properly), a doggie door, and no idea of how to handle a high energy, large puppy. At our first vet visit, the doctor told us about a dog trainer that he used, and recommended we consider professional training to help mould our sweet Bridgey into the best dog she could be. That would turn out to be one of the best things for us all. We did indeed do that, and Bridgette did fantastic with it. We learned to be good pack leaders, and how to give Bridgette the things she needed to succeed.
During her first year, she and I began our running. It became a "job" she looked forward to, and she was great at it! We were told these types of dogs need a job, and running seemed the perfect fit. It's hard to believe now, that looking back, she had at many points run 30 miles at a time with me. She was always up to doing what I did, and had endless energy. She was a awesome running dog, and we spent many hours together doing so. For many years, she and I walked, and ran, and she also enjoyed riding in the car while I did errands.
As Bridgette aged, she ran less and begin a life of being a regular dog. We did much more walking, and still lots of car riding. She was well-mannered, and always loyal. She was "that dog" that never let you out of her site, never ran off, and could be let off a leash at any time and would stay near. Loyal. We could take her anywhere. David got her a Service Dog vest, and she really could go anywhere with us. No, she wasn't a Service Dog, silly us, and we didn't really use the vest, but her manners could allow her to be perceived as such. She was great with kids, and always loved being with us, wherever we went.
It's during these times that I never thought about end-of-life scenarios. Bridge would live forever, and that's just the way it was. She's healthy, happy, kind, and the best dog we have ever had. Then, hip problems arose. She had two hip surgeries, and they helped some. Later in her life, she had laser treatments for it, to help generate blood circulation in that area. She had realignments done, as if she was a regular at a chiropractor. Those treatments along with pain meds were her escape from her pain. What I found fascinating is she never complained, whimpered or let it stop her. Her little tail would always wag when it was walking time, and she followed me all around the farm despite her limp. She was strong when the struggle was so real. But I could see it in her eyes, and still can. Her eyes asking me Why? Why is this happening?
She has always slept on a crib mattress on the floor, and awhile back, I upgraded her to a twin size, so she could spread out even more on it. She would lay out so completely she could cover most of the mattress. I'm glad she was comfortable.
Not long ago, she could no longer get in the car. Nor could she tolerate the walks we used to take. She was only able to walk around the farm slowly, and would often find a place to lay and watch us. My heart knew what was happening, but my mind did not want to accept it. Then, it happened. The corner you never want to see turned. She was staying on her bed more, getting up less. Not really hungry, and looking up at me with those sad eyes. Why?
I have a lump in my throat when I see it all replay in my head. The corner now turned, and time is short. We assumed she would "rally" again as she always had done. A few bad days, then back up again as usual. This cycle of rallying back had run it's course. She was tired. Her body was not able to function as it once did. It's a hard thing to watch. And I'm sure even harder to be Bridgette and endure it all.
We wanted to allow her to be at home if at all possible, And she was, until her breathing was so labored that David and I could no longer allow her to suffer. We carried her to the car and headed up to the vet. I had called them earlier in the day to talk with them about her condition. They were so helpful in guiding us through this process. They are not advocates for putting any animal to sleep. To my surprise, the vet suggested it as the only option to alleviate her suffering and struggle. There was no rallying. They was no fixing her. It was time to let her go.
David and I were able to spend a little more time with her, but she was not able to focus or understand what was happening, which I suppose is a blessing. We said our goodbyes, kissed her sweet forehead and cried. The vet would make sure she was comfortable and take away the pain and suffering.
We all have that dog, that one dog that's different than all the rest. Granted, I have only written a snippet of who she was, and what our 11 years together consisted of. Yet, it's a record that plays in my head now, of all the wonderful memories. I come home now, and she's not here. It makes no sense to me, as somehow I was convinced she always would be.
I become so emotional at the thought of her passing, realizing how great the paw print she left on my heart really is. It's indescribable. Her loyalty, her smile, and her spirit are all displayed in a portrait that was drawn of her many years ago. It hangs on the wall, so that I can see her eyes when they were smiling.
Thank you, Bridgey, for all those years you blessed upon us. You are my biggest reward when I walk through those gates in heaven, as you will be the first I hug. And I know you'll be there waiting for me, as that's how you lived your life here on earth. Always beside us, always ready. Your sweet eyes always on us.
I Loved You Best
So this is where we part, My friend,
And you'll run on, around the bend.
Gone from site, but not from mind,
New treasures there, you'll truly find.
Your place I hold, you will be missed,
The fur I stroked, the nose I kissed.
And as you journey, to your final rest,
Take with you this, I loved you best.
-Jim Willis
I can't hide the tears when I say your name. God is Good, and together, my heart will heal, and I'll keep you there always. I cherish the joy you brought to my life.
Monday, May 7, 2018
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
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
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