All things come to an end. 
Today, 29 of my beautiful sheep went to the auction. I know they will not bring top dollars there. I do not know what sort of homes they will have or if they will go straight to the slaughter house for dog food. 
I am sad to say goodbye. All things must come to an end. I would stay farming for a long time yet, IF I had the funds, but with the rising prices, particularly of feed and minerals and medicines, it is not feasible any longer. There are some sheep still on the farm so the dogs will have work to do and not wander. The lambs are still here and may be here until spring. The locals do not care to even try lamb meat, only ever had pork , chicken and beef for the most part. It is the way they are. And that is a big lesson for me to have learned. Be with like minded people if you can for it will ease your life tremendously. My lambs are grass fed and there is a huge movement to eat only grass fed meat because it is superior to grain fed in so many ways, but again, locals do not believe it and won't eat lamb anyhow, so what? The lambs go to market. I sell the farm and move to where people and I share similar ideas and beliefs. 
Still it is hard to say goodbye to my friend. Many of the sheep were born here at the Fat Ewe Farm. I cuddled them as babies and held them close to my heart. They had names. 
And what makes it so much harder today, is that my own mother is dying. The care facility says it could be anytime now and they are giving her end of life care. Someone for the hospice society is there so she won't pass alone. We do not know if she is aware of others in the room or not, because she does not respond and has not for some time. But, just in case, I asked for hospice to help. I cannot go. I cannot find anyone to watch the farm, even with the few animals I have left. It is that way here. 
So, goodbye my sheepies. I love you so much. Goodbye. 

 My first livestock guardian came to me in a bit of an odd way. I answered an ad on Kijiji for an older male livestock guardian dog hamed Harley, a purebred Maremma, whose sheep had sold and he was no longer needed. The owner said if he can't get rid of him, he would just as soon shoot him because he was not feeding him for nothing. So I rescued Harley. 
I had read a lot about livestock guardian dogs and was wary of this big white dog. He jumped into the back of my canopy and I closed him in. The owner got his 100 dollars and I got one of the best investments I have ever made. 
My other dogs were not guardians or even real guard dogs, but they were beautiful long haired rough collies. Unfortunately both met their demise on the highway and Petey, a Maremma cross something, was likely shot by the neighbour who had unspayed females. I kept Harley tied up at first on the recommendation of the previous owner, at least until he knew where his new home was. Then I let him go. 
Harley was a loving, kind, friendly dog. He knew how to shake a paw and loved to lounge on the porch and sleep all day, but when night brought the prowlers, he went to work. He fought off predators alone and was often bleeding and bitten and I knew he had to get help fast. Charka was already here, another livestock guardian, but he was just a pup and Harley had to teach him the ropes, which he did. The two dogs were best friends for life then. Today Charka is sad and quiet and wants to be by my side. We are comforting each other. 
Harley had a way of coming up between one's legs like an instant ride on pony. He liked the surprise of it all and would wag his tail, all proud of himself when he was in that position. He was a leaner too, preferring to let me know he was there by leaning on me, just in case I might forget. I loved that dog! 
Harley taught the other dogs how to fight too and soon Mikey became the boss dog as Harley fell back into second and then last place as he aged. He did not mind so much. Let the young ones handle it was likely what he was thinking. After all, they had been taught by the best! 
But Harley was quiet these last few weeks. I felt as though he was letting go. He did not come for pets, or lean on me just to let me know he was there. He was tired and wanted to come in the porch where no one would bother him and he would not hear the call of the wild and be prompted to work. He was dying. 
I cannot put into words my love for Harley. His end is the beginning of the end of a chapter of my life too. I am selling the farm and moving on, but my dogs have been my greatest heart tug. How could I abandon them after they have risked their lives for me? The truth is, I cannot. But Harley, well, he had his time. His life here was exceptional. My love for him was too. 
I laid with him, stroking his big head, his eyes closed and his body motionless. I told him how much he meant to me, how much I loved him, how grateful I was for his presence in my life and I grieved to know he will not be with me anymore. I knew it was him time. 
But he was not gone in the morning and wanted to go outside. I have not seen him since that moment, watching him go about his business and then he was here no more. Did he go into the bush to die? It has been 2 days since he last graced my presence. My heart does not feel him here anymore and with many tears streaming down my face, I know my life was so much better with him in it. I miss him so much. 
I loved you Harley. If dogs go to Heaven, I am sure you are there welcomed with open arms and I know we will meet again. Til then, my old friend....

