Over the hump

August 23rd, 2009

Night before last, we were relieved to hear the local weatherman announce that north Texas was over the hump. Things were as hot as they were ever going to be this summer, and each new day now would be slightly cooler. After a month or two of temperatures ranging from a cucumber cool 95 to a slightly sultry 105, this sounded like good news to our northern sensibilities.Although we ourselves slow right down in heat like this, that doesn’t mean that all activities have shut down here on the farm. In particular, our garden has been going great guns. Who would have thought that so many veggies could grow in just 300 square feet?

The purple cabbage blossomed early and found its way to our table as the primary ingredient in Frances’ cole slaw. Tomatoes, large and small, have morphed into gazpacho, spaghetti sauce and salad ingredients since June. Overflowing summer squash were quickly escorted to the gas grill and became side dishes for two months. The overage came to work with me where they were quickly snapped up by colleagues. The okra we fried and pickled. I know that okra is popular here in Texas but let’s just say we don’t get it. The biggest surprise was the crop of cantaloupes, which were perfectly sweet and refreshing at breakfast, lunch and dinner.

On the herb front, there were many successes. Chief among them was the basil. All summer long we enjoyed homemade pesto from that basil, pine nuts, garlic and olive oil. Other herbs that emerged included oregano, thyme, marjoram, rosemary and sage. These herbs were twinned with olive oil and vinegar each night for our salad dressings, and frequently found their way into various rubs for grilled meat dishes.

The two biggest disappointments were the sweet peppers and eggplant, neither of which blossomed. However, when we pulled the remains of the cantaloupe plants out several weeks ago, we found some of the eggplant holding on for dear life, so we are busy resuscitating them.

As summer eases on into autumn, we are beginning our second season. This week Frances started from seed enough veggies to carry us through till winter. These include a variety of tomatoes, along with scallions, Chinese cabbage, broccoli, lettuce and spinach. And of course, we’re still enjoying about two dozen fresh eggs a week from the four chickens. More about them soon. And with the  cooler weather, we’ll introduce a new part of the web site — the primitive hand-hooked rugs Frances makes from wool.

Shave and a haircut

May 26th, 2009

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Stella bravely endures her haircut

As May transitions into June, we are preparing for the long hot months ahead. First up: sheep shearing!

The four adult fluffballs were good and ready for their biannual shearing. We called upon our able assistant, Sarah, who arrived one Saturday morning with razors in tow.

Corralling sheep for a hair cut is a bit like lunging for greased pigs at the state fair. Sheep do not want to be caught, as a general rule. Firefly the ram was the one easy exception. He always struts amiably over to us, although usually it’s because he is mulling whether or not to butt us into the next county. We surprised him with a halter and muscled him up onto the fitting stand. One down, three to go.

The ewes, well, they were another story. We boxed them into what looked like an escape-proof corner, but they sure could move fast when motivated. One by one they met their match. Perhaps the most outraged were Pixie and Page’s two sets of twin lambs. As each mother faced the music, she and her lambs performed an energetic call-and-response to each other, one profoundly maternal “m-a-a-a” met by two high-pitched “m-e-h-h-s.” In that way they kept in touch until the ordeal was over.

Since then, Frances has been spending her spare time cleaning and carding the four fresh fleeces, then hand-spinning the wool into yarn. This is the perfect ending for a cycle that began with free and endlessly renewable solar energy, continued on through a grassy growing season and concluded with fuzzy, warm, beautiful wool.

A fly in the ointment

May 26th, 2009

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Mine enemy has a name: Thistle

Summer is still weeks away, but the dog days are at hand here in Texas with temperatures around 95 today. We find ourselves settling into a peaceful routine nearly one year into our journey. Our children are marching purposefully into their worlds, the sheep and chickens are healthy in the back pasture and the garden is bursting with young tomatoes, eggplant, peppers and herbs. And yet there is a fly in the ointment, an irritating mote on this otherwise uplifting canvas.

Mine enemy has a name, and it is thistle. Perhaps it’s musk thistle, perhaps Canada thistle, we’re not quite sure. Take a look at the photo and let us know. Do not be deceived by the welcoming violet hue of the flower. It masks the plant’s spiny leaves and stem. These thistles are invasive, noxious weeds.  Once they move into an area they quickly multiply thanks to the fact that each plant produces more than 10,000 seeds! What’s more, its seeds can remain viable in the ground for a decade. Where they spread, livestock (like our sheeply contingent) turn away from the nearby sweet grasses.

