When I was making breakfast this morning, I heard the Icies barking on the back deck and looked out the kitchen window to see Buddy with Minx’s head in his mouth. I screamed out the window for Frank to go help (he was getting ready to feed the pigs), jumped into my boots, and ran outside.

Frank had Buddy by the collar and Minx had run off. But then we saw that Fiona was down and Doppadottir was also bloody around the head. What the heck? Buddy has not shown any aggression at all toward the sheep prior to this.

We tethered him in the front yard and called the vet. The whole front of his white fur was red, covered in blood. I can still barely manage to look at him.

Fiona was still alive, but barely. We got Doppadottir in the shed with her lamb and knew it was going to take three of us to corner Minx.

When the vet got here (Steve Major from Chesterfield, as Chuck Shaw who we usually use wasn’t on call this weekend), he put Fiona down immediately. No way she was going to recover, and her lambs weren’t going to be viable if we did a C-Section. Poor thing. She was one of our first sheep and we have so many of her daughters. She was never a fence breaker so quite endearing to me. I’m so sorry she had such an awful end.

Doppadottir had the exact same kind of injury. Ears nearly torn off, deep wounds around the neck. The vet said this dog has a preferred method for taking down sheep and should never be trusted on a farm. Minx (when we finally caught her) had the same type of injury. They are both sewn up and in a shed where we can give them drugs and hopefully nurse them back to good health.

I contacted the rescue organization and told them Buddy needs to be elsewhere. Not on my farm. We had been told he was safe around livestock and we had certainly never seen any aggressiveness toward the critters from him prior to these awful attacks.

My poor sheep. I’m so sorry. I got the LGDs to protect you, not harm you. Fiona, sweetie, you were always slightly stand-offish, unless you had a problem. You thought fences were there to keep the bad guys out, and never ever went through or under them yourself, quite unlike Kaytla and her crew. You had so many daughters that I still have that I will be able to remember you for a long, long time. You were so elegant, so pretty. I’m so sorry your life ended in such a horrible fashion. You did not deserve this, sweet girl.

Doppadottir, hopefully having your lamb with you will give you the strength and will to live. Your injuries are bad. Your ears are both nearly off and the wounds quite deep. We’ll help you fight. You want to live, if only for your adorable son.

Minx, sweetie, no matter what I’ve said about you lately, this wasn’t your fault. Please don’t die. Please have your babies safely and live a long time to drive me nuts with your fence breaking. YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DIE. Period. You and I have been through many an antic requiring vet trips during your life. Scurs ripped off, grain overload. But this, this is awful and not your fault, but mine.

I had been so hopeful that Buddy would work out. We love Maggie so much and had room for another. Other farmers are telling me that they would have gotten a gun and put him down too. Maybe I’m a wimp. I don’t know where he belongs, but it ain’t here. Just last night I had seen him play for the first time and uploaded a video and everything. He had actually walked by Bjarki without growling for the first time, too. We had hope we could get him integrated in to our happy life. Having him around was stressful because of the wanting to kill Bjarki thing, but it was getting better, damn it.

I guess it just wasn’t meant to be, and I’m so sad for my sheep that they had to bear the brunt of figuring that out. I’m so sorry, sheepies.

It often happens this way on the farm — someone dies and someone is born, both on the same day.

Sadly, Misty died today from a ruptured spleen, delivered by a kick from our new male llama. We had let them get to know each other, and didn’t leave them alone until there was no spitting and they were familiar with each other. But he’s a kicker — both Frank and I have hoof marks on our arms from his first days here. I’m so depressed about it. Misty was so neat. Now having lost both her and her sister Mary, I’m not sure I want to have llamas anymore. So much individual personality, and yet their benefit to our farm is intangible. The horses can take the place as guard critters. No one is going to mess with Prince or Pearl. Poor Misty. I’m glad to have known her, and she’ll be greatly missed.

