It’s Monday again, innit? Damn. ‘Twas a lost weekend, as far as I am concerned. Saturday we raced the kids around to social events and repeatedly cleaned the goldfish tank, which was filling nicely with an algal bloom. If the goldfish could talk, I am sure he would have echoed the sentiments of Kermit. Sunday was stress day, followed by chasing the sheep in the rain for a few hours. No, you sick buggers, not for that . . . we had to vaccinate and tag lambs. Eventually the wife snapped, and we gave up on that exciting adventure. At least we all ended up covered in mud and smelling of sheep. That has to count for something, right?
They just keep popping out . . . Continue reading
This past week brought us two new lambs, one from Bonnie-Bell and one from Vally. The first is a tiny little ram lamb, seen in the following pictures with some other nosy little lamb (whose name, or at least lineage, I’d tell you if I could remember it at the moment). For now, we are calling him Patrick Cabbage. Continue reading
I promised some lamb videos a few days (weeks?) ago, and never followed through. Here it is, finally. I want to edit it down a bit, but that requires too much effort for a sunny Saturday morning where I still have to finish stretching and walk to the beach. Enjoy. Or not. Continue reading
We had two new lambs hanging out in the pasture yesterday morning. One looks like he was born the night before, and the other that morning. Like their mothers, their personalities are quite different.
The little boy has a very friendly mom, always coming up to demand treats when we are out there. Her little lamb stood on my boots while we fed them, and let me pet him.
My stomach thanks this one for being born early this morning.
We’re still waiting on a name for the last one, so obviously this one is also nameless for now. Good news on the name front, though: Jennie’s decided that the Scottish Gaelic translation of Baa Ram Ewe was too long, so now we’re Gaoth Allamaugh Farms or Gaoth Maugh Farms, depending on whether we want to be Windy Wild Field Farms or just Windy Field Farms. I was shooting for Desolate Hellhole Farms, but Jennie’s opposed to that one for some reason. And for anyone who wants to be able to pronounce it, those woud be either Gway Allaway or Gway Way Farms, in good ol’ murican. The latter sounds like I’ve got a speech impediment.
Okay, just checked, and considering that Gaoth also means flatulency, we’re going to hold off on the farm naming as well. Who the hell wants to spend time at Flatulent Field Farms?
Due to popular demand, here are the floofy broon ships. Or fluffy brown sheep, when I’m not trying and failing miserably at a Scottish brogue. So, first the entire herd, in their knee-high glory. I took the pics this morning, and nobody wanted to stand still, so they are all a bit blurry.
Leading the herd is Monica (preggers), who is the old gal at two. She is the friendliest of the bunch, willing to come up and sniff your fingers in the hopes of finding something tasty. Considering she is a sheep, tasty is pretty bland.
In the middle is Cimmaron, a sprightly (and, of course, knocked-up) one-year-old. She already lost her winter coat, so she looks much smaller than the others. She is also the most skittish of the bunch, usually staying in between the other two. Maybe she realizes I’ve been thinking of how good her lambs are going to taste as barbeque . . .
Following behind is Mister Studly, aka Luxor. He thinks he’s so cool. If he ever gets brave enough to butt me, I’m drop-kicking him over the fence.
So, that’s the herd. The lambs are due sometime between May 1 and June 30. Should be fun. In the meantime, I am following my gut instinct and reducing my mochas from six shots to four. It’s nice to finally have decent espresso at home, but the hole in burning through my stomach lining is somewhat unpleasant. Yeah, I know that has nothing to do with sheep. 😛