Sheep balled up and watching Zeke warily.

Today, I went down to Mom’s for a bit this morning.  When I left, the plan was to be gone for a while, so Steve naturally put Zeke on the run when he headed out to work.  Yesterday, we put the boy sheep in to mow the lawn, but with Zeke on the run, all should have been well.  They have a very large space where he can’t reach them, after all.  Mom wasn’t feeling well, so I came back home about 20 minutes after Steve left.  As I drove up to the house, I saw the sheep, all balled up on the hillside in front of the house. Now, this is Zeke’s favorite game, so I look to make sure he’s on the run.  He is.  He’s laying down at the farthest reach of his run staring the sheep down.  Apparently the fact that there is no way he can actually reach them has no bearing whatsoever on their fear of his gaze.  Dang dog.

Zeke, exerting his authority over the sheep.

I spent a couple of hours at Grandma’s house planting her garden, and then Mom and I took her out to dinner.  I was nearly home, and thinking about getting the sheep and horses in for the night. Then there it was the bull. He was somewhere he was not supposed to be – and he was not alone. The girls were all with him, including the possibly-not-bred heifers. The day before, Steve and I had moved the cows into the bottom with the sheep, partly because they had mostly eaten down the grass out in the front, but also because one of the little girls keeps running out in front of cars and was likely to get herself and someone else hurt. They were no longer in that pasture. They had moved down into the lower bottom with only two rickety fences and one road between them and the Black Angus Bulls that winter on the corner. Those Bulls were uninterested by our bull, but they were showing significant signs in those girls. 

The cows needed a new pasture. The best candidate pasture was the upper barn lot pasture. The easiest way to get the cows in there would be to run them across the back hillside and through a gate directly into that pasture. So, I went down and opened that gate, a process which required moving the wooden panel that we put up to supplement that gate last year. It wasn’t that big a deal, but was an extra step. The dogs and I got that done and headed down to the to get the cows. On the way, Zeke put the sheep in. He was a happy boy and thought we were done. I told him we still had work to do and off we went. Between us and the cows was a 12′ woven gate. You know the kind, just wire and posts. They are easy to build but painful to open and close. This one thankful had a cheater in it so I could get it open fairly easily. We went through and headed downhill so we could circle around the cows and get them going the right direction. 

Zeke was a good boy and followed instructions as my mobile pressure point to keep this cows going the right direction. It worked great!  Every time the cows tried to go around me, I moved Zeke up closer and they decided to go the direction I wanted.  He was such a good boy. Of course, I had to close that gate on my way back. Those are even more painful to close than it had been to open. I made it, but it was not easy. In the meantime, the cows had changed the plan, they had headed for the last gate they had gone through.  This, of course, was not the gate I had in mind. Luckily, it was the gate right behind Mom’s house, and I had my cell phone. I called Mom to open the gate and let the cows through. This put the cows back in the front. This was not where I wanted them, but I could make it work. But first, I had to close that first gate I opened, open the gate between the barn lot and the upper pasture, and close the gate in the pasture that was currently open onto the hillside. I walked down to do that, and open two other gates that would let the cows into the barn lot proper. Then Zeke and I went back out for the cows. Luckily, they were beginning to get tired of being herded and just walked through the gate. 

I still had to get the horses. But, they were easy after all that.  Then I went inside and did push-ups and sit-ups with Sarah. Gotta be supportive in her efforts to get fit. 

I’m thinking I could call this the farm girl obstacle course.  I certainly feel like I worked out. 

Oven cabinet for back wall in kitchen.

