Preparations

Every summer, we have the sheep sheared. It is probably the longest farming day of the year. The day starts early and lasts until every animal has their wooly coat removed. We just made the appointment with the shearers Kevin Ford and Bruce Clement. They are coming on July 14th. By then, everything has to be in order. I can feel the tension building as The Farmer hopes for good, dry weather and tries to erect some kind of temporary, wacky shade shelter that has to last only one day.

As you know, the sheep have been up the road on our neighbor’s hill for weeks now. The fields surrounding our farmhouse have been looking rather neglected because the animals haven’t been around to graze. Honestly, how much can 30 grazing chickens do – nothing compared to 200 sheep.

And so in preparation for shearing and for some much needed mowing, we moved the sheep down the hill to our place yesterday afternoon in the heat of the day. The Farmer made sure the sheep were good and hungry so they wouldn’t mind being moved from their most recent home.

Here they are peacefully hanging out before the move. They knew something was up because I was there along with the two dogs.

Here’s the group bunching up – you can see The Farmer and Nessie on the far side.


After a few false starts and wrong turns, they found the road we wanted them to be on and off they went.


We knew they would stop at our neighbor Joanne's hay field - that green grass is simply irresistable. It was a rather long stop for some snacks.

I waited patiently down at the shed, hoping I could move them in the right direction. It's pretty hard for one woman to control 200 sheep. I stopped them from going back up the road which was key.


They found our garden and front yard more alluring than the field we wanted them to be in. After some nibbles on the grapevines and lollipop hydrangeas.......


Then they went where they were supposed to and The Farmer fenced them in with the temporary electric fences.

It surely feels nice to have them back here - they look so splendid in full coat grazing the overgrown pasture.

Otherwise around here, we're trying to duck all the rain and thunder and lightening. I am terrified of my computer being zapped by lightening so it seems to be off more than on. The rain has made the planting of the sunflower field very slow. It is too wet to get on. Some of the seed has germinated but the large part of it hasn't even been planted. I fear we won't have as many flowers as usual. Haying has also proved difficult - too much rain daily that it makes cutting impossible. We'll see if it dries out soon..... Then we will madly plant it and hope for the best.

And so, as most Americans celebrate the 4th of July, we will be too - only we'll be fitting in a picnic in between raindrops and farm chores. Hope you enjoy the long weekend!

Country Happenings

The sunflower field has been plowed and harrowed. Last weekend, The Farmer began planting the seeds. Between Sunday and Tuesday, the rain came down in buckets. Nothing compared to the people in the Midwest, but more than enough to rectify the dry ground of last week. There’s a real possibility that the seeds all washed away or will rot before they germinate. There is a reason he never starts planting until late June – the field can quickly become a quagmire and you have to start all over again. Time will tell…..

Early this morning there was a loud knock on the door. That usually means only one thing – the sheep are out. I ran upstairs to find some clothes and let The Farmer do the “Come on in” thing. When I got back downstairs, I found out that the sheep weren’t out. It was just Brad Baker delivering our annual invitation to the Landowner’s Barbeque put on by the Vermont Coyote Association. It’s an annual “thank you” for allowing the hunters "the privilege to use our land for their sport."

I’m dying to go to one of these events, but every year, I seem to have some other obligation. Once again, I've got to miss it this year. It's such a social contrast to last weekend in NJ sitting around a pool eating chips and dip. I’m sure the menu will be similar, it’s just the people who will have different interests.

Two weeks ago, the coyotes knocked down the electric fence and killed two ewes and that sweet little black lamb that was born up on the hill that I told you about not too long ago. It seems like a fine arrangement we have with the coyote hunters – there’s always plenty of coyotes around and no matter how many they manage to hunt, more still prey on our sheep every year.

The sheep are working their way down the giant hill they are grazing. Every evening, the fence gets moved a little giving them more grass to eat. The coyotes haven't been back since that night a couple weeks ago. It's hard to keep everything safe - we just try our best and deal with what nature throws our way.

