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Spring Lamb
16 September 2008
Finally the sun has returned. The weekend was glorious and it’s still holding out. Unbelievably Monday got to 26°C.
The mud is starting to dry so both humans and animals can move around paddocks without getting stuck too much.
My moods are getting lighter as the outside world becomes brighter and greener. I’m feeling a bit sluggish though. I mysteriously injured my knee two weeks ago so the daily stair walking has been on the backburner. It’s amazing how quickly I have noticed a difference in my energy levels just from that lack of exercise. However, I walked the stairs yesterday without any pain so it would seem my knee is back to normal.
With spring’s arrival we now have new additions to the block. When our ewes gave birth 2 months ago we were disappointed that Treacle and Bailey had not produced. “Oh well, maybe next year” we said, completely forgetting that spring was just around the corner.
Last Wednesday Aaron got a surprise when he noticed another lamb in the flock. Treacle had given birth and mum and baby were doing just fine.
As soon as I found out and got the chance to take a look at Bailey it was obvious she too was pregnant.
Sunday morning I could see that Bailey’s udder had dropped and she had started to waddle. We expected a baby sometime in the following 24 hours. Unbelievably it was the one weekend I had chosen to go to Auckland. I started packing the car at 2pm and I was just about to turn on the engine when Aaron came up the drive and said “I think Bailey’s having a baby”.
I followed Aaron and the dogs down the drive. Sure enough Bailey was in labour. Not that I’ve ever seen a sheep in labour but the bleating, the rolling on the ground and the kicking her legs were kind of a give away.
For the next half hour she got up, she lay down, she bleated, she kicked and she repeated the process over and over. Was this normal? How long was this supposed to last?
Aaron rang nextdoor and spoke to Marge, who reassured us it could take a couple of hours.
Eventually a few inches of lamb emerged. Despite Bailey bleating her heart out and pushing fit to burst the little lamb just didn’t want to move. I started to worry that this was going to be a human intervention birth. That was not what we wanted at all. I walked back up to the shed and put on a clean pair of rubber gloves. I got into the sheep paddock and tried to get a closer look. Bailey got up and walked away and the other sheep crowded round her. I sat down on the bank and waited. Quite frankly I didn’t want to go closer unless I absolutely had to.
Aaron went back to the shed to prepare the pigs dinner. He called nextdoor again to seek reassurance about Bailey’s behaviour.
And then Bailey lay down again, bleating loudly and rapidly and at 2:40 out it popped, a little black ball of fuzz with a white toupee. Bailey started licking her little lamb straight away. Within 90 seconds it was attempting to stand and at about 3 minutes old it took its first wobbly steps.
Wow. What a rush!
Apart from the birth itself, I was fascinated by the behaviour of the other sheep. The older ewes went up in turn to sniff and check over the new lamb.
Spike (the father) went up to the lamb and appeared to be helping to lick it clean. He then walked over to his other girlfriend Treacle and together they walked over to the new lamb. Treacle pushed her lamb in front so it too could see the new baby. Treacle’s lamb sniffed the baby and then suddenly got all excited and started leaping around the paddock as if to say “I have a new playmate! I have a new playmate!”
Herb (Spike's dad) watched this all from a distance and eventually he resumed eating.
I don’t know what I expected from the sheep. Indifference maybe? They surprised me though with their almost human-like behaviour in welcoming the new lamb to the flock.
As for Spike, he clearly knew he was the dad and seemed quite interested in being part of the whole experience.
They’re incredibly intelligent for such stupid creatures.
Which makes me wonder if the Arapawa sheep somehow managed to get some goat into their lineage. Our sheep are frequently mistaken for goats and apart from looks they clearly display some goat-like behaviour.
They have this thing for climbing onto fallen trees. In fact, while Bailey was in labour I was quite shocked when Aaron pointed out a rather rotund Hazel nimbly standing on a large willow that had fallen across the stream. Intent on eating the ferns and lichen growing on the dead tree she didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered about the height or the stream below.
