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. 

🤷‍♀️

Most days I’m the hydrant, some days the dog

Scout lost her lambs as well. Though we haven’t an official cause for both ewes losing lambs, the vet suspects a toxoplasmosis outbreak. Apparently it’s very common. In all my googling, I hadn’t come across it. Though I found lots of information when I searched specifically for it. 

It’s a disease that is carried mainly by cats and rodents, sometimes even birds. So the cat eats the mice/birds, then sleeps in the hay or does a poop near the sheep. The sheep eat the hay, or graze the grass near the cats business. Boom, dead lambs. From what the vet told me, it’s difficult to prevent, and there is no way to treat it. It’s basically chicken pox for sheep. After having been infected, they develop an immunity and go on to have healthy lambs in the following seasons. Knowing this didn’t make it any less sad to lose the four that we did. Other livestock owners have all told me not to be distraught, that having livestock also means sometimes having dead stock. Knowing that also doesn’t make me feel any better. You see losing a critter especially a baby makes you feel like you failed the animals. Or at least that’s how it makes me feel. I love my sheep, and losing them, even the ones I didn’t get a chance to pester with my love, is heartbreaking. 

In their typical manner, the animals did not care about my sadness. They all still need to be fed and snuggled and pestered. 

Good things happened here too. Dylan filled my heart with joy when he bought me dwarf goats. 

This is Cher, trying to spark fear into Bella’s heart. 

Gardening with goats is better than gardening without.

This precious boy is Chaz.

We got one female, she’s black with a little bit of white, I named her Cher. Obviously. 

Her twin brother is Chaz, he’s a little grey and white precious baby. 

The brown goat doesn’t yet have a name. So far I call him, Tiny goat friend, precious goat baby etc.

In June we pick up another unrelated boy, his name will be Sonny. Of course. 

The puppies seem to think the goats are their best friends, the goats feel much differently. The puppies try to play and scare the pants off the goats, the goats run, the puppies chase. Then the goats stop running and jump up to do some kind of drop attack like they’re Hulk Hogan. This scares the pants off the pups and they run. Goats chasing. I still haven’t quite figured out if this is a weird goat game or if the pups are actually at risk of giving my goats a heart attack. Bella loves them, she tries to groom them they also do not like that. Bella gets the drop treatment as well.

Rocky and the goats have a good thing going, they completely ignore each other. Harmony.

We also welcomed a new baby yak bull to the farm, he is the first calf for both Elizabeth and Cameron. He is precious and lovely and I love him. 

This weekend we will have to pull him to get him vaccinated and tagged, and banded. Cher be with us. Elizabeth is a very attentive and protective Mama. Fingers crossed we make it through. 

Send me your name suggestions for my little brown goat! 

Out of the fog, a colder morning

Hey y’all. Winter, we learned is hard, cold, long, dark and unforgiving. Definitely not a source of endless joy. We thought we were ready, surprise, we were not. Every single time we assume we’re prepared. In typical Goldie acres style, many things went wrong that we hadn’t thought about. Let me tell you a Christmas story that is both hilarious and an accurate depiction of how we spent our winter. 

It’s just after Christmas, that glorious week where in our old lives it was just a blissful sea of jingle juice and not knowing what day it was. It’s different now. 

Dylan’s mom is visiting, we’re having a swell time. Bella has had puppies so I have ten wriggly pups with their eyes still closed. Should be great. 

I get a text from Linda (Dylan’s mom) while I’m in town, no water in the house. Glorious. A couple weeks prior to this we had already had a pipe break and spill water through the hallway. At this point it’s at least forty below though we had some days that were colder than fifty below, I can’t recall the details of that particular joyful day. I assume the water lines under the house have frozen. Ain’t no thing but a chicken wing, we’ll heat it up and be good to go. We get home. It is not a frozen line. It is a burned out water pump. Hilarious, no water until we get a new one. This is a small town, and a holiday time. You would think at this point I would just assume the worst and have picked up a pump while I was in town and things were open. No, my optimism is our downfall. It’ll be at least tomorrow before we can buy one let alone install it. Cool. I always wanted to know what it would be like to have to walk outside in forty below every time nature came a calling. Inconvenience, of the medium variety. We had the shop bathroom, and though the walk was unpleasant it was better than nothing. At one point I looked at Linda and hysterically laughed at how terrible everything was. That clearly offended the universe. Boom, next hurdle. 