It is coming fast!

Shearing DAy, April 12, 2019. We need help, please. 

Jobs will include moving sheep into the catch pens and out after shearing, sweeping between shears, providing water for the shearers, skirting the fleece, labeling and tagging and bagging fleece, and the final clean up. 

We welcome all volunteers. Children around 12 can help under supervision please. There are accommodations for 6 in the house and 4 in the camper in their sleeping bags. Lunch of beans, homemade bread and salad is provided for all. Shearing will be in progress from 8 am to approximately  3 pm. If you can join us, please let us know. 

​Thank ewe!

I felt there was hope yesterday. She wolfed down her porridge and was accepting of the syringes of water, downing a good 16 ounces, warm and with a little honey. She did not greet me this morning and I felt immediately a heaviness in my heart, but she was not gone. I put a good layer of fresh straw for bedding and moved her onto it. She was a rag doll, lifeless and unresponsive. Her big head fell loose and her eyes were closed. 

She refused to eat anything at all. I got some water into her, but that was difficult and she was not interested. Pearl had given up the fight. 

I made her comfortable as I could, changing her position from as she had been overnight. She was well covered with two fleeces and even though the temperatures were close to minus 30 with the wind chill, there was warmth in her body. I feel she will not be there in the morning. 

I am so sad and heart broken. There was nothing more I could do. The rest is up to her. 

If one is going to keep livestock, at some point, they will get sick. When I first started farming, I, of course, wanted to ensure every animal under my care was healthy and if, for any reason, became ill, I would do everything to reinstate its health. This is a very poor farming decision, unless, one has copious amounts of money to dispose of. 

The first animal to become very ill was a purebred Cotswold ram. I called the vet, who came out that afternoon, and determined he had an infection of something somewhere and prescribed Amprol, an antibiotic. A blood sample was taken and sent to the lab, and sure enough, came back with the infection diagnosis. I drove in to pick up the Amprol and administered it as indicated and the ram nearly died within two days. I remember holding his big head up and telling him though raspy breath and amidst tears falling, that he had to make it. I stopped the Amprol and he began to recover, though slowly and he never gained condition, eventually dying within the year. The ram coast $450 and the treatment cost $1200 and a bit. That is why veterinary care for him was not an good economic decision. Still, I had to try, but I also learned that sometimes, doing all I can had to be enough. 

This winter I have had some problems. It is hard to determine exactly what they are, because each animal has different symptoms, though they all result in very poor health. One goat has become resistant to worm medications, is anemic and unthrifty. She is 7 years old, as well, which is not terribly old for a goat, but for those 7 years, she has given me 25 kids. Her body is spent and she is not able to support any poor health. Again, I am trying. I have visited the vet on her behalf several times and finally came away with Flukiver, a newer worm medicine, at the cost of $250. plus a bottle of Newcells, which is a blood support vitamin mix that must be injected for 5 days. when signs of anemia are present.

I have two ram lambs, twins, that have never been healthy since birth. They are hardly any bigger than they were at weaning, not having grown at all. Both went down, unable to stand, about 2 weeks apart. I dewormed them again and used the Newcells for 5 days. Even after the 5th day, one did not have the strength to stand. I put him straddled over a bale of hay so his body would be used to the upright position and left him there for several hours. Then I gave up. I fully expected to find only a carcass the next morning, but he was nowhere to be seen, at first. He had recovered! He was with the boys, eating away. But he is extremely thin and not healthy. It takes a very long time for an emancipated body to gain health. Many I know would have not bothered and knocked the little guy on the noggin, since he will not bring any profits to the farm. 

And finally, there is Pearl, a 2012 (so 7 years old) Cotswold ewe. She is huge and beautiful, or was when she arrived last summer from another farm, though she was a little thin then, and I was immediately concerned. Over the last six months, she grew thinner even, but was not isolating herself from the flock and when I used the Famacha system to check her state of anemia, she appeared OK. But, that whole group of 4 beautiful Cotswolds were problematic. 