We have numerous fallen and felled trees around the property and these are an endless source of pleasure for sheep, pigs and dogs, whether it be for climbing on, rutting or exploring. We’ve also noticed that the young lambs are taught to tuck themselves into the nooks and crannies when they want to sleep so that mum can wander off while eating. The trees might look a bit messy and inhibit a bit of pasture growth but their usefulness far outweighs any disadvantages.
Spotty & Stanley Move to the Pond
With Belle now gone and the congealed blood finally washed into the earth we moved Spotty and Stanley out of their mud pit of a paddock into the pond area.
What fun they are having! They’re digging holes, creating sunbathing spots, exploring and generally keeping active.
We plan to keep them there for at least 6 weeks while we resow their old paddock and the southern sheep paddock.
The pond area is such a mess of kikuyu and weeds and we are hoping the boys really turn it over. Of course if they don’t it’s no big deal as we’ll move in our pig ploughs Phyllis and Joy.
A Flying Visit
Sunday afternoon I drove down to Auckland and spent the evening at Jo & Phil’s.
Monday morning after breakfast Jo and I drove to Dunninghams in Penrose to buy casings and salami cure for our first sausage making attempt the following weekend.
From there we drove to the Sir Edmund Hillary retirement complex.
Joy was moved straight from the hospital into the complex last week. All I can say is wow! The complex is huge and contains houses, serviced apartments and rooms with ensuites. Joy has been moved into a room in the main building and it is like walking into a 5-star hotel. The place really is quite stunning.
Although Joy’s room isn’t large there are several beautiful, sunny communal areas, not to mention outside areas all beautifully landscaped. I was horrified to discover Joy had been too scared to leave her room all week. I felt terrible that I was on a tight schedule so had no time to stay and explore the place with her. I tried to convince her that exploring would be a great thing but the place is so big and rabbit-warren-like that I think perhaps the thought of getting lost was holding her back.
For Joy it is a major mental adjustment. Even after a week in residence her room was as sterile as the day she moved in. The sooner she personalizes it and makes it her home the better.
It is obvious that Joy isn’t happy to be moved out of her home but I can’t help but think what a fabulous opportunity it is to start a new life. Virtually everything is done for her – housework, laundry, meals. There’s nothing for her to worry about except kicking back and making the most of the onsite activities and facilities.
The place is also packed full of residents and therefore potentially numerous new friends.
This is just the type of place I want to go to after retirement. The place is set up like a community with little need to leave except maybe to go out on the occasional outing. How nice it will be to be able to downsize, simplify, relax and feel secure in my latter years.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the life I have but it suits me now. It won’t suit me in 30 years time.
After an hour’s visit we had to leave as I had a lunch date with mum and Bron. I promised Joy I would be bringing Aaron for a visit in October when we come down for a wedding.
Chickens Are Evil
Monday afternoon I returned home, arriving about 10 minutes after Aaron. He was clearly stressed. We had a “problem” to sort out apparently.
The pigs were going mental grunting and squealing for dinner so we prepared their food and fed out and then Aaron told me we needed to kill one of the hens.
Up at the coop I discovered what was upsetting Aaron. We had had one hen still in isolation after she got attacked by the other hen she was residing with. She had came back on the lay during the day and instead of using the nesting box we had given her she had decided she must use the communal nest box. She got through the netting, laid her egg and the other chickens attacked.
They’d ripped her open and she sat huddled in the corner with her intestines sitting on the ground in front of her.
We had no choice. I held her head and body and Aaron swung the axe. The body escaped my grasp and flapped away, spraying me and the coop with blood. Aaron walked out and got a drink. He was struggling to comprehend the chickens’ behaviour. Quite bizarrely I felt absolutely nothing other except pissed off at the money we’d wasted on the bloody chickens. I took the 3 eggs inside and then washed the blood away in the coop. Aaron came back and put the body in the compost.
We went for a walk and I suggested we ditch the idea of owning chickens and buy ourselves some Indian Runner ducks instead.