Now the water in the shop is frozen. Amazing. No water at all. Inconvenience of the highest variety.

Eventually we got water back both in the house and in the shop but let me tell you, winter has felt like one long year. Likely longer for poor Dylan who has kindly taken on the majority of the farm chores. My little reptile body rejects the cold. 

We had all kinds of difficulties, too many to list, and many days that we thought for sure we wouldn’t make it. But the days are getting longer, and warmer (relatively, it’s still cold, but now I only wear one pair of pants beneath my snowsuit) and we’re still here. 

Last month we had to treat the bovine for lice, y’all ever tried to use a liquid to pour onto critters that hate you in -20. Not ideal. Not ideal at all my friends. We lured with oats and climbed up on fences to get it on them. We also slunk around the feeders trying to surprise the critters with a sneak attack of ivermectin, quite the spectacle I’m sure. We need a squeeze and a chute, that much is quite clear.

 

Of course wonderful things also happened, Dylan and I helped whelp ten beautiful puppies and we got engaged! 

Let me tell you that story. 

Dec 16

Dyl wants to take me out to look at all the Christmas light displays, something we do every year. The farm has kept us busy and we have a list about ten miles long of things we need to do, one of those is putting up our tree, my favourite winter activity. We decide to enjoy the lights then come home and do the tree. Turns out in this town, there’s really only one major light display, the rest of the time we drive around like maniacs trying to find pretty displays. We go home, set up the tree and after the last decoration goes on I turn around to see Dylan down on his knee, turning me into a real farm wife. After I confirm that he is not pranking me, I say yes. We make the calls and plan to have a celebratory champagne brunch the following morning. 

Dec 17 ( 3am )

I wake up to hear Bella pacing restlessly and wanting outside. The puppies are coming. I get her off the carpet but she refuses to leave her dog bed and move to the provided towels. Typical Bella. The first puppy comes. They come slowly, by 5pm she is finished and we have ten little babies. Rocky is horrified, traumatized. We did not have our champagne brunch. My ring is covered in the unmentionables that coincide with birth. Bliss.

As spring is now within our sights I am looking forward to baby season. We have done lambing season before, it is our first known. We did spring last year, dealt with the mud and the babies and survived. I’m feeling prepared. Keep your fingers crossed for us, you know what happens when I think we’re ready! 

