Zip and Zinnia Touching Noses

All the animal on the farm do it.   One minute they are touching noses, or even giving licks on the nose and the next they are chasing and running from each other. Or they completely ignore each other.

I guess it’s not so different from people really.  It depends on what kind of mood they’re in, if there is food involved or another animal to throw off the balance.

This morning after Zinnia all but pounced on Zip, they got all cuddly, even touching noses.

I’m just waiting for the day when Zinnia starts to clean Zips ears the way she does Buds.

 

Rest Well Suzy

Suzy last year

Suzy died this afternoon.

When I went out to feed the animals Suzy was laying on her side near the fence.  I thought she was already dead, but then her eye fluttered open and I could feel she was breathing.

She couldn’t get up.  She was laying at an awkward angle on some rocks, so I moved her as best I could to get her more comfortable.

I told Jon and he called Mike.  We weren’t sure at that point if he would need to help her along but he said he would bring his gun.

Before Mike got to the farm Jon and I went to say goodby to Suzy.  She had gotten up after I helped her and was sitting on the hill, the other sheep grazing around her.  I  was surprised to see a  raven standing on the ground next to her.   Such a big bird, its shiny black feathers glistened as we got closer and it flew away.

We needed to separate the Suzy from the rest of the sheep.  Either she was going into the pole barn or the rest of the animals were.   For some reason when I closed one of the gates to the pole barn the sheep came running.  Suzy slowly got  up and followed them.

We let the rest of the sheep out and Suzy stayed inside the barn.  As if she knew.

I had no doubt it was the right time for Suzy.  If she fell in the night or when I wasn’t around,  as she did today, she never would have gotten up without my help.  Her suffering and death would be unnecessarily long.

Suzy was 13 years old.   Thirteen years is a good long life for a sheep.  And she was a great sheep. I named her after Suzy Fatzinger,  the first friend I had who also raised animals for their fleeces.  And for the love of having them.  Just like me.

Suzy was one of my first sheep along with Socks and Tess.  Her death makes me think of how much I have learned about keeping sheep in the twelve years since I got her. I didn’t know anything about sheep before that.

Since then I experienced  sheep mating, pregnant sheep, sheep giving birth, lambs growing up, sheep getting sick and getting well or dying.  And knowing when it’s time to put an old ewe or wether down.

I didn’t cry until after Mike had taken Suzy away in his truck.  He’ll put her body in a nearby field for the coyotes.

Even though I still have eight sheep, all of them healthy and six of them young, I feel like it’s the end of something now that Suzy is gone.

It doesn’t make sense, and I can’t really explain it. I think it has something to do with her having lived 12 of her 13 years with me.   And that I’ve grown so much in how I think about and behave around sheep and animals in general. That I am much more knowledgeable about them, practically and emotionally.   And Suzy was there for all of that learning.  Her life and death has marked that time for me.

I cut a handful of Suzy’s wool before Mike took her away. I wish I could have shorn her whole fleece.  But it’s not practical,  it was getting dark and Mike had other things to do. Anyway, I couldn’t imagine shearing her once she was dead.  I’m not sure why.  Maybe I just don’t have the heart for it.

Suzy with the big round eyes, and soft, always clean wool, I miss you already.

Suzy with Robin and Kim this afternoon

Suzy, In Her Own Time

 

Suzy this morning

We were getting into the car to go into town when I saw  the sheep and Fanny and Lulu lined up next to the barn, looking out towards the back pasture.

It was unusual to see them all giving something that kind of attention.  So Jon and I went to barnyard to make sure everything was alright.

They were looking at Suzy, who was laying down on the top of the hill in the back pasture.  It’s unusual enough for a sheep to graze by herself, but to be laying down alone usually means sometime is wrong.

I went to Suzy and crouched down next to her. She turned her head and looked at me with one big round eye.  I silently checked in with her.  Is it time I asked?

Suzy is 13 years old, which is old for a sheep.  She’s been having a hard time walking  for months.  I’ve been feeding her and Socks, who is the same age, grain all winter because I know they need the extra nourishment.

I know Suzy is failing, and seeing her by herself on the top of the hill, was an indication that she may be dying.

I nudged her with my foot then pulled up on wool on her back.  She got up and started to walk back to the barnyard as I trailed behind her.

Jon and I watched as Merricat walked up to Suzy.   At first I thought she was going to butt Suzy, but she just lowered her head to Suzy’s face.   They stayed like that for a while, it seemed to me they were communicating with each other. After a bit, Merricat moved away.

When we left Suzy was laying down in the barnyard, looking serenely out over the farm, the other sheep grazing around her.

I wouldn’t have been surprised if I came back that afternoon and she had died.  Jon and I talked about if it was time to put her down.  But I got the feeling that Suzy will die on her own, that she’s doing it in her own time in her own way.

Suzy has been my most healthy sheep.  She was the only sheep we had who delivered her lamb by herself with no trouble.  And her lamb, Liam, was just as healthy and strong and lived a long time for a wether.  Until the past couple of years Suzy’s wool has always grown lushly.  It’s soft and easy to skirt.  As if the things that stick in the other sheep wool just never stuck to hers.

When I came back yesterday afternoon Suzy was laying down once again.   I went to her to see how she was and she got up and walked away from me.

I didn’t need any other sign to leave her be.  Her message was clear to me.

