The story has finally come together. 

Charka was missing for 5 days. He came back very thin and very hungry and likely dehydrated. Obviously he had not eaten while he was missing. I checked him over carefully and saw some bites and missing fur, but nothing really major. I gave him a shot of long acting penicillin and let him stay in the porch as much as he wanted to, so he would not tangle with anything again. Harley came home that night Charka was missing, but with a terrible bite or slash wound to his foreleg. It is mostly healed now. Charka was not so lucky. 

For the first while Charka was basically Charka, wagging his tail and following me at heel around while I did the chores. I checked him every day, smelled him, in case he had a wound that was infecting, but he was fine. 

But then, a couple of days ago, his fur around his throat was wet. I checked him again and was shocked! He had a 3 inch deep gash opening up. It looked like a clean cut, as though some one had taken a sharp knife and slit his throat a bit, but there was no blood. 

Then yesterday the gash opened right up and it was about 2 inches into his flesh under his jaw and went clean around his neck. I am not familiar with devices that would cause this and asked my hunter friend, who immediately said he was caught in a snare trap. How he got out, I don't know, because if someone approached Charka, he would have torn them apart. Maybe that is how he got the gash. 

Charka can be tied up, so he was used to the feeling of something restraining him around the throat. But if a person came near, he would have desperately pulled away. Maybe that was his demise. He would have torn that person apart if he could not get away. Charka is that sort of dog. He is a teddy bear, so sweet natured and very gentle, but he cannot be made to do something he does not want to do. He is very wary and suspicious of things. And he has an uncanny ability to know when something is up. 

I tried to get him into the truck, but that dog , who is normally at my side, took off and was nowhere to be seen. Today, my son got a livestock trailer and brought it over, but Charka would not go near it. I called two vets. Neither of the closer vets will come out for a dog. The vet in Vermillion said she would come out and sedate him should I not be successful getting him loaded, but the cost is very much. It is travel time and her hourly rate. 

And Charka needs surgery. The skin and flesh that is cut is rotting and needs to be removed, then he needs to be stitched. The stitches will have to be self dissolving stitches or I will face the same ordeal trying to load him to get him back to the vet's . The cost will be astronomical, but I am not the sort to even consider shooting my friend. I know he would give his life for me protecting me from a predator. Would I not give him his life? 

A rescue organization is trying to find someone to come and help load him, possibly sedate him first. If that fails, I will have no choice but to ask the vet to come out and sedate and load Charka. Maybe I should start a gofund Charka ? At any rate, he needs your intentions and prayers. Please think kind and happy thoughts for his complete recovery. Please. 

