There are times I wish I had another dog.
Yes we have the magnificent seven, the Rock pack, the gang, the gits, and I love them to bits, even Pip the psychotic collie, but yesterday I wished we had another dog. A clever one, a well trained one, one that could help out, I'm talking about a sheepdog. Our current collection are as much use around sheep as a Burmese General is at delivering food aid.
We did a lot of work with the sheep last night, our little flock of Ryelands needed injecting with medicine to give them immunity against seven horrible diseases which include mange and bolus and all sorts of horrific sounding parasitic borne illnesses which will affect them if they don't have the injections. Now when we first bought Rita, Roxy, Rosie and Crispy I had no idea that within a very short time I would be trimming their feet, cleaning their bottoms, shearing them and administering medicines, basically waiting on them hand and foot. In fact the only thought I had put into it was that these four would produce me an unlimited supply of lamb chops.
I didn't really envisage that to get these lamb chops I would have to learn a vast array of new skills, learn a new language to discuss with other shepherds the pro's and con's of shearlings and whethers, and re read James Herriot to appreciate the complexities involved when you stick your hand inside a sheep's insides and pull out your potential dinners.
Our flock has grown considerably, we now have Easter and Springtime who are both massive Ryeland Ewes and excellent pedigree examples and we have the rogue sheep, two Suffolks April and Molly, plus a Suffolk Cross, Meg and Bill a whether, also a Suffolk who is M.I.A. on the common hopefully avoiding the piemakers. We also have a shearling from last year, Ebony a lovely little black Ryeland produced by Roxy.
Shrek, April and Ivory, last years lambs have all been introduced to Mr Whirlpool in the workshop and bits of them make periodic appearances on the dinner table at Rock HQ.
All the Ryeland Ewes have given birth this year, so Hercules, Bonny, Maude and Sandy have been out on Oak Bank with their Mums. Katy an orphan lamb is on the lawn along with Daffodil the Ryeland lamb abandoned by Easter at birth. Yesterday was the day for immunisations and separating from their Mothers, an easy task as our sheep are so tame they run towards you when they see you with a bucket.
Usually.
Sensing something was wrong last night they gave me a wide berth. Eventually I managed to coax them all to the food trough and inject them as they gorged on sheep nuts. I checked them all for maggots, a hands on messy job but necessary. They were clear. Now came the task of separating them. This went well until we got to Hercules. The first three we were able just to pick up from the trough and put in the goat house. Not so for Hercules, once jabbed twice shy he was off running as fast as his woolly legs would carry him aided and abetted by Ebony.
We needed to get all the sheep off Oak Bank, to let the grass grow back but also to break the parasite, egg, worm cycle, the ground needs to be left for 28 days to let the eggs die, otherwise the sheep just eat them up off the grass, the eggs hatch, the parasite infects the sheep, the sheep takes a dump passing more eggs onto to the grass and the cycle repeats.
We managed to get all the sheep out of the field except for Ebony and Hercules. It took ages to get them back into the bottom corner of Oak Bank where they would hopefully go through the gate and Tracey would intercept Hercules. He was quicker than she was and shot through reuniting himself with his Mum. Fifteen minutes running around later and after much sweating, swearing, threats and wishing for a sheepdog to round them up for me I managed to rugby tackle him to the ground and carry him to the others in the goat house. Taking the lambs from their Mums might seem harsh but it will allow the Mums to gain all the condition they lost in giving birth and producing milk. They have lost over a third of their body weight and look in a poor state.
Final task of the evening was to inject Daffodil and Katy. This was going to be so simple as they are hand raised and overly friendly. As they are more used to me carrying a bottle of milk rather than a hypodermic and responded as such. Jostling me, jumping over each other and pushing to get attention. This didn't matter, not until Daffodil hit my right hand as I tried to insert the needle into Katy's back left leg.
I injected my left index finger, despite the pain I consoled myself that at least I wouldn't get mange for the next twelve months.
