Get the Muck Outta Here!

We’re each sharing our thoughts on a messy chore we tackled together today.

From Todd:

A few days ago, Peg suggested maybe we’d go skiing today at the Dartmouth Skiway. We knew we were in for some snow, and she thought it might be over by this afternoon. This morning snow was falling and the clouds were pretty low. So instead of skiing, we went to Home Depot to get a big shovel and then headed up to the barn to muck it out. That’s the first time in my life that the ski vs. muck decision ever came into play.

The sheep have been in the barn and barn yard for about 3 months now. Every so often we (mostly Peg) would gather up frozen clumps of sheep poop from the barn floor to try to keep things tidy. Typically, when things start getting a little rough in there, we toss down a new layer of (first cut) hay. The boys seem to spend more time in the barn than the girls, so their side is more muckier.

OK, for those who don’t know, muck is layers of damp hay mixed with poop and urine. It really doesn’t smell all that bad – we’re told cow muck is much worse. There’s also water, ice and snow mixed in for good measure. It’s heavy and not easy to get up.

We tossed a few shovels (including the big new muck shovel) into the cart, along with an old tarp, and headed up to the barn around noon. Peg had a thought about throwing some muck on the tarp and then dragging it out. She also brought along a pair of rubber dishwashing gloves. We decided to put the muck pile in the northwest corner of the barn yard – about 30 yards from the barn.

First I cleared out snow and frozen muck in front of the boys’ barn door, so we could shut it. Next we took the dividing wall out. Then to work. Peg quickly abandoned a shovel, donned her gloves, and bent down and pulled the muck off the floor. Sometimes she could sort of roll it out. I learned how to take the piles she made and shove them onto the blade of the muck shovel with one of my muck boots.

After piling quite a bit on the tarp which was spread on the floor, we dragged it out to start the muck pile. It was HEAVY and the snow was DEEP. To make the trek, we grabbed the edge of the tarp, faced the pile of muck on the tarp, took a few steps backwards, then leaned back to pull the tarp along three feet or so. Repeat.

Here’s where separation of duties came into play. Since Peg had the rubber gloves (and I had leather work gloves I really didn’t want to muck up), she stayed in the barn pulling up muck. I filled the cart with about six to eight shovel loads, and took it out to the pile. We did this for about an hour. I didn’t count, but I’m pretty sure I took at least 20 cartloads to the pile. Each cart had to weigh 50 pounds or more. We now have a muck pile that covers a 15 foot by 20 foot tarp, is about three feet tall, and weighs more than a ton.

Peg was a real trooper. I was able to get out and breathe fresh air every few minutes. She stayed in the barn most of that hour, bent over – pretty grueling work. She never complained, but did say it was hard on her back.

When we were done, we put the dividing wall back in place and closed the doors. The sheep are staying outside tonight. The floor has a definite ammonia odor now that the muck is mostly gone. Peg suggested we get some lime on it, so I’ll get some tomorrow and we’ll put it down along with a new layer of hay.

We were back in the house after about two hours. I commented as we walked in, “There’s two hours we won’t get back,” but it was actually somewhat satisfying. We knew this day would come, and we worked together effectively and efficiently. The girls were pretty funny during the chore. First Eleanor, then Hilary, then Jackie, then Louise would wander in to the barn while we worked to check things out, smell the muck shovel, smell the cart as we filled it. The ewes could have cared less. We’ve learned to move slow around the flock, and they all quickly settled down. I think they actually welcomed our presence – something different (but not frightening) in the barn yard with them.

Now, what to do with the muck pile…

From Peg:

Our flock has not been out on the fields to eat and poop for over three months and while they are free to be in the barn or the barn yard, they’ve spent enough time in the barn to saturate the joint in excrement. When it’s looked nasty, we’ve tossed hay down to freshen it up. One sheep book says, embrace this dung laden hay flooring for in no time it will be gold for your garden. After today’s newest adventure, I’m not seeing the gold.

For two hours this afternoon I was bent over pulling, rolling, tearing and shoving layer after layer of hay drenched in urine and decomposed sheep poop, searching for the gravel floor of our small shed of a barn, sweating in my yellow rubber gloves and rubber boots. Mucking out a barn is a disgusting chore we knew only from small references in the sheep books and for a reason I am too tired to recall we decided to get at it today.

We brought up shovels and a wheel barrel, but I knew it was going to take the hands on effort of peeling up the layers as no shovel was going to break through the woven mess of hay cemented by the excrement of 11 sheep over 3+ months.  So, I donned the rubber gloves, peeled up soggy layers and stacked them as Todd shoveled them into the wheel barrel and dumped the mess in a pile in a corner of the barn yard.  When Todd was out on a lap, from time to time Hilary or Eleanor wondered in with a look, I swear, that said, “You missed a spot.”

Although the job is done, I told Todd don’t let them back in.  I read somewhere that we should sprinkle lime down to reduce the ammonia smell before adding fresh hay. The truth is, I couldn’t accept that the whole mess was going to start all over again. So long as there is no wind, the sheep will be fine, despite the light snow fall.  But start again we must. But we must do something else too. We need to befriend a neighbor with a Bobcat, because the thought of being up close in rubber gloves to that much manure, urine, and wet hay any time soon is depressing. I did have a thought midway through the process – would this all have been fun with friends? Like a painting party, only not.