I like ducks. At the Fat Ewe Farm, there are a lot of ducks and every summer, there are a lot more. I do not raise ducks for meat, but I eat quite a bit of roast duck! And duck eggs are delicious. They have more nutrition than chicken eggs, are larger and make the finest, moist baking. 
There are Ancona ducks, a drake and a duck, which are lovely random patterned black and white medium sized ducks. The drake has green feathers on his head that gleam in the sunshine. I think if I just had one breed of ducks, it would be Anconas, except they do not lay as many eggs as the Rouen ducks. The Muscovy ducks lay a lot of eggs too and are are really great at hatching babies on their own. A couple of years ago, 5 ducks nested together in one of the sheep shelters that was not being used and hatched over 80 ducklings. Wow. But the ravens moved in and in two days there were 18 ducklings left, so now when a mamma duck emerges with her tribe, I lock them up in a shelter until the ducklings are a month old. The ravens tend to leave them alone then, but they surely love them when they are new. 
The Muscovy ducks are the only ones that are not derived from the Mallard in North America and are actually from South America. While they can survive our frigid winters, they do need some extra care and good shelters with lots of straw. Most of the Muscovy ducks sleep in the chicken coop, which is insulated and they are fine, but on occasion, some think they will sleep with the other ducks and geese and if it is very cold, they do not fare well. I have tried to lock them in the pen, but they fly well too, at least the females do. 
Another breed of duck I enjoy is the Khaki Campbell. They are flighty and nervous ducks and never get used to me around, but they lay a lot of eggs and catch tons of flies. That is one of the reasons I have ducks. The barnyard flies can become overrun rampantly and the ducks will eat their weight in flies in a day. Between them and the sparrows, it really does keep the fly population at a manageable pace. 
The ducks do not get supplemental heat or light, so do not lay in winter. The break allows the hen's bodies to rest, as in nature and does not force them to perform. I think they are healthier and live longer with the chance to take a break. Today, there were 3 duck eggs, the first of the season, but when we had a warm spell in January, there was a single goose egg laid, so the geese beat the ducks this year. 
I do not sell the eggs unless people come to the farm specifically for the eggs. Since I source grain that is not sprayed and it always costs more and the birds are truly free range, running all over the farm, the duck eggs are a dollar each or ten dollars a dozen. In Edmonton, our closest large city, the eggs are 2 dollars each, so those who understand the value of duck eggs do not mind paying for them. Some people who cannot eat chicken eggs, can tolerate duck eggs and they also come to buy them. 
In the picture is a trio that I have for sale, which includes a chocolate male , a chocolate female and a pied black female. Muscovy ducks do not quack and in places that allow them, they are preferred because they are quiet. North American breeds can be very noisy, but Muscovy ducks kind of sound like they have laryngitis. These three love to be together and were curled up in the sunshine for a snooze. It was minus 15 here today with a very cold wind, so they sought the warmth and comfort of each other. Pretty duckies in a row. 

My young friend has asked what my favourite sheep breeds are and why. Good question. 

Over the past 6 years, I have owned many different breeds of sheep. I love the Babydoll sheep for sure, but they do not have the best fleece for making yarn and other things. The meat is supposedly very good, but I have not eaten it. Babydolls are very friendly and easy going sheep, but let me say more about that. 

I first started with Shetland sheep. I drove all the way to Valleyview, which is 8 hours each way, to bring back registered Shetland sheep. My research had been done. They had desireable fleece, were small and easy to handle, and the carcass was excellent as a meat animal. Being on my own, the smaller size appealed to me, as did the good reports of wool But the sheep, well, the ones I got, were wild. They were never handled. Indeed, they hardly saw humans for much of their lives. The ram was the calmest of the bunch. The ewes were so spooky, they would literally jump over my shoulder if I tried to corner and catch them. I am five foot eight. They are really good jumpers. I also got Karakuls brought out from Ontario. They actually were my very first sheep. Compared to those Shetlands, they were quiet and friendly and much easier to handle though they were larger. I sold the Shetlands and kept the Karakuls until last year when a young breeder from Ontario contacted me for their purchase. He plans to further the breed in Canada and had acquired all the Karakuls he could find, so mine went along to him as well. 

I learned that not all sheep from each breed share the same natures though. I gave Shetland a second try and whoa, what a difference. The two bred ewes I got were quiet, shy, and not in the least spooky. What a complete difference from the first Shetland sheep I had! So, even within a breed, certain things make a huge difference. 1. Are the lambs and sheep handled daily? 2. Does the breeder/owner love the sheep s/he has? Yes, love. I believe that some sheep people love their sheep so much that their sheep feel it and are calmer and much more trusting as a result. Production people sometimes, not always, see raising sheep as a business and do not have time to walk amidst the sheep and pet each one. My sheep all have names. 

Now, if I was asked which breed would I recommend for a beginner, it would be the Tunis. They are a medium sized meat breed with decent wool, but the wool can be greatly improved by crossing them with say a Blue Faced Leicester or a Cotswold. The lambs are hardy and up and nursing on their own and the ewes do not require intervention for lambing most of the time. Lambs are large and grow quickly for market or personal use. The Tunis has a medium fleece that is not soft, but felts reasonably well and would make good durable outer garments or rugs or saddle blankets and such. However; the crossed sheep have exquisite wool I particularly love the BFL Tunis cross ewes. They are large and have the softest wool in ringlets much like the BFL sheep, only more of it , so they are hardier than BFL sheep by far. The Tunis also can thrive on forage, does not need grain, so will work in a grass based operation and they are very sweet natured. If I kept just one breed, that is the one I would recommend. 

