Sunday mornings

It's Sunday morning and Mr Chip is hiding under a quilt, informing me about the “Day of Rest.” Apparently he believes strongly, that it applies more to dogs, than humans. He will have great support from our dear sheep that love a slow morning in the making. When all timetables have gone to pot their morning is complete. Not that we have a very stressful life, but sheep like to sleep in. And it is Sunday... The hens, however, will be angry and stressed and the stable will look a sight, when I get there. Hens are early risers and when kept in for a few minutes extra, they rearrange the stable, decorate it freely and end their protest by turning out all the seeds from their bowls - to have a look at the bottom of the dish. "And they don't care what day it is!" thank you very much.

                                                                    Credit: Dasha Dimitrova

Mindy, Mandy, Molly and My (pronounced as the German word uber, by the way...) are still walking around looking like woolly toys and at the moment I have to brush them every day. Molly especially can turn up with all sorts, stuck to her coat. It's like an autumn collage with legs, when she arrives. The day she also sported half a Juniper branch stuck to her side, I really wished I'd had a good camera at hand. It was a mixture of woodland gobbling and Phoenix. And it took some time to separate the two.... Mindy has a coat that's so soft that she should work at a kindergarten. If anyone got sad, hugging her would help a lot. My has a funny coat of really curly wool that lets all manner of stuff in. Brushing her is like a tale of their day. I can find evidence of forest walks, nettles from the hen playground, red paint that really should have been left on the wall where it was applied and of course sawdust. One day a very lost, very angry elf will turn up from inside her coat and that will take some explaining....  Mandy does not believe in grooming. I can do some quick brushing of her head, under her chin and maybe remove some nettle leafs from her coat, but that's it. So she walks around looking like someone that the Salvation Army should take on, whereas the rest of our fluffy group could be sold at Toys'r Us.

The sun is up, the day is clear and we will now start the day. Mr. Chip has woken up so it is time for breakfast. I have drunk my own body weight in coffee, already, and it's been nice sitting in bed, writing. There might be some truth in that theory about Sunday's, but maybe not every week, as our hens would have to move house. And that would be sad... The clocks went back so happy winter time everyone from all of us and Happy Halloween from Lisbet and friends.

Text by Nina

Next blog post on the 8th November.



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Autumn

Autumn has arrived in our village. It's getting a lot colder and the temperature is already on minus, in the nights. I guess this is normal weather for us, but we have been spoilt for some years with English weather, where the cold comes a bit later in the year. So frozen fields in the mornings are a bit of a chock for the system.

Mindy, Mandy, Molly and My seem to be quite relaxed about it, as they are still sporting their nice woolly coats. They will be sheared in two weeks time, so if the cold continues it will mean some days inside to adjust. Funnily that will not be a problem, as our four M’s love their home. It must be the light fading or the crisp air, but our sheep seem to be even more cozy and happy indoors, at the moment. They snuggle up for a hug and four of them trying to put their heads on my shoulders at once mean we end up looking like a rugby scrum. They also count their hens, checking that everyone is indoors, in the afternoon. Little chick E is still easy to spot. We hear where that little friend is holding fort, thanks to the constant beeping.

It's a cozy sort of time of the year. Animals are settling down for the winter, the feeding of the birds in the forest begins and life gets a bit less hectic. The hens are still outdoors all day as they refuse to be indoors. A bit of frozen grass never hurt anybody, apparently. But they find their way back home earlier now in the afternoons and by six o'clock all is still in the stable.

Last winter was a warm and icy version. Not ideal for animals with four spindly legs and a passion for bolting for no apparent reason. So with Christmas just around the corner, Molly hurt her leg.  Farm animals have a tendency to get ill or get hurt around holiday times. As soon as there are less vets at work, shops are closed and families gather to celebrate something, they need help. So Molly got Christmas as her time to sprain a muscle on the slippery ice. It was not a broken leg but it was very sore. It took a few days for the vet to come out, as rest some times does the trick, but not with our dear Ms. Fixer. Molly does not do rest very well as she has to check what's happening and what everyone is eating.

The kind vet that arrived had never met us before. We are, as a group, a bit of a surprise for anyone and the lady took it well. All the hens started telling her their life story as soon as she entered the stable and though I asked her not to, she could not resist letting them out of the pen. So then we had helper hens all around the stable. Most of them investigated the vet’s bag. Catching Molly was no problem, not stepping on feathery assistants was more so. Molly got painkillers and I had to show the bewildered vet that I could handle feeding her with a syringe. That went well.

