All you have to do is look out my back window and you’ll
know why this season is called “spring”. The handful of lambs that were deemed
old enough to be released from the barn are bouncing down the field after their
mothers. The little males face each other, synchronize their leaps and butt
heads together, sometimes mid-air. If there is a boulder, a stone fence or a
pile of old lumber, it shall be climbed. King of the Castle is one of their
favourite games. We were waking up to the song of spring birds up until a few
days ago. Now it’s the song of spring lambs.
Sometimes when they are released from the barn the little
families become separated. If the mother isn’t the most caring type, she will
wander off to fill her belly with fresh green grass, happy to be out of the
lambing pen, and her lamb will be left behind. Yesterday I saw four lambs
attempting to nurse under one ewe. She just stood there, trying to keep her balance
as they bucked and prodded beneath her. As she locked eyes with me her
expression said, “I thought I had two…?”
The daffodils I planted near the mailbox at the road bounced
right back after that flash snowfall we had. They are very hearty little blooms.
This fall I’m going to plant a couple dozen more of those. There’s something
about seeing that little explosion of colour at the edge of an otherwise dreary
landscape when the grass hasn’t quite greened up.
The Farmer cut the grass for the first time yesterday and I
noticed he decided not to knock down my daffodils just yet, thank you.
In the perennial beds, the pansies, wild violets and rainbow
of tulips are in full show. The hosta leaves are up about six inches and ready
to unfurl. Sedum is poking through the soil and the invasive bee balm has
spread to cover three times as much area as it claimed last year. Flower
gardening isn’t as much about planting as it is about weeding and mulching
around here—and occasionally moving a plant to a happier place when it isn’t
doing well.
Speaking of which…the three twigs of Rose of Sharon that I
bought through mail order are not looking very impressive at the moment. Last
year they just got a few leaves and this year they don’t seem to be doing
anything at all except looking like art installations beside the bird feeder.
The Sharon
Today we will go into the lambing room and graduate a few more
lambs to freedom. They will squeal as I chase and catch them and carry them out
the door. Once placed on the ground they will run around in circles, knocking
into each other and panicking for a few moments. Happily embracing freedom,
their mothers will head purposefully in the direction of the open pasture. The
lambs will fall into line and follow, commenting all the while on the lovely
surprise of the situation.
The Farmer is tackling a few ewes at a time and giving them
their spring haircuts before they are released. They also get examined all over
for any random injuries and their hooves are neatly trimmed. After weeks of
being locked up in the confines of the lambing pens it must feel like going to
the spa.
Our farming tenant has spent a few days preparing the back
fields and they will be planted soon. My Farmer is busily mending fences so
that our sheep are not constantly in the crops when they start to grow. Already
I see the herd walking the line of the new fencing, looking for gaps and
opportunities. Soon all of the sheep will be outside and our work in the barn
will be pretty much done for the season.
Next, we prepare the chicken coop and bed down the lambing
pens with hay for the turkeys. And then the baby chicks arrive. We have to
ensure there are no cracks big enough for a skunk or raccoon to squeeze
through, or we will lose our entire poultry investment.
There is always something going on to keep us busy and to
give us a sense of purpose on the farm.
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