Beautiful but ......

How can something so beautiful that smells so sweet .....


cause such grief?

Around here, wild roses (also called multiflora roses) are nothing but trouble to any farmer who is trying to keep their pastures healthy and productive. They come up everywhere and before you know it, they are huge mounds of prickery shrubs that get bigger by the year. Our sheep will eat them when they are young and tender but once they get to be any size, they become shade for them.

As with most invasive plants, multiflora roses were imported to the U.S.A. by well-meaning botanists way back in the 1860's. The plants were used as rootstocks for ornamental roses. I'm sure those grafted ornamentals thrived if the wild roses in the pastures around here are any indication.

The Farmer does what he can to get rid of the roses in our pastures. Mostly he mows them down with his bush-hog on the back of the tractor. But sometimes, they are in a place that can't be reached - in a ravine or in a wet, swampy spot. Or under an abandoned truck in a field.

In the fall, the wild turkeys and birds, eat the beautiful red rosehips. In a day or two, the seeds come out the other end, complete with a fertilizer packet..... All ready to go in the spring. It's pretty much a lost cause. Or a lesson in vigilance.....

You probably know from reading this blog, that I've got a thing about old trucks. They are the perfect photo op - an old discarded thing that starts to become a bit of beauty. This red truck in our neighbor's field is surrounded by these crazy roses, cascading over the hood making their own bit of sculpture - both man-made and natural.

I'm sure you have something in your life that is also beautiful but causes you grief. I guess we all have to appreciate the good with the bad.

That was quick!

When I left for Columbus, my peonies were still in buds. Now, less than a week later – they are sadly almost over. And I missed them. The horribly hot and humid weather must have put them in super fast motion – from buds to faded blooms all in a matter of 6 days. I trimmed back the spent buds and I’m hoping I get a bit longer show.

Oh how I love the frilly, ruffled blooms full of the sweetest fragrance. Until next year. How sad to see you go……

Hatchlings

Hen's eggs in a found bird's nest.....


My little hatchlings - five new colors of Julia Yarn. Coming to a yarn store near you later this summer. Aren't they lovely?

Spring Things

Spring is about new things and new growth. It's also the time of year when in nature, babies of all kinds are born. It's amazing how nature has timed most species to become fertile just at the right time of year. It's just so darn practical because all the babies have a better chance of survival when it is warm.

I always order new chicks in the spring since I'm never sure my hens will hatch their own. This year, instead of ordering 25 which is the minimum order from Murray McMurray, I ordered them from the local grain store. Their minimum is six which is more sensible for me this year. Julia and I went to pick them up late last week. We got seven Aracauna chicks which will lay those beautiful green and blue eggs.

Over the next two weeks we are getting four more chicks. The girls at the grain store have told me that the demand for chicks this year was overwhelming and that the hatcheries are having a difficult time filling orders - hence our chicks arriving on different days. Interesting, isn't it? With all the uncertainty in the world and the high cost of transportation, maybe people are starting to think more about self-sufficiency. I think that's a good thing for the modern world in general - to think more about their food, where it comes from and how it gets on your plate. This is definitely one of the growing trends in the USA today and one to watch out for.

THE Day....

There are days I look forward to every year. I try not to think about them too much because if I do anticipate too hard, the rest of my year speeds by while I'm thinking of the day that is yet to come. I don't know if this makes sense to you or not? It's like what my mother used to say to me when I was little when I told her I couldn't wait until I was 16...... She always said "Kristin, don't wish your life away. Enjoy the moments you are having now. The rest will come before you know it." And of course, Mom, you were right.

But today, it is a day I look forward to and anticipate the whole year through. It is the day our orchard bloomed.