Those Cotswolds did not know how to forage and stayed in their pen primarily, not going out to look for food with the rest of the flock. Since I do not feed ruminants grain on the farm, they were somewhat hungry. I thought this would encourage them to go out with the flock, however; they ate the grass sprouting in the dry lot where they came in at night. This is a terrible thing, because, the parasites are shed in the feces and crawl up the grass to the tips, in turn wanting to be ingested by some wary host, which in this case, was the sheep. I began to lock them out of the night pen forcing them to go out to pasture with the others, but they did not stop eating the bits they could find in the pen, where they far preferred to stay. My own sheep have instincts which prevent them from doing that. They know better and will not eat grass in the dry lot.  I learned that in some cases with older animals, they cannot be retrained, even when it comes to their survival. They did not have the instincts preserved that my native sheep do, because they had been brought food or spent time in small areas with food for their entire lives. I would not welcome older animals to the farm again, UNLESS they thrived in a forage based pasture system on previous farms. 

So, three days ago, while doing morning rounds, I heard a forlorn baaing and sure enough Pearl was down. Now Pearl weighs a good 150 to 180 pounds and I cannot lift her. It was very difficult to even drag her, but she had gone down at the feeder and was being tromped on, so  she needed relocation as soon as possible. I dragged her down the fence line to a safer place and propper her up against a straw bale. She could not hold her head up and had no interest in food or water. She was anemic, but not terribly so, just very thin. I dewormed her and started her on the Newcells to begin to build blood. She would not eat or drink. 

The next day I fully expected to find a dead sheep, but she was still alive. I tried to force feed her a mash of wild raspberry leaves, wild mint, rolled oats, honey and a bit of apple and yogurt. She would not eat, so I put honey in warm water and carefully syringed it down her throat, being careful that she would not aspirate and choke. She got two more litres of honey water that day and a shot of Newcells. 

Yesterday, I made up her mash and force fed her, but in the evening, she willfully munched, even though she could not hold her head up. She got her honey water and then I covered her with two fleeces for the night, because it was getting cold and had become very windy. I certainly did not want her to use her energy to keep warm, but to get some gumption into her muscles. 

This morning she quickly ate her mash with relish,well not pickle relish, but with gusto. Instead of wild raspberry leaves, I added dried Uva Ursi, but the apple and honey was there too. She was able to drink from a bowl instead of having the water syringed in, but I had to hold her big beautiful head up. She also greeted me with a soft baa, which melted my heart. Pearl is a far cry from out of the woods though. She is not even strong enough to hold her head up, let alone move that body of hers. I will give her another shot of Newcells later at lunch time and try to get some hay into her. I will soak the hay in hot water after chopping it with scissors so it will be easier for her. When she is better, my plan is to steal cud from a healthy ewe and transplant it to her, giving her a dose of good bacteria for her rumen. She gets a little yogurt and sauerkraut , but just enough to keep the bacteria up and not to cause her to bloat. The sauerkraut is home fermented and very healthy for the gut. 

So, it is a hard winter. The vet tells me that worm resistance is her number one call for sheep and goats at this time, and the older animals, especially, are succumbing. It has been an odd winter with periods of extreme cold, followed by near zero or slightly above zero, which is hard for the animals. When it is cold they eat a lot to stay warm and since they are strictly grass fed, it means filling their feeders several times a day. Nursing these sick animals also takes a huge amount of time, but that is part of practicing husbandry. Large farms do not bother because for them, as I mentioned, there is no profit in the animals' recovery versus the time spent nursing them to health. 

Please send Pearl your kind thoughts and good intentions and prayers (if you do that) for a complete recovery. I believe that even across a globe these feelings of hope conveyed are not lost. I am envisioning Pearl in the fields this summer and will continue to do all I can for her, as I would for any animals or anyone in my care. We are all sentient beings and we need to love and nurture and do what we can. 

Namaste. Here is to Pearl!

I like to think that I have an indomitable spirit. Once when I was quite young, maybe a teen or early twenties, that was how I was described. It stuck in my memory for some reason, likely because I liked that idea. So, with that indomitable spirit, I formulated a plan, and set to work. Six hours later, I had done it! I managed to remove three huge rams and get them on the other side of the farm to their home, plus put medicine in all the sheep and a few goats, except one, Kara. 

Kara is a jerk! I am not sure why, because she was a triplet from Daphne, my best goat, and Daphne's kids are wonderful. Her twin sister, Kia, is sweet natured and curious and comes to me to get a little pat, but Kara heads for the other end of the pen, wildly screaming every time she sees me, as though her life is at stake should I come near her. She is on the sale list, though she is beautiful, an F1 (first generation cross) mini Nubian in a lovely fawn colour. She was bred to Wimpy the Second this year, a tri colour Nubian buck. The mini Nubians, except Marie, who decided she wanted to get bred by Stevie Wonder, not Wimpy and somehow got herself out of one pen and into the other, rather miraculously, are going to have 3/4 Nubian babies. I am hoping they will be hardy enough to this climate, since Nubians do struggle with the extreme cold. Anyhow, I will have to work on Kara today, plus the other goats in the other pen and the rest of the rams across the driveway pen. Not many, compared to the hundred or so I managed yesterday ALONE!