Finally the sun has returned. The weekend was glorious and it’s still holding out. Unbelievably Monday got to 26°C.
The mud is starting to dry so both humans and animals can move around paddocks without getting stuck too much.
My moods are getting lighter as the outside world becomes brighter and greener. I’m feeling a bit sluggish though. I mysteriously injured my knee two weeks ago so the daily stair walking has been on the backburner. It’s amazing how quickly I have noticed a difference in my energy levels just from that lack of exercise. However, I walked the stairs yesterday without any pain so it would seem my knee is back to normal.
With spring’s arrival we now have new additions to the block. When our ewes gave birth 2 months ago we were disappointed that Treacle and Bailey had not produced. “Oh well, maybe next year” we said, completely forgetting that spring was just around the corner.
Last Wednesday Aaron got a surprise when he noticed another lamb in the flock. Treacle had given birth and mum and baby were doing just fine.
As soon as I found out and got the chance to take a look at Bailey it was obvious she too was pregnant.
Sunday morning I could see that Bailey’s udder had dropped and she had started to waddle. We expected a baby sometime in the following 24 hours. Unbelievably it was the one weekend I had chosen to go to Auckland. I started packing the car at 2pm and I was just about to turn on the engine when Aaron came up the drive and said “I think Bailey’s having a baby”.
I followed Aaron and the dogs down the drive. Sure enough Bailey was in labour. Not that I’ve ever seen a sheep in labour but the bleating, the rolling on the ground and the kicking her legs were kind of a give away.
For the next half hour she got up, she lay down, she bleated, she kicked and she repeated the process over and over. Was this normal? How long was this supposed to last?
Aaron rang nextdoor and spoke to Marge, who reassured us it could take a couple of hours.
Eventually a few inches of lamb emerged. Despite Bailey bleating her heart out and pushing fit to burst the little lamb just didn’t want to move. I started to worry that this was going to be a human intervention birth. That was not what we wanted at all. I walked back up to the shed and put on a clean pair of rubber gloves. I got into the sheep paddock and tried to get a closer look. Bailey got up and walked away and the other sheep crowded round her. I sat down on the bank and waited. Quite frankly I didn’t want to go closer unless I absolutely had to.
Aaron went back to the shed to prepare the pigs dinner. He called nextdoor again to seek reassurance about Bailey’s behaviour.
And then Bailey lay down again, bleating loudly and rapidly and at 2:40 out it popped, a little black ball of fuzz with a white toupee. Bailey started licking her little lamb straight away. Within 90 seconds it was attempting to stand and at about 3 minutes old it took its first wobbly steps.
Wow. What a rush!
Apart from the birth itself, I was fascinated by the behaviour of the other sheep. The older ewes went up in turn to sniff and check over the new lamb.
Spike (the father) went up to the lamb and appeared to be helping to lick it clean. He then walked over to his other girlfriend Treacle and together they walked over to the new lamb. Treacle pushed her lamb in front so it too could see the new baby. Treacle’s lamb sniffed the baby and then suddenly got all excited and started leaping around the paddock as if to say “I have a new playmate! I have a new playmate!”
Herb (Spike's dad) watched this all from a distance and eventually he resumed eating.
I don’t know what I expected from the sheep. Indifference maybe? They surprised me though with their almost human-like behaviour in welcoming the new lamb to the flock.
As for Spike, he clearly knew he was the dad and seemed quite interested in being part of the whole experience.
They’re incredibly intelligent for such stupid creatures.
Which makes me wonder if the Arapawa sheep somehow managed to get some goat into their lineage. Our sheep are frequently mistaken for goats and apart from looks they clearly display some goat-like behaviour.
They have this thing for climbing onto fallen trees. In fact, while Bailey was in labour I was quite shocked when Aaron pointed out a rather rotund Hazel nimbly standing on a large willow that had fallen across the stream. Intent on eating the ferns and lichen growing on the dead tree she didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered about the height or the stream below.
