Saturday Morning
A snow storm followed by freezing rain is due to hit us this afternoon so our list of chores for the morning just got a little longer. We fire up the tractor (which we have yet to name) and take turns driving over to the edge of the backyard to the round wood pile, also known as a holz hausen, load up the tractor’s bucket, head over to the front door, stack and repeat. We do four trips in total. Next up – the sheep.
Our first chore is to thoroughly clean out the heated waterer that the sheep have been avoiding for reasons we don’t understand. It was expensive to install and irritating that these animals would rather scratch at and eat hard packed snow rather than sip from this perpetual water fountain. All we can think is that somehow some of their poop got on the sides making it a turnoff. (We’ll learn a few days later that the problem may be an electrical one where a current is running through the water, the unit may not be properly grounded. We’ll see if that’s the case.)
Heated Waterer
Food is the next chore. For the last five weeks the eighteen girls and two Cormo wethers have been enjoying giant round bales of second cut dry hay and they’re nearly done working through the fifth and last one. That’s Christy nibbling on the remains.
Last round bale almost gone
The round bales have turned out to be a great success. The sheep’s wool has remained pretty clean of VM, short for vegetable matter, aka hay, and it’s about half the cost of square bales and once the 450 pound bale is in place, our work is done. We’re going through about 80 pounds per day so next year we’ll likely order 20 or 25 round bales. But today, we need to get our system in place to handle the much smaller square bales.
Next year’s pile of round bales?
With snow and sleet about to fly, we agree it would be best to pull the long feeder out of the East field and move it into the barnyard for the girls. That’ll give us three long feeders for 20 sheep. The East field feeder is frozen in a mix of snow pack and hay and surrounded by more mounds of frozen hay. Todd replaces the bucket on the tractor with the fork attachment and hands the tractor over to me to negotiate getting the feeder out of the East field.
I love the tractor, wanted it more (sooner) than Todd did, but I’m afraid of it. Specifically, I’m afraid of it tipping over. I drive the tractor through the perimeter gate and the opening to the East field, lower the forks and slide them under the feeder. Todd has kicked and shoved the corners to free it from the ice but as I lift the feeder it tilts badly and without speaking, I lower the forks, Todd shoves the feeder, and back and forth the machine, me, and Todd get the feeder centered on the forks. Todd goes back to the gate to hold it open and I begin to back up, rolling and tilting on a mound of ice. Tipping fears freeze me and I look to Todd to take my place. He shakes his head.
I back up further, fight the fear, and keep my eyes glued to the edge of the eight foot long feeder to make certain I don’t hit the electric fencing, rails or gates. To get out I need to move up the lumpy slope into the chute and navigate backward out the gate that Todd holds open. I drive the tractor as slowly as possible, creeping over ice mounds, threading the feeder by fencing, raising and lowering the forks so the feeder can remain as close to the ground as possible, easing the rig past the gate and suddenly it’s through, I’m in the driveway clear of all fencing and feeling fantastic. I had been concentrating so hard on not hitting anything that I literally forgot to be afraid. I drive the tractor into the barnyard and lower the feeder a few feet away from a feeder already in place.
Two of three long feeders for 20 sheep
Next up we make two trips in Moby, our Ford F250 diesel truck, to the turn of the century barns down the road where our square bales have been stored by George the dairy farmer and Marty, our main supplier of all things Hay. We bring up 46 bales and stack them in our 10 x 20 shed in the barnyard which now holds more than 100 bales of hay.
I look around to see if there is more work to be done and I’m a little disappointed that there really isn’t anything left to do. All morning Todd and I have been working together, pretty much agreeing on what needs to be done, and more importantly how we’ll get it done. I’m beat, but happy. Really happy.
Peggy