I broke the cuboid bone last week in an unusual way. It is the bone that the metatarsal attaches to and it is a hairline fracture, nothing much really, and does not require casting or even bandaging. But yesterday, a big ewe stepped on it, and after that I was walking like Festus from Gunsmoke (you will have to look that up if you are not very old). Today it is swollen and painful all over again. I was out to check on the critters this morning. Bob Cotswold had his big head stuck in the feeder, so I rescued him and other than that, the plethora of ravens eating the dog scraps, was dispersed because I picked up the raw bones and meat bits. Anyhow, that broken bone still makes me hobble around in pain, but I will definitely have to treat the goats and the rest of the rams. One untreated animal with lice can reinfect the entire farm and I do not want that! Fortunately, sheep lice do not live on humans, but they can bite humans. Gross! I only got one bite from yesterday, whew! 

Today is beautiful! It is warm and melting, the usual January thaw. It snowed last night, enough of a dusting, maybe 3 centimeters or for those who better understand inches, around an inch and a little bit. But the snow is squishy and soft. I am just finishing my second cup of coffee and will have a cup of bone broth with fat before going out. There is an inch of beef fat on the bone broth in the pot and in the cup, I would say the fat, melted of course, covers the broth. I am attempting to reset my leptin using the Keto diet. 

Speaking or resets, yesterday, after wrangling those sheep, my knees were so painful that I could only hobble. Couple that with the broken bone in my foot and I felt a hundred years old! I have been reading a lot about cold thermogenesis and healing, so I put ice packs on my knees and left them there an hour. The pain and swelling disappeared with no medication and lasted through the night. Today, there is little swelling and little pain. I think there is definitely something to the idea. Long ago I happened to catch a short documentary on open heart surgery in a remote area of Siberia where they had no medication for pain. They used ICE!. The person was put to sleep and then covered in ice until the skin temperature was a certain level and they operated and closed and continued the use of ice until the person was well enough to gain normal function, which was not long and the recovery was nothing short of miraculous. I tucked that tidbit away in my mind. There is an American doctor who is promoting ice therapy, cold thermogenesis, and used it on himself after surgery for a speedy, pain free recovery. I must say, it worked on my old knees! 

Have a wonderful cell phone free day! Ha! Imagine that! Let's see tomorrow if I manage to get the rest of the critters on the farm medicated today. Toodle doo!

What a winter it is thus far! It seems this year is a year for things to not be easy, unfortunately. First off, finding someone to help on the farm is near to impossible. One would think, with people out of work due to the crash in the oil, especially in this area, any job would be fought over, but that is not the case. For some reason, people are not hungry enough yet, and their mindset has not changed from the idea that they are worth 30 dollars an hour. All I really need are two strong people to wrangle sheep and hold them while I administer some medications. Oh, and to help remove the rams from the breeding pens, but I think I can do that. 

The sheep have lice! Of all things, lice and I have zero idea from where they have come. Only once, many years ago, have lice been present on the farm. Then there were few animals and it was an easy fix to dust them with powder and give them a shot of ivermectin. Now, with 70 some sheep and 25 goats, that is a big job. And every sheep and goat must be done or the risk of reinfection is pretty great. How will I do Karin Llama on my own? I can pet her, but she will not stand there and let me put anything on her back or down her throat. I need to think creatively. Perhaps a bag over her head and a rope around her neck and quick action will work? How to get that done? Hmmm. 

The sheep and goats are for sale. As soon as we are clear of the lice, they are, that is. Karin can stay here with 10 or 12 sheep and 6 goats. I feel that is a good number to manage by myself. The ducks and chickens are for sale as well. I do not sell enough eggs to warrant selling eggs, even at $5 a dozen. I have said this before, but folks, especially folks here, still think that eggs should be $2 a dozen, even though they charge $125 a big bale of hay. Another Hmmmm! 