Broken Bones & Broken Fences

Here's the thing about having critters, it's the worst. The actual worst. I love them, they hate me. I feed them, they break my ribs. They're bastards the lot of them. After the first days of chaos having Jo home we thought we had it sorted. The yaks were in one area, the cows in another. It seemed to be working and we thought things would settle. Why do we always think things will be okay? They never are. Dylan arrived home one night to the three adult yaks and JoJo in the wrong side of the barn. The human side. Eating the hay we have all stacked up for winter. Bridget, Brisket, Walske and baby Jack were still in the pastures. They are our only good animals, though I'm sure Jack would have also left had he been tall enough to get over the fence shards. The yaks or JoJo had broken the fence, it is unclear who and they will not cave to my interrogations.  Dylan and I had the brilliant idea of blocking them in the barn with our trucks and then just opening the animal side so they could go back within the fences that were still standing. HILARIOUS. We always come up with these plans, in our heads they go smoothly and in real life they are a hot mess of chaos and frustration. Of course as soon as I got near the barn with the truck they scattered. Don't worry guys, I had another brilliant idea. Lead them with oats. How many times do you think it'll take me failing in my oat bribes before I fully and entirely comprehend that they can only be lead with oats when they feel like following? The oat thing didn't work (likely entirely unsurprisingly to you all, though somehow a bit surprising to me at the time). The yaks took off toward the driveway. I carried my bucket of oats, apparently I still had some hope that they'd change their minds and suddenly want the oats. They didn't. Fairly quickly I realized I had gotten myself in a bit of a pickle. Cameron stood in front of me, Mary and Elizabeth to my left and right side, and my tied up bastard dogs behind me. Dylan was down blocking the driveway. I stood there for a moment knowing I didn't really have a direction to go. Towards the dogs and we'd likely have a dog vs yak battle. The dogs would lose. To either side, a me vs. yak battle. I would lose. Forward, same thing. Normally with yaks you carry a large stick, because for some reason they're less likely to attack if you've got a stick, but if you're complete shithouse at being a rancher like I am, all you have is a bucket of oats. I held the bucket out to Cameron he stared at me. Then he lowered his head and I knew he was coming at me. He did. I moved out of the way mostly, so he just clipped me with his horn. It knocked the wind out of me instantly. Fortunately he only came at me the once, then he backed up. Dylan had heard my one or two swears and came up. He had a pitchfork. Somehow we managed to get back behind the yaks and guide them back towards the gate. I spent some time chasing baby Jack around in hopes that he'd start to do his little yell for mom and get them all rushing back. It only kind of worked. Jo and Elizabeth just casually strolled to the broken fence and went back in. I opened the gate and eventually Mary and Cameron sauntered back in as well.
Dylan and I were feeling pretty proud of ourselves. It was all good until the adrenaline wore off and I realized that I was in an exceptional amount of pain. For a day or two I just waited hoping it would get better, eventually I went in to see a doctor. Broken ribs. Endless joy. So now I'm essentially a useless garbage pile. I can't do any of the farm things that need doing. All of this for some entirely ungrateful little jerks?!
Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug. I was the bug this time.
I spent a couple of days being pretty bitter towards the yaks but I have begun to forgive them. Though they are entirely rude, I do have to respect them for being tremendously powerful and majestic animals. They're just animals, just doing their animal thing. I suppose getting an ass kicking is just to serve as a reminder to me to never ever forget that they are more wild than tame and much much larger than I am.  Hopefully I will never again try to boss them around without the proper tools.

"Look at me, I am the captain now"

Things have settled down now though, Jo is staying within the fences and getting along with the yaks. We got our first snowfall that stuck so I guess winter is here now. Next month the sheep go back in with Walske and the herd. Cher have mercy on our souls.
Somedays we still ask ourselves what the hell we're doing and fantasize about selling it all and going back to living in a city. I don't think we're entirely serious about it though. Depends on the day I suppose. Most days it's 70% joking, somedays it's 70% serious.

Some mornings the farm looks so peaceful and lovely when I wake up in the morning I can't help but love it. Even though I know there is immeasurable chaos and frustration lurking just beneath the surface. I have experienced nearly every emotion since we started this journey, joy included. Though I have not yet found endless joy in the way I was looking for it. It always seems to come to an abrupt halt the moment I start to think we've got it sorted.

One, Two, Three, Four

As most of you know, surprises are not my thing. I do not like surprises even a little. It is entirely necessary for me to know when things are going to happen so I can efficiently stress over all the minor details and possible scenarios ahead. Since moving to a farm this is especially true. We've found that surprises on the farm are mostly, SURPRISE, the yaks escaped, you have a bottle lamb, your dog at the chickens, theres a cougar/coyote/bear in the vicinity. Today however we got a very different surprise. A yak baby. 

 Dylan and I were really fortunate to have spent the weekend remembering why we bought this land in the first place. Since moving in at the end of March it's been a steady stream of stress and things going wrong. Things were getting pretty tense out here. Dylan was able to get the weekend off work and we spent some time exploring our property, something that we hadn't yet done with the exception of looking for yaks. Turns out 160 acres is a lot. It's so much more land than we know what to do with. While we were out there though we came across a few spaces that we'll keep in mind as possible build sites. It was really nice to have a couple of days to just enjoy the things we've been working so hard for/on. The stress over animals lambing and calving is done, the lambs are here and healthy. Little Nugget is doing super well, growing like a weed and being a huge pain in the ass. Calpernia's lambs are rambunctious and fat very healthy little ladies. Everyone is out in a pasture which is nice for me because I don't have to feed and water them a bunch of times a day, they can handle that on their own. Dylan fixed our kitchen sink last night so we finally have a functioning sink which feels like a luxury after so long. We enjoyed a nice little fire and Sunday night and despite the number of times we've regretted this move we were happy.