Our farmhouse is on the edge of an apple orchard. The orchard was planted in the 1960's or 70's (I'm guessing) but it has been pretty much abandoned as far as commercial production for over 20 years. There are over 4000 trees - the only way I know this is that I was told how many were planted all those years ago. The trees are way too far gone to be productive but we still get apples galore. They seem to have reverted back to some kind of wild state because the trees bear every other year. The varieties aren't the greatest - but they are fresh and crisp and for goodness sake, they are right outside my door. The wildlife lives the whole winter on the drops and I feed my pigs and chickens all I can pick. The sheep graze under the trees all summer long giving them great shade. Every other year, we have plenty of apples for applesauce and pies.

We long ago gave up hope of ever bringing the orchard back. But what we do enjoy is walking through it and looking at the trees. And today... oh, I wish I could send you the apple blossom perfume through your computer monitor. It is so sweet and gentle and subtle. And the color of the blossoms is the lightest, gentle pink shade - almost white and transluscent - just like the fragrance.

The orchard is a busy place - it is sensory overload for sure. The bees are buzzing and pollinating like crazy. It's just too beautiful for words. And so I will stop and let you look.


Yes, that's the moon up there between the blossoming branches. What an incredibly beautiful day.

May Day

Little glimpses around our farm today on this glorious May Day 2008. We didn't deliver any May Baskets but I'm delivering you some bits of spring tonight.

I let the chickens out every morning at this time of year. They eat bugs and worms and love to take a good dust bath. In a few weeks, I'll have too many plants in that I won't want them to eat so their hours out of the coop will be a bit less. They are enjoying every moment of freedom from morning til night.


Otto is Lily Pons' last year's handsome kitten who somehow has managed to become a big strapping cat. (He's the one we kept from this litter of five red striped tiger kittens.) He still is as sweet as they make 'em and really the only cat I have managed to have sit still for me for a photograph. He is loving the daffodils this week.


I have no idea what this shrub is but every spring it lets out a scream of a wonderful pinkish-salmon bloom that I gather by the armload and bring inside. After it's all over, you would have no idea that the homely shrub could be so beautiful.


I love these little purply-blue grape hyacinth blooms. The raindrops hanging onto the sides of them kind of look like little glass baubles.


Happy May!

Hay.... What's for Dinner?

"Hay, hay, hay.... that's all we get to eat. Isn't it about time you fed us something else?"

That's what I imagine our sheep are asking The Farmer just about now. Although they never go on strike and say "No, I won't eat." They wait patiently and then chow down in earnest.

The lambs run on the outside of the feeding fence because they are small enough to sneak through. They're also too small to fight off the larger ewes. And of course they are growing fast and need lots of food besides the milk their mothers are making.

By next week, some of the sheep will move out to pasture if the grass is well established. It's important that they don't eat the grass down to the root system. If they do, it takes a lot longer for it to re-grow. The Farmer is very anxious to get them on the hillsides. And I can imagine, the sheep are pretty anxious for some fresh greens since they have been eating pickled grass for several months now.

Blueberries Someday

Have you ever eaten low bush blueberries? They're very tiny and sweet and grow in the wild, mostly in Maine. There are some fields of native blueberries in Massachusetts - mostly on the tops of mountains that are rocky. One happens to be in the town we live in. Although the blueberries are native, it takes some farming to keep the fields bearing.

Yesterday, this was the biggest news in our little town - the blueberry fields were burning. It was very exciting because they haven't been burned in almost a decade and haven't been harvested in quite a while.

This is how it happens. They get a burning permit and pick a day when there is no wind. It helps if the ground is still wet which it was yesterday. They light a brush fire and the field slowly starts burning.


There are lots of rakes and just in case large tanks of water.


The fire slowly spreads. The leaves and the stalks of the berry plants burn. The goal is to only burn the plants. If the fire spreads to the roots, it takes longer for the plants to recover. When it is done, the field looks charred.


The plants won't start bearing until 2009. We all are looking forward to lots of fresh sweet berries soon.

Turkey Dance

The scene as I awoke this morning way down in the pasture. Spring is finally here. The toms were putting on quite a show for thirteen hens. I hope they accomplished their task because hunting season starts the end of April for bearded turkeys. The hunters have been circling and looking to see where the birds are.