This morning Suzy followed Socks into the barn for her grain.  Then she stopped at the salt lick on her way out.  She’s still stiff in there legs and takes an awful long time to urinate, but she’s eating and walking and as of this morning she was back hanging around with the rest of the sheep.

Maybe she’s holding on to get one more taste of spring grass.  I like that idea.  Along with the thought of her dying on the hill looking out over the farm.

When she’s ready, of course.

Elegant Cats

Cats are such elegant creatures.

They look good just being cats.  Are graceful doing the most mundane things that cats do.

It seems to me, that no matter what a cat is doing the curves and shapes of their bodies are beautiful and more often sensual than not.

Their tails are wild things and even the pads on their feet and needle sharp claws are a wonder.

Talking To Bud About Digging Under The Fence

My studio door was open and the dogs were all outside.  It was even warm enough for Bud, but also warm enough that the ground is no longer frozen.

We were hoping that Bud might forget about the digging he did last summer and fall.  That maybe not being able to dig out of the yard all winter the behavior might have changed.

It was one of the hens, doing a lot of clucking that got me away from my work to check on the dogs.

And it was good that I did,  because Bud had moved the log we’d put in front of the gate (to stop him from digging) and had a hole dug almost deep enough for him to crawl through.

“Bad dog!” I yelled at Bud. That didn’t stop him so I said it again and this time he startled and backed away from the gate.  I filled in the hole and put the log back in place.

Then I took Bud in the house.  Bud is sensitive to being yelled at.  But catching him in the act and letting him know that I don’t want him to keep doing what he’s doing is often the best way to get him to stop.

In the house Bud had a drink of water then I sat down with him on the kitchen floor.  Sometimes, when I have something that I think is important to say to the dogs, I talk to them.  I don’t know if it works, but it seems like the right thing to do.  And I prefer it to yelling.

So I looked at Bud and I told him that we didn’t want him digging any more holes.  That he had to stop digging under the fence.

He looked at me with his big, sad, brown eyes and in my head I heard the words,  “I can’t help it.” As if he would if he could.

And I knew it was true.

Of course he can’t help it.  Bud is a hunter.  It’s what Boston Terriers were bred to do.   When Bud sees the hens and Zip moving around all day his instinct kicks in even though they’re not mice or rats.

Bud didn’t start digging until last summer when a turtle was on the other side of the fence trying to get to the marsh.  So in a way it is a new behavior for him.  Before that he used to watch the squirrel that ran the treetops for hours.  Then he’s was looking up, but now he’s focused on what’s happening on the ground.

And there’s a lot happening.

So it’s up to us not to put him in the situation where he can dig under the fence.  That means lining the whole fence and gates with flat rocks which does deter him. It’s a lot of work, but I will get to it a little at a time.  (fortunately we have lots of big flat rocks from old foundations on the farm)  And until that happens, we’ll just have to limit the time that Bud can be outside without us watching him.

After I heard Bud’s plea, I told him it was okay, that I understood and gave him a treat.  He took it under the dining room table and chewed happily as if all was forgotten.

Zip And The Hens, Becoming Friends

These warm days keep the hens on the move.

They spend less time under the bird feeder and more time roaming the farm.  They’re finding food too.  I know because they’re eating less of the laying pellets that I feed them.  The flying insects surfaced yesterday and I’ve seen worms in the water bowls.

The migrating birds are eating and so are the hens.

Zip is wandering too.  He has a circuit that he travels.   He has his protected places (like the lilac bush, wood pile and raised bed planters) and doesn’t spend too much time out in the open.  Even when he hunts in the marsh he sticks close to the tall grasses and becomes another shadow.

The hens and Zip seem to have come to an agreement.  He no longer chases them and they don’t run from him.

Soon maybe they’ll be hanging out under the lilac bush together.

Spring Wanderlust

Merricat, Robin, Kim and Asher with Suzy and Lori on top of the hill

That feeling of spring stirs inside me.  It makes me want to go somewhere I’ve never been before, to fill my eyes and senses with something different.  Maybe that feeling is us humans preparing for the change that spring and summer brings.

Because it really is drastic, especially in our part of the world.  So much changes.

The weather, the clouds, the smells, the birds and insects, the trees and plants, the number of animals, the feel of the earth underfoot, the light, the darkness… and the other things I’m forgetting or don’t know about.

With this thought in mind I went to the back pasture.  If it’s about seeing something new, then there is plenty of that right here on the farm.

The donkeys and sheep were grazing the remains of last years wildflowers and grasses, now gray stalks laying flat on the ground.  The pussy willows have bloomed since yesterday.   Shiny white fluffs against branch, broken, blue sky.   I walked the edges of the marsh and watched a spider gliding on the water.  I crouched down next to Lulu and listened to her eat. I heard the birds, so many birds constantly flying from one branch, one tree to another. I found a string of wool stuck on a branch and took a video of it.  I saw my first salamander of the season in the pond.

And when I stood up to get a better look at what I thought was a fish, Zip appeared out of nowhere.

We made our way back to the barn together.  Zinnia splashing through any water she could find, Fate hanging back with the sheep for as long as possible, and Zip running ahead, then looking back and waiting for me to catch up.

Back at the barn, I gave Zip some treats, put the dogs in the yard and, my wanderlust fulfilled, I went to my studio and got to work.

Full Moon Fiber Art