Dog Tired?

 
Have you ever heard this expression?

It always strikes me as funny, because around here, no one sleeps as well - or as often - as the cat. This is Ty. He is named for Ty Pennington of Extreme Home Makeover, one of our favorite shows. (We don't have TV. Our neighbor tapes it for us!)

The real Ty speaks openly about being a "spaz" - referring to his ADHD. Our Ty, the cat, has a great deal of energy as well, and could also be called a "spaz".
And the energy he has, he spends completely. Then he sleeps. Hard.

I like that about him. There are no energy reserves. No "spare tank." What he has, he gives. And then he's done. It is honest. Whatever an "honest day's work" means - I'd like to think it is that - putting every bit of your energy into the day at hand, holding nothing back. Then you're done.

It's been like that around here lately. When the days get long, and the rains stop for a while...the kids are out of school, then work begins in earnest. It is time to fence, move fences, repair fences, cross-fence, paint fences...and when the fencing is done (is it ever done?) it's time to spruce up the buildings...weed the garden...water...wash the wool...wash the clothes...clean the house...you don't have to look far to find something to do.

You can easily fill a day from sun up to sun down. And when the sun finally goes down, you are tired. Happily, pleasantly, completely spent. Like the cat. And then you sleep. As hard as you worked. And sleep has never felt better. Because you earned it.

Brooding

 

It always amazes me to see the chickens or ducks sit their nests. With singular mind and purpose they sit, day after day. For chickens, a hatch requires twenty-one days of sitting, a duck, twenty-eight. It must feel like an eternity. I get restless after watching them for just a few minutes and must be moving on. A hen that is not nesting is a very active creature. Always on the go - foraging, exploring. They are already busily about their days before I roll out of bed at six o'clock, a respectable time to start the day, I think. So how do they make it all stop? How do they tune out the temptations to leave the nest? What a lesson in self-sacrifice...

I remember my own pregnancies. I could still travel, garden, and amuse myself to distraction. Not so for the hens. It truly is a "confinement." Could you sit - voluntarily - for twenty-eight straight days? Just sit? No books to read, no sweater to be knitting, no telephone to talk on (or computer!), nothing to watch or listen to except the world going on outside the window? All you would have to occupy yourself is your thoughts. What would you think of?

It is no surprise that mulling over the same thought over and over is called "brooding." But what do our broody thoughts amount to? Are they productive? Brooding is productive. For my hens it produces an incomparable reward - offspring. Darling little ducklings, and cute little chicks...promise that the world goes on.

A hen will not continue to sit on a spoiled egg. It will push it out of the nest. Am I as careful with my nest of thoughts?Or is precious time and space cluttered brooding over pointless pursuits?

New life...

Two days ago, my youngest son discovered one of his favorite hens dead in the henhouse. He was devastated. There were no signs of injury.

"Why did she have to die?" he wailed..."I want to know what killed her and I want to kill it back!" he asserted. He was struggling desperately between justice and vengence, and wrestling with the reality of death.

I kept company with him as he chose a spot for her grave, and helped him make final preparations for her. The tears streamed down his little cheeks, and his chest heaved with sobs. A little boy who doesn't dawdle after bedtime, grateful for a night's rest, was up for hours now, unable to sleep. Bleary-eyed and tear-stained, he crafted a cross for his pet. My heart was breaking for him. Of all the lessons learned on a farm, the precariousness of life weaves through it all. We often think of work ethic and responsibility as a child's foremost experience of rural life, but they are far distant to the ever-present lessons of life and death.

It is hard to witness life's most difficult questions confronted by the mind of a child. Questions that we often still wrestle with as adults. We often give answers that have been given to us, and proven unsatisfactory...Life ends. Living things die. Life isn't fair. Life goes on. Where is the comfort in that?

In times of struggle, what is most needed is hope. As I chose words to comfort my son, I listened carefully to the questions.

"Why did she have to die?" Is there justice in this world, why this hen, my hen?

Yes, there is justice, but no, we don't always understand it. We will suffer and we will grieve, because all life ends in death. God gives life, and he takes it back to Himself at the right time, because that is His design, but he is there, always there.