I have a thin goat who is showing all signs of anemia, which means barber pole worms. She has been treated many times with Ivermectin and Safeguard. At age 7, she is getting up there, however; she should still have lots of good years left. This barber pole medication resistant strain had to have come in with some sheep acquired this summer, because it was not on the farm previously, well not for many years. Many years ago, a man gave me 14 beautiful Nubian doelings and every single one died. They had been dewormed and were wormer resistant. Even at the veterinarian's the day before she(Nubian kid) died, he admitted he was at a loss as what to do. I cried so hard and still tear up. But none of the other doelings that went to two other farms died, so to this day, I am still unsure what happened. The man who left them here had them living in the back of his truck for about ten days, so perhaps it had something to do with it. So, so very sad, it was. 

But back to Daphne. Finally, we have a new vet in town that has some knowledge about goats and sheep. She informed me that everything I was doing was right and if she was not responding, she had become resistant to Ivermectin and most likely 'white' wormer medicines as well. She gave me a list of things to do including 5 days of Newcells shots to build the blood, an oral drench with Flukiver, and some good minerals and salt, which they have access to always anyhow. Flukiver costs $250.00 and is available in one size only and expires in 1 year from purchase. Yikes! See why I cannot continue to farm? A bottle of Ivermectin was $40 8 years ago. Hay was $40 dollars a bale. 

I spoke at length to a very nice lady who came to view my Airstream (long since sold) a couple of years ago. She read that I was retiring and wanted to know more. She is also a farmer in the area, albeit conventional, not organic and assured me that cycles are in life and in farming and although prices are crazy high now, they will come down somewhat in the future. How far in the future, one cannot know, but I cannot stay farming. 

Last year the man who had rented my pasture for several years, did not show up. I called and also left messages and finally in mid June, he responded saying he was not coming. I lost 2500 dollars there too, because it was too late to rent the pasture since those who needed it, found it by then. But that is not the worst. My cows are with the boarded heifers and bull every year and I count on the bull to create calves for my girls also. Last year, the bull next door busted through the fence AGAIN, but this time some of my cows (I only have 4) went onto his side. He thought they were all bred, but Elsie was not and I am not sure about the other two and I am not sure when either. I asked to rent the bull for another month, and the farmer was not interested. It was already late August then and I could not find a local person willing to bring a bull by for a couple of months, so Elsie remained open. Shona aborted last week. The only thing I can think of, since I did not see the fetus, is that the hay was bad. So 2 of the 4 I am sure will not have calves this year. Nor will Elsie give me milk. 

Isn't it starting to look bad? Egads! I do feel like throwing in the towel, selling the lot and giving up, but that is not like me. 
So, I hope for at least 2 calves. I have discovered that I am not much of a fan of beef, even my own strictly grass fed in unsprayed pastures grass fed beef. Compared to lamb, it is just not that great. My kids were interested in some beef until I asked them to cover the cost of it, just the cost, which turned out to be around $4 per pound cut and wrapped. That is still cheap for organic grass fed beef, but nope. I sold some to the butcher to cover his costs. But I think I will stick to lamb and chicken. Piggy Soo is in the freezer, along with her buddy Tasha. I loved piggies and enjoyed raising them, though the taste of pork is way down on my list. Lamb, goat, goose, chicken, beef and pork are my preferences in that order. Knowing that, I won't likely raise anymore pork or beef for my consumption. It is around $75 to have a lamb butchered, cut and wrapped and it is $900 for a steer. Big difference! 

