One Sick Sheep

Monday dawned with a promise of heat and humidity. This fact, combined with a seemingly endless to-do list, a project that seemed more than a little uncertain, and the need for an early morning departure time, made me feel more than a little stressed as the day began.

Morning chores did nothing to help this feeling. When I went to feed the lambs, one lamb was definitely “under the weather”. All the lambs hang out by the barn gate, waiting to get to the feeders. It is a wild stampede when the gate is opened, with jumping, bumping, baaing, butting, as all of them jostle for a position at the feeder. Except one. One lamb hung back, he put his head down and looked pathetic. When he finally wandered through the gate, it was without enthusiasm or interest. He walked close to the barn, pawed the ground and lay down. He didn’t even look at the feeders. Oh, great! The worst part of this whole “situation”….this was one of the “big boys”…one of the ones we are counting on taking to the processors in a short period of time. He just couldn’t up and DIE on me! He was looking like that might be his intention, though.

I was feeling pressured to “hurry” and a sick sheep was NOT what I needed. He was feeling so miserable that he let me hold him while he was lying down, and check him out all over. (NOT a good sign) Oh, bother! He needed some type of attention, so I went up to get my vet supplies. Meanwhile, I tried to get hold of Tom. No answer on the house phone. No answer on his cell phone. GRRRR! Oh, I looked up and he was banging chicken crates around in the barn. (in anticipation of our morning project) No wonder he didn’t answer any phone calls!

The idea at this point was to catch the “sick sheep”, medicate him, and go on my way. Of course, “sick sheep” instantly felt well enough to run around for at least 5 minutes prior to getting him (and all the rest of the lambs) in the barn. Now, I was really hot, really bothered and really worried. This didn’t bode well for the rest of the day.

Finally, I got Tom to help me capture the lamb. I medicated him and turned him back with the others. Second-guessing myself all morning as we headed off to breakfast with friends and a chicken project in H’burg, I couldn’t really focus on anything.

When we got back from H’burg, “sick sheep” was still feeling punk. The fact that it was in the nineties wasn’t helping anything. I still had to do the town-run (feedstore, bank, groceries). I worried while I ran my errands, wondering if he would be better or worse when I got home. No change was the diagnosis when I got home. I had spent the better part of the morning picking A’s brain via texts. She was fairly certain that my diagnosis and treatment were on-track. But, the lamb just didn’t seem to be responding. I began to fear the worst.

When I called the sheep at afternoon choretime, “sick sheep” came a-running with all the others. He didn’t eat real well, but he did at least show some interest. By evening, he was eating like a pig. Hooray!

If sheep and people share a lot of similarities, I suppose it is only natural that lambs and children are alike, too. In the same way that small children get instantly sick and the instantly respond to treatment…lambs can go from sick to well, or vice versa, at the drop of a hat.

Thankfully, this lamb was only suffering from a severe parasite load. Once that was treated, he felt so much better! That diagnosis was so much better and easier to deal with that the horrible things I had been considering.

Okay….on to Tuesday!

"Ain't Never Seen Nuthin' Like THAT Be-fur"

The clientele of the Market has changed dramatically in the past 14 years. The complete change in demographics was not overnight, but it has been astounding.

When we first began selling at the Market, a lot of the customers were older folks. They were the type of folks who had gardens, remembered life on the farm, and who weren’t about to spend a lot of money on their food. A constant refrain was “oh, I can get that much cheaper at (insert grocery store name)”.

Red tomatoes, white potatoes and yellow corn were the best sales items; baked goods did extremely well back then, too. Forget selling meat….a lot of folks still had access to home-grown.

At the time, we were also selling vegetables to restaurants. It was a strange world where small was big and unusual was ordinary. The restaurants wanted tiny, tiny, tiny veggies…and would pay top dollar for them. They wanted cinnamon basil and purple potatoes, among other things. It was most amusing when we took some of the excess produce to the Market. Someone actually said, “humph, what’s THAT? Aint’ never seen nuthin’ like THAT be-fur!” We still chuckle over that one.