Annmarie and I sat down the other day to decide how to go about installing the freestanding oven on the back wall in our kitchen.  First, we are going to move the sideboard into the dining room.  This is where it belongs as a working piece of furniture.  Next, we measured the space 71 inches wide and decided it should be as tall as the other shelves I made out of old doors so 79 inches tall.  Annmarie then printed out the installation instruction manual from the internet so I could get actual dimensions.  I sat in a chair and drew stick drawings while she got on the computer and mocked it all up.  We will have three separate cabinets.  This allows for ease of mobility.  As a single unit it would weigh a ton with a 155# oven installed.  This also lets me install the center and get some exact measurements for each side.  All three pieces will stick out from the wall 24 inches.  I was going to go with 2×4 notched for 1×4 side supports with plywood across for shelving but that takes up a lot of width for six boards plus siding.  I would waste almost a foot of space.  This was the rough draft.  It will have two doors under the stove with pull out drawers for pans and heavy stuff.  This means getting really good heavy duty rollers.  We are going to make the bottom left corner a wine rack with a glass front.  The three doors on the upper shelves will all lift upwards.  When I order the heavy duty drawer sliders I will order good hinges.  We are going to use the same knobs and pulls we are going to install in the repainted kitchen cupboards.  I will need to get that order in soon also. 

I had a chicken die last week and Annmarie made me promise to call the state if another one died.  I had to call and talk to several people before they left a message for the state vet.  He called the other day and we discussed my dead chicken.  Our chickens have no direct contact with any waterfowl.  All confirmed cases of H1N1 in domestic birds have been from direct contact with waterfowl feces.  So not the cause of my bird death most likely.  If I continue to have unaccountable deaths I need to freeze the chicken and contact them again.  He was very helpful and answered all my questions.  A most pleasant interaction. 

It’s always the young ones that cause the most trouble.  Steve had to take Larry to the Doctor this afternoon, and Sarah is working, so I was up for feeding tonight.  I got out of town later than I had hoped to, and it was closing in on 5:00 by the time I drove down the driveway.  This time of year, that means its beginning to get dark.  There was still plenty of light, and I thought maybe I could even feed without a flashlight.  Then I looked at the back hillside.

The sheep had not gone in.  There they were – little brown moving lumps still just visible.  I was still in my work clothes, with my purse, mail and coffee cup in my hands.  But I have a skilled sheep dog.  I walked over and let Zeke off the run, with the instruction that we were, “going to work.”  That’s his cue to behave and listen.  He also knows that usually means sheep.  He headed to the back hillside and I headed out to the middle of the Ram Pasture to supervise and direct.  All was going well.  Zeke went around the sheep and turned them into the gate like a pro.  He stopped and guarded that gate just like I asked him to.  Then I jinxed it.  I thought, “This is neat.”  Never, ever think something positive before the task is done.  It’s almost as bad as saying it out loud. 

Everything looked good.  The sheep had made the corner through the next gate and were headed to the barn.  I sent Zeke to guard the barn door.  Then I saw it.  A lamb had missed the second gate and was on the wrong side of the fence.  He knew he wanted to be in the barn, but lambs are not exactly critical thinkers, and all he could seem to do was hit that fence trying to get through.  I heaved a sigh, told Zeke to “guard” and set down my stuff (yes, it was still in my hands).  Now, work clothes consist of stacked-heel boots that are not terribly high, but not exactly working boots either, slacks, and a nice sweater.  Not what you would call practical for catching a lamb.  But, I didn’t want to go back inside and chance that he would wander away.  I really thought I could guide him back alongside the fence to the gate to where he could get into the barn.  That was the plan.

The first step was to get Zeke out of the way, so I called him to me.  Remember that he loves babies.  He detoured to see if he could greet the lamb through the fence.  The lamb was not impressed and bolted – back to the corner where he had started.  I thought for a minute that his head was stuck in the fence.  That would have worked for me.  I could have caught him and lifted him over the fence.  I was down to the creek and considering my crossing.  He got free.  And bolted.  At some point in there I got Zeke to the middle of the pasture and laid down.  That lamb ran right in front of him and out to the back corner of the pasture behind the hillside and tried to get through that fence too.

I could see the writing on the wall.  We leave that back gate open because we don’t usually need to close it.  The sheep are in the barn, after all.  I should have closed the gate.  Really, that’s what I should have done.  But I have Zeke.  He’s as good as a gate and easier to move.  I put him in the gate with the “guard” instruction.  That means don’t let the sheep past.  I walk down toward the lamb to push him back towards the barn.  All looks good.  He responds to my presence and moves out of the corner and down the path then he turns sharply left, gives takes three steps and makes a running leap – right over Zeke’s nose and out onto the completely open back hillside.  By this time, it’s full dusk and the fog is starting to set in.  The lamb is exactly the color of a rock, and isn’t making any noise at all.  I give up.  I head inside to change into more suitable clothing and get a flashlight.