The Day The Cows Went Away

We bought our farm ten years ago - three months before Julia was born. The Farmer and I had always wanted to live in an old house on a bit of land. The fact that this particular farm was just over the mountain from where he grew up was a plus. We already had a sheep barn, woodland, and sheep pastures on that side of the mountain. We needed a place to live and we both liked old houses. We jumped when this farmhouse came up for sale. Our friend Will called The Farmer and told him it was for sale. The minute we drove up, I said “Okay, let’s make an offer now – I don’t need to see what the house is like.” Mind you, The Farmer wanted to buy the place without me even looking at it. We didn’t think about how or when we would live there, we just knew we had to get a mortgage somehow and buy the place.

As things went, we sold our place in eastern Massachusetts when Julia was ten months old and moved here in 1999. For The Farmer, it was moving home. He was regarded as that Duprey boy from Boston who had married a city slicker from New Jersey. “Oh, how did he ever marry a woman from there?” I assumed they all were thinking. For me, moving here was a new adventure. I had “played country” in our home in eastern Massachusetts - keeping my exotic chickens and an occassional lamb or two in the chicken pen when it needed nursing. But I knew this place would be real country. I anticipated all the interesting new things I would learn about and new friends I would make. We were both happy and excited to raise our little girl here in rural western Massachusetts.

Our farm is set halfway down a rather large hill. Our road was the old stage route. It’s all so hard to imagine now – stagecoaches, Indians, the Revolutionary War, subsistence farming, clearing woodlands for pastures, building stone walls. We were just taking over the land the colonists had tamed and home they had built. How they ever made it through a winter boggles my mind. I’m just glad our house survived and am thankful to live in it.

There aren’t many houses nearby. In fact, just a handful of houses are close enough to be considered official neighbors. Living in this town, most of our fellow townspeople are considered neighbors, even if we don’t know them all.

Up the road from us, not too far, there is a farm that has been owned by one family for a very long time. This farm encompasses almost 1000 acres greatly contributing to the ruralness of our little town. Although that may not seem like a lot of land to some, it is a lot of land to own in Massachusetts. The family is dairy farmers, raising Brown Swiss and Holstein cows. Three brothers own and run the farm. The Farmer knows all of the brothers. His mother and father were friends of their father and mother. I was accepted into the neighborhood because I was married to him, maybe at arm’s length and skeptically, but accepted.

As with almost all New England dairy farms, the last few decades on this particular farm have been a real struggle. Keeping up with the times, staying current, paying taxes, and the general daily slog of farming dairy cattle can wear anyone down. You could see the place and the people were tired. There was no money for repairs and improvements.


When we moved here, we knew there was a chance that this neighboring farm might be sold and split up. Every day as I traveled the hill by foot or auto, I tried to breathe in the rural character of this dairy farm, the rough countryside, the decaying barns. To me, there is a real beauty in things like this. A history that is fast slipping away. People in the year 2008 don’t want to work as hard as a dairy farmer works anymore. They don’t want to go in debt to keep the farm going only to never get a vacation and have a retirement. I lived in fear of what would happen to this beautiful piece of earth, landscape, and agricultural lifestyle.

We kept hearing scuttlebutt and town-wide gossip. The Farmer and I didn’t want to ask any questions. We didn’t want to pry into our neighbors’ business. I kept walking the beautiful old-fashioned dirt road and landscape, delighting with my dogs in every critter be they farm or wild animal, big or small. We looked to see if the cows were waiting by the milk room door or if they were out in the field munching happily away on some hay. We checked the pastures to see which field they were grazing, watching the cows’ huge lumbering bodies gently climbing up and over the hillside pastures. We talked to the cows like friends, looking into their big brown eyes, trying to imagine what they were thinking.