Our little Sunday night fire

On Friday our highland cows arrived. Two beautiful heifers and a little perfect steer calf. I always said that hell would freeze over before we got cows, but hell ain't frozen and we've got three Hairy Coos. We first saw Highland Cows in Scotland a few years ago, and even I had to admit, they were pretty damn cool looking. So now we have some of our very own. They are even relatively tame, I may be able to pet them at some point!

Meet Bridget (Ginger), Brisket (Calf) & Jo-Jo (Black w/ Bieber haircut)

Last night we wen't to bed thinking that all of our animals had either been delivered or been born and we would have no new additions until next years batch of lambs & calves. SURPRISE! NOW WE HAVE FOUR YAKS. Last night before we went to bed the yaks and Walske were in the back part of the pasture, not terribly unusual as it's thickly treed back there and makes a nice retreat from our billion degree days. This morning, they still weren't up at the front. Clearly I'm still dealing with yak panic after their last escape because not seeing them at night or in the morning sends me into an immediate panic. Out I went as fast as my little legs would carry me to circle the pasture and ensure they were still home. As I rounded the corner a tiny black and white spotted thing ran into the trees. More panic. My initial thought was that one of our lambs had gotten out of their pasture and into the yak pasture. As I was thinking about how I would possibly get the little one out I realized that there was no way I had an escaped and lost lamb and an entirely calm Calpernia. It was then that it came out again and I realized that in fact we had a yak calf. I think I've mentioned this before but yaks are more time costly than cattle to breed, they don't typically come of breeding age until they are nearly three years old, very rarely will they come into season at two years old. They only breed once a year, and being as our girls are just two years old we anticipated breeding them next year and getting calves in the spring of 2019. They don't breed the year after they've calved so you typically end up with one calf every two years after they've hit three years old. This is a significant bonus for us. Now we either have a yak bull that we can raise with our cattle and breed HighYaks for meat, or we can band a bull calf and raise it for meat. If it's a girl, we have a third female yak to use as breeding stock for our lovely bull Cameron. Either way we're happy little farmers today. I of course can't get close to it at all so the sex is still a mystery. Mama Mary (C20-2) is terribly protective which although painful for me because I just want to snuggle it, is a good thing.

Mary and her new baby (also Walske)

Every day is an adventure y'all. Someday we'll look back on our first year of farming and we'll hopefully laugh. So far every day is a new surprise good bad or lovely, we take it one day at a time.

Cabbages and Kings

It's been an eventful week! We have a new farm hand, I call him farm hand Cody. Actually I only called him that once but it was good while it lasted. With Cody's help we were able to get the fence done. The barbed wire has been tightened, new posts pounded, farm fence attached over the barbed wire, and the gate attached. We are now ready for the sheep and lambs to be moved into their new pasture where the cows & calves will also be. A little nursery pasture if you will. 

I have been sick the last few days, I believe it's little Nuggets fault, because I didn't sleep well for the first week and a half of her life. 

Animals are entirely unsympathetic to my illness. They're a bit selfish really. I guess just farm life in general is a bit uncaring whether you're sick or sore or tired the work goes on. 