Then the hens were checked out and the accommodation approved of and even the little rabbit that stayed the winter had a visit from the vet. All through this there was a constant call of "Danger!" from Waldemar. The whole thing was a bit more Monty Python than James Herriot, I must admit. But we passed the inspection, Molly got help and I got a headache.

                                       Credit: Dasha Dimitrova

Three days of medicating Molly went well. After that I had to ask Dear Husband to help with holding her. Molly felt better and her leg healed completely. However, we had one mystery on our hand - A little Christmas conundrum.

All the small, used syringes that I had used to medicate Molly went missing. I left them on a shelf, on a plate to be disposed of later. There were no needles, just small, shiny plastic syringes. But they were gone. I looked for them and worried that someone was eating plastic. I should have known that the explanation was much simpler, knowing our lot. The clever hens carried them home to the hen house as decorations for the holiday season. Shiny, sticky and quite fetching, they were, with a coat of loose feathers on them.

I don't know why I thought of this, must be the icy grass and the cold weather. Or the fact that Molly keeps running around my legs telling me, that autumn is a lovely season to really let go and stretch the old legs before going in to snuggle down for the night. I keep hoping for more snow this year, as it keeps sheep on their feet even in sharp corners.

Text by Nina

Next blog post on the 1st November.



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Bugs and Beetles

Every home should have a manure heap of some sort behind an outbuilding. It's the busiest place in the village and very useful - I really missed that during the years we did not have any animals at home.

Horse manure is of course the best stuff to have lying around, but sheep droppings and especially hen poo goes a long way too, to heat up the heap. That's when flies, bugs and beetles arrive. The butterfly population has increased too, since the animals arrived. Helping biodiversity on a small scale, I guess...

When we had horses, the grass snakes took over our manure heap. They lay eggs and need a warm place for them to hatch and that we could provide in abundance. They became very tame and all summer you could see small pencil sized heads popping up when we walked by. In the autumn they left for the woods and we missed our slim, beautiful friends.

Our dear hens love the manure heap too. I started to build up a heap in the wrong place and thought I would move it later in the summer. I never made it, as our hens turned it over and scattered it in all directions. They had help from a lot of small birds that live nearby. 

Now that the weather is turning colder our yard is turning into a pit stop for the migrating birds. They find corn, seeds, bugs and stuff that will keep them going for a while, a long while, I hope. In the mornings small birds sit warming themselves. A manure heap generates a surprising amount of warmth, and the raccoon dog that uses it as its toilet every, night must like it too.

                                         Credit: Dasha Dimitrova

I remember one spring, when we still had horses at home. The warmth arrived quite early and it was glorious weather for a long time. The warm winds brought small tits, sparrows and lots and lots of robins to our village. It's the first and only time I've seen so many robins in one place. They stayed around the stable eating bugs and grains and collected bits for their nests. Then one afternoon the weather changed and snow arrived. Our father who was a practical and a very caring person put his thinking cap on, handed me a hay fork and off we went. He figured that we had one thing to offer all the small birds and that was warmth. The rest of the day we dug trenches in our massive horse, sawdust and straw heap. I still remember how hot it was, we dug as deep as we could, only our heads stuck out and it was almost dark when we finished. And the birds came. We could not save all of them but a lot stayed the nights in there. Every day we dug some more, until winter went away again. The birds found maggots to eat, we left grains as well and it was all a bit lovely.

This memory has stayed with me. It was a small act of kindness but it helped many. Today I think of that kindness and wish more people could take time, dig deep and help out. You don't have to have a heap of poo around the corner to help someone, a generous heart goes a long way to do that. And the ability to see something good in everyone, says Molly the sweetheart.

Text by Nina

Next blog post on the 25th October.



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Mr. Chip

As I already told you, Mr. Chip turned 13 years old this summer. It amazes us that he's made it this far, considering he's favorite hobby is chasing cars. It's been our task to stop him and so far we have succeeded. Mr. Chip also dreams of catching a squirrel, or five. They are he is his worst enemy because he has a very good technic, when hunting them. He sneaks up on the poor squirrel that is happily munching away, and jumps. As terriers can be very cat like, Mr. Chip gets very close before the cone eater notices him. That's when I imitate a train whistle and ruins the hunt. The thought of a Fox terrier and a squirrel fighting makes my mind boggle. One would not let go and the other one has very sharp, strong teeth...

And then there is the library bus. A huge, tires wide as ever, bus that Mr. Chip would like to drag home. Life is not dull with a terrier in the house.