Yes we have the magnificent seven, the Rock pack, the gang, the gits, and I love them to bits, even Pip the psychotic collie, but yesterday I wished we had another dog. A clever one, a well trained one, one that could help out, I'm talking about a sheepdog. Our current collection are as much use around sheep as a Burmese General is at delivering food aid.
We did a lot of work with the sheep last night, our little flock of Ryelands needed injecting with medicine to give them immunity against seven horrible diseases which include mange and bolus and all sorts of horrific sounding parasitic borne illnesses which will affect them if they don't have the injections. Now when we first bought Rita, Roxy, Rosie and Crispy I had no idea that within a very short time I would be trimming their feet, cleaning their bottoms, shearing them and administering medicines, basically waiting on them hand and foot. In fact the only thought I had put into it was that these four would produce me an unlimited supply of lamb chops.
I didn't really envisage that to get these lamb chops I would have to learn a vast array of new skills, learn a new language to discuss with other shepherds the pro's and con's of shearlings and whethers, and re read James Herriot to appreciate the complexities involved when you stick your hand inside a sheep's insides and pull out your potential dinners.
Our flock has grown considerably, we now have Easter and Springtime who are both massive Ryeland Ewes and excellent pedigree examples and we have the rogue sheep, two Suffolks April and Molly, plus a Suffolk Cross, Meg and Bill a whether, also a Suffolk who is M.I.A. on the common hopefully avoiding the piemakers. We also have a shearling from last year, Ebony a lovely little black Ryeland produced by Roxy.
Shrek, April and Ivory, last years lambs have all been introduced to Mr Whirlpool in the workshop and bits of them make periodic appearances on the dinner table at Rock HQ.
All the Ryeland Ewes have given birth this year, so Hercules, Bonny, Maude and Sandy have been out on Oak Bank with their Mums. Katy an orphan lamb is on the lawn along with Daffodil the Ryeland lamb abandoned by Easter at birth. Yesterday was the day for immunisations and separating from their Mothers, an easy task as our sheep are so tame they run towards you when they see you with a bucket.
Usually.
Sensing something was wrong last night they gave me a wide berth. Eventually I managed to coax them all to the food trough and inject them as they gorged on sheep nuts. I checked them all for maggots, a hands on messy job but necessary. They were clear. Now came the task of separating them. This went well until we got to Hercules. The first three we were able just to pick up from the trough and put in the goat house. Not so for Hercules, once jabbed twice shy he was off running as fast as his woolly legs would carry him aided and abetted by Ebony.
We needed to get all the sheep off Oak Bank, to let the grass grow back but also to break the parasite, egg, worm cycle, the ground needs to be left for 28 days to let the eggs die, otherwise the sheep just eat them up off the grass, the eggs hatch, the parasite infects the sheep, the sheep takes a dump passing more eggs onto to the grass and the cycle repeats.
We managed to get all the sheep out of the field except for Ebony and Hercules. It took ages to get them back into the bottom corner of Oak Bank where they would hopefully go through the gate and Tracey would intercept Hercules. He was quicker than she was and shot through reuniting himself with his Mum. Fifteen minutes running around later and after much sweating, swearing, threats and wishing for a sheepdog to round them up for me I managed to rugby tackle him to the ground and carry him to the others in the goat house. Taking the lambs from their Mums might seem harsh but it will allow the Mums to gain all the condition they lost in giving birth and producing milk. They have lost over a third of their body weight and look in a poor state.
Final task of the evening was to inject Daffodil and Katy. This was going to be so simple as they are hand raised and overly friendly. As they are more used to me carrying a bottle of milk rather than a hypodermic and responded as such. Jostling me, jumping over each other and pushing to get attention. This didn't matter, not until Daffodil hit my right hand as I tried to insert the needle into Katy's back left leg.
I injected my left index finger, despite the pain I consoled myself that at least I wouldn't get mange for the next twelve months.
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