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Agnes gets her mommy on

She’s actually paying attention to them now. I’m pretty sure I saw her nudging the little boy toward her udder  & nosing his butt to get him nursing, and I haven’t had to clean the baby’s butt since this morning (before she was getting baby poo all over her tail–I can definitely see how those become a hazard). She also periodically checks in on them. It’s like she’s counting them: okay, you’re there, and there you are.

In other good news, I misread the scale, so they’re both heavier than I thought! Yay! I don’t know exactly because it’s too dark, but it was a new scale & I screwed up & I’ll weigh them again in the morning. Their actual birth weights are lost to the ages in any event. But it’s good to know they aren’t quite as scrawny as I thought. Agnes’ twin’s lamb (single) was 13 pounds, so I was pretty alarmed at their collective deficiency. On the other hand, I’m sure it made lambing much easier.

And, at the last feeding tonight, the baby only drank half her bottle and still had a full belly, which means she’s nursing at least part-time off Agnes.

They’re starting to get a little frisky now. I’ll try to find the flip video & see if I can get some action shots tomorrow.

Maybe now I can get back to work. I haven’t got a thing done since Saturday!

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More Lambs

I finally weighed them this morning and they’re much smaller than I guessed. After her bottle (and a chug off mom for him), she was just 3# and he’s only 5#. I don’t really know what the normal weight is to compare, but Agnes wasn’t getting any special pregnancy care/ration, so it would make sense that they’re runty.

Agnes seems to be chilling out now, so I’m no longer nervous about their welfare around her, and each extra day means they’re more likely to survive. The baby is on the bottle 6x a day, mom gets grain twice a day, and each time, I check their bellies after they’ve eaten, mom’s udder (seems to be getting a little lower–but it’s a dirty, wooly mess down there–I’m glad the shearer’s coming on Monday!). Agnes seems to like my company, and at least every other feeding, I make sure the baby gets on the teat a little, so hopefully she’s getting some real milk snacks here and there.

Here are some pictures I took yesterday afternoon (still mostly blurry–I won’t be able to get any super pictures until they’re outside)

ram lamb scratching an itch

that blur is his tail wiggling while he nurses (see: someone’s wiggly tail youtube video)

Mom & the baby

Mom & the twins.

His coloring makes him look like a teeny tiny calf

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Surprise Lambs!

Sorry the pictures are no good. It’s dark in there, and they’re wiggly, and Agnes is not a willing mom, and is certainly not into being suck in the pen with them, so I try to get in and out as quickly as possible so she doesn’t freak out and trample them while they’re still so little and unsteady. They’re really freaking adorable, so I really hope they make it. Thank God they were born yesterday instead of the day before, when we were in the middle of a snow storm. Yesterday everything melted and made a bog, but luckily, I caught Agnes in labor before I left for Spinsters Club, and we were able to rush around and get a makeshift pen and barn door made, and put down plenty of fresh straw. But I really wish I had known this was a possibility, so I could have read up on it and been prepared. Then I’d have known my ass from a hole in the ground, I could have better facilitated their bonding instead of fussing over them & throwing things off. Or at least I could have made sure we had the cell phone charged, so I could get a real-time blow-by-blow of what to do. But if you wish in one hand and shit in the other, you’ll see which one fills up first.

So here’s the whole story…

Over the last couple of weeks, Agnes has gotten suspiciously barrel-like and I kept saying that if I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was pregnant. The knowing better part came from the fact that I bought her as an unbred lamb (breeders divvy up the herd, but apparently enterprising suitor can overcome barriers). But in the last week, she’d started to look so distrubingly round that I even toyed with the notion of including lambing supplies with a supply order I was putting together, as sort of an insurance policy (Murphy’s Law: if I’m prepared, I won’t need them). If I had been smart, I’d’ve emailed Tina a picture & asked her opinion. But I think I was in denial.

Then Sunday, when I went out to hay the sheep, I heard a very weird moaning sound, and when Agnes trotted up for her cookie, she was trailing a mucousy glob out her backside.

I called Jennifer, who giggled relentlessly and recommended I feel her udder. It took some detective work, since she’s in full fleece  and her udder was tucked up pretty high, but yeah, it was totally taut and her teats were like pinkie fingers.