"I want to know what killed her and kill it back!" I want vengence. When I experience pain, I want to inflict greater pain to lessen my suffering. Vengence does not lessen your suffering, my son, it increases the suffering in the world. You are right to want to protect what is in your care. Her life has ended, and if she suffered, that has ended, too. You will best honor her memory by doing your best to care for those she left behind. Ease your suffering by offering comfort my son. Trust God to mete out vengence. Allow yourself to be comforted.

"I wish she hatched eggs, Mom." I wish I didn't have to let go. I want to know that this isn't the end. I want something to hold on to...I wish she hatched eggs, too, my son. I wish it wasn't so hard to let go. There is nothing we can hold on earth. The only thing we can hold is our hope for heaven, which can never be taken from us. Sometimes it is hard to let go, but know that when we let go, God takes hold, and we can trust in His eternal care.

"Will she go to heaven, Mom?" Is there hope? Is there more to this world than what I see? She is already there. God tells us that not even a sparrow falls without His knowing, and that He loves all of his creation. Death is not the end of life, it is like birth. We are born to earth, where we live until we die, and death is our birth in heaven to a new life.

"I will miss her, Mom." How will I go on? How will I be comforted? You will miss her. There will never be another exactly like her. You will find comfort, because you have a loving God. He is always there. Have faith, He has more to show you. He has a plan for you...a future and a hope.

This morning, while my son was in school, I checked the ducks who are nesting to see if the hatch has begun. In the nest was a lone chick...one of the chickens had slipped an egg into the clutch. We will never know whose stray egg it was - but God does.

There is a new life on the farm today. There is comfort for a boy's grieving heart. And there is a loving God sovereign over every detail. And there is reassurance that with every death, there is birth, and hope.

Transitions...

Every year the sheep are moved from drylot to pasture where their diet goes from stored hay to lush green grass. For the sheep it is an agonizing transition...they can see the grass growing all around them, they can nibble the little bits that persist in their dry lot...but they cannot get enough to feel satiated.

For the shepherd it is equally agonizing. You see, a good shepherd doesn't manage sheep, they manage grass. The grass stand should be about six inches before turning the sheep onto it, and they must be removed before grazing it below three inches. Grass must not be overgrazed, and must be allowed to recouperate, to insure that the sheep have access to healthy pasture throughout the season. This is achieved by timely rotation of pastures. Of course, watching the grass grow is tedious at best. And like watching for water to boil, when you are waiting, it seems to take forever. Since our pastures aren't irrigated, it also means timing the watering, and dragging hoses and sprinklers. All to grow grass - something that is DEADLY to our sheep.

Deadly? But isn't grass good for sheep? Isn't that what they are supposed to eat?

Indeed. But the transition from hay to grass is the most dangerous time of the year. Sheep are ruminants with a complex sytem of four stomachs and digestive bacteria that must stay in a delicate balance. Any change in their diet upsets this balance. Grass ferments in a way that hay doesn't, and can cause a buildup of gas (called bloat) inside of the sheep that is painful, to say the least, and can end by suffocating the sheep to death, sometimes inside of two hours.

Transition must occur slowly. A wise shepherd will control the sheep's access to grass to make sure that the bacteria has time to adjust. The sheep are let onto pasture, and then after a short time, moved back to dry lot - against their wishes, and under protest. Each day, depending on their response to transition, their condition - not their desire - the time on pasture is increased or decreased. The sheep must be watched with a careful eye for signs of bloat. Are the rumens (stomach) full, or are they swelling? Still passing pellets, or are there indications that the digestive process is compromised?

Unfortunately, the sheep, like many of us, have no concept of the danger that something good can pose for them. They like it, so they want as much as they can get. They do not want to be denied. Managing them at this time of year is heartwrenching. They feel deprived, like children. If we loved them, we would let them out of dry lot and deprivation onto lush pasture and indulgence. If we loved them, they would have everything they see, everything they want; we wouldn't withhold good things from them. But that isn't love. Love sets limits. A good shepherd protects sheep from themselves, preserving their lives. He gives them every good thing, in moderation, in the amount they are equipped to handle, in the proper time. A good parent does this for their children. And we, the sheep of God's pasture, His children, are blessed to have a Good Shepherd, a loving Father, who cares for us in the same fashion.