Today’s Market customers are younger and “hipper”, looking for the trendy and unusual items that make up our global cuisine. The shoppers are far more health conscious. Folks are looking for food with taste and color. It is not unusual to have a customer ask specifically for something with an odd name that just a few years ago would have just been a mention in a seed catalog.

Garlic scapes are a case in point.
When the hardneck garlic plants are maturing, they sent up a seed stalk. It comes straight out of the center of the plant and then begins to curl back on itself like some odd snake-like creature. This must be clipped from the plant in order to assure nice, big garlic bulbs. Years ago, we read that these could be used for eating. They were, and are, delicious. According to our source, chefs would love them. Wrong, the chefs we were dealing with had never even HEARD of them. So, we continued to enjoy them ourselves.

Now, we take them to the Market and customers LOVE them. We have some customers who remember from year to year and ask specifically when the scapes will arrive at the Market. There are recipes on-line for all sorts of things using scapes. Try scape PESTO!

Arugula is one of the “hot” items at the Market.
Personally, I don’t care for the hot, zesty taste of arugula. It’s okay in very small doses, but some customers simply love it. We can’t seem to grow enough of it. I do my best to have it every week, year ‘round. The flea beetles love it almost as much as the customers, so sometimes it is a real challenge.

Golden beets, bi-colored tomatoes, purple asparagus and teeny-tiny squash have all gotten recognition of late. I enjoy reading the seed catalogs and guessing what the new trends will be. It is also rewarding to have folks tell us of their culinary successes on a regular basis.

Even if you’ve never seen some vegetable at the Market before, try some.

Be daring, adventurous. You may just find a new favorite!

Slaying the Philistines

It’s that time of year…time to chop the thistles in the sheep paddocks.


Thistles seem to pop up overnight this time of year, ready to flower and cast their fluffy little seedpods to the wind. If this is allowed to happen, the seeds will float away and perpetuate the nuisance in countless places. Without resorting to herbicide use, we try to chop them down prior to flower. Although, there are always a few that escape our efforts.


The animals will eat the plants when they are tiny and somewhat tender. By the time the plants are big enough to blossom, nothing around here will eat them. Thistles will grow to around six feet high if left unchecked. Ironically, once the plants are chopped and withered, or even completely dried, the animals will eat them, prickers and all!

Thistles always remind me of my paternal grandfather, “Pop”. He was born to a farmer on the Eastern Shore in 1904. Born in a day prior to herbicide use, he and his two brothers were given the job of thistle eradication. I suppose they were given the job to be productive around the farm as well as to release some of the energy that only little boys seem to possess. Chopping the thistles turned into a game, and they referred to it as “slaying the Philistines”. I don’t know if this had some deep theological meaning, or if they were just playing. More than likely it was a game, not unlike “cowboys and Indians”. But, just like the story of David and Goliath from the Bible, these little boys took on the overwhelming task and won. The best part is that they had a good time doing it, and years later remembered the annual task with fondness.

Despite the fact that “Pop” eventually left the farm and raised his own family in the city, he never forgot his farm roots. He maintained a farm of his own outside of town for years, retreating to work in his garden when the pressures of city life began to get to him. After retiring, he managed to have a garden in his community until the time of his passing at 85. I suppose I owe some of my fondness for this way of life to him.

As a child, I loved to hear the stories of the old days. As I recall, the thistle story was told to us one summer when we were very, very tired of weeding...perhaps in hopes of inspiring us to continue our job. The tales that my grandparents and others told of farm life “back in the day” made a big impression. Their stories always included hard work and a love of productivity. It gives me a sense of connection even now to think that I am doing the same kind of work that folks have done for years and years.


So with a nod to my forebears, I need to grab my hoe and slay me some Philistines!

Waylon Takes a Little Ride

For the maiden voyage of the “king cutter carry all”, Tom planned to take Waylon and his “paddock buddy” back to the ram pen for the summer.