I didn’t plan to breed them, so I never bothered to read the lambing sections of any of the books, never built lambing jugs, never bought any supplies–never even finished the barn door!–and now there was no time.  I called up Tina and she ran through the basics, but thought I’d still have plenty of time. I pretty much only had time to tie a cattle panel to the unfinished door frame and grab a towel before I saw a little nose and feet sticking out. Agnes, who had laid down for a minute, let out a long grunt, and gotten back up, now seemed far more concerned with stuffing herself with hay than pushing out the little face poking out her nethers.

I ran back inside (Ron forgot his charger in Austin, the cell phone was almost dead, and our house phones only range about 100 feet from the building), called Tina back, got instructions, ran back outside, went to grab the little feet and nose with my towel only to discover there was only one foot, ran back inside, called back and asked if I was going to have to stick my hand in there and find the other foot, learned that yes, indeed, I was, and make it snappy. So I dragged Ron (who was already pretty sick) out there to hold her head while I plunged my hand in, desperately rooted around, finally found the foot, and helped the little bugger out. At the end, Agnes finally laid down and pitched in with a little heave, then conked out from exhaustion for a few minutes. The lamb was big and warm and wiggly, good news! He was also adorable, black with while socks and a white nose and a long, wiggly tail.

I knew I was supposed to dry him off and put it in front of mom’s nose, which I did, but I didn’t realize I was supposed to leave him there until they started talking to each other–and I also knew he was supposed to get some colostrum (the first, gooey, antibody-rich secretions before the regular milk) right away, so I panicked and moved him to the teat too soon. So I think it’s my fault they didn’t bond & Agnes seems utterly indifferent to them. I think she’s also a bit confused and doesn’t get they came out of her, and she’s too young to have seen anyone else lambing.

After we got the lamb dried off, I went back inside, gave Tina the update, got further instructions (if he’s not nursing right away, milk out some colostrum & feed it with a syringe), but when I got back, Ron looked a little shell-shocked and presented a second lamb, this one half the size of the first and all black, except for a few tufts of white on her head. She was a lot weaker and not as warm, so we dried her off pretty well warmed her in my lap and spent the next little while milking out some colostrum and giving it to both of them with the syringe, then trying to keep Agnes from crushing them both. Ron and I took turns watching them and checking in with Tina for the next step.

Eventually, caked in colostrum and mucous (we went through half a dozen towels–the stuff is way gooey and slippery and hard to get off–not at all like drying off a dog after a bath, which is what I had pictured), I called Tina back & she said we needed to make a much smaller pen then get the hell out of there, because they wouldn’t bond if we kept fussing around them, and Agnes would probably get more worked up and weirder. So we quickly cut and wired together a partition from a cattle panel I luckily had on hand, shored it up with a couple bails of hay, rinsed out the mineral bucket for water that the lambs couldn’t accidentally stumble into (it’s the kind that hooks over a rail), hooked up a heat lamp (that’s 200+ feet of extension cord, as the barn had no power, since I wasn’t planning to lamb–but luckily, I had the cords all ready to go because of Saturday’s snow storm), and beat a hasty retreat, leaving them alone for a couple hours, as ordered.

When we  checked back, Agnes didn’t seem any more enthusiastic about them, but she did seem a bit calmer, and they were up and wiggling their adorable long tails and walking around, trying to nurse off mom’s armpits (they’re apparently no better at being lambs than she is at being a mom). I checked back once more a couple of hours later, gave everyone a quick shot of Nutri-Drench, then let them be for the night.

For his part, all the standing around in the wet (it was sunny out, but we had about 5 inches of snow Saturday, which had melted all at once, making the ground a cold, wet sponge) made Ron much sicker, and he collapsed into bed with a fever, which finally broke around midnight. I made him soup and tea with honey and tried not to be too excited about how warm he was making the bed–it was like having a giant hot water bottle. I’m so glad he was here to help me–he’s got this very slow, calm, heavy energy that animals really like. I’m high strung by nature, so if I’m aggitated, really have to suppress my vibe around animals or they get high strung, too. Naturally, that’s harder to do when you’re anxious & completely out of your element, so I was so very grateful for Ron (even though I felt like a dick for dragging him out there when we was so clearly ill).

