We have experienced many changes down here on the farm in the past months. Because of some health issues we have had to reorganize things, change some goals, make some decisions and come up with new ideas.
I plan to explore how others have dealt with this later on, but right now I am going to bring you up to date. It all began in January when DH (Dear Husband) experienced a fall. He wasn’t badly injured (by our standards) but went to the hospital to be checked out. They never did decide a specific reason for his fall, and it took several weeks to satisfy every medical specialist available that it was safe for him to return home.
It did wake us up to the fact that we were getting older – much better than the alternative, I admit. But we realized that we weren’t quite as young as we were when we started this farming game some 35 years ago. Our brains were not getting the message to our bodies that we had some new limitations and that realization came as a big shock.
Reorganization was in order. I admitted that 30 sheep, 10 chickens, 2 dogs, and a horse were a bit much to handle comfortably. So a group of six ewes (and later a ram just to make it interesting) were gifted to a small group of nuns who planned to use the wool they produced to spin, weave, and create their outer garments.
A trio of wethers (geldings to you horse people) went out to pasture at Last Chance Ranch, and I was left with a sextet of multi-colored ewes and a vow not to introduce them to a ram. Lambing is one of the most rewarding, but difficult, chores facing a shepherd. I was fortunate to have a fellow shepherd who was willing to keep an eye on my girls and keep the fencing functional in exchange for the use of pastures, sheds, etc.
Then the hawks struck. For years my main concern, chicken predators, had been mammals and rodents of several varieties. Between the coop, a mulberry tree, and a shabby patio umbrella the hawks stayed away for many years. But last year there must have been a shortage of mice and bunnies and many chicken-keepers had a hawk problem.
So by last fall I was down to one survivor. Now nobody has just one chicken, so I went out and found two more. Later on a friend had a weasel attack and brought me her survivor. Four chickens, at least, look more like a flock.
The one final blow was losing our horse. Shi-Tackleberry, (Tack for short) was 11 years old when we bought him. He was a lovely, gentle quarter-horse, just right for a crazy woman who had very limited experience with horses. He taught me to ride until we were both too old to continue, and he became my buddy and carrot consumer and a nice scenic addition to the view for our neighbors from their deck.
But he finally went to greener pastures at the age of 34 – a good old age for a horse. I must say that there is nothing more empty than a horse field with no horse in it. Even our neighbors mentioned that their view had lost its best feature.
So here we are, with a much diminished “farm.” I still can go out and feed animal crackers to my sheep, and we have enough eggs with a few left over. I guess we are retired farmers.
But. I have discovered that “retired” and “farmers” are two words that are inexorably connected. And therein lies another tale. Stay tuned.
Toni Kellers has specialized in raising sheep on her farm in Bedminster.
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