We’re not sure why we have been blessed by these weeds. There do not seem to be many on our neighbors’ properties, most of which support cattle or horses. The previous owners at Sun and Wind Farm carried a herd of about 50 goats, so perhaps there’s a clue there. Thus far, we’ve “treated” the thistles with a liberal dose of Bush Hog. We’ve read a few publications that recommend a combination of manual (i.e., death by mowing) and chemical methods. This will put to a test our commitment to non-chemical management of our land. One way or another, we will prevail.

When epochs collide

April 13th, 2009

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When Nosey met Beaky. No contest.

Shetland sheep have been around for a while. It’s believed that Viking settlers brought them to the Shetland Islands about 1,000 years ago. But on the evolutionary timeline, they’re babes compared to snapping turtles, which have been hanging out since the middle Miocene period. For those of you keeping score at home, that makes them about 10 million years old. Give or take.

So when epochs collided today out back, it should come as no surprise that older and wiser had it all over younger and woolier. It all started when Frances went to put the chickens in around 4:30. There, sitting in front of the run-in shed, sat Mr. Turtle. The chickens, who normally exude a mellow, amiable vibe best summed up by the word “chillin’,” were clearly overwrought. 

Soon the sheep, led by the new lambs, let curiosity get the best of them and came over for a look-see. Frances’ heart was in her throat because she knew that snappers were capable of lashing out with unexpected and violent speed. She chased the lambs away, but of course this only made Firefly, the ram, more interested and so he sauntered over.

Firefly and his horns see the world much as a hammer does: full of things to pound. So instinctively, he put his head down low to the ground and investigated. Immediately the turtle snapped and caught Firefly’s nose. The ram lifted his head up instinctively, raising the turtle for a moment before it fell back to the ground. Incredibly, rather than running away, Firefly went back in for another round. Frances quickly interceded and separated them with the only available means: She turned a wheelbarrow over on top of the turtle. A quick first aid session ensued as Firefly wisely let Frances clean his injury. When John arrived home, the snapper was transferred from his prison to the tractor’s front end loader and taken for a little ride out to the pond in the back of the pasture. We hope his case of wanderlust is settled! 

A rush into spring

April 12th, 2009

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Two sets of twins get to know Dad

It’s been a busy few weeks here on the farm. We’ve endured fluctuating temperatures that have tested the optimism of our early vegetable plantings. Violent spring rains have provided a soggy hint of storms yet to come in April and May. And Page delivered twins, one week after Pixie. Together they have doubled the size of our modest flock of Shetland sheep.

Page emulated Pixie’s wonderfully low-maintenance brand of birthing, wandering off quietly to a corner of the run-in shed before producing with no fuss her lambs, Goldthorn and Silversage. For more information — and a cute video — on this season’s crop, please visit out 2009 lambs page.

The lambs are full of energy and show absolutely no sign of respect for their sire, Firefly. That is all to the good, since Mr. Firefly has grown rather full of himself of late, as most rams do. 

We soon will celebrate our first year on the farm. We have gone from zero to sixty in that time, from a suburban-focused Northeastern couple with a few house pets, to a Texas homestead bursting with sheep and chickens. Life is too big and mysterious ever to predict what is just around the corner, but insofar as the last 12 months are concerned, we’ll happily stay with the cards we’ve been dealt this year.

Babar the Livestock Guardian Cat

April 11th, 2009

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Babar the watchcat: Fear his meow

It was before dawn and all was quiet on Sun and Wind Farm. We were peacefully sleeping, secure in the knowledge that our Great Pyrenees guardian dog, Freckles, would bark her heart out at the first sign of an intruder.  So when our feral rescue cat Babar began to howl from another room, we figured he was just hungry for breakfast. Our eyelids fell shut again.

Wrong.

Minutes later another sound interrupted our sleep. It was the sound of water being lapped from the bucket we keep outside the door for Freckles. From deep within our unconscious minds, an idea slowly formed. Freckles’ water is being consumed. Freckles is far away in the pasture. Who, then, is drinking? AWAKE!