The dad is Roger, AKA Mr. Fabulous, Ewephoria Farm’s gorgeous spotted merino ram, not Mr. Shivers, my Shetland wether. He’s has been such a turd lately, butting everyone all the time, that I was half-worried he hadn’t been wethered properly. She must have been bred right before she came here, as her twin had gotten knocked up as well, and just lambed–and they had been pastured together. She’s apparently a better mom, but she only had one, and there are dozens of role models there and none here. Tina had told me that even though her fleece was white, she was a black-factored ewe, so if she was bred with a spotted ram, we’d get spotted babies. I didn’t actually need first-hand evidence, but she was right! And of course, though I didn’t want them & really don’t know what I’ll do with them, they’re so adorable that I’m madly in love with them already and terrified they won’t survive.

They made it to the next morning, and Tina stopped by to check up on them. She put the bands on their tails (the wiggly tails are adorable, but they hang down, not up like a dog’s, so they basically become giant poop grabbers and invite fly-strike; the easiest way to remove them is compression bands, basically a super-tight rubber band that cuts off circulation so the tissue below it withers & dies). She gave them a little shot of something numbing first & they didn’t even seem to notice. The tails should wither & fall off in a couple weeks. She also give mom a shot of penicillin (because of my hand) and some hormones that will hopefully help with the mothering instinct (I gave her a follow up shot last night; I can’t say I see any change, though), and the babies got tetnus vaccinations. She also brought me a bottle & a little milk replacer. I’ll be bottle-feeding the little one, at least until she’s stronger, because Agnes wasn’t making a ton of milk and she just can’t compete with her big brother for food. But now have Agnes is on grain twice a day, so hopefully her milk ramp up (I checked it last night & it squirted out immediately). I’m hoping once she’s a little more full & her udder drops (which may or may  not be something that actually happpens–her udder is still pretty high and inaccessible, but I’ve seen pictures with the udders hanging down, so I’m hoping), that she’ll be grateful to be milked out and won’t discourage them from nursing (right now, she usually stomps her foot and moves after a couple seconds).

I’m sort of getting the hang of coming in, checking mom’s food and water, checking her milk, feeding the baby, checking the boy’s mouth (if they have a warm mouth, that means they’re sneaking milk here and there, even if you never see them even pointed at the right end of the ewe–he seems to be very optimistic about finding a nipple at the knee or armpit), without disrupting things too much, so I’ll try to bring her grain a little earlier today and get some better shots of them together while she’s pigging out. Suzanne said she couldn’t tell the scale from these & thought the ram lamb was about the size of Kiki, my old 50# dog. He is not. He’s more the size Toddy, her old 8# dog.

I ordered a scale which should arrive today, and I’m guessing 7 or 8# for him and maybe 4 or 5 for her. She doesn’t seem any heavier than a bag of flour, and he seems about the same as a small bag of cat food. [ETA: I was WAY off. She’s only 3# after her bottle on day 3, and he’s just 5#.]

That’s a human baby bottle, so that should give you some scale for her.

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Guess what I was doing yesterday!

If your guess was: “groping around in a sheep’s hoo-ha,” you’d be absolutely right! Yup, yesterday, Ron & I delivered two surprise lambs from Agnes, our “maiden” merino lamb (yes, I’m using the quotes ironically–but it almost sounds like I’m calling her a trollop–I’m not; I’m sure that spotted Casanova took complete advantage of shy little Agnes).

Just a few weeks ago, she looked perfectly normal, but in the last couple weeks, she kinda swelled out and got a little more barrel shaped. I’ve been saying that if I didn’t know better, I’d swear she must be pregnant. If I had looked back at these pictures from the end of February to see how different she had looked just a few weeks before, I would have realized I had to be right. But I guess I was in denial. As it was, I didn’t know she was pregnant until she was dragging a trail of goo out her backside.

More to come… :)

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Snow Day

They started warning us about the snow storm a couple days ago, but all it did last night was rain (which is always nervous-making in winter). Even when I got up this morning, it was just rain. But as I was checking on the sheep, it turned to sleet, then ice, and by 9am, it was snowsville, and it’s been coming down all day.