Now, my favourite breed...I love so many. Babydolls, Jacobs, Icelandics, Romanovs, not Romneys, or at least the two I have, and I did not like the Blue Faced Leicesters either because they need too much in the way of extras for this climate. I really love my Cotswolds though. They are slow to mature, taking two years to reach full growth, but they are gentle, like the Tunis and have superior fleece. They forage well IF they are raised that way. But that applies to any sheep. Those raised on grain do not convert easily if at all to a forage based, grass fed operation. I have not crossed the Cotswolds with Tunis, but plan to do that next year to see what happens. 

So, Lynn, for a first time sheep owner, my suggestion would be to buy a purebred registered Tunis ram and two registered ewes. You could also buy one or two Blue Faced Leicester ewes and breed them to the Tunis ram, and possibly a Cotswold ewe or two, depending on the number you wish to start with . Then you will have superior fleece, easy going, friendly sheep that thrive on grass and large meat carcasses for delicious lamb. That is my two cents. Best of luck with your choice(s).

​Getting ready for the crafty event on April 8 means making new soap, lotion bars, body butters, face creams and a two new products: laundry soap and sugar cube soap scrubs. The laundry soap is made from fifty percent coconut oil and 50 percent lard, which makes a hard bar that is grated to a powder. One version also has washing soda, borax, baking soda and a little salt for hard water and the other is just the soap. The soap has no free fat and is too harsh to use on the body. This is called zero super fat, or in other words, all the fat is used in the saponification process and about 1% lye is left over. Negative 1% is not dangerous, but sure does a great job of cleaning clothing.
 
The sugar cube scrubs are single use soap cubes with added skin conditioning oil and sugar, plus some essential oils. They are a dream to rub all over the skin, the sugar gently exfoliating dead skin and the oil leaving the skin soft and smooth, while the soap also cleans. These should be fun to make.
 
I have been doing a small batch of soap every two nights. Tonight was a tallow bar with skin soothing additives and a fresh scent of White Thyme, Lavender and Cedarwood – simply divine. This soap went into some of my lovely individual molds, as it will be a very hard bar and quite hard to cut when it is ready. I always wear long rubber gloves and protective glasses or goggles when I am making soap, even though I have been doing it a long time. It only takes one very simply accident that could result in a lye burn. I have never had a real lye burn and would never like to. It eats the skin and the meat if not neutralized and flushed immediately and even then, will do damage. It is simply not worth taking a risk.
 
The event will take place in Derwent, a small town about 40 minutes from Elk Point. It is the 8th show there and is very well known, so there should be plenty of folks to sample the wares. Moose Hills Inn will also have a banner and some brochures if I get my butt into gear and design them. They do not take long to ship after that. The business cards and post cards are already here.
 
This is going to be my maybe tenth try at selling home made soap and stuff in this area. There are lots of soap makers now, but only a handful of us are really and truly natural and I think I might be the only one who does any organics at all. The labeling takes longer than making any products. I only have a black and white laser printer, so the vintage theme will work nicely with the lack of colour.
 
If you are in the area, mark the date on your calendar: April 8, Derwent. I do hope to see you there! 

We come. We go. No one is immune to death. It is unnatural for a child to predecease a parent and yet, that, too, happens. Pets are like our families, albeit they do not share the longevity of humans, but they can be loved as much and possibly even more than human children. 

Charka went missing and was gone for 5 days. He was not there when I went out to do a quick round of morning chores around 9 am this morning. I looked for him with hope and promise and hung my head again, with tears in my eyes, not seeing that big black dog with the gentlest brown eyes, looking back at me, searching my face and looking for some love. But when I went out at noon, there he was. 