Despite having the plague I went out and attempted to plant the garden. Here's the problem. Y'all know I'm a cactus killing expert? I can take a thriving plant and kill it within days. It's one of my many secret talents.  I also don't know my weeds very well. The previous owners of this place have the garden set up into six different beds. Each of those beds seemed to serve a different purpose. Which is fine in theory, and if you know what's in there. I however do not. So I'm digging out dandelions and the dead stalks from last year when I begin to realize that there are a number of things other than dandelions growing and I'm not sure whether they're weeds or veggies/herbs. Years ago a friend of mine, our yak bulls namesake Cameron, had mentioned that there was a Shazam like app for plants. When he talked about I mostly just tuned him out, for two reasons; 1. I hate plants and nature and don't care about nature related apps 2. He was always telling me about a cool new app that I would never learn to use

This tidbit though I was wishing I had paid more attention to. I google "Shazam for plants" and download the app, Maybe the app would be really helpful if you knew more about plants. I took a picture of my questionable plant and my results were the least helpful. I'll post a screenshot. The top picture is my weed suspect. That's it though you guys, just gives you a name for a possible match. Then if you're like me and don't know shit you have to go to google and google the plant to find out about it. As it turned out, none of those plants the plant app came up with were the same as mine, so I'm probably watering a weed now. 

 

It's fine though, I suppose I'll find out later on. On the plus side, one less thing I had to dig up, so that's a win for me. 

I am too ginger for this life though. It was 30 degrees and super sunny when I was out murdering plants/weeds and getting terribly dirty and sweaty. I had coated on some trusty spf 90 and when I went in the house I still had a bright red sunburn. Turns out I moved to a land where seven months of the year it is barren and a person is sure to freeze to death and four months of the year your face will melt off the bone from the unbearable heat. There is a nice two weeks on either end that are pretty nice. So I've got that going for me. 

Our little Nugget, which was just a nickname I gave the lamb but has now become her name is doing well. She's 16 days old and going strong! She sleeps through the night as long as she gets a good feed right before bed and very early in the morning. This is also nice. Her and our dogs have started to become friends, Rocky for the most part just ignores her, he got very excited about her once and jumped up, I yelled at him and now he just stays away. Rocky does not like to be in trouble, which is why he's been such a good dog. Bella on the other hand absolutely does not care about being in trouble. She is obsessed with Nugget and licks her constantly, despite both mine and Nuggets protests. But they do look hella cute together! 

 I've been working on trying to get Nugget to eat grass, with no luck. By working on, I mean I've been picking tiny pieces of grass and putting it in her mouth, she typically spits it out with a little shake of her head just to let me know she finds it entirely repulsive. Yesterday I even pretended to eat grass in hopes that she would "learn" from me. Calpernias two lambs (Nuggets aunts) were eating hay and oats by five days old. Our girl is far behind. She does however love to eat my hair, which her aunts have never gotten into, so maybe she just dances to her own beat. It's really hard to say. 

Walske is doing well, and ruling the pasture. I expected that King Cameron would put him in his place and he would stop bossing around the yaks, but he hasn't. Now he just bosses around all three of them. They make a pretty cute/weird looking herd though. 

 

As a collective I would say things are going relatively well. Though we have days of crushing stress and complete chaos we make it through. The sun comes up on a new day and we try again. Rinse and repeat, just rinse and repeat my dudes. 

Here is a list of the critters we have or have coming:

-6 Jacob Sheep, 2 ewes, 1ram and 3 ewe lambs

- 3 royal yaks

- 3 highland cows, 2 heiffers and one steer calf

- 25 hens & 2 roosters (8 white leghorn hens, 17 mixed breed hens) 

- 10 chicks (still living in the house, Cher help us) 5 marans & 5 americauna 

- 2 potbelly pigs (though they haven't arrived and I'm unsure if they ever will) 

And of course two of the cutest dogs in the world

 