So, back to the farm. During the past 8 years, I have learned so, so very much. 
1. Location IS everything. Be where your market is, or be willing to bring the goods to the people. 
2. Be in a like minded community. I would have loved to be in Nelson, an organic progressive Earth loving area. This is something that did not cross my mind when I moved. I know better now. They are happy to pay $5 for eggs there, because they understand the value of organic humanely loved animals. Here,...not so much. 
3. Have animals that the local people know, or, once again, be prepared to take the animals to where people are interested in them. Suffolk sheep and Angus cattle are what they know here and forget educating. That saying...You can bring a horse to water, but you cannot make him drink! must have originated here. 
4. While I can do everything alone, I no longer want to. If you do not have a means of built in help, do not assume you will find any. I used to pay a local man $10 an hour to work here. He was happy because he was older and finding a job for himself was near to impossible. I loved him because there was nothing he could not do or make out of what was already here. He grew up with nothing and learned to make do. I loved that. But he got older too, and unable to work, so I lost his very valuable help. Here is what I do not get. Alberta's minimum wage is $15 per hour. After taxes and deductions, the take home is around $10 and hour. Yet, locals will not consider working for $10 cash and are still in the mindset of at least $25 cash for unskilled labour. Yet another , hmmm. 
5. If you do not produce food for your animals, ensure what you want is reasonably locally available. This has been a huge struggle since the onset. People produce hay here, but they spray the crap out of the land first to kill the weeds, which are hugely beneficial for stock to eat, and then they plant timothy, alfalfa and brome. Just 3 grasses, well, technically alfalfa is a legume, but still. Then they have to provide copious amounts of minerals to make up for the deficiencies in the feed, because the good stuff, the weeds and shrubs, are gone and the variety of grasses are gone. Imagine you living on 3 food stuffs only. See. I have had a tremendously difficult time finding natural pasture unsprayed hay locally, and unsprayed grain too. MS, fibromyalgia, diabetes, obesity..well you name it, is linked to leaky gut now and guess what? Glyphosate is the number one herbicide, originally registered as an antibiotic, copiously used here and those diseases are rampant. Convincing the locals there is a link is a lost cause. So, back to the original plan. Move. 
6. With the poor economy, I did not have a fail safe for my 10 year plan to play farmer and then sell everything and move. It did not occur to me at the time of acquiring the farm that I would be stuck. I have to reinvent myself right where I am and that is the next project I am working on. Stay tuned. 

In conclusion, in this mini novel (thanks to those who have made it this far), there are so many possibilities and now that I understand the locals better, the next move or I should say step, will be to ride out the storm and do what I love - make soap and cosmetics, sew and crochet, garden and ferment, but sell somewhere else. This, I am working on. Have a most wonderful blessed day.  

I felt that my journey had been the best ever and that I had accomplished my goals. I have spent a long time thinking about the next step in my life, for life is always what we make it. There are no excuses, such as no money, too many kids or no time. Everything I have done was with little money except this farming experience, and I previously had three kids to support and care for as a single mother. So, no excuses. 

Still not quite sure of the next step, I am already planning and have started to liquidate the too many of everything I have acquired in my years. Furniture, dishes, bedding, and 'stuff' just seems to grow here. My son says it is because I am unable to just get rid of 'stuff' and he is right. I see a use for everything and as a result, everything is still here. But slowly now, that is changing. 

The hard part will come this spring when the sale of my beloved sheep will begin. I love sheep. They are gentle, smart creatures. Once a relationship of trust is established with them, like any other life, they come to anticipate company and enjoy visits. My sheep are not grain fed and do not expect treats as so many do. Nor are my dogs fed treats to train them. Everything here is simply loved and that love is strong enough so that they are willing to do what I ask of them just to have some of my affection. Stepping out the door, I immediately have 7 dogs vying for attention, each just wanting a pat on the head or a rub on the back, just craving a bit of my love. This is how it should be, but I digress. 

The sheep are multiplying. I was blessed this summer to have a follower buy my ewe lambs, all that I wished to sell. He is a dear soul and I know they have gone to a good home. The ewes will go to their breeding groups in two weeks and in the spring, new babies will be on the ground. Last year was the first year I was faced with sending these wonderful lambs to the auction and I was so relieved not to have to do so. This year, I am hoping that fibre producers will snap up the moms and their little ones. I only intend to keep a dozen sheep and 6 goats. The goats are pretty easy to choose. Daphne, who has been with me already 7 years, is Nigerian Dwarf and has given me triplets and quads every year of her life. Her kids are superior in every way and I have Kaya, a Nubian Nigerian doe from triplets 2 years ago, who will stay as well as Daphne. Leah is a Nigerian/Nubian with sharp bright blue eyes from another breeder and she stays, but her sister Lena will have to go. Kara is Kaya full sister, but she will not stay. Emma is a Nubian from another farm, raised by children, but not bottle fed and she will stay. So you see, the goat selection, for me , is not so difficult. 

But my sheep, oh, my dear, sweet, gentle sheep! How shall I choose just a dozen? I still do not know. Perhaps the buyers will choose for me and take what they prefer, leaving me with the others. I do not mind keeping my old girls. I have 2 from another farm that are 6 years old, and several from my original group the same age, plus 4 from another farm yet that are up there in age. 5 or 6 is not really that old for a sheep, especially a Cotswold, which these girls are. I love the Babydoll Jacob ewe, Zoe, who has given me twins every year of her life and she is 6 as well. And then there is Sasha, the North Country Cheviot, Angel, the Tunis Shetland, Marleigh, the Scottish Blackface...oh my. See the problem? Any one of these ewes will come to me for attention, just as the dogs do. How do I part with my friends? And they are all premium fleece growers, so they are exactly the sheep that I was hoping for when I started the Fat Ewe Farm. Cotswolds are my favourite! 