Sometimes we, like sheep, can see the "grass" on the other side, and can't understand why it is being withheld from us, why there seems to be a barrier between us and the things we so desire. Sometimes we begin to "taste" something good, ony to have it taken away and are anguished by the loss...Sometimes we are overwhelmed by limitations and feel deprived - or abandoned. Even though my sheep cannot always see me - I am always there. I provide for them, and am always at work on their behalf in ways they will never know. I am ever watchful for signs of need or distress, and will never let them suffer unduly. Sometimes sheep, in their own folly and stubbornness, will evade the boundaries lovingly set to protect them. As a shepherd, sometimes I am powerless to solve the problems they cause themselves. I can offer them compassion and comfort, and make an effort to heal them, but they suffer the consequences. Loving parents experience this with disobedient children. A loving God experiences this with a sinful humanity. It grieves the heart of the shepherd and the parent.

We must learn to accept boundaries and limitations, and not grasp out of greed and desire for all that we can have, or believe we should have. We must put our lives in the hands of the Good Shepherd, who lovingly cares for us, and knows how delicate the balance is between what is beneficial, and what is harmful. We must accept the consequences of our sinfulness and stubborness as results of our disobedience that grieves the heart of the One who cares for us, and turn to him for the care, comfort and healing he can offer. No good can come to the sheep that defies the Shepherd or the child that despises their Father, but one who rests in His wisdom and care will thrive.

I have the most disgusting habit...

...of collecting eggs throughout the day and putting them in my pockets, rather than in an egg basket. Its not the eggs or the pockets that are disgusting - it's what happens to the eggs when I forget that they are there. Like tonight for example. I collected eggs from the barn hen when I fed the sheep. An hour or so later, I went back down to check Elizabeth, who has been showing signs of labor. Not enough change to get excited about, so I crossed the aisle to sneak a peek at the newest lamb - Eira - born to Susie, a yearling, this afternoon. As I leaned over the stall rails to admire the two, I felt something dripping down my leg, and realized I had done it again! When will I learn?!

How does Webster's define a habit?
1: manner of conducting oneself
2: the prevailing disposition or character of a person's thoughts and feelings : mental makeup
3: a settled tendency or usual manner of behavior

Goodness gracious, if what I felt when I reached into my pocket is any indication of my mental state...

How do we break a habit?
About.com says "The first step in breaking a bad habit is to look at why you find this action so
compelling. In other words, what's the payoff for doing this seemingly negative thing?"

Let's see...the payoff is the convenience of the pocket - freeing my hands.

Next "Each time you perform the action, you are choosing what you value more: the payoff or the tradeoff!"

The tradeoff is having a broken egg - on my hand, filling my pocket - and everything else I have stuffed in there - egg down my leg, having to stop what I am doing to go up to the house, clean up the mess and start a new load of laundry. And the wasted effort of a hen's entire day. Yes! Clearly slipping the eggs into my pocket is a matter of convenience!

So why do we do the senseless thing we do?
Things that in no way benefit us...that in the end cause more harm than good...

I think because initially it seems so trivial, like slipping an egg into my pocket. And if nothing comes of it the first time, we do it again. And again. A habit forms. Then the egg breaks. But is that enough to make a change? No, because of all the times it didn't break. Perhaps next time it won't, and it's easier to slip it into my pocket...but is it easier to clean it up? Well, no, but perhaps this time it won't break.

Breaking an egg can be a good thing, depending on where, how and why it is done. There could be no cake without a broken egg. But in a pocket, a broken egg is a different thing entirely. The egg never serves the purpose for which it was given.