Haters Gonna Hate, Farmers Gonna Farm

I want to be a farmer, but I also want to have sick talons

Oooh girls, yesterday was a day! I spent so much time getting things ready for the yaks arrival. I had to pen the sheep, which was a much easier task in my mind than it turned out to be. I was able to get them into the lambing area relatively easily, but getting them into their respective pens was much more of a task. I first tried bribing them with oats, then cucumber. Nothing worked. Then I put a rope on them, which made them kick up (I mean that literally) a fuss. I essentially had to wrestle each of them into a pen, close the door with myself inside and hope they remembered all the oats I have given them and didn't squish me. They didn't squish me! Walske of course was the most difficult to get into a pen he was very grumpy about it, and he's got much larger horns than the girls. But I managed! I should have penned them ages ago, now they have no but choice to accept my pets. I am hopeful that by the time they lamb we shall be the best of friends.
I then had to attach a gate to the main feeding area for the yaks, so I could keep a close eye on them while they got used to it. I like to consider myself a fairly proficient handyman however my gate attachment looks like it was done by a two year old.
I had to make a variety of makeshift chutes for both the yaks and sheep. Which was basically just a bunch of old plywood stood up in areas around the gates. Normally when I carry plywood I have help, or at least it's not old mud/snow/poop covered plywood that's been in a barn for ages. Not this day. I continue to surprise myself at what I am able to do on my own. Ya'll keep in mind I did all this with huge nails, so to all you haters (Mom, Jake, Durae, Christine) who said I couldn't keep the nails when I got back to the farm, DON'T BELIEVE ME JUST WATCH! I AM THE QUEEN OF THE FARM!

The start of my "chute"

Scout and Calpernia do not like to be apart

Then at last the yaks arrived. 

If you don't know much about yaks, that's cool I don't either. I'll give you some of the basics. Yaks are bovine, but different from standard cattle. They come from the mountains of Tibet where they live in large herds through intense mountainous weather. Some of the domestic yaks, like the two I have are even used to pack supplies to Mount Everest. If they are raised around people, and are familiar and trusting you can even train them to wear a saddle and ride them. Mine are not however trained like this, and not particularly friendly. 

We chose yaks for our farm because;

- they have a significantly lower feed and maintenance cost

- we need far less space for a herd of yak than cattle

- they mature slowly so it gives us time to figure out what we're doing

- yaks have approx 1/3 of the carbon footprint as cattle

- the fiber (hair) that you comb out of them during their spring shed makes incredible wool

- if raised for meat the meat is leaner than beef

- if raised for meat the entirety of the yak is used, the bones are used for a number of traditional carvings, the skull is valuable, the hide is used in a similar way to cow hide, even the yak tails are commodities

As I said yaks are herd animals, and these two young girls had just left their large herd for the first time to be transplanted into our farm. The man that sold them was worried they would try to break or jump our fence in order to search for their herd. He suggested I put my ram in the pasture with them so they were less likely to take off. THE SAME RAM I HAD SPENT ALL DAY GETTING IN THE PEN FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE YAKS. So I sent Walske out, things were tense my friends. First Walske charged, then they charged. For the rest of the day they decided it was best to just have long staring contests from opposite ends of the pasture. They are not much better today. I closed the gate in the main feeding area last night with Walske inside so as to ensure no middle of the night showdowns. Yes, closed the same gate I had attached for the yaks but turns out they'll just jump it so it's useless to keep them in, it works for little baby Walske though!

I see that my next few days are going to consist of a lot of pasture walking and being paranoid that my girls have left me. They're such gorgeous animals. They look super soft and I want to pet them with every piece of my being, alas, I don't want to make them further afraid, or be skewered by their horns. 

Sheep Balls and "Nuggets"

We sold our first eggs. So, I'm fairly sure that that means we're real farmers now. I have a soft spot in my heart for our two little grey chickens, one is a silkie, and one seems to be a cross between a silkie and something else. I call them my chicken littles, they're so small and all the other big mean hens pick on them. Only one of them lays. It doesn't happen frequently but when it does I know, because they're so small, the teeniest cute little baby eggs. I always feel a little burst of pride when I see her tiny egg. I want to give her a congratulatory snuggle, but she runs away.
I tend to call everything I think is cute "nugget" I catch myself calling these two "my little baby nuggets" sometimes, but it feels a whole lot less endearing when its said to chickens, I've probably got them living in a constant state of fear by calling them "nuggets", hopefully they don't understand.

