Farm Fresh Blog

As most of my adventures do, this adventure began on the internet too!  I am a member of a most wonderful group of women who trail ride together.  We are like the Red Hat Society on horseback, and we stay connected on the internet. Because of my schedule, I rarely get to participate in the functions, but I enjoy keeping up with them online. I was perusing my email last week when I happened to note that one of our members shears sheep.

"Yee haaa!" I screamed to the cat sleeping beside my computer. She fell off the desk.

I have two sheep that need shearing! Most of my sheep are high percentage Dorper crosses that shed out in the spring, so they don't need shearing, but these two have dreadlocks so thick they look like members of the Jamaican Bobsledding Team.

 So I quickly emailed this Sheep Savior and begged her to come shear my Jamaican bobsledders.  She agreed, and thus the adventure began . . .

Wake up and decide that even though I barely have an hour before Sheep Savior arrives, I simply MUST put fresh shavings in the horse barn. Feed horses. Let goats out of Goat Prison. Let Sheep and Livestock Guardian Dog out of Sheep Prison.  Avoid massive muddy white paws from Abominable Snowdog as she bounces along beside me. Spill coffee.  Threaten to shoot Snowdog. 

Snowdog is unimpressed and bounces over to greet her canine friends who enjoy house privileges at night. Get large garden cart and begin hauling bags of shavings from Garage Barn to Horse Barn. Fill stalls with shavings.  Happy horses play in shavings.

Have Border Collie and Blue Heeler put goats in Kitchen Garden that is overgrown with weeds again. Lock gate and admire them as they immediately begin working like weed-wackers on methamphetamines. Suddenly realize that I have lost my cell phone.  Oh crap! Mentally run through chores and try to figure out where it fell off my belt.  Have disturbing thought that best bet is horse stalls.  Have distinct mental picture of horses pawing through shavings as a Blackberry sifts deeper and deeper into the stall. Have mental picture of Big Fat Ona standing on expensive Blackberry. Have mental picture of Andalusian cross finding phone and running up bill by calling Spain or text messaging his friends in other stables.

Run to barn to save phone.  Lots of shavings.  Confused horses. No phone. Run back to house.  Try to use house phone to call cell phone.  House phone refuses to dial the number 7 so I cannot call my cell phone and listen for the ring tone.  Lots of cussing.  Run to my mother's house.  Bang on door. Hear her dog frantically bark but no one comes to door.  Consider crawling through doggy door but decide to run around front of house instead.  Find mother lounging on front porch swing.  Mom is happy.  Mom wants to chat.  Explain emergency. No time to chat.  Need Mom's cell phone NOW to call my cell phone.  While desperately trying to convey this information quickly, see that Someone is pulling into my driveway.

Sheep Savior has arrived. Briar has climbed out of her puppy prison and I fear that she may eat Sheep Savior or at the very least, put giant Abominable Snowdog muddy footprints on her shirt. Must leave now, but Mom still wants to chat. (retired people appreciate life in the slow lane and aren't quite as quick to recognize the emergency of strangers driving up when no one is home but loose dogs who may or may not eat people. Finally wrangle phone from mother (Sorry Mom!) and run back next door to find Sheep Savior and two small children crawling out of car.  Fortunately White Mountain with Teeth has decided that she is friendly today - but still muddy.  Football tackle dog and force her into outside kennel with Blue Heeler (who is NEVER friendly to strangers - today or any other day.)

Greet Sheep Savior and explain that expensive Blackberry may be in stall with horse who is currently digging to China in the shavings. She listens while I call my phone.  Sheep Savior finds my phone! Phone is on ground beside Garage Barn. Phone is fine. Woo hoo! Thank her profusely and explain that I must run Mom's phone back to her house.  Please don't pet dogs behind bars.  Some of them bite. Sheep Savior happily agrees.

Return phone. Apologize to mother. Have Border Collie pen sheep who are now grumpy because they just LEFT the barn. Single out Jamaican Bobsledders. Rodeo. Mutton Bustin'!  Ride that sheep, Cowgirl! Finally get first bobsledder strapped onto trim stand. Fire up those clippers! Wow!  Return dazed bobsledder back to flock sporting a new Marine haircut.  The rest of the flock admire her new doo!  More Mutton Bustin' as we rodeo second bobsledder onto trim stand.  In no time a new dazed bootcamp recruit joins the rest of the flock. Turn flock back out and barely recognize bobsledders. There are actual sheep under those dreadlocks! 

I haven't figured out what to do with the armadillo shells of dreadlocks that pass for wool rugs.

 Maybe I'll give them to the dogs for beds.  On the other hand, my dogs are so uncivilized they will probably eat them, and we all know what that will happen then!   (Read: Useless Factoid )

Farm Rule #23 - When dogs eat wool . . .  they poop out felt!