And then it happened. I heard through the wind that is a small town that the cows might be leaving one day last January. With regret in my heart, I walked up the hill to visit the cows one last time. I took these photos that day. An hour later they all were gone. It makes me cry even today to think about that day. Less than an hour later I drove past the farm as the cattle truck was loading the animals. The cows were sold at auction to go to other farms and live out their lives as milk producers. I can’t help but think they weren’t in as lovely a spot. The cows had lived on the top of the world, wandering over the fields with a 270 degree view of three states. They obviously didn’t know this nor how lucky they were. But I’m sure they loved their hill and home.

With the dispersal of the dairy cows, the agricultural, working lifestyle of the hill slowly disappeared. A working farm can never be replaced. The animals, the rhythms of their lives from sun-up to sun-down, grazing the hills, munching the hay and silage they were fed, being milked twice a day, every day of the year.... The harvesting of the hay for them..... All of the off-farm people who visit -- the cattle breeder, the grain truck, the vet…. When the animals leave, the agricultural soul of a farm dies away. Left are the empty buildings bearing witness to their past rugged and utilitarian usage. Slowly they fall away into the ground. Roofs cave in when there is no reason to keep spending money on them to shelter animals.

Around town, not much was said (or else noone said anything to me). I never mentioned the cows' leaving to anyone but my family. It was like a neighbor being ill. If noone talked about it, maybe it would go away. And so the wait was on. What was going to happen to this large piece of beautiful, wild land. What would it mean for all the people living on our road, in our town. All we could do was wait and see.

The “For Sale” signs went up and we waited. And we wondered. I kept sending good thoughts to the place we considered our own. Saying my own little silent prayers. I wasn’t born in this town nor on this hill but it’s the place I have come to consider my home. I didn’t want to see it change. I wanted my daughter to delight in the natural beauty and agricultural cycles of the year… to learn about where milk and hay come from. It felt like it was all crumbling away. Rumours of developers looking at the maps at the town hall spread like wildfire. Any vehicle seen on our road from out of town was considered a threat. We all lived in fear.

And now today, we have new neighbors. The Farmers who owned the land are still living in the old houses they have always lived in. Through the work of several different organizations and with the cooperation of the farmers, the land is now owned by others. Some of the land was purchased by the Massachusetts Department of Fish and Game for wildlife management. Some of the land has been sold to one of the brothers for him and his family to farm and will always be preserved for agricultural usage. And the last piece of land, where the cows slept each night, has been put into farmland preservation too.

I breathe a sigh of relief every time I take a walk up our road. I feel so fortunate that I can keep enjoying the pristine beauty of nature. If I have to share it with a bunch of out of state hunters once in a while that is okay. We’ve already noticed a large increase in the wildlife population. More deer, bobcats, coyotes. With the cows gone, others move in. We’ll all co-exist.

It’s a bit of a bittersweet ending and beginning for our neighbors. They aren’t farming cows anymore. Their lives have changed. It’s hard to imagine how difficult it is for them -- carving out a new niche in the world for themselves. Farmers are always farmers. I know this – I married one. The land will change also -- new species of plants and woodland and forest will grow up over the pastures. It will all take time and new things will settle in.


I feel fortunate that I was able to witness this hillside the way it was farmed for many, many years. I'll try not to forget it. We have the farmers and their family before them to thank for this beautiful piece of land my family and many other families enjoy. They cared for the pastures and woodlands for generations keeping it whole until it became impossible. Without their concern and love for the land, we might not be so fortunate.

Saps a Running

It is April 1st here and everywhere. We’ve had one of the coldest, snowiest winters since we have lived on this farm. Yesterday it snowed, yet again. Everyone around here, including the chickens, sheep, dogs, and cats, are waiting for spring to come and the snow to melt. Waiting and wondering if it will ever arrive. We know it will someday. The spring birds are returning and I am sure they are perplexed by the frequent appearance of more and more snow.

One of the most noticeable rites of spring in these parts is the appearance of galvanized buckets hanging on little hooks from the sides of maple trees. Each spring, farmers drill fresh holes in their maples, hang their buckets, and wait for the sap to flow. Talk around here is about “how the sap is running.” Depending on which farmer you talk to, you will get all kinds of conflicting stories. These buckets are incredibly beautiful weathered by years of wear and tear.


