Green Acres

I'm sure most of you are too young to remember a show that used to be on tv at least a hundred years ago, or when I was young. A farmer went to the city and found him a bride (ZsaZsa Gabor) and brought her back to live on the farm.

Now Richfield is not New York but Lyman is probably just about as rural as it gets. I've "helped" out on our little family farm. I've fed, lambed sheep,attempted once to help dock lambs (you don't want to know), helped with the shearing, fed the shearers, herded sheep (once in purple house slippers), plowed, changed sprinklers, baled hay and probably several other things I have chosen to block out.

I'm amazed that my husband can spend a day in the corral mucking around in sheep poop to his eyeballs and never bat an eye. Why then did he gag and have dry heaves when he had to change a baby's diaper? Which, I might add, was NOT very often!

I have, at times, been left to be the shepherd of our small flock. Now, I admit, I love when the baby lambs are born. I love to watch as they come into this world, usually on the coldest night of the year, get on their shakey legs and find something to eat. It's amusing to watch as they play together. Running as fast as they can to one end of the corral and back. It never ceases to amaze me, that no matter how far the lamb can be away from the mother and no matter how many sheep there are, that lamb can hear its mother calling it. Cracks me up when a pair of twins come on a dead run across the field and both attack the mother to have something to eat at the same time and the ewe's hind legs come clear off the ground.

And now, the NOT so amusing part. I was called to be the appointed shepherd this week. "Only 2 ewes left to lamb" Piece of cake. Monday night, we have the blizzard of the year. Couldn't even see to get home from they gym. Wake up Tuesday morning, it's 3 degrees. Yeah 3! I go to the corral to feed...there standing in the snow...SHAKING..are triplets! 3 AGAIN! Is this a pattern? I do my shepherd duties and get them all locked into a little pen. Thinking at this point I am SO proud of myself. I go home at lunch and checked on them. One is dead. Oh great. Have they not eaten? Did she step on it? Are the other 2 going to die? Lambs DO NOT need a reason to die. So then I get nervous they haven't sucked. Now what to do. I reach into the files of the things I have been taught over the past 32 years about lambing. Bellies look full, but still..why did the other die. SOOOooo..I climb into the pen...position my fat derierre on the bucket that is used to water the mama sheep and proceed to teach these little lambs about where their bread is buttered.

Problem #1 Mama sheep has only 1 place to suck from.
Problem #2 Place to suck from isn't very long.

At this point I am trying to hold the mama's leg up and shove the lamb in there to find something to eat. Sheep DO NOT like their head touched, let alone having them drug somewhere they do not want to be. Mama sheep was at this point somewhat amused, I think. She kept turning her head back to look at me as if to say, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

After rigamortis (sp?) set in and I couldn't get off the bucket I wandered into the house, still wondering what to do about the little lambs. Around 7 I warmed up a bottle of milk and took out to them. Reaching into the poop pit I dug one little lamb out and proceeded to pry it's mouth open and insert the bottle. So proud of myself! The little lambed sucked a little, then blatted at me like, ok I'm so full I'm bout to puke, could you remove the bottle? It was then I noticed how tight his little tummy was. Ok so they HAVE eaten. They do NOT want anymore and it's ok for me to go to the house and get warm.

As I slipped off my poop covered shoes, coveralls, coat, gloves, etc., I could hear my husband saying to me, "Good job, honey!" In the words of my sweet little granddaughter, MaKenna, "Whatever, dude!"