His head was down and he was very thin. Some of his coat was recently matted and his eyes were dim. I was elated to see him and hugged him gently, not knowing his state. He followed me around awhile, then laid with his good friend Jade, but he soon fell asleep in the warm sun and soft hay. I came to him to check his body then, while he was relaxed and not in any way threatened. Robbie was challenging him and wanted a fight. I whacked Robbie on the butt with a bucket and sent him away and he growled at me. I grabbed his collar and put him down, still growing at me. He has never done that before. Something was amiss. I made sure he understood that I was the boss and then took him to tie him up and went back to Charka. 

Charka's face is swollen badly. He was definitely in a fight and won, but paid the price at the same time. His throat was attacked with multiple bite wounds, his collar likely saving him from something more serious than what I saw. I felt his body for broken bones and further injuries. It appears that the worst was the throat under his neck, and he had a few more bites here and there, but nothing as serious. I came back with a shot of penicillin, long acting, and later gave him Metacam, a pain reliever for dogs. These things I keep on hand. Having over a hundred animals on a farm, there is always something that happens whether it is a cut on wire or a gash from a tree branch, a puncture wound or bites. I do not automatically use medications, and if the next day or two the animal appears to be recovering without swelling and other problems, I let them do so on their own. Charka definitely needed help. If the swelling of his face does not respond within 24 hours, he will have to see the vet. Last time it was Joe, who had an abscess in his cheek. $350 later, a shunt for drainage and antibiotics for a week, Joe was on the way to recovery, slowly. 

Life is fragile. We who are healthy sometimes spend little time concerning ourselves with living or dying. Here on the farm, I am much more in touch with how precious life is and how quickly it can be snuffed out untimely. Then there is my old ram, Bob, who has had a very good life and now, is just letting go slowly. I picked him up today, the second time he has been down and unable to stand on his own. One morning I will come out and he will be lying there in peace, the old soldier gone home. 

Sometimes baby lambs are born backwards and do not live, not often, actually only once in my 6 years playing farmer, but it did happen. Or a kid goat simply does not make it. New life is anticipated and babies are loved, but an old life like Bob, well, there is something so very touching upon the departure of a friend, be it four legged or two. 

I am so relieved Charka is home. He will once again sing to me when I come home, greeting me at the gate with his big tail wagging his body and those beautiful brown eyes, so full of love, searching my green ones, just vying for a moment of my time and pat that ensures his love. We never know when, how , where or why. But life is a gift and today, my gift has returned. With gratitude in my heart, I will sleep well tonight. 

Everyday is a new day on the Fat Ewe Farm. There are so many things to do, mundane chores, creative work, hobbies and crafts and planning and more. There are never enough hours in the day to do all the things I would love to accomplish and I do not have a TV to distract me, only the computer. 
I had a lovely video call with my daughter, who is studying to be a midwife in Australia in her last term. Finally, the farm has acquired internet with a new product offered by Telus. It is a hub that picks up the signal wirelessly and either connects wirelessly to a computer or through a LAN. After paying around $350 a month for phone and internet for the past two years, the $75 for the internet hub with 250G is a dream, plus the bed and breakfast guests can connect to it as well! Setting it up was no problem except the password is not easy to find. I was on hold with Telus for a long time and while waiting, kept typing in possible number. Jackpot! So I hung up and am good to go! 

The chicken coop got its spring cleaning really early today too. Usually it is still frozen solid, but we have had above zero temperatures that have completely melted the snow and thawed the coop, so I took the opportunity to give the ladies and Roo a nice fresh home, including emptying the nesting boxes and restuffing them. They are just starting to lay after a bit of a winter break. I do not supply supplemental heat or light and it is their biological timing that gives the hens a break in the midwinter. They can be forced to lay with extra light and a little heat, but their bodies get spent more quickly and they do not have a very productive long life. I prefer the natural way, even though eggs are scarce in winter. I also put a fresh bale of straw in the day house where the ducks and geese also go in inclement weather and to sleep. 