While I’m doing that, I’m secretly hoping mama will figure out she’s missing  a baby and come get him while I was gone.  When I came back out, it was immediately clear that hope was not to be realized.  I heard a bleat out on the back hillside. 

There is a tried a true technique when you can’t get a separated single to go back to the herd.  Instead of trying to take the one to the many, it’s often easier to take the many to the one.  So Zeke and I went into the barn to run the sheep out.  We went in and to the back of the barn.  Usually the sheep run right out when we do that.  Of course that’s not usually right after we’ve run them in to feed.  They went towards the door.  And stopped.  Really, you’d have thought their was a fence across the alley.  They would not go any farther.  They just turned and looked at me.  It was back to plan A.

Zeke and I went out to the hillside.  The lamb was starting to get tired, and mom was now at least looking out the door and calling.  He knew where he needed to be.  This time it worked.  Zeke and I were able to guide the lamb along the fence line and into the gate.  He just kept following the flashlight that I aimed in front of him.  Thank heavens he was making noise at this point, or I’d have never found him.  And yes, I closed the gates behind him as he went through.

90 minutes later I have finally finished the 20 minute job of feeding.  It’s leftovers for dinner.

Steve mentioned Thursday that the water line was broken again.  We called a different plumbing company and they came out first thing Friday morning (well, first thing to them, anyway) with all the equipment and parts they needed.  In short order they had dug up the line and found the problem.  As we had suspected, the previous repair job had not been exactly up to standards and had failed after just two months.  They fixed that and advised us to let the glue set overnight (always a good idea and something else the previous repair person did not do).  The only snag was that the conduit got broke.  They thought they had done it, and called their office to call in an electrician.  The electrician of course did not get back to them until late that day.  His response was that replacing conduit is usually more trouble than it was worth and we would be better off to patch it ourselves.  I was not surprised, but since Steve is at work all day today, it was up to me to seal it up well enough to withstand blowing water until he can get patched later in the week. 

Single gloves

I went to find gloves.  I wanted something different from my usual insulated feeding gloves, because I needed a as much dexterity as possible.  So, I dug in the glove bin and found lots of gloves, as you can see.  Notice, however, that those are not pairs.  There are some left gloves.  There are some right gloves.  Those are all orphaned unmatched gloves.  Well, I did eventually find a mate to one of them.  I’d have used unmatched, but there weren’t even two of the same type and and weight.  Color, I don’t care so much about, but it just feels wrong in the type and weight don’t match, at least.  Like socks.

I also found several sets of gloves that I would not categorize as work gloves.  Now, Sarah’s not very good about separating work gloves from non-work gloves and for the most part I really don’t care.  I did, however, care this time.  I found this lovely hand-knit custom glove that I started last spring in with the work gloves.  I’ve gotten distracted and haven’t quite finished its mate, but still, this lovely little wool-silk designed and created by me glove is decidedly not a work glove!

Definitely not a work glove.

I rescued the treasure and went out to farmerize the pump conduit.  Yes, I have resorted to the farmer-style temporary patch that consists of plastic bags secured with electrical tape.  When I looked closer at the conduit, I am not convinced that yesterday’s mishap was the first.  I think it was just the first that we were told about.  The conduit was broken in two places on the vertical leg.  The lower break was packed full of mud.  That likely only would have happened if someone else had back-filled over a break and not told us about it.  It was just too solid to have happened just yesterday as the pipe was being exposed.  I agonized a bit over what to do and finally decided that it had clearly been operating that way for a while, so I took a leap of faith that the insulation was intact on the wiring and sealed it up.  It must be fine.  The pump is working again, and there’s no smoking, arching or sparking.  No breakers have gone, so all indications are that I got lucky.  Steve can fix it right in the next day or two, but I really need to do some laundry.