We have been enjoying the sites, sounds, smells, and flavors of our neighbors collecting and boiling this sugaring season. Sunday we walked our road to check on the progress of the harvest.


If you were here, this is what you would see:

Just beginning to drip....


Almost....



The saps drips and pings as it hits the bottom of the bucket.


Lot of the maple sap is now being collected via a pipeline system that gravity feeds into large 250 gallon collection tanks. It’s not nearly as picturesque as the bucket system but as with everything, efficiency counts. In the old days, large families would spend their days collecting and boiling but as the population left the farms and families aren’t as large anymore, pipeline collection systems are easier. Thank goodness our neighbors still hang some buckets.

The sap flows best during the day when the night before was below freezing and the day is well above freezing. The past few years, the sap season was late February and early March but this year it’s much later. From what we hear, it seems like it is going to be an extra long season with lots of syrup being produced. Here's some sap boiling at our neighbor's sugarhouse.


Oh how I love living in New England.

Late Winter Walk

Winter is beginning to lose its grip on the land around here. The snow is beginning to melt and the streams are rushing along full of the most beautiful clear water.


Here's a little visual diary of nature along our road today.

The snow is melting in this swampy area but before it all goes away it has formed some lovely white pillowing mounds.


My favorite beech trees are still hanging onto their leaves. Here they are making a lovely pattern on the snow in the woods.


There's still barely a bit of color outside except for the sumac plumes. They are clinging to their redness and look faded but colorful against the clear blue sky.


My dogs Phoebe and Ness are my constant companions on my walks. They would love to walk for miles. At least we are getting out a bit now. The biting cold has subsided and I'm starting to crave being outside again. We are all lookng forward to the things that come along with spring and summer.

Late Winter Harvest

Down the road from our farmhouse there's been lots of activity for the past couple weeks. Normally our road is very quiet with only the neighbors passing through. Late winter is the perfect time to harvest timber. The ground is still frozen so there is rather little damage done to the forest soils. We have been watching with interest as the piles of wood grow each day and then shrink back to nothing, only to grow again the next day.

This particular piece of land is owned by a neighboring municipality. A couple years ago, we noticed large blue shots of spray paint on different trees. This was the work of a Certified Forester who worked with the property owner to develop a plan to harvest the trees that were ready to be turned into wood planks for building. The licensed forester works with the State of Massachusetts to make sure the environment and all its inhabitants are protected. The forestry plan goes out to bid to different lumber suppliers. The highest bidder gets the job and the harvest. A permit must be applied for and posted while the job is going on. Independent loggers are hired to harvest the wood.

Here's what the loggers bring with them. They also bring a chain saw and a machine similar to a bobcat with a chain which they pull the logs out with. These guys are amazingly strong, wiry, and quick. They must love what they do - being outside all day. I supposed it must be a way of life that is getting rare but it still happens here in western Massachusetts.


First the loggers build little roads through the woods doing as little as possible to disturb the woods. Here's one they built on this piece of land. Notice the portable bridge that is spanning the little river so the vehicles can cross the stream. The minute the ground becomes too soft, they have to stop harvesting. Although the wood road looks rather raw right now, by the end of the summer it will fill in and be green again with new forest growth beginning to sprout.


Here's the beginning of a pile of wood that will be picked up soon. This will go to the sawmill and be cut up into planks of lumber, be kiln-dried and then used for construction.


Some people hate to see a forest being cut. We don't mind it because by thinning large trees ready for harvest, the smaller trees can grow and then in a few decades be cut for more timber. It's a way of keeping the forest healthy and actively growing and a way for a private landowner to pay the taxes. And it beats having a bunch of houses plopped down, as far as The Farmer and I are concerned. The logging roads that are built make great places to take a walk and enjoy the forest.