Right after I found Misty, I noticed that Serena had a lamb. She’s a first time mama, and did really well. Had him up and claimed in no time. I jugged them to be on the safe side, but she’s a great mama. I keep thinking we are done with lambing for the year, but because we left Spike in with his girls so long, I guess he eventually settled them after all. This little one is a moorit ram lamb. After her sister had a moorit ewe lamb earlier, I spoke to Mike Kelley to see if Spike carried moorit in his line, and he does. I’m thrilled. Moorit sheep are my very favorite. I’d love to have a whole flock this color. There’s only Lily left to lamb, if she’s going to. She doesn’t look bagged up at all, but who knows.

I’m discouraged, lately. I think we both are. The only thing that is really thriving is the bees. (Murphy — back off. We do not need to have something happen to them now, thanks!)

The sheep are having huge parasite problems. Selina and Fiona both showed awful bottle jaw, so we were worming them frantically, spending lots of time at the vet’s office doing fecals, worming and giving them extra vitamins and iron and anything else we could do. Then Buster drops dead. We hadn’t even noticed he was sick. The day before, he’d come up for a cuddle, the next day, he was dead.

Then Gracie, who is over on Other People’s Pasture over in Epsom dies overnight. He said the same thing — she was fine the day before, then stayed out in a thunderstorm so he knew something was wrong, and called us. We were going over this morning when we got the email that she didn’t make it through the night.

Then we went out to do morning chores, and the broody mama who hatched out four eggs? She abandoned the rest in the nest, so I put them in the incubator. Last night, after she had gone to sleep, I took one chickie who’d hatched and stuck in under her. All seemed fine when I tucked them in for the night. This morning, though, not so much. Too many feathers all around the coop, and the mama and her babies were no where to be found. Frank later found one little chickie frantically searching for her mommy.

I guess what we’ve figured out is that this is the first time we’ve had anyone on the floor. These Icelandic chickens all like to roost as high up as they can get. Sigh. It was so depressing to find that something got her and her babies. I’ve got the one that survived and another that hatched from the abandoned eggs in the incubator in a cardboard box in the living room. I’ve still got two eggs in the incubator, and hope I get two more chickies. Hope springs eternal, I guess. Life after death and all that.

Then the blasted sheep all got out again, for the forty eleventh time. They were all over my garden and I just couldn’t stand it anymore. Too much stress today, but I’m afraid I was a bit of the crazy woman, chasing sheep out of my raised beds. We just can’t use any electronet at all, ever again, I swear, no matter how much money we have tied up in it and how little permanent fence we actually have.

I convinced Frank to let me call a local handy man to help me put up some more permanent fence. Frank just can’t spend all day helping me on the farm — someone has to bring in the actual cash money. But Bucky charges far less per hour than what Frank can earn pushing a computer, and we just need help. So he’s coming over tomorrow, and we’ll see what I can get done for a couple of day’s worth of work. He loves our sheep — he was our sheep sitter every time we got sent on the road a couple of years ago. There are times when he shows up even though we are here, just to be sure they are spoiled enough.

I also called Jeremy, left a message that we could use some physical labor if he can spare a weekend or two. It’s already mid-July, and we have so much left to do. We can’t get ahead because we are constantly fighting the crisis of the day.

When we were driving over to worm the rest of the sheep in Epsom, we talked a lot about what else we’d do if we threw in the towel. It’s hard to imagine. We’ve had homesteading as a goal for so long. We relaxed as we drove, and sort of understood that a really bad string of days shouldn’t make us quit. But man, as we were driving home, knowing the freaking sheep were still out and probably still eating my damn garden, the stress level went right back up!

It actually wasn’t that bad — I’m now operating under the theory of keeping the house and gardens as a sheep-free zone. If they want to go into the woods or swamp, fine. I will work with Bucky to get that fenced, but in the meantime, stay out of my garden, or else! Lamb chops for dinner. One local summer, indeed.