But he is slowing down a bit. Long mornings in bed mean he does not venture out  for his morning walk before eight o'clock, anymore. We got the explanation when we took him to the vet. Poor Mr. Chip has at some point during the summer developed Cushing Syndrome. That means that he's little body is producing too much of a stress hormone that makes his day fly by, so he sleeps like a log. A dog must rest at some point, I guess...

                             Credit: Dasha Dimitrova

Mr. Chip is such a kind dog, that we did not notice the change in him. You would think having stress would make him a bit edgy at times, but no. We only did the blood test because the vet had said that he might need one later in the autumn if he changes his behavior drastically. Sleeping a bit longer is clearly dramatic behavior in our house, mutters Mr. Chip... It was good that we went, though. Cushing Syndrome needs to be treated for the rest of his life and we are now working to find the right dose of medicine for our friend. That means a lot of blood tests and Mr. Chip is not a happy dog. Cushing Syndrome can lead to hair loss, pot bellyness and it eats away in the body if not treated, so we soldier on.

The interesting thing was that once our little dog started eating his pills, all the stress and oddness started showing. Evenings were spent panting madly, running from room to room counting people and drinking water like it's going out of fashion. His appetite, that already was quite impressive, increased. The vet was also slightly surprised that we went the wrong way, so to speak. But now we seem to be getting there, finding a balance again. Here's hoping, anyway. It would be nice to be able to eat a sandwich without Mr. Chip almost passing out next to us, with indignation. For a while he thought all the food in the house was his and we were stealing it.

The saddest part in this is that there is no early "guys only" walks in the mornings, anymore. My dear husband just gets up and goes to work. Maybe later on, when snow arrives and lights up the mornings a little, our friend will get out of bed a bit earlier, again. But for now Mr. Chip snuggles into his three woolly blankets and snores away until the sun comes out. Then it's for me to get out for a nice, crisp walk with him and I can't say I'm complaining. There's always a silver lining for someone, somewhere and this time I got lucky. And watching Mr. Chip get better is a treat for us all. Fingers crossed....

Text by Nina

Next blog post on the 19th October.


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The Four M's

August turned into the warmest month in the world. We got our bit of late summer glory and our sheep felt it. It's not easy walking around in a full woolly outfit when summer hits.

The four M’s spent a lot of time under the apple tree, hanging out with the chick and Pippi, back on bodyguard duty. The Hawks have spotted us again and I, too, keep popping out to chase them away. We all have to do our bit for hen safety. Little Eric looks like little Elisabeth again, by the by...

We have had lovely guests this summer. One family stayed long enough for their teenage daughter to have time to teach our sheep some socially acceptable manners. With a box of dry bread in her hand she worked with our four M:s - and did a good job, I might add! When the family packed up and left for the airport I felt that Molly and My (pronounced “mew”) were ready to join them. For days our ladies looked for their new friend but then had to settle for me and my dry bread.

When they spotted our next guests they were ready and waiting! We now have a greeting team in nice wooly jumpers and an expectant smile on their beautiful faces. (You have to be made of strong stuff, to visit us...).

        Credit: Dasha Dimitrova

Later in the summer a fun team of young students came to visit us. They arrived and Mindy, Mandy, Molly and My lost their newfound confidence. Too many visitors!? I don't know but it was a case of " bring out your binoculars and spot a sheep", but everyone took it with a bit of humour. Monty did his usual show of standing by or on their feet, telling them how hungry he was so that went down a treat. The funny thing was, that for two mornings, after the visit, our brave sheep came to the step to ask when our friends would arrive back with more treats. You can't win, with sheep.

Now autumn has started to slowly move in. Cooler mornings and more rain. That means more time indoors for our four M’s and they are in sheep heaven. They still stay out from morning to evening but one drop of rain and they head indoors. Snugly in their pen with hay up to their slightly round bellies and they love it. You can't get hens indoors if it rains. They have to stay on guard for worms popping up... And they do dry quicker than a rain soaked sheep, I guess.

I’ve just let our animals out. It's a misty, warm morning and you can see the first hint of autumn colours on the trees. As the sheep stepped out the sun appeared to greet them. Four sheep, eyes closed with their funny faces held up to the warmth, sighing happily is a nice sight, first thing in the morning. Not even the constant beeping of a hyper active chick could spoil the moment. Then, Mindy, Mandy, Molly and My stomped off into the forest to find their berry breakfast. Being a happy sheep means a constantly eating sheep - they told me. Oh, and they send their love to Scotland!

Text by Nina

Next blog post on the 11th October.


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