The butterfly flapped its wings in China

and I'm still trying to recover from the hurricane of ill winds over the past 6 months at Tyche's Run.

So very many unintended consequences of the slow fence builders last summer. At least there are upsides to butterflies.

The Leicester lambs arrived to a makeshift, temporary pen with insufficient grass; which led to a parasite explosion and the death of Cricket; which led to my distraction from the main flock; which led to a broken leg in Cain; which led to Cain's need for surgery; which led to the unintended release of the three little Black Welsh rams into the main flock in the middle of breeding season on the same day their original castrations were scheduled and then cancelled; which led to the abundance of unintended lambs this spring while I'm in the middle of a high workload; which has led to my distraction from the main flock; which led to my overlooking the fact that little Jethro, my very favorite little ram lamb, was not drinking; which led to his collapse on Wednesday; which led, ultimately, to his death at the vet school this morning.

I am a very lousy, and very sad shepherd today.

Butterflies, please be still.

Baby #10 needs a name

I am a ewe lamb. 

I need a name or the lady will call me Babysheep, 

just like Babycat. 

I am not a cat. 

Somebody think of a name for me.

Please.

So far, the siblings and cousins of Baby #10 are called

Jack and Jill (Bo Sheep's twins)

Hullabuloo (so big she made her mother Bo Welsh scream at her birth)

Coyote Lullaby (Sally's ewe lamb born during the snowmelt)

Echo (Mary's ewe lamb)

Fortissimo (Lucinda's ram lamb) 

#7 and #8 ewe lambs from Eve (Hey, what are we? Chopped Liver? We need names too.)

Miss Clara (Emmylou's ewe lamb)

The mother of #10 is Patsy. 

A note from Miss Clara

Hello,

I am baby number 9. I was born in the middle of the night Friday night. That makes me about 2 days old in this picture. The farmer lady brought me inside for the night because my mom has no milk and I just can't get warm outside. This is the first good sleep I've had, wrapped up in the farmer lady's coat while she did chores at midnight last night. One handed. Go farmer lady! I'm tiny -- tinier than my first 6 sisters and 2 brothers, but not quite as tiny as my 7th sister who was born just this morning. She's REALLY small. Her mom doesn't have any milk either, but at least her mom lets her try to drink.

Pffft.

The farmer lady is a bit behind or she would have written herself. She'll catch up one day. Or not.

Me? I'm off to nap again.

Faithfully yours,
Miss Clara of Tyche's Run

A night to be born

Ewe lamb number three, Sally's daughter, 

arrived late last night during the great snow melt-off. 

A chorus of coyotes greeted her across the fence line. 

The mist and howls swirled alike. 

From the barn door.

Turn your volume up.

Dumbo

Ok, not really. It's just that her ears seem so bigggg.

This little one was born yesterday afternoon. Her poor mama, Bo, really struggled to push her out. That wide load? It was one big singleton. Her big floppy ears make me think that Johnny Blue really is her daddy. Huh.

I was on the ball this time and saw the whole thing.

I did not know that sheep can scream.  :-o

Fortunately, nothing went too awry, and the little one did finally emerge. And nurse. And survive the night. A lamb hat trick.

We'll have to wait and see about tomorrow.

Wide load

No more lambs yet, but Bo may be harboring a few or twelve. 

Steaming behemoth

The temps fell to eighteen below zero (F) last night and I did not explode or shatter into a million pieces.

Score one for me.

I did worry about the animals who had to spend the entire night outside in it though. So, when I entered the sheep barn this morning, I was a little concerned to see Jed, the daddy of Jack and Jill, lying as still as a stone in his pen.

First of all, I rarely see Jed lying down. He is always on his feet when I walk in. And secondly, he is never quiet in the mornings. He wants his food and he wants it now. Ram that he is, he usually communicates this by slamming his head into whatever hard surface is at hand. Repeatedly. I've gotten used to it so I hardly notice anymore.

But I did notice its absence.

At first I couldn't tell if the steam coming off him was from his body or his breath. Both I guess.

He is such a grizzly, gnarled, old behemoth.

And, um, notice the hammer I put down when I pulled out my phone is so innocently lying on top of the water. Yeah, Jed's little bucket froze clear through overnight despite my filling it with heated water at night check. There's a special place in hell for little buckets. Jed drinks so little though, that a large bucket would still freeze AND be too heavy for me to lift over the door. Sigh.

In the end, I think he was just enjoying the spot of sunlight streaming through the open window.

Marthajones, caprine troublemaker extraordinaire, who shouldn't have been anywhere near Jed's pen, was enjoying a spot of Jed.