We bolted out of bed to open the blinds. Two coyotes – or were they wild dogs? –  raced away. Babar shot us an “I told you so!” look. Meanwhile, Freckles and the sheep slumbered peacefully in the back pasture. Somehow, we try to go back to sleep.

Next night. Same time. Babar howls again! This time we are on high alert. We burst out into the back yard. Again, the intruders are too fast. Freckles is still quiet and the sheep are fine. Babar, suddenly reevaluating his worth, makes a not so polite request for his favorite canned food. It’s not hard to tell what’s on his mind since he’s pawed open the pantry door. We are happy to respond.

It’s not often that a feral cat that resembles a certain big gray elephant warns his family about intruders. We’re glad we rescued him from a woodpile when he was a baby.

Now to figure out who the intruders are and what’s on their mind.

Babes in the barnyard

March 23rd, 2009

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Family portrait: Swiftthistle, Pixie and Mageroyal

For the last few days, all the signs were in place that Pixie would soon give birth. Her back end dropped and an udder suddenly became visible. She walked stiffly and on several occasions would start to wander off. We kept the sheep in the shed Friday night but Saturday arrived with no lambs. By Sunday morning, the ram was getting edgy so we let him out into the field with one of the ewes, leaving just Pixie and Stella in the shed. An hour later we checked again and Pixie was lying down in the back corner of the shed, ready for her moment.

For people like us, with no previous experience with pregnant livestock, research can be a mixed blessing. Although it theoretically prepares you for all the various outcomes, some of those outcomes are not so pleasant. So you can imagine our immense relief when shortly after 10 a.m., Pixie produced two spunky little lambs au naturel. For an hour we watched from the other side of the shed as she carefully licked each lamb clean, all the while reassuring them with breathy murmurs. With each passing minute, the lambs gained strength and soon they were groping instinctively for Pixie’s udder.

The rest of the day was considerably less dramatic as mother and lambs alternated naps with get-to-know-you encounters. By this morning, they had ventured 5 or 10 yards closer to the front of the shed. There’s a lot out there for them to discover.

For a short 12-second film of mother and lambs, see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PDKmDF_IYnw

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Mom carefully licks newborn lambs clean

Several updates

March 8th, 2009

Hen taxi

Page the ewe provides a perch for one of the hens

The incredible edible egg

For a month or so now, we’ve been watching the chickens expectantly as we’ve awaited the First Egg. Sure, the hens are cute and sure, they engage in some amusing hijinks (see photo above) but they do have a role to fulfill: the laying of eggs.

Perhaps they were distracted when Firefly, the testosterone-crazed ram, recently bashed in the side of their wooden coop. Chickens are flighty enough as it is not to have to resolve the emotional complexities attendant to such an intrusion. We made good use of Saturday afternoon by cutting and staining a replacement wood panel for the caved-in coop, so the girls were able to sleep with a bit more privacy last night.

The morning chores were uneventful but this afternoon, when we checked on the water supply, what should we find but a small, but perfect, brown egg! Our exultation was probably more appropriate for an event like discovering the cure for cancer, but you take your victories where you can find them. 

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Egg #1

Till mulch do us part 

In other agricultural news, we tilled the vegetable garden this weekend with a much better idea of what we’re doing than last year. First, we had last year’s experiences to build upon and second, we had some great guidance from a book called Texas Organic Vegetable Gardening. The book was the gift of a colleague and instantly sped to the top of the Sun and Wind Farm best-read list (along with every book ever written about lambing).

Although our northeastern instincts tell us that spring is the time for cool weather plants like spinach and lettuces, the weather is much warmer here in Texas. (Today’s high is expected to be 81.) So we are focusing on some warmer plants, such as tomatoes, peppers, squash, green beans, basil, oregano, and maybe pumpkins (apparently a delicacy in the sheep world). We’ll keep you posted on the progress in the garden.

