Bruised Arms & Happy Hearts

Some of you may recall that last year I had a shearer come out for Calpernia, Scout and Walske. My girls were left in horrendous shape and I was left heartbroken and blue stained hands. This year I tried to find a new shearer. Not a lot of shearers are farmiliar with Jakes, and those that were weren’t willing to come out for our little flock of four. 

That’s chill, now I’m a shearer. We got the supplies, and I ventured out to catch the sheep and shear them myself. Now I’m sure y’all can guess how I anticipated catching them. In my mind it was easy. Bring out some grain, grab them by the horns and tie them up for shearing. Breaking news; It did not work. I was able to trick little Polly with that, but after I had grabbed Polly none of the others would come near me. 

I then tried a different plan, I figured I’d catch Walske by backing him into a corner and grabbing his horns. He’s got the biggest horns and is usually the easiest to catch. Here’s what I forgot though, he’s easy to catch but really hard to hold. He weighs more than I do, and is pretty squirmy. I got a rope around him, and let go of the horns thinking I’d just be able to tie him. I always think things will go smoothly, they never do. As soon as I let go of his horns he took off running and bucking. Me dragging behind, at first I was on my feet, running behind him rope in hand, hoping I’d be able to get some leverage when we got near the fence. Here’s another huge surprise to no one, I tripped. Now I’m just dragging behind. 

I once went out water skiing with my brothers, I had never been before but they were going to teach me. Of course I fell pretty quickly, and did not let go of the rope. It was a bad time. This was similar. 

I eventually let go, and gave up. Got the rope off and called it a day. Now my arms and hands are bruised. Despite only having done one sheep, it taking ages and being terrible to catch them. I am much happier to do it myself without and deep gashes in my flock. 

Yes, those are in fact dog leashes I have used to tie her. Do the best with what you’ve got right?


Dylan will be able to help me catch the other three this weekend. I anticipate things going much smoother with two of us. 

Oh My Daddy Said Shoot

We’ve spent the weekend off of the farm in Vancouver. We’re currently heading back to the farm. It’s a fifteen hour drive and we’ve got 116 baby chicks in the truck. My life is a series of shrugging emoticons. 🤷‍♀️

It’s also Father’s Day. So I’d like to take a minute to talk about our Fathers. It’s difficult to articulate all of the ways in which both mine and Dylan’s fathers have influenced and supported us in order to make our farm dream a reality. 

Dylan’s dad raised him with a solid and hard working foundation. Dylan has always known the value of elbow grease. Which is perfect, because the farm takes a whole lot of it. Despite his dad not being here to actively participate in the farm, he’s there in everything we do and value. Joe was a collector of nifty things that might possibly come in handy someday. That day has come. We’re constantly finding things Joe had that saves us from working our hands to the bone. 

We are fortunate to have my Dad still. My dad has been exceptionally helpful in our little farm life. So far he hasn’t even grown tired of my texts and calls about everything from snowplows to trucks that won’t start. My poor father, imagine having a vapid city girl for a daughter and then suddenly she moves to a farm. I wonder if he ever wonders how it came to be. 

I’ll tell you. My dad has worked incredibly hard his whole life. He’s always been able to do anything he wanted to. Often I’ve been unsure of how, but he’s always personified the “if there’s a will, there’s a way” phrase. Having him as my dad influenced the way I see things. When Dylan and I discussed the farm my knee jerk reaction was to say it was crazy and impossible. Probably should have stuck with that. Instead I decided that if we worked hard enough we could make it work. And we have, most days. But it hasn’t been an individual effort. We’ve got a community of neighbours, friends and family that have supported and guided us. Whenever something seems particularly daunting, we have someone we can call. Poor daddy, more often than not it’s him. Bless his heart, he still answers. 

In other farm news, dearest JoJo has resumed her fence jumping ways. 

This is JoJo on the wrong side of the fence, and Dylan luring her back with grain. 

Here’s Brisket enjoying his freedom. He got out as we tried to get JoJo in. 

Here’s JoJo again, on a different day. The grass by the house is apparently far better than the grass in the pastures. 

Fortunately we have been successful in getting her back into the pastures each time. It’s just a little weekly ritual we have now. I swear she does it just for the grain. With any luck we’ll make it through this year without losing her again. She’s getting real close though to heading to freezer camp. 

Little Brisket is nearly grown, which means his days are numbered. I’ve known all along that he won’t be sticking around, and so far I’m okay with it, though as it gets closer, I fear for my little heart. It may break a little when it’s time for him to go. I was hoping that I could find a new calf to love in Juicy, but he has been accepted by the yaks as one of them, which means I will never get close to him. Terribly torturous to have two cute little babies that the yaks won’t let me near. 

We’ve kept Walske and Calpernia and Scout together throughout the spring after they lost the lambs. We’re hoping to have some winter lambs this year. Not as ideal as spring lambs, but better than no lambs. 

🤷‍♀️