Winter Grass

Busy weekend for us, even if it was a holiday weekend. On Saturday, Julia and I went to the Odyssey Bookshop in South Hadley for a talk and a booksigning. My plans for childcare fell through at the last moment so I had to bring her along. Luckily, Amy Greeman, Director of Publicity at Storey, brought her 11 year old son to the talk. Amy took Ben and Julia to the children’s book section (which by the way is very nice) while I talked about the projects in my book. Thank goodness Amy was there because Julia was going to steal the show. Thanks Amy so much!

The Farmer had to get up crazy early because he was going to a “Grazing Conference” way up in Vermont. First, barn chores and then a long drive to Vermont Technical College in Randolph Center. It is organized by University of Vermont’s Center for Sustainable Agriculture and the Vermont Grass Farmers’ Association.

I’m sure most of you are wondering what the heck they talk about at a grazing conference. It’s quite similar to going to a Stitches or TKGA Conference for knitters but it is for farmers and not nearly as expensive to attend. Farmers from throughout the area drive in and take classes on subjects that you probably haven’t thought about. The Keynote Speaker was Greg Judy who flew in from Missouri and spoke on “The Wonderful Grass Machine: Using Livestock to Restore Fallow Land.” This guy travels the continent speaking about his 2,000 head of cattle and how they harvest his and his neighbor's grass! I think listening to him may be similar to a knitter hearing Kaffe Fassett speak.

The Farmer was very excited about all that he learned at the different classes. He has attended this conference for years and brings back interesting tid-bits of knowledge. I quizzed him the other day so I might have something profound to report to you all. He's not much for flowery descriptions (that is my department). His comment was that it was nice to meet like-minded individuals who were trying in their own small way to preseve the bucolic (not his word, mine) farmlands of New England.


As you can imagine, the conference has to be in the winter when fields are not growing and being harvested. He said it is lots of fun to hear what other farmers are doing in their operations which include beef, dairy cattle, sheep, goats, chickens, and turkeys. He feels part of a small but hopefully growing movement, alternative as it is, to help do his part to keep the landscape of New England open, beautiful, and productive.


Our sheep are primarily grass fed. This means they eat grass in the spring, summer, and fall and hay (or preserved grass) in the winter. (Our larger lambs are just starting to pick at the hay.) Rotational grazing is an efficient way to harvest grass and turn it into a by-product (lamb and wool). But you have to stay right on top of the sheep and the grass so that they don’t over-graze a field. Overgrazing puts stress on the root systems of the plants and they can’t recover. Here are some of the other good side effects of rotational grazing:
•Permanent pastures provide habitat for grassland birds.
•Pastured animals are much healthier than any kept in typical feedlot situations, hence healthier to eat.
•Naturally applied manure reduces the need for chemical fertilizers.
•Less fuel needed to harvest the food and thereby reduces the carbon footprint.
•Reduces (or eliminates) the need for feeding of grain grown other places far away.
•Small farms whose fields are often abandoned can remain in agricultural production if grazing animals are used to keep the pastures from reverting to woodlands.
•And probably a knitter’s favorite reason for rotational grazing – a field full of sheep is just so darn beautiful.

I bet not much of this information was on your mind this morning. If you want to learn more about agriculture and food in the United States, I highly recomment Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals. It's a fascinating look at large and small agriculture and the source of your food.

Sunday Lambing

I have wanted to go see the new movie Water Horse and planned to take Julia on Sunday afternoon. Has anyone seen it? Life got in the way. New life, that is.

Julia and I went to check on the progress at the barn early in the afternoon - something we do together during lambing season. If we don't go to the barn, she doesn't get to see here Dad as much as he likes. He's very busy this time of year - feeding sheep, lambs and helping out when someone needs it.

Upon arrival, we saw a brand new lamb and there was another ewe in labor. It was our lucky day - it isn't often we get to see lambs being born. The barn was relatively warm so we sat down and waited. The ewe wasn't too pleased to have human company so we kept our distance.

The ewe was large and definitely experienced with birthing and raising lambs so we weren't too worried about her. Here she is making a nest by pawing at the hay.


We kept waiting patiently, talking amongst ourselves and with Jeremy the llama who was also quite interested in the new life that would be soon appearing. He loves the little lambs.