Fortunately, I was able to get my hands on about 50 pounds of beef tallow when I picked up dog scraps at the abattoir. My friend, Dale, butchers occasionally and I phoned him to see if he was using his meat grinder. He was, and agreed to run the tallow through the grinder for me, since it is so much faster to render. The roaster is really large, but it only holds about 25 pounds so I had to do the tallow in two lots. I set the oven to 350 and the rendering only took about an hour for each batch, which resulted in about 40 pounds of lovely pure tallow. This can be used for cooking, but most of it will be for soap and body butters. It would take me a long time to use that much for cooking! 

I am going in a craft fair on April 8 and am producing some small batches of soaps and body products, plus laundry soap to vend there and I will promote Moose Hills Inn as well. So, I made sea buckthorn soap yesterday, hot process and today, hemp and tallow soap. The sea buckthorn was lard based, with a little coconut oil, castor and lanolin. I love lanolin in soap and I am a sheep farmer..

The dishes got done, but the floors did not. There is housekeeping to do, and it will simply have to wait. I seized the opportunity to get the coop done and that took a couple of hours, but it is nice and fresh now. Happy chickens lay happy eggs! And that, my friends, was a day on the Fat Ewe Farm! I miss my Charka so much. The last day he was with me, Harley and the cat came for a drink too. 

Charka came to the Fat Ewe Farm at the age of 10 weeks, a black ball of fluff with kind brown eyes. He was from a litter of 11 puppies, 10 white, and his parents and grandsires were white as well. No one had any explanation at all for his colouring. But I fell in love with that dog right away. He was much larger than the other pups, too, and stayed off by himself with another puppy. The pups were not handled at all, as they were livestock guardian dogs and the thinking then was hands off.

I brought Charka home and put him on the porch with a bowl and a dog house. Robbie was already here and two rough collies, Anna and Joseph, who both met their demise on the demon of a highway bordering the farm. The dog across the highway was not spayed and was in heat, so Joseph went there a lot and Anna followed, that is until they did not come back. First Anna was hit and then a few months later, Joseph. I had the yard fenced by then, but too late for those two. I did not want any other dogs ever near the highway. 

Charka was a rough teenager and took a liking to chasing the duckling and ducks, playing hard, accidentally killing them and then eating them. Everyone told me to get rid of him. Once a dog has tasted blood then he will never be a good dog. Gads! I did not believe that at all. I tied Charka up outside my window and watched him closely. When I was outside he was free to run, but when he started going across the highway, I tied him to a pallet, which he dragged around the yard, but it would not go over the fence with him. As far as the ducks went, when I caught him killing the last one, I beat him with it and yelled at him and kept at it until he rolled on his back and submitted. Then I put the duck on the ground beside him and every time he so much as looked at it, I yelled at him. Case was closed. Charka never went near a duck again. 

Charka was always first at the gate to greet me and he sang. He would sing in his hello voice, his big shaggy tail wagging his body. Those loving gentle brown eyes always stole my heart though. Charka got porcupine quills when he was young and would not let anyone come near him. He was in such misery. Finally, I got a horse tranquilizer and gave him enough to knock a horse out, but Charka would not allow himself to go to sleep. Stubborn boy! Two days later, he must have been such terrible agony because the quills were working their way inside his mouth and face and some men and I cornered him with area carpets and forced him into the kennel. I shut the door and they loaded him into the truck and off to the vet's we went.Almost 400 dollars later, I picked him up in my smart car. That was not smart! He sat on my lap all the way home. Here I am with a 150 pound scared dog on my lap trying to see the road around him. 

Charka did not come to the gate yesterday. He did not sing for me. He was not at the porch or in the dog houses. He was not there this morning either. My son and I combed the quarter and did not find any sign of him, and not many prints, though with the melting snow, it was somewhat difficult to tell exactly how fresh the tracks were. I did see a lone wolf last week, running as fast as he could down the far second fence line. The dogs have been chasing coyotes too, but they are never out there alone. Gentle as Charka is, I think he could hold his own in a good fight with the back up of the pack. And it is just so unlike him to not come home right away. 