Unless you’ve ever tried to lead a lamb that hasn’t been halter broke, you cannot appreciate the sheer awfulness of the job. The lamb flings about, jumps STRAIGHT up in the air, crashes down, shrieks with panic, and then lies down in preparation for its impending demise. Oh, it is one of the fun jobs on the farm. NOT! The only time the job is worse is when it is a full-grown ram that is being transported from point A to point B.

Since the sheep, particularly the rams, are so infrequently handled, it makes no real sense to halter break them. Most times, in order to move the entire flock, we only need to shake a feed bucket. They all know the bucket, and will follow it anywhere.

When handling one or two sheep, that flocking instinct doesn’t work. It’s as if they realize that being alone is not a good thing, and they freak out. While herding dogs are a wonderful option for some, this isn’t a consideration around here. We have enough projects going.


So, we generally halter the sheep and push, pull, cajole and drag it to the new location. Definitely NOT a fun proposition; someone always ends up cussing.


Enter the “king cutter carry all”. After some modifications this morning, we were able to load Waylon and his friend in the little pen and haul them out back. No muss, no fuss…and Tom entertained himself by coming up with a new version of the Beverly Hillbillies song while he drove.


Another job checked off the “to-do” list. Waylon is in his new home until mid-August when he moves in with the girls. We won’t need the hauler at that point; we’ll just open the gate…natural instinct will do the rest!

A Handy, New Farm Doo-Hickey Thing

Last Saturday, Tom handed me a piece of paper, saying “hey, think we could use this thing?” HUH?

My sleep/caffeine-deprived brain can only handle so much on a Market morning. I am usually having some variation of the following ongoing conversation: What is the total for asparagus, lettuce and arugula?…no, wait..I want a dozen eggs, too…no, just a minute….can I get a half dozen? Can you tell me what seasonings are in your sausage? Do you really raise all this stuff yourself? Are you organic? No? Why not? Do you spray? Do you have change for a twenty…fifty..a hundred? Where can I get a bag? Does anyone at the market sell….? When will the sweet corn come in….are there any tomatoes? Now, what’s the total?

Yes, I have been known to have someone’s cash in my hand and look at it blankly with absolutely NO idea what just transpired. (doesn’t happen often, and thankfully the customers think it’s funny)

So, it isn’t any wonder that I looked at the piece of paper detailing the “do-hickey thing” with little or no comprehension. I think I said something like “whatever you think, dear”. After 27 years together, he should know that I truly mean this….mostly because I have NO idea what he’s talking about. He and the seller talked it over some more, and I thought that was the end of the subject.

It wasn’t until Wednesday when the topic came up again. That wasn’t too surprising, a lot of times I’ve forgotten a topic, only to have it re-surface at a later date.

At this point, Tom thought we should get the thing. As it was “only” $70, I concurred…despite the fact I STILL didn’t know what possible use the thing could be.

The guy selling it REALLY wanted to get rid of it, so he delivered it Thursday. Tom put it on the tractor, made some modifications, and attempted to explain again what it was he wanted to do with the thing.


OH, OH….my brain finally got it!

Yep, it looks like it will make some things easier around here. Particularly hauling the ram to and from the barn…chickens in chicken crates out to pasture and back for processing. I’m fairly certain Tom will think of a great number of other projects for the new “doo-hickey thing”. Okay, it’s actually called a “king cutter carry all”.

Now, I guess we can look forward to hauling jobs. …and maybe I should start paying attention to the great potential of these “finds”!

"MY" New Gate

Last week we had a lot of rain. (is it me, or are a whole lot of posts starting out this way?)

Tom decided that since it was too wet to work in the gardens, he would repair the gate out back. Okay, he was probably also tired of my whining about it. The gate was becoming a constant topic of conversation.

Back in October 2009, “DUDE” the ram, took out the fence. You could read “when rams are bored” for details and a picture. Some repairs were made at the time, with the hope of getting it fixed “right” sometime in the future..




In the time since, the gate dividing the feed area from the rest of the paddocks has only deteoriated. As part of the original equipment around here, it has had a hard life. Once part of a pig pen, it was cut to accommodate something. The cut allowed bees to get inside of it during the summers, so one had to be somewhat cautious in hand placement during operation. Years of use and abuse had led to rust and that led to difficult operation.