I am not sure if you have any particular way of selecting which of your friends remains in your care. If you do, please share. Nights are long sometimes, when I start thinking of whom I will keep. Here is a selection of some of my pretty ewes and a few lambs that I bred to Thor, a purebred Icelandic ram, for their long long fleece. I think that Zoe's twin wethers (used to be boys) are so cute! 

2017 is coming to a close. I cannot say it has been a great year, with the scoundrel who stole money from me and sold me last year's rotten barley straw instead of hay, to an overestimate for the building of my steel shop, and a few vehicle problems, which all have left me wanting for cash. So, I sold the Airstream to become solvent again, which in turn, led to a different path. I suppose the alternate option was always there, but my original plan after playing farmer for 10 years, was to sell everything I own, live in my Airstream, visit one of my 3 kids at a time for a month or two and travel for a month or two inbetween. That was also before my youngest son and daughter decided to have families. I could just hear it. "Where is Grandma, Mom?" 
"Oh she is off to north Thailand to eat fermented food in the jungle."
"What is she wearing?"
" I don't know. Possibly jungle clothes. You know Grandma!" 

I do not want to be remembered as the sweet little old woman who stayed home, baked bread and knit socks. There are far more exciting things to do in this world, but I do like to knit and crochet and bake too. Now that I know how to raise my own organic food, grow the way nature intended, and have learned to make 90% of the products we take for granted, such as laundry soap, personal care products, cleaners, even plastic wraps alternatives, I want to be remembered as the Grandma who was off on another journey to see how the rest of the world lives and what beliefs they have, especially in places like Siberia, which is one of the seats of Shamanism in the world. Yeah, Siberia! 

2018 is a very interesting year. People have been seeing the numbers 11:11 for some time now, and no one really could put a reason to it. I am pretty sure, still, it is unknown. But, in numerology, 2018 is 11:11. So, I think this year has something great in store for mankind spiritually. It is high time we humans woke up to the truth of the origin of mankind, the possibility, no probability, that we are not alone in the universe and that Earth already is part of the space race with ships traveling to other galaxies. Good ole Gene Roddenberry had some insight when he wrote Star Trek. Even the weird looking people and how they managed to breathe in atmospheres unlike their own, was unique. I have always thought he had an inside peek to what was going on. 

We are moving faster now that we have in the past 2000 years. Yet we are also going backwards. We eat better, but our food is without nutrition. Our light is without healing frequencies. We no longer touch the Earth. We stay indoors and avoid the life giving light of the sun. Egads! We are a quickly dying race! And, I believe it is orchestrated, not accidental, but I have no real idea by whom. Someone is managing our lives to the fine print and slowly killing us while making us believe everything is for our benefit and we embrace the technology, the very thing that will do us in. 

But 2018 comes with a promise. 11:11. I do not know what it is, but the star children, indigo children, light workers and kids who are born vibrating at different frequencies than on Earth, have been seeing those numbers for a while now. They do not know why. I don't either. However, I am looking forward to the exciting promise this year brings. Those souls that came all screwed up vibrate at higher level frequencies than Earth. That is why they cannot settle down or conform. They are here to make a difference. How exciting! What a promise! Too bad they have had to endure such crazy lives to make the changes about to come. 

So, I say to you, my friends. Be aware. Pay attention. Quit the news, the newspapers and the TV. Mass media is feeding you bullshit. Take your shoes off and walk on the Earth. Sleep on the ground. If it is winter, find leather soled footwear instead of rubber which blocks the pulse of the Earth. Eat only organic food. I recently ordered a book that shows photos of molecules of organic and not organic foods. I hope never to eat not organic again. It is akin to microwave molecules...scattered, dark and dead. Go outside. Change the lightbulbs where you spend time back to incandescent because they vibrate on the same frequency as we do and LED does not. And keep a close eye on weird stuff everywhere. 

I have no idea what 2018 will bring. It is the start of my departure from this area to the Creston area, that I know. It may take a couple of years to complete that move, but it is already in the works. I think I will take a few animals with me, find an acreage to rent and see how it goes. Life is ours for the grasping. Don't just hang on to yours by a thread. Grab it around the middle where it is thick and juicy and hang on for the ride of all time! 2018. I cannot wait!