My Chicken Littles
 Right: Ms. Muffett
Left: Ms. Tuffett

My Sheep are getting to be a touch more tolerant of me. Walske is what we decided to name our ram, still gives me a whack with his big horns when I don't immediately offer him food, but he eats out of my hand now, so I'm confident that it's progress. Scout is our youngest ewes name, she will have absolutely zero of my pets, she tries to hit me with her horns, but they're only a few inches long, so it's absolutely more adorable than threatening. Poor thing. Calpernia is our older ewe, and Scouts mama. She will allow me a few glorious seconds of petting typically only when I have her distracted with treats and snacks. I'm working on halter training them, which I thought would be a relatively easy task, I WAS SO WRONG. I am so thankful that we don't have neighbours that could potentially watch as I run around like an absolute psycho trying to catch a sheep. Thus far I have not successfully caught one, and they will not be distracted with treats once they see that harness. I was talking to the guy I bought them from he says he was only ever able to catch them by roping them. Which is pretty effing badass. I'm going to have to learn to rope a sheep, and guys, I promise if I learn to rope I WILL NEVER PUT THAT ROPE DOWN. Can you imagine, I would be so cool if I could rope like a cowboy. I'd be in love with myself. So I guess when I say "I'm working on halter training" what I should say is, "I've been working on my cardio and learning to play chase with sheep".

Scout and her adorable little moustache

Walske, our big grumpy boy 

Calpernia (Big mama) is very camera shy

We named Walske after a dear friend of ours who was the biggest help during our move. He was constantly waking up early packing things, loading things, even driving to FSJ with us to help unload the many trailer loads full of our belongings. We promised to name one of our yaks after him, but the two yaks we have coming are girls and he wanted a boy to be named after him, so that's how Walske got his new name. I think he likes it.

Heres another interesting fact about Walske (the ram, not the person); his balls are HUGE. They nearly drag on the ground, its like a giant basketball hanging off of him, I did not expect that. I was so surprised by it in fact that at first I thought it was a big patch of snow or wool or something stuck to him, and I kept trying to get close enough to pull it off. Walske was not thrilled. Again, I'm so thankful to not have neighbours. Can you imagine what they would have been thinking if they had been able to see me out there doing all i could to grab ahold of his balls?! My life is a series of embarrassing events.

  

How To Lose A Sheep In Ten Days

Here's the thing about raising a variety of animals you've never even been around before; THE PARANOIA IS SO REAL. I'm endlessly terrified that I'm going to give my little babes something bad for them, so before I give them anything I google to make sure they won't die. The problem with that is that I typically get as many, "Go for it" results as I do, "This will kill them immediately". Yesterday after an hour or so of researching salt blocks, (who even knew that there were so many different ways/kinds of salt to give to sheep?!) I went to the feed store armed with my google degree on sheep nutrition and asked for a list of things. The guy immediately informed me that all of what I was looking for would kill my sheep and sold me instead some things I had read online were bad for the sheep.
I went home too afraid to give my sheep any of things I purchased so instead just gave them some hay and oats. This morning I texted the man who sold me the sheep and he said, "Don't worry, they're hardy, I kept them in with my cattle, they had access to whatever the cows did, if they were going to die from a salt lick they would have died already." So, maybe raising Jacob Sheep is a little less complicated than google tells me it is. OR MAYBE I'M A TERRIBLE SHEEP MOM! So, if ya'll come across any books on raising Jacob sheep let me know, hit me up. The only ones I've found so far are about raising jacob sheep in the UK and i don't think that'll work for me because this is Canada so we have different weather, soil and pastures. The struggle, it's real.
The poor man that sold these sheep to me, he's been so incredibly kind and patient with my endless questions, but he's probably full of regret for ever giving me his number and saying , "Shoot me a text if you've got any questions." I have all of the questions, all of them.
Now, I know that there are probably lots of people that have raised sheep before, and people seem to do it with relative ease and don't typically kill their sheep by way of salt lick poisoning. So if you guys know anyone with even a little bit of sheep knowledge, send them my way so I can plead with them to impart some of their wisdom onto me.