I was afraid that either I would get hurt because the gate was so difficult to open and the sheep would push against it so hard. Or, the sheep would get hurt because the gate was beginning to fall apart. Both sheep and shepherd have been injured in the past due to equipment issues. I don’t want to repeat those experiences.

So, after a trip to Lowe’s and a bunch of work, I have a new gate.
I don’t really know why Tom insists it’s MINE. But, here it is….and it works great!

Thanks, dear….it’s what I always wanted…a new gate! (although, it doesn't look like "Ethel" appreciates it!)

June is DAIRY Month

It’s the first of June, "National Dairy Month". This month is set aside to remind us all where milk (and milk products) come from. The dairy princesses will be on call to hand out icecream and point out that family dairies are still out there…and still the only places that produce milk. The emphasis on cows has me feeling a little nostalgic. I miss my cows!

I met my first cow when I was about five years old and visiting the county fair. I think it was love at first sight, and since then, I’ve always been partial to Jersey cows with their BIG brown eyes. I knew then and there that I NEEDED to have a milk cow some day. My literary diet at the time was influenced greatly by The Little House on the Prairie books and Countryside magazine. Why WOULDN’T you want a milk cow? I honestly thought EVERYONE would want a milk cow!

I tried to convince my dad to let me keep and milk the Hereford heifer he bought for meat. Thinking I was only trying to save her from the “hamburger factory”, he was quite dismissive. For years, I would daydream about having a cow of my own.

It wasn’t until October 1997 that I finally realized that dream. We met someone with a “family cow” for sale and Tom graciously obliged me. Having a dairy cow was nothing like I had envisioned. It was hard work and there was a definite learning curve.
The first milking, I was only able to obtain 1 quart of milk. I cannot remember how long it took, but I do remember feeling like a miserable failure…wondering if my dream wasn’t really a nightmare. But, I was determined to figure the whole deal out. I saw myself making butter, cheese, and having gallons and gallons of milk to drink! There was a lot of truth in that vision.

We had at least one milk cow until May 2009. At one point I was milking three cows…yes, by hand! I had some very nimble fingers…and sometimes VERY sore forearms! We had gallons and gallons and GALLONS of milk, that’s for sure! That May, we sold “Penny”, our home-grown, beautiful, productive, Jersey cow to a family out in West Augusta. Life on the farm had changed, and it was time for us to move on. In some ways, it was very sad…and I wish we still had our “girls”. On the other hand, it was very freeing…and we’re enjoying the current adventure.


During the ten-plus years we had the cows, I learned a whole lot. Despite the fact that we almost lost the first cow to milk fever due to my ignorance, by the end of our “dairying days”, I had learned enough to earn the respect of our very old-school vet. It meant SO much to me when he went from calling me “Miz Womack” to Barbara…and the day he said “you really know your cows” is forever in my memory. He went from being “the vet” to a friend of the family.


Over the years, we had a lot of good times and some GREAT eating because of the cows. We also had some of the worst calamities in farm history. They definitely added to the atmosphere of the place. We once brought a cow up I-81 in the back of the pick-up all the way from Pearisburg, VA.
Tom and I had the uncanny experience of walking in a field with over one hundred dairy cows and their farmer, as he took them to a new paddock. We helped birth calves and learned how to get the cows bred. Each of those experiences is worthy of its own entry at some time.

But, back to dairy month…

Over the years, we have had the privilege to meet some dairy farmers and their families. All farmers are dedicated to what they do, but dairy farmers must be the MOST dedicated and committed. Those cows MUST be milked twice a day (in some dairies, 3 times) EVERY day! It is not possible to tell a dairy cow to “take the day off”! That’s hard work…I know from experience.

So, as we all recognize dairy month with a little extra ice cream…or maybe a big glass of milk…think about those farm families. Say “THANK YOU!”

…and DRINK YOUR MILK!