We took on too many new things this year. We still don’t have any out buildings, and pigs, horses and chickens are all new critters. We justified it by saying the horses will help us log as we clear land. The pigs will root up the stumps, and the chickens will help with the parasite load. Yeah, whatever. We should have waited to get all of those after the fencing was done. Live and learn, I guess.

We brought the sheep home from Marlborough today. They’d gotten out three times in the last week and attacked their hostesses garden. Clearly not okay. And because it was a fencing issue, I had to go. That’s a 2-3 hour trip, and if I do it too often I lose the contract I’m working on. That’s even more not ok.

Lisa also noticed that Leon was really upset yesterday, so she counted noses, and sure enough, Bill is missing. She called Dave down at Wellscroft where we buy all our fence and offered to pay him to meet us there to figure out the problem. He told her not to bother. It’s coyotes. The Marlborough-Harrisville area is having serious coyote issues this year.

“You’ve got Icelandics, right? Do you have a leadersheep? You’re finding them down by the barn? You know what I think about Icelandics and fences, but listen to your leadersheep. She’s pulling them out of green pasture to hide in the barn. What is she telling you?”

We talked it over. We have no pasture. We’ll be feeding hay, which means we can’t sell pastured lamb. On the other hand, I’ve wasted 8 hours this week going to Marlborough, and if I bill 14 more hours in a month it buys the hay for everyone including Prince and Pearl. So the sheepies are home.

When we got there today with the trailer to bring them home in, it was really clear where the coyotes had gotten in. We are not only down Bill, but also another lamb. We must remember to fix that strand before we try to use it again. Actually, we are really not that impressed with using electronet anymore at all, now that we own a dozen strands.

Lisa is taking a cheese class this weekend, so for now they’re in with the ewe lambs, eating hay. Sunday night or Monday we’ll set things up as best we can and we’ll put the hours we’ve spent traveling to Marlborough into making our own pasture.

This isn’t a particularly good success story for Other People’s Pasture. It was great pasture, and they really wanted our sheep to keep it open for them, but they had no fencing at all, and weren’t willing to even give the sheep water every day, so either we or Valerie had to make the trip three or four times a week.

The vet called yesterday with the results of the necropsy (that’s a veterinary autopsy) on Mary. The immediate cause of death was septic shock due to a systemic infection of streptococcus zooepidemicus (phonetic spelling on the species). This bacterium is found in the mucous membranes of all ruminants. and it’s known to cause “Alpaca Fever” which apparently is exactly the same thing, so it’s not a big surprise to see it happen to a llama. I think she also said something about horses as well. So basically it just happened.

However the vet also mentioned that there were signs of chronic infection in lungs and abdomen. Whether this made her more vulnerable to the septic shock, who knows.
Finally, she also sent in samples of the skin problem on Mary’s legs (which is even worse on Misty). The report was “yeast infection”. The vet is researching this.

On the mega-catch front, Lisa brought back CO2 Friday. Those cylinders cost a pretty penny, but they seem to be helping: the black fly density around the house is down relative to the new garden or the sheep pens. I think I’ll try moving the machines farther out in the hope of expanding the zone of livability.

It’s really hard, right now. We lost a llama yesterday, so suddenly that I can hardly believe it happened. It’s hard to even write about it, but I guess I want to document it in case someone else has something similar happen.

On Saturday, Vinnie had a lamb, the first one in the pen with the llamas. She did well, but I jugged her anyway, just to be sure, so I was in that pen and all seemed well. Both llamas were curious, up and about, nothing strange at all.

Sunday morning, I noticed that Mary didn’t do her usual ‘run in circles, leap and hum’ routine when I showed up at feeding time, but she was down next to the lamb, and I just thought it was cute, didn’t think much about it. I was watching that pen pretty carefully, as the rest of the girls are the only ones except for Marilyn who haven’t lambed yet, and I just didn’t notice anything really amiss.