The same can be true of anger... it just slips into our hearts, and doesn't seem to cause any harm, like an egg in my pocket. There is no sin in anger. Anger is a feeling we have because we are made in the likeness of God. But, put it under pressure, and perhaps it bursts forth in yelling, like the yolk slipping from the shell. At this point, we have slipped out from under His covering, into sin. Sometimes nothing comes of it. We are alone, and venting our anger this way seems "harmless enough" so it becomes a habit, a dispostion, a foothold. Then when the pressure comes from another person harm is done. It is much more difficult to "clean up" words spoken in anger and words spoken have a way of echoing through time...
In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold. Ephesians 4:26, 27
In your anger do not sin... search your hearts and be silent. Psalm 4:4

So there you have it. I begin writing about eggs, and end with a sermon on anger. Farm life is wonderful that way. Just as Jesus taught in parables...he still teaches me in parables. My days here astound me in the ways I learn about the heart of God...

I will make my best effort today carry my eggs (and my anger) purposefully...and hopefully change my habit (and my disposition!)

Even still, I am of the mind that barn coats should not have pockets!

Showing skin!

April 17th was shearing day on the farm! What a wonderful day it was. For the first time in the years of raising Angora goats and hand shearing with scissors...I treated myself to a professional this year, and was it ever worth it! To watch a professional shearer work is like poetry in motion. To the left is Martin, our shearer, with Khalid - our five year old ram. Amazing! Martin sat them right down in a "sheep sit" made a few orchestrated passes with his shears, and presto! Within minutes, an intact fleece and a bare sheep, none the worse for wear. I am converted. There are some heritage farm skills worth learning to do yourself...and then there is shearing.

Khalid has won the shearer's title of "most favored ram." Despite his awe-inspiring appearance, and his intense ramming of his post expressly for that purpose...he was a true gentleman. Upon opening his pen, he trotted right to the shearing parlor (aka my husband's shop converted for the purpose) and sat down upon prompting, minding his manners throughout. Once he recovered his feet, he trotted through the barn right back to his pen...polka dots and all. Yes, under that two tone fleece are more spots than a dalmation! You can see him bare in the farm photo album - the link is in the right navigation at the top of the blog. I must add a note of caution - despite Khalid's behavior, he is still a ram, and rams cannot EVER be trusted, no matter how pleasant they seem. Never turn your back on one, or stand directly in their path - even on the opposite side of the fence. Rams cannot be pets, or "tamed" without dire consequences. We consider ourselves blessed by his good temperament, but use extreme caution around him nonetheless.

Not knowing the lambing dates for the new ewes presented a challenge. It was clear that some were quite close. We had already needed to trim the first ewes that lambed prior to shearing for the little ones to find the udder. Having the rest of them shorn has made lamb-watch much easier...I can see what I need to see as their time draws near without groping blindly to see what is developing. Polly lambed the day after shearing. Too close for my preference. It is said that shearing too close to lambing can impact the presentation of the lamb. In her case it may have. Whether it was from shearing or not, both lambs had one leg back, instead of nose on toes. All are doing well though! It seems everyone is expecting...so there will be frequent updates to the lamb photo album!

My worst fears were allayed. Having sheep shorn serves more than the purpose of harvesting fleece. It gives the sheep a break from the summer heat, and gives the shepherd a good view of the condition of the sheep, which isn't easy to determine under all of that fleece. I had feared that the sheep were thin because of the hard winter and a brief period of marginal hay...they are not. In fact, I would dare say they are a bit fat. So much for trusting their instincts...they kept saying they were hungry and I believed them...Don't believe a sheep. The other fear was sheep keds - a parasite that lives within the wool. Not only does it damage the wool, but it impacts the overall health of the sheep. Not one! Our sheep were 100% ked-free! We've never had them before...and the new sheep didn't bring any hitchhikers to our delight! No skin issues whatsoever.

Now the work begins. What do we do with all of that wool? The winter fleeces, with a few exceptions, are not suitable for handspinning, as they collect debris from bedding and feed. They also have a tendency to felt from the snow and rain. Winter clips are for the sheep - it is their cold-weather coat. For the most part, they will be washed and felted into rugs and dog beds, and some are sold for felting. The fall clip is the one we look forward to! That one is ours!!! Since they are out on clean, green grass, and stay dry, for the most part, fall clips are gloriously soft and open. Those are the clips that are spun, sold, and entered into competition.