Naturally, the warm weather for the rest of March lulled me into a little early planting. I’m doin a hay bale garden this year–making lemonade out of all my spoiled hay. Except for a little covered drawer I planted with radishes and mesclun, it was was still too cold to bother with seeds, but I couldn’t resist some brussles sprout and broccoli starts, and I even planted two wildly experimental tomatoes. (I honestly know better, but I thought what the hell?. Unfortunately, the wall-o-waters are too big for the bales, so I popped a plastic jar over each one when it got chilly & put some pots over those when word came up about the snow storm. But an icy stare practically kills tomatoes, so I don’t have any hope there.) Yesterday,I covered everything, but I expect it all to die. I knew when I planted them I was provoking Mother Nature, but I couldn’t help myself.

The snow’s pretty, and certainly more friendly than the ice, but before it started snowing, all of the tree branches and power lines (which are much too cozy on our property) were already encased in ice, so I’m nervous the snow will stick to them and something will break and we’ll be without power. It doesn’t help that the temperature keeps wiggling between a few degrees above and below freezing, so the snow an keep melting and refreezing. Ron & I started up the generator (yay!), lamented the fact that we never did get Ed to hook up the big monster generator meant to fire the boiler (boo!), got gas, gathered up all the extension cords, charged the big flashlight, stocked up drinking water, and made sure the critters were all set. At least if we lose power, we’ll be ready for it.

Anyway, something about the snow day has made me totally peevish and procrastinatey. My resistance to doing the work I had planned for today is fearsome.

I’ve decided I’m going to try halter-training all of the sheep next week. The only real troublemaker is Mister Shivers, but he’s been a complete asshole lately, so I think he needs a little schooling (for my part, I know zilch about handling livestock, but don’t tell him that). If I can get in a few sessions with each of them before shearing day, I think things will go much easier. But I imagine that no matter what, they’re a lot more compliant than animals from a large herd, especially for a pro (Dan the shearer).

In other news, I think Mister Shivers has passed his wart to Uncle Honeybuch. Apparently sheep aren’t supposed to get warts–the ruminants specialist at K State wants his wart for a paper–but that’s not stopping them, which makes me worry they’re under the weather. They’re eating plenty, and they’re frisky, and they don’t feel too bony under all that wool, but I’m not confident in my scoring skills. What do I know. Oh, that’s easy: almost nothing.

They’re extending the Little Yarn Shop Hop on the Prairie to next weekend as well, because the whole region is snowbound. We’re supposed to have Spinsters Club at Settlers Farm tomorrow–I hope the roads are okay for that. The storm warning ends at 7pm tonight, but there’s always the chance for more ice overnight.

Speaking of the Yarn Hop, I completed the hat pattern I was working on & it will be free with yarn purchase at Settlers Farm during the Yarn Hop. It uses either Mountain Meadow Merino (my new favorite yarn–I’ll put it in my etsy shop this week–one of the many of today’s tasks I’ve blown off) or Blossom, a natural colored corriedale made from Jennifer’s sheep of the same name. It’s a warm hat meant for the cold spring days when you’re itching to plant, but you know that last frost date is still looming. (Obviously, the at wasn’t enough to keep me out of the garden, so I’ll be composting a bunch of dead herbs & vegetables tomorrow.)

Here it is in Blossom, and the white ones are Mountain Meadow Merino. It will be free w/  yarn purchase or for sale separately.

Oh! Last week I got an eCard from Vickie Howell that featured a pattern I wrote almost 3 years ago!

Originally, I wrote 2 designs for a project with the working name of Catwalk Crochet, but I guess they went a different way, because this book is all crochet patterns inspired by pop culture. The book’s called  Pop Goes Crochet!: 36 Projects Inspired by Icons of Popular Culture. I think my pattern’s called Clint in the book, but being a big Clint Eastwood spaghetti western nerd, the name I had given it was The Man(cho) with No Name.

I really loved writing the pattern, because it gave me an excuse to watch The Good, the Bad & the Ugly like a hundred times. Most of the pattern is crocheted in, then it’s felted, then some optional detail work is added by needlefelting. Colorwork crochet is also so much easier than knit colorwork. Oh! And I’m pretty sure I haven’t actually been paid yet, so publication means a little bit of cash, too.