Monday morning, though, when Mary didn’t come up for grain in the morning, I checked her out. She was down, but got up and walked around when I came over, but went right back to the shelter, and wasn’t interested in food. Very unusual, so I called the vet, started looking up stuff in the books and on the net. They haven’t been out on pasture, they were wormed two weeks ago, the hay and grain are the same as always. I couldn’t figure anything out, at all.

The vet didn’t show up until after 5, and was stumped as well. While she was examining her, Mary had a seizure, then another, and was dead within 10 minutes. Just awful. I can hardly believe it. She was really thin — we checked her condition when the shearer was here, two weeks ago, and even he said they both seemed in good condition. So in two weeks, she went dramatically downhill, and all that fleece hid it. She was her cheerful self that whole time, except for the last two days. The vet did an autopsy right away, and is sending the samples off to see if we can figure out what happened, but she hasn’t a clue either.

I’m so sad, and yet we have to figure out what to do with her body. Frank is in Boston, of course, so I am having Mark come by and see what he can do with his backhoe later this morning. Ugh.

I’m all worried about Misty now, of course. She is humming constantly, wanting to know where her sister is. And just to make me a nervous wreck, she didn’t eat her grain this morning. The vet wormed her again yesterday, with something else, just to be on the safe side. She is eating hay and drinking, and her condition is good, but man. I’m so attached to these critters that this just breaks my heart and I don’t want to lose her too. I hope something definitive comes back from the lab.

I spent last night beating myself up from all sides. When I cried, I told myself I’m not cut out to be a farmer, I can’t handle this, I’m not tough enough. When I didn’t and paid attention to all the good stuff that’s going on here, and there is a lot, I felt callous and mean and like I didn’t care enough about Mary, poor thing. Have I mentioned that farming is hard? Man. I’m numb today.

Yet life continues. I’m surrounded by new lambs and new chicks and the puppy. It’s not like I can just throw my hands up and quit. Although let me tell you, there were times this weekend when Frank and I seriously considered whether we should just quit and go get a condo somewhere. We won’t, we love it here, and I love building this homestead with him, but we sat and cuddled each other a lot last night, while watching all the critters as the sun set, sad and yet determined to keep on keeping on.

In that vein …

Since I last wrote, I finally got two more ewe lambs. June has the sweetest little black lambs, and did fine with them both. Two years ago, she had a black ram lamb, and it took us forever to convince her that she really had to watch over him. She wasn’t the best mother, and often followed her mother and sister, leaving him, and would get out of the jug, even. It was hard to get that one to latch, and she had to be tied, etc. She was on serious probation with us, and this year, she came through with flying colors. She’s very protective, had them both nursing, etc. Way to go, June! And girls, too! That’s the way to get back on my good side, sweetie.

Vinnie, a first time mama, one of the new sheep I got earlier this year from Mike Kelley at Dancing Lamb Farm, had a tiny little ram lamb. Seriously, he is half the size of Fiona’s monster single, but thriving and doing well. I jugged her, but I don’t think I needed to. I was just being paranoid. I might be able to keep this guy, as he is unrelated to everyone else in my flock, so he is in contention for staying on the farm. He’s very sweet and cute.

We spent the weekend working on the horse house. It’s hard work. The sides are 12 foot in all directions, so unwieldy to say the least. We are going to have to rent scaffolding to put on the roof and sides. We are building it that tall because the horses are huge, and we want to be able to do deep bedding in the winter, so that’s a couple of feet worth of hay when all is said and done. We will be able to use the tractor bucket to clean it out in the spring, or at least that is the theory.

I’m glad we are out there working on it, finally. I got the tractor stuck in the mud out there, and blew the clutch and something else (flywheel?) on the truck trying to pull it out. That was an expensive mistake, and very frustrating. I was getting where I didn’t even want to go visit the horses, because I just got sad that I couldn’t bring them home. I was just pushing too hard, and I just should have stayed away from the mud. A thousand dollars later … Frank points out that it sure makes the horses not such a good idea or deal, doesn’t it? Arg.