I am going to hold out for his return, safe and unharmed. I already miss him immensely. What would I do without my Charka dog? Sigh, big sad sigh. 

Why do I have to apologize for whom I am all the time? Yes, I chose to live here, but the fact is, I do try to keep to myself and not ruffle too many feathers. Normally, I am a little social, but also an introvert, or person who likes their own company a lot. I am in an area where I am not like the majority of the people here. I could word things differently. I could say I wish was a redneck, loved camping and fishing, camouflage in any colour, country music and motor sports, but the truth is I don't. I don't like any of those things and I don't wish I was a redneck. 

I love classical music, opera even. Pavarotti and The Three Tenors fill my soul. Sara Brightman sings like an angel. Tennis beats any motor sport any day, though I cannot play racquet sports anymore. Camouflage and wax tarts, oh my goodness! I have no idea who invented either and why anyone would use them or wear that stuff. But I find myself having to apologize for being different, a fish out of water here, or the folks get offended and tell me to go back home. So now I am grumpy.

They don't like other races coming to their part of the world either, and I guess, living in Vancouver where white people are far outnumbered by other races, the different ethnic foods and customs and celebrations were something to look forward to. I loved shopping in little India, where spices were fresh and real and incredibly cheap, silk was bright and beautiful and the food, oh my goodness, it was amazing. Then there was China town. One could get authentic dim sum and leave stuffed for under ten dollars. And little Italy and and and...

Yes, I am the odd ball out in this part of the country. Yes, I am the only one whose ears want to go deaf when country music is playing and those motorized sleds that sound like sewing machines on steroids are not welcome on my property. Why can't we just all get along? I be me, you be you, we agree to disagree and no one apologizes for liking what they like? So, I tend to stay down on the farm, hang out with the Hutterites on occasion, who are very accepting of most people and always invite me for coffee or meals with them and just play with my critters and do my hobbies. When I have to socialize or when I choose to, as in the upcoming trade and craft fair on April 8 which I am attending, I want to leave happy. I want to sell my organic soap, not camouflage neon brights with artificial colour and fragrance that make people sick anyhow. I want people to understand why they should use such good stuff and hope they will try it. I won't ever fit in, but maybe, just maybe, we can all get along? That would be so nice. Then no one would be grumpy!  

Generally I do not think much about my age, which is 62. I feel healthy and strong, owed to the hard work and fresh air at the Fat Ewe Farm, and the natural lifestyle and food I try to incorporate into daily living. But sometimes, something happens that smacks me upside the head and says, "Take a closer look!". 

When I first opened the bed and breakfast several years ago, a wonderful couple came to stay the night. We had some very pleasant evening conversation and they promised they would be back, and they were. I am not sure the total number of times they were guests at the bed and breakfast, but our friendship blossomed and when the closure came due to the flood, the couple still came to the area and always called me to meet them for dinner. 

She was a feisty, robust woman, full of fun and laughter and many smiles and one could see in her demeanour how she adored her husband of many long years. Although he is an octarian, has battled cancer and won, and has some health concerns, upon meeting him, anyone would think he was in his sixties, however; he is in his eighties. She was ten or eleven years behind him. 

I got the news today while a friend was over visiting this morning. He called and matter of factly stated she had passed away, but his voice belied the emotion that was not in his words. She was the woman of his dreams and how they loved to tell the stories of those early days when they met and the sparks flew, and of the whirlwind courtship and marriage that followed shortly thereafter, and the many, wonderful years together. He was still her man and she was very much that vixen that he fell for so long before. And then, in a matter of months, she was gone. 

She fell ill in December, then one condition escalated to another in as quickly as she was sick, she was gone. Life is precious and precarious at the best of times. She was vivacious and charming and one would never suspect that in a short while, she would be no more. Certainly, he would never have guessed that, given his tribulations with his own health, and the difference in their ages with she being his junior. 