So between lambings, we'll be staying quite busy felting this wonderful crop of wool!

Chickens in the Living Room

Indeed! There are 16 young Barred Rocks in our living room, as it is snowing outside. Already we are 100 inches over the average snowfall for the year. Will it ever stop? Is spring coming this year??? Can't spare the space in the barn...we need it for lambing, so we must brood our chicks inside.

Typically, our hens raise the chicks around here, but this year we are adding a new breed, so we started from hatchery stock. Having been around this block before, I did not succumb to the darling day old chicks - but waited for them to become awkward, gangly feathered creatures. Cute gets its mileage, yes, but the practicality of older chicks wins hands down for this farm girl. They are not as likely to "expire" as day olds, have alreday eaten a couple of weeks of food on someone else's tab, and are a bit more "thermoregulated" so the temperature fluctuation is not such a challenge in this old, drafty house whose wood furnace runs cold in the middle of the night.

Have learned a bit from experience. This year, and if-ever after, I am brooding in a wire rabbit cage, with the removeable tray. All of the mess falls through the floor to the shredded newspaper...and they haven't been able to pollute the water! Other than the bundles of chick fluff that accumulates like cottonwood tufts around the room - they've been no trouble at all. In fact, their incessant peeping and scampering is becoming quite endearing, now that there is no mess that results from them, and I might even miss them when they make the move to the great outdoors!

What happened?

Monica's twin Minnie delivered twins on Saturday, her first lambing as well, at her new farm.

One lamb was more vigorous, which is not unusual, and the smaller was soon recovered by bottlefeeding in the shepherdess' care as Minnie seemed overwhelmed by motherhood, and more so the task of raising twins. By evening, the first was found dead, so the second was returned to the lambless mother, and it too suffered an apparent trampling, like the first. Why?

I question what I might have done differently as the parent farm. The shepherdess did all that I would have done, and having grown up on farms, and experienced birth and bonding in whelping litters of puppies, is as experienced and capable as they come. Why was Minnie unsuccessful? The shepherdess started her flock with two bred yearling ewes. It seemed like a good start, and many choose to begin flocks this way. But now I question, even though "everybody is doing it," is it the wisest start? As a parent farm, judging from this tragic outcome, and heartbreak as an introduction to sheep, what can I do to ensure future success of our daughter flocks? What can I learn from this?

Yes, Soay sheep are wild sheep, and prized for their ease of lambing, and lack of assistance required from a shepherd...they are natural mothers, and bummer lambs are few. I do not want to detract from this quality, but can I manage them differently to ensure this success?

To begin, as my ewe lambs are growing, I think it might be helpful if I handle their udders, so the sensation of nursing doesn't come as such a shock...

In placing bred ewes perhaps a yearling would be more successful if she were with an older ewe who has lambed, to learn from observation. Monica had this advantage. She watched her mother lamb, and her aunt, and was able to see her aunt care for twins through the jug rails. She saw them nursing, and heard the "mama speak" that Stellar used to call, calm and admonish the lambs while waiting for her own to be delivered. To ease the shock of motherhood, she had the reassurance of the experienced mothers, and is growing comfortable in her role, as did the yearlings that lambed here last year...Minnie didn't have this. Is this the critical difference?

Perhaps I will also delay the breeding of the young ewes a month, so that the older ewes lamb first, and the first-time mothers-to-be have a good chance to observe and grow accustomed to all that motherhood entails...

Will the other yearling succeed after having witnessed the demise of the other's lambs? Will her instinct carry her and her lamb, or is modelling from other members of a flock critical? In my opinion, from this point, it is preferred...

A New Generation...

Welcome, Edwin, Monica's first lamb!

Morning comes early here, especially during lambing season. Barn check is at 6am...typically about the time my Soays lamb. Thursday morning tempted me to stay in bed later, with snow beginning to fall, and the fire in the furnace having gone out in the middle of the night - leaving the air in the house brisk. The bed was so warm and comfortable...but not comfortable enough to risk losing a lamb.