We have numerous fallen and felled trees around the property and these are an endless source of pleasure for sheep, pigs and dogs, whether it be for climbing on, rutting or exploring. We’ve also noticed that the young lambs are taught to tuck themselves into the nooks and crannies when they want to sleep so that mum can wander off while eating. The trees might look a bit messy and inhibit a bit of pasture growth but their usefulness far outweighs any disadvantages.
Spotty & Stanley Move to the Pond
With Belle now gone and the congealed blood finally washed into the earth we moved Spotty and Stanley out of their mud pit of a paddock into the pond area.
What fun they are having! They’re digging holes, creating sunbathing spots, exploring and generally keeping active.
We plan to keep them there for at least 6 weeks while we resow their old paddock and the southern sheep paddock.
The pond area is such a mess of kikuyu and weeds and we are hoping the boys really turn it over. Of course if they don’t it’s no big deal as we’ll move in our pig ploughs Phyllis and Joy.
A Flying Visit
Sunday afternoon I drove down to Auckland and spent the evening at Jo & Phil’s.
Monday morning after breakfast Jo and I drove to Dunninghams in Penrose to buy casings and salami cure for our first sausage making attempt the following weekend.
From there we drove to the Sir Edmund Hillary retirement complex.
Joy was moved straight from the hospital into the complex last week. All I can say is wow! The complex is huge and contains houses, serviced apartments and rooms with ensuites. Joy has been moved into a room in the main building and it is like walking into a 5-star hotel. The place really is quite stunning.
Although Joy’s room isn’t large there are several beautiful, sunny communal areas, not to mention outside areas all beautifully landscaped. I was horrified to discover Joy had been too scared to leave her room all week. I felt terrible that I was on a tight schedule so had no time to stay and explore the place with her. I tried to convince her that exploring would be a great thing but the place is so big and rabbit-warren-like that I think perhaps the thought of getting lost was holding her back.
For Joy it is a major mental adjustment. Even after a week in residence her room was as sterile as the day she moved in. The sooner she personalizes it and makes it her home the better.
It is obvious that Joy isn’t happy to be moved out of her home but I can’t help but think what a fabulous opportunity it is to start a new life. Virtually everything is done for her – housework, laundry, meals. There’s nothing for her to worry about except kicking back and making the most of the onsite activities and facilities.
The place is also packed full of residents and therefore potentially numerous new friends.
This is just the type of place I want to go to after retirement. The place is set up like a community with little need to leave except maybe to go out on the occasional outing. How nice it will be to be able to downsize, simplify, relax and feel secure in my latter years.
Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the life I have but it suits me now. It won’t suit me in 30 years time.
After an hour’s visit we had to leave as I had a lunch date with mum and Bron. I promised Joy I would be bringing Aaron for a visit in October when we come down for a wedding.
Chickens Are Evil
Monday afternoon I returned home, arriving about 10 minutes after Aaron. He was clearly stressed. We had a “problem” to sort out apparently.
The pigs were going mental grunting and squealing for dinner so we prepared their food and fed out and then Aaron told me we needed to kill one of the hens.
Up at the coop I discovered what was upsetting Aaron. We had had one hen still in isolation after she got attacked by the other hen she was residing with. She had came back on the lay during the day and instead of using the nesting box we had given her she had decided she must use the communal nest box. She got through the netting, laid her egg and the other chickens attacked.
They’d ripped her open and she sat huddled in the corner with her intestines sitting on the ground in front of her.
We had no choice. I held her head and body and Aaron swung the axe. The body escaped my grasp and flapped away, spraying me and the coop with blood. Aaron walked out and got a drink. He was struggling to comprehend the chickens’ behaviour. Quite bizarrely I felt absolutely nothing other except pissed off at the money we’d wasted on the bloody chickens. I took the 3 eggs inside and then washed the blood away in the coop. Aaron came back and put the body in the compost.
We went for a walk and I suggested we ditch the idea of owning chickens and buy ourselves some Indian Runner ducks instead.
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