We are never prepared for that. Even when the diagnosis is terminal, somehow, we are simply not prepared, not willing to say goodbye, not to make it a permanent departure. I felt that way when my father died. I was there. I held his hand. He took his last breath and I somehow believed there would be another one, but there was not. That was all. I knew that the time had come and there was no more and yet, somehow, I waited for another intake of air. I waited, not wanting to say goodbye to the hero of my life who had seen me through so much. I think that is it. 

We are not prepared to accept that departure from our lives as final, the end. Sure, we have memories, and in our hearts, we will always carry the fond thoughts and feelings for our loved ones. But when it is the end, and the final breath comes, those left behind really do take a closer look around themselves. Not once did it cross my mind that I would be next, but I am quite sure, that thought never crossed her mind either. 

I will miss my friend, her jovial laughter, her lovely, warm smile, that hug you feel in your soul and those beautiful kind eyes full of mischief and love. There but for fortune, go you or I. Rest in peace, dear heart. 

I live and farm alone. Sometimes there are things I need to do that really require one or two more people, but there is only one - ME! So, I ponder the situation for awhile and usually come up with some sort of plan. The thing is, even if it does not work, I can say I tried, then devise a better plan and start again. Learning is the mother of innovativeness. 

I moved half the ewes the other day, along with two rams, the little Babydoll and the big Tunis. It was my intention to use the beautiful BFL ram as the clean up ram, but I cannot handle him on my own at all, and do not even want to try. The Tunis ram is a pussycat in comparison and he was already in with the Tunis girls, then he went in with the Cotswold ewes when I put the group together and finally, the Babydolls. The Babydoll ram tried to push the Tunis around and although Thomas Tunis did not fight with the little fellow, he is only about a third of the size of Thomas. So, he basically ignored him. Still, I needed to get him out of there. Well, it just so happened that he got himself in a section where I could close the gate, move the ewes and then deal with him later. 

I locked him up, put up the livestock panels to direct the sheep, and tied Robbie up this time, since he was way more trouble for me than help last time, sending the sheep back to their pen instead of where I wanted them to go. The sheep were very cooperative, most of them remembering their pen from previous years and walked directly over to it. I simply opened the gate and they waltzed in with Thomas. 

I had to move the Babydoll ram lambs that spent the winter with the goats because they are too small to go in with the mature rams, and move Bob, who was in with the goats for a bit too. Bob is doing so much better, I do have hope he will make it through this winter! I caught Ross, who is Rosy's little fellow and has the sweet gentle disposition of Rosy and Randy followed Ross, I shoved Ross into the barn and then out the door and the two of them can stay with the ewes for a while until breeding or they are sold. Then I looked for Bob, who had toddled off. 

I could not find him. Where on earth could a large sheep go? Well, it turned out the rams were quite interested in a corner they do not normally pay attention to. I looked there and did not see Bob. I hunted around the rest of the farmyard. The gates were closed so he had to be within. I went to the corner where the rams were congregated and sure enough, Bob had gotten into the farmhouse yard through the only gate he possibly could have and then went by the farmhouse into the summer rabbit pen and was happily munching the alfalfa sticking up through the snow. On went his halter and I simply led him to the ewe pen, where he was very happily checking the girls to see if they were bred. 

To make sure Bob was not cold I brought in 4 large bales of straw and put them in the open shelter and the shed shelter. Bob could choose either one in which to curl up in for the night. I have to work tomorrow as a substitute teacher, so won't see the sheep until an hour before dark. They got mineral, salt and extra hay today to ensure they were happy until I could tend to them tomorrow. 

Getting work done is always satisfying, especially when it is over! But, oh, I still had to move the large bales of hay. I started the skid steer and moved 6 large hay bales and was ready to call it a day, but Gen and Jewel were asking for more water. I hauled 3 buckets, but the piggies wanted another drink too, so they got some and the ewes got the rest. It is cold tonight, with temperatures near minus 20, but if feels colder. I think every critter is comfortable and happy and I am glad that I was able to do everything myself. I got it done.