I put the coffee on and bundled up for the barn, tucking a breakfast cookie in my pocket in case I was delayed by what I found. The sheep were anticipating my visit, and began their usual bawling as soon as they heard my feet on the gravel drive. I heard no nickering, so if any were to be born today, they hadn't arrived as yet. I waded through the mob of mothers-to-be clamoring for a tidbit, checked Aurora and Eclipse, who has begun leaping, dancing and climbing, Stellar and her wide-eyed twins, and in the last occupied jug, little Monica, our yearling. Monica was clearly in labor, and bewildered, despite having witnessed two lambings already.

So as not to distress her, I went back up to the house to get a thermos of coffee, put breakfast on the table for the family, and arrived back in the barn just in time to find her cleaning her newborn. She had gotten a good start, but it was in the 20's and beginning to snow. She wasn't quite as efficient as her lamb needed her to be in this unseasonable weather, and I couldn't bear losing another lamb to exposure.

I took a towel and assisted her in the drying and warming, for which she seemed grateful. She was eager to claim him, and cleaned him with enthusiasm. In fact each time we got him dry, she would lick him wet again. The cleaning was a task she enjoyed, though only half of what she was expected to do. The most critical need was to nurse, to warm him from the inside out, and that was something she preferred not to do.

Having experienced labor, and the passing of a wet wriggling thing, was freakish enough for her, without having her udder being manipulated as well, and all of the sensations that entailed. She wanted nothing to do with it and decided the best course of action was to commence to cleaning him again. Without nursing, the lamb would lose strength and vigor, and soon would be unable to accomplish the task. With assistance and coaching, Edwin soon had his first meal and was ready to sleep. Monica, wanting to return to a sense of normalcy, went for the feeder and left him in my care to sleep off his first snack.

She was quick to notice his absence though, and in the picture above, returns to claim and clean him again. I made hourly checks thoughout the day, and before long, they had accomplished nursing on their own, though awkwardly, with Monica squatting and lifting her leg to minimize the contact Edwin made. Many times I found them snuggled together, Monica alert and watchful, clearly content with her new charge.

Good Morning to Ewe!

Stellar's twins arrived early (5:30 am) yesterday morning, and Praise God! I was there. It is in the 20's overnight still, quite a shock for a little wet lamb, and a brutal wake up to the world outside a warm mama, even when born in the barn. I helped towel them dry and rub them warm as Stellar nuzzled them and encouraged them to take breakfast. I was too guarded yesterday to write, as there is always a weaker twin, but as you can see from the family portrait (taken this morning, 24 hours later) I woke up to a happy, cozy little sheep family in their jug in the barn while outside, it is snowing again. The snow that fell in back in December still covers the ground...will we ever see signs of Spring outside the barn?

True to form, Stellar and Garcia have produced a little ram lamb, Promised Land Eli, and a little ewe lamb, Promised Land Elsie. Elsie is in the foreground, and Eli is atop mama.

I missed Bible Study to keep vigil over the lambs, should one start to decline. I had a moment of guilt, thinking that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. What a strange thought, because God is with me wherever I am, and he has given me stewardship over these animals, trusted them to my care. I love my Bible Study group, and the women are so dear to me. It is truly the highlight of my week. But I have learned more about my relationship with Jesus and His character through caring for my sheep.

There are so many references to sheep in the Bible, and to Jesus as our Good Shepherd. Caring for my sheep makes these passages so real - they are no longer words on a page. Each day I check the sheep several times, each one. To them it must seem that I am just scanning the horizon, but in reality, I am looking at eyes, ears, noses, coats, alertness, girth, fetal movement, signs of labor, hooves, condition, is the temperature comfortable, what is the condition of the pasture, have they enough water, are the fences secure, is foul weather impending, is there adequate shade, are my older ewes still thriving - does anyone need special care? As they approach lambing, I will check even hourly, or find work to do in the barn, so I can hear any sign of distress...each one is counted, and each one is precious. God does the same for us, each one of us, all of the time.