Sheep news

Still no lambs! In the most closely watched pregnancies since Angie and Brad, our three ewes still have not produced lambs. It appears that Stella likely had a miscarriage. One day, well before her anticipated due date, she passed a placenta. We walked the fields several times but no amount of searching the shed and acreage turned up any sign of a lamb. The primary unanswered question now is, does she have another lamb in the making? Shetlands often produce twins and Stella definitely looks like she’s still carrying. Page and Pixie (who by the way are twins themselves) are looking strong and healthy as they head into what must be the end of their term.

Herman the hen

February 1st, 2009

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Herman casts a long shadow in the barnyard

When we received our day-old chicks in early October, we had fantasies of our four little Rhode Island Reds growing up to be loyal friends and great layers. By night, they would be secure in their chicken tractor and by day they would peacefully explore the nearby pasture with the sheep. We dreamed they would eat out of our hands, enjoy being held and fussed over, and beam at us with appreciation when we came to feed them and care for them.

There was just one thing, though. We were afraid to name them. What if they were too fragile? What if a hawk swooped down and scooped them up, one by one? What if they fell prey to the coyotes or even the huge heron who fishes at our pond every morning?

Enter Herman.

Herman is a big girl. Even though she’s a Rhode Island Red, she’s the kind of young lady who might play goalie in college field hockey, or perhaps be the pioneering female candidate for the high school football team.

Her sisters are more demure. They cluck contently while on their daily exploratory chores. But Herman clucks in a deep and masculine manner more evocative of the noises one might hear in a haunted house than a chicken coop.

Herman has recently taken to leading her more ladylike charges on hunts for new food sources. Refusing to stay in the nice big run-in shed, Herman has shown the other girls how to slip through the woven wire fence and enter the forbidden World of Sheep. In that strange and exotic world, the hens are exploring the wonders of alfalfa pellets and all the intriguing seeds and small grains nestled in the hay that we throw down for the sheep.

On the other side of the shed is the yummy compost heap. Herman has introduced her girls to orange peels, peanut shells and coffee grounds. Chicken feed is simply not that interesting once one has pecked at a cornucopia of composting comestibles.

Today Herman caught her first mouse. Granted, he was a small mouse and she only found him when our ram Firefly butted the chicken tractor in the hopes of finding uneaten chicken crumbles. Firefly butted and a tiny mouse ran out! Herman didn’t falter (although Firefly backed away). Herman grabbed the mouse and ran around the shed like an Olympian torch-bearer, head high. She jumped with joy as she ran, clucking loudly (and deeply) as she circled the shed.

We have heard that when there is no rooster around to keep the girls in line, one of the hens will inevitably assert herself in the same role. There has been no sign of this behavior yet. Herman is just showing her girls how to be all the hens they can be.

Some chicken.

A new start for Calvin

January 6th, 2009

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Wonderful fleece and a heart of gold

In many ways, Calvin has been a fifth wheel in our small flock. Born a year after the other four sheep, he has gamely tried to fit in even though he was not always welcome. No question about it, Firefly was the lead ram, and the three girls were Firefly’s.

And yet, Calvin had many qualities: gorgeous confirmation, wonderful fleece and a heart of gold. And he was always first in line for Fig Newtons.

When Calvin and the others first arrived at our place, he was just five months old and not perceived as much of a threat. But with each passing month, the younger and carefree Calvin started getting under the fleece of Firefly. Quiet walks in the pasture deteriorated into more aggressive activities. Soon, full-blown jousting matches such as one might see on Animal Planet — or perhaps the Wrestling Channel? — took place with distressing frequency. We would have to separate the rams. They were distraught, we were distraught. Trips out to the back were becoming increasingly perilous, what with two competitive rams. What to do?

This was the state of events when the email arrived. A gentleman in North Texas was seeking a young ram to breed his Shetland ewes. He wanted a registered ram with brown genes. Yes! This was Calvin’s chance for a place of his own. We agreed to sell Calvin, but not without tearful objections from other members of our family.

On moving day, we coaxed Calvin into the shed and scratched his chest just the way he liked. We groomed him a bit, removing a few thistles from his wool. We would miss this boy, but he was getting a chance for a new start. 

His new owners drove up and quickly made their acquaintance, loving up Calvin before easing him into the trailer. We exchanged stories and papers. And then he was gone, chauffeured away in a horse trailer, with wood shavings and a few alfalfa pellets for the road.

And then there were four… for now. Soon, the lambs will arrive.