Frank did get the sawmill running, at least, after having to change the blade and fix the puller cord thingie again. Assuming we can get the logs to it soon, we should be able to do all the siding for with our own wood. We want to do most of the inside in oak, which we have plenty of, so that should save us a pretty penny to use our own wood.

The Mega-catch things finally showed up, and Frank got them working this weekend. They are at least working enough that I don’t need bug suits out there, and if that holds, sweet. We have one on each side of the house, and eventually, I think we’ll move the one that is on the garden side right now out over near the horses. Supposedly two of them will be good for three cleared acres. I am crossing all fingers and toes that they actually work.

If not, this is what we’ll be looking like again! I am allergic to black flies, so it is really invaluable to be able to have the outdoors back for me in the spring and summer. The bugs up here are so thick that it is the reason we get hummingbirds in the spring. They need protein for their babies, and come to where the small bugs are in abundance, which is black fly season!

The little chicks are all outside, exploring the world, now. We had one disaster yesterday with the puppy, who had been being so good. I was distracted with the sick llama and not keeping as close an eye on him as I should, when I saw him streak by with a chick in his mouth, dead of course. Arg. I scolded harshly, put him in his crate for a time out, and am being really strict with him when I go out, making him stay right with me. He’s doing great as long as I am right there, but now I don’t trust him at all. Frustrating, but we’ll get there. The chicks are adorable, and go back to the trailer to eat and sleep. Getting them in last night was easy. The big chickens peck at the little ones, but nothing drastic. I hope they all turn into one big flock, soon.

We are starting to bring up the window boxes. I know it is early, but the 10-day forecast keeps the lows at night into the 40s, so what the heck. I’m here all the time now, not traveling, so if I need to cover them up for a night or two, I think I’m safe. They are ready to come out of the basement, and I just don’t have the time to tend to them down there. With the weather so nice, I can’t stand to be in the basement at all. I’m really looking forward to having a greenhouse next spring, assuming we find the time to actually put it together.

I think that’s all that there is to update. Rest in peace, Mary. I’m glad to have known you. You were supposed to be with me for twenty years, and I’m so sorry you are gone. I miss your cheerful self so much already. I can’t bring myself to change my computer background yet, but it keeps making me cry to see it. What a silly, happy girl she was.

We had a sad start to the new year. Raven and Sue killed Panic overnight. We went out this morning to feed them, and he was dead in the pen. And now the two survivors seem to be getting along. (They’re still a mite prickly you understand, but no real fighting.)

We’d started a thread on Homesteading Today. We’d already gotten one message mentioning that the poster was worried about our little guy, and yesterday someone else picked up on the fact that Raven attacked a wether and said that she wouldn’t keep a ram like that.

(We’d also already pretty well figured out that the reason the previous owners got such a deal on Raven was his temperament. No matter how wonderful his lambs are, he’s trouble.)

We did receive a good bit of advice that would have worked had we been able to carry it out. Unfortunately it all involved more pens, and the appropriate flavors of sheep to put in them. Basically, we took on too many sheep, too fast. We don’t have pens, we don’t even have cleared land to put pens on.

We really need to stop and think. Make some plans with realistic budgets and schedules, and follow through. It’s one thing to compost some seed potatoes because we didn’t get them planted. But Panic was a cute (if neurotic) little critter, Panic was an expensive little critter, and Panic’s lambs would have been valuable additions to the flock. We really have to figure out what we’re doing here.

Frank went out today to see if he could see any fish, and unfortunately found them all dead. Damn it. This is two years in a row that they haven’t made it through the winter, and this year we tried a pond heater.

I don’t know how it’s going to fit into what is going to be a busy year this year, but we need to re-do the pond, because it clearly needs to be at least a foot deeper to be able to winter over fish. We aren’t willing to bring them in, so I guess there will be no fish this year until we get this figured out.