One of my favorite passages in the Bible is the 23rd Psalm, familiar to many as the one read at death. It is so much more! It is about life, not death. Recently I found a book written by Phillip Keller, A Shepherd Looks at Psalm 23. You will never look at a reference to sheep or The Shepherd in the same way...

Our chicken is famous...

Rather than offer you my thoughts today, here is a link to an article that appeared on the front page of yesterday's local paper, featuring one of our hens, Joy, and me on my "Easter chick tirade". Joy was an unwanted Easter chick that came to live on our farm last year...little did we know she would someday be famous!

http://www.cdapress.com/articles/2008/03/22/news/news01.txt

First Lamb of 2008

Our 2008 lambing season is rife with

trepidation and anticipation...

Typically we would be pasture lambing this time of year, but winter gave us record snowfall, and little melting. Our pastures are still covered in deep snow and ice, and where we plowed to give the sheep access to the outdoors a couple of months ago is now mud and standing water. I brought in wooden pallets to construct a sheep bridge to the snowbanks so they could traverse the moat. On a sunny day, rather than a bucolic scene reminiscent of Currier & Ives, the sheep laying on the snow look like walruses sunning on ice floes at the North Pole. In a typical year, they would be dispersed throughout the pastures, nibbling new shoots of grass, the fields dotted with frisky little lambs! Not this year. We have been setting up lambing jugs in the barn, and stocking up bedding to keep everybody clean and warm. Rather than being thrilled at the prospect of lambs, we are uneasy, knowing that a break in the weather is not coming, in fact it is supposed to continue to snow all week...Having brought in a new flock of Icelandics in January with uncertain lambing dates adds to the concern...

joy and sorrow...

Last night, when I went out to feed, I was surprised to discover Eclipse, our first lamb of 2008! What joy! She was born to Aurora, one of our senior Soay ewes, who had not shown any sign of an impending delivery at midday. Not surprising with the experienced ones, who do well on their own. But only one? Aurora always twins with this breeding...we searched and sadly found the first twin, another ewe, had died of exposure during Aurora's efforts to care for the second. Eclipse must have come quickly, because Aurora hadn't had time to dry the first. We have never lost a lamb at birth before. We knew a day would come...and sadly it is here.
We joyfully welcome Promised Land Eclipse, and sorrowfully part with her twin, Promised Land Eternity, knowing that despite the loss, we are blessed.

Resignation

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

There is no flock, however watched and tended,

But one dead lamb is there!

There is no fireside, howsoe`er defended,

But has one vacant chair!

The air is full of farewells to the dying,

And mournings for the dead;

The heart of Rachel, for her children crying,

Will not be comforted!

Let us be patient! These severe afflictions

Not from the ground arise,

But oftentimes celestial benedictions

Assume this dark disguise.

We see but dimly through the mists and vapors;

Amid these earthly damps

What seem to us but sad, funereal tapers

May be heaven`s distant lamps.

There is no Death! What seems so is transition;

This life of mortal breath

Is but a suburb of the life elysian,

Whose portal we call Death.

She is not dead, - the child of our affection, -

But gone unto that school

Where she no longer needs our poor protection,

And Christ himself doth rule.

In that great cloister`s stillness and seclusion,

By guardian angels led,

Safe from temptation, safe from sin`s pollution,

She lives whom we call dead.

Day after day we think what she is doing

In those bright realms of air;

Year after year, her tender steps pursuing,

Behold her grown more fair.

Thus do we walk with her, and keep unbroken,

The bond which nature gives,

Thinking that our remembrance, though unspoken,

May reach her where she lives.

Not as a child shall we again behold her;

For when with raptures wild

In our embraces we again enfold her,

She will not be a child;

But a fair maiden, in her Father`s mansion,

Clothed with celestial grace;

And beautiful with all the soul`s expansion

Shall we behold her face.

And though at times impetuous with emotion

And anguish long suppressed,

The swelling heart heaves moaning like the ocean,

That cannot be at rest, -

We will be patient, and assuage the feeling

We may not wholly stay;

By silence sanctifying, not concealing,

The grief that must have way.