We made it through another Fair. Everyone made weight and prices were pretty decent. Will showed his Black Giant rooster to much amusement at the Poultry Show on Wednesday. It's quite hilarious to see a small 7 year old boy wrestling with a chicken half his size. Emma's steer did not bring a great price, but price support brought it up to the profitable range. (Thank you Shasta Valley Billionaire, whoever you are.) Overall, despite the exhaustion, stress, blood, sweat and tears (and I mean that quite literally) 
the showing of animals at the County Fair appears to be a wortwhile endeavor. Sorry if that isn't quite a ringing endorsement. Ask me in a few months when the memory has faded a bit.
the showing of animals at the County Fair appears to be a wortwhile endeavor. Sorry if that isn't quite a ringing endorsement. Ask me in a few months when the memory has faded a bit. In an earlier post,I mentioned Pooki and Patti, the home-schooled lambs. Theirs is such a tragic and potentially cautionary tale, I thought it should be elaborated on. For never was there a story of more woe than this of...Pooki and Patti. Okay maybe not, but it is pretty sad. Enter Chorus: Two households both alike in dignity, in fair Etna, where we lay our scene.. Our dear "citified" friends, the Fleeners have whole-heartedly jump
ed on the farm life bandwagon and chosen to raise animals through 4-H and FFA. Being chefs from Seattle, their experience with livestock was limited to how to cook them. (And I might add I have never had better beef than that prepared by Bob Fleener.. it's like buttah!) When their daughter, Allyson, decided to start a sheep breeding project through FFA, they naturally turned to us as mentors. We happily delivered two bummer ewe lambs to be raised at their home and then returned for breeding. Four months with Halli and Allyson left our ewes a little, how shall I say, socially challenged. I should have known something was amiss when they would come storming onto my front porch, follow me into the house and bleat incessantly to be hand fed. Pooki and Patti were never able to adjust to the rigorous social hierarchy of the flock, and instead spent their time with each other or following me around, giving me a new appreciation for the childhood nursery rhyme, "Mary Had a Little Lamb." This would have been relatively amusing (except for the constant cleaning of sheep manure off the front porch and carpet), had it not ended in tra
gedy.
ed on the farm life bandwagon and chosen to raise animals through 4-H and FFA. Being chefs from Seattle, their experience with livestock was limited to how to cook them. (And I might add I have never had better beef than that prepared by Bob Fleener.. it's like buttah!) When their daughter, Allyson, decided to start a sheep breeding project through FFA, they naturally turned to us as mentors. We happily delivered two bummer ewe lambs to be raised at their home and then returned for breeding. Four months with Halli and Allyson left our ewes a little, how shall I say, socially challenged. I should have known something was amiss when they would come storming onto my front porch, follow me into the house and bleat incessantly to be hand fed. Pooki and Patti were never able to adjust to the rigorous social hierarchy of the flock, and instead spent their time with each other or following me around, giving me a new appreciation for the childhood nursery rhyme, "Mary Had a Little Lamb." This would have been relatively amusing (except for the constant cleaning of sheep manure off the front porch and carpet), had it not ended in tra
gedy. The realities of ranch work don't leave as much time for fence maintenance as we would like. Hence, our sheep were able to break out of their pasture into the alfalfa field. Alfalfa is a highly rich plant that can cause bloating in ruminent animals. The other sheep seemed to be aware that alfalfa was an appetizer, not the main meal, and would only stay out for short periods of time. Pooki and Patti, having been ostracized from the group, apparently did not get the memo. Maybe they weren't on "Sheepbook." Anyway, they stayed out grazing in the alfalfa for too long before we spotted them. Despite our best efforts, Pooki (or maybe it was Patti) succumbed to the effects of bloat. Patti (or was it Pooki) went into a state of depression at the loss of her best and only friend. The good news is, we repaired our yard fence and she was forced to assimilate with the flock.
The end of the story is even better. We attach a device to our bucks that has a crayon-like marker on the belly. This allows us to know which buck has bred which ewes. Imagine my surprise when I noticed Patti (or Pooki) had a suspicious red mark on her back. Which just goes to show you...well, I'll let you draw your own conclusion.
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