Since I have been here, I have been lied to, pushed physically, pushed verbally, taken horrible advantage of and criticized deeply. As much as I love my farm, the people of the area, not all, but enough, have not been welcoming or pleasant. Happiness is being with those who are like minded and I am the oddball out here. So, it is time to disperse assets, liquidate and move on. 
The latest incident was a purchase of hay from Willie Lesyk. He answered an ad I had in a local online site, looking for natural pasture hay with weeds. He told me that he had what I was looking for and offered to bring a bale to try. It was very nice indeed, so I said I would take 40 bales from him. He brought 5 bales and a bale of straw, and I paid him by cheque for those. It was the last week of September and the animals were still out to pasture so I only fed them a little of the hay to see how palatable it was for them. I did not open any other bales. 
Willie brought 3 more loads of bale. His first visit was with his children, three delightful little ones. I gave them a tour of the farm and they seemed like well adjusted happy kids. I believe he did that to lure me in. The first bale was nothing like the other bales. He asked for sum of money, which was for the entire lot of bales he was to bring and I wrote a cheque for it. It was 800 dollars too much and when I opened the other bales I was horrified. 
They were last year's straw, possibly last year's hay too, that had been picked up from the unharvested barley crop. The straw was dirty, mouldy and horrible. There was very little food for the animals in the hay, if it could even be called that. The cows do not even want to eat it. Willie refuses to come and see what he sold to me. He refuses to give back the overpayment either. And he has made no effort to bring the remainder of the bales, even though I have no use for them. At $60 per bale, that is the most expensive garbage I have ever bought , plus I inadvertently contributed to his charity fund, himself. 
I had sent text messages and phoned him, I called his wife too. There is no response. Now they simply do not answer the phone. I posted my dilemma on Facebook on the local forum and many people came forward privately via messenger or phone to tell me that he has done the same thing to many people. He has lied and cheated his entire life and even been beaten up for it, and still did not pay his debt to the ones who beat him up. 
I could take him to court and would definitely win, but there is no system for actually making him pay the money once it is awarded. So what is the point? 
A few years ago, the man who was renting my pasture wanted my calf and took him and his mom, my beautiful Jersey cow that I had brought out from Pink Mountain, BC. She was from a long line of strictly grass fed dairy cows. The farmer was going to breed her for me, saying he had Jersey semen in his tank. I told him that she is not grain fed and must not have grain. I stressed that even. I called him in 2 weeks and he was nonchalant. I called him two weeks after that and he told me she died. He found her belly up in the barn with the other cows. He admitted he turned her out with his cows. She bloated from the grain and died. He would not do anything to replace her and he had 300 some cows . I asked for a heifer. Nothing. And then his son showed up and actually pushed me because I refused to let them rent my pasture after that. I told the young man to get off my property and never show his face again. 
There have been countless incidents with the locals, small and large. I have been taken advantage of over and over. One would think a small rural area would have decent honest people, but it is anything but that here. Yes, the bad ones ruin it for the others. I am sure there are decent honest people, but I have come across more the opposite. 
So, I am getting out of Dodge. It was a 10 year plan anyhow, but I was finally so content with all the hard work I had done to make this place into what I wanted, a beautiful permaculture farm, that I really would have stayed for the rest of my life. Then this final incident with the hay happened. I am done. 
I am angry of course. That man, Willie Lesyk, needs to be strung up by his toenails. He owes money to everyone. I did not know that and he took advantage of my ignorance as his next victim. I do feel so sorry for those 3 little kids. How sad they have him as a role model. What possible future will they have? And the mother is in on the shenanigans as well. Gads! 
There is gratitude in my heart for the many lessons learned here. I am still going to be a trusting naive person, because I want to believe that people are good. But here, too many are not. So here, I do not need to stay. 
In January I will begin the liquidation of the bed and breakfast house furniture and contents and after that, everything else on the farm I am not taking with me, including my beloved animals. I do not want to part with some of my beautiful sheep and goats, nor Elsie my dairy cow. At this time I have no idea where I will end up, however; it is looking like the Gulf Islands in BC might be calling me. That is an organic community of small farmers and artists. Perfect! I should have paid attention to the type of interests people here had prior to moving, but it did not occur to me to do so. 
I feel totally defeated, used, beaten and without the fortitude to continue here. Sad. So sad.