Can(t) Buy Me Love

The sheep are here. The chickens are settled in. The pigs are coming sometime this week, and the yaks come next week. I'm caught in an unending cycle of deciding not to name the animals, and then giving them silly nicknames when I'm out with them and deciding that they absolutely need names. I've been calling our ram Baby Daddy, and I just don't think that's a name that should be permanent. It might give him some kind of complex.
The sheep will need to be sheered sometime in the next couple weeks, and I'm pretty determined to learn how to spin my own wool from it. I imagine I'll be googling the shit out of that.
I have learned that you can basically google everything. Which is essentially all I do all day, "How to be a farmer" "When do you plant things?" "How to look after sheep" "Can chickens eat bananas?" "Do chickens like bananas?"
Those are all actual things that I have googled. Imagine if there were someone tasked with monitoring my google searches over the last year, I'm sure they would be just as confused as I am about when and how this change occurred. I went from googling "Fauxhawk braid tutorials" "Chanels lipstick release date" and other similar things to "Do chickens like bananas"
I think I'm finally beginning to win over the sheep, our boy comes and follows me around awaiting snacks, the girls are still a bit wary, especially the smaller one. Turns out you can buy love, from sheep at least. All it takes is a couple strawberries and some cucumber.
The dogs are hilarious with them, Rocky just seems to be confused as to why they look so weird so he is curious but keeps his distance, Bella of course just wants them to play with her. She got in the pen yesterday and immediately got charged by Baby Daddy, I was worried that he'd turn her into a kebab with those big horns of his, so I jumped in front. Looking back that likely wasn't the smartest thing to do, note to self, don't do it again. His horns aren't sharp so it didn't hurt as much as one would think, but it wasn't a pleasant experience. I suppose Bella wont learn until she gets a horn in her side too.

"Mom, what kind of dog is that?!?"

The man that came to deliver the sheep was so incredibly kind to me, he wasn't irritated that I didn't know the first thing about raising sheep, let alone how to help them lamb. He answered all of my ridiculous questions, offered a variety of tips on how to care for them and even offered to come out when it got close to lambing time to give me a hand. I think he's my first farm friend!

At this point I have more eggs than I know what to do with, so we're either going to have to start selling eggs or I'll have to start putting eggs in every single thing we eat.

My quest for endless joy in this new life has so far not been difficult, I've loved every minute of it despite my aching muscles and my body consistently screaming about going back to my previously fairly sedentary way of life. Turns out I'm stronger than I thought, I can put up a primitive fence, pitch bales and shovel poops no problem. I'm also so much happier than I thought I would be. Maybe endless joy isn't so much found in WHAT you do, but HOW you do it.

The First Egg

The culprit

On Friday the chickens arrived. We are now the happy owners of 18 hens and 2 roosters! I spent all day yesterday hanging out with them. I've always been a little bit afraid birds, so I figured the best way to get over that fear was to dive right into it. I sat down in the pen with them for nearly two hours. I am happy to report that I was only "bit" once while I was attempting to retrieve two eggs from one of our broody hens. She wasn't that thrilled. However I was quite excited when she finally did move off the eggs and I discovered the eggs she lays are BLUE! I knew that some chickens laid blue eggs, I just didn't think any of mine did. So many happy surprises in my life lately.


Though we had planned on doing a slow build to our new farm life we came across some sheep that were for sale. They are unlike any sheep I've ever seen before, so naturally I bought them. This afternoon we have three sheep arriving. Two ewes and one ram, the ewes are expected to lamb a combined three lambs in May so we'll have six sheep. The sheep also came with two pot belly pigs, and who turns down free pigs? Not us! So we have two piggies coming as well.

Two of the three Jacob Sheep that are arriving this afternoon. Look at those horns.

We may need to start calling our farm 'The Freak Farm' instead of Goldie Acres we seem to be accumulating some relatively strange animals. Though I think the Jacob Sheep are going to be a fabulous addition to the farm, most especially because they match the Royal Yaks and isn't life really all about coordination? Wish me luck pals, I'll be frantically researching how to care for sheep and pigs for the next five hours. 

So matchy!