The ewe continued in labor. Here she is pushing.


This went on for quite awhile. I thought to myself it was taking awhile but The Farmer knows best. And so we kept waiting patiently.

After an hour and a half of her pushing, the sun began to go lower in the sky. We would have to leave soon. Finally a leg and the tip of a nose appeared.


She kept pushing but things weren't progressing. We grabbed a halter and caught the ewe. The next sequence of photos happened extremely fast.

Here The Farmer is pulling out the first leg.


Look hard and you will see the next leg under the first.


With one gentle tug, the lamb began to appear.


The mom is inspecting her new baby and The Farmer is cleaning out the mouth so it can breathe.


The mom is cleaning off the baby and her milk is starting to come down.


Here's the lamb as he is opening his eyes for the first time. He was a monster lamb - huge - and she probably would not have been able to deliver him without help. Lucky we were there.


On his feet after a few minutes and looking for lunch.


Julia inspecting the new member of the flock.


Lamb count - 39
Lambs in the House - 1

Back to Normal - Almost

The holidays are over and the humans on this farm are all finding it difficult to revert back to the normal day-to-day business of life. Back to school. Back to business. How quickly the holiday euphoria slips away.

Our animals, smart as they are, didn’t get caught up in the over-indulging, the merrying and the harried-ness. (I must admit though that I did slip them all a bunch of goodies cooked especially for them on several occassions.) Our kitten Otto is putting it all in perspective here – he’s found a nice warm spot under a chair which is covered with snow. It's like a mini-igloo. He’s waiting out the winter here – at least for a little while.


Today, after I dropped Julia off at school, I went to the barn to see what was going on. There was a black ewe in labor. I left her alone, partly because it was dark and I knew I wouldn’t be able to get good photos of the birth for you, and also because she seemed quite skittish.

The sheep aren’t as accustomed to me poking around the barn. The Farmer is the most regular visitor. Here he is driving an 800 lb. bale of hay into the greenhouse barn to feed the sheep.


The sheep are eating snow right now for their water intake. They line up along the barn and eat the fresh fallen snow as it plummets off the roof of the barn. You can see them in the photo below along with the others lounging in the sun.


I went back in the the barn and the ewe had lambed. Here’s the new black lamb - quite a big one for the size of the mother. She was up on her feet in no time. It never ceases to amaze me. The white ewe had a lamb yesterday but was still quite interested in the new arrival.



And yes, that is steam rising from the lamb. It was cold and she was very warm.

2007 becomes 2008

As the Year 2007 turns to the Year 2008, everyone thinks of new beginnings. I do not get overly sentimental about the new year. Knowing my tendencies, I do not expect any new and great changes from myself nor The Farmer. We are pretty much the same people we have been for many years, just adapting to life as it rolls along.

Living on a farm we are perhaps a bit more atuned to the natural calendar of the year. Not that we get overly poetic and spiritual. It is as it is. The days become shorter and we adapt. The days eventually will become longer and we will adapt again and change the things that we do to live as we do.

Three days before Christmas, this little lamb appeared.


Today, a Tuesday and New Year’s Day 2008, was lovely. We had a beautiful light and fluffy snowstorm, the second since Sunday. Julia and I have been away visiting relatives. The night before we were to leave my mom's home in New Jersey, I started to dream about the farm and the sheep and the lambs. I knew it was time we both got back here.


Today, in the early afternoon, we drove to the sheep barn. (It is five miles from our farmhouse.) The snow was rapidly falling and there were 23 brand new lambs to meet and inspect since Julia and I had left. The ewes have been incredibly busy. It was a lovely scene with everyone healthy and happy. The moms were all fed and munching on hay. The lambs were all taking good care of their babies.


In the next few weeks, there will be many more born. There will be some sadness and lots of joy. That is what it is like on a farm. We take the good with the bad and carry on.


I hope you and yours enjoy all that is new and special in 2008 and enjoy what has always been.