Getting to Know My New Flock

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me: 
John 10:27

Even the sweetest, tamest sheep do not automatically transfer their affections and trust to a new shepherd.  Bringing a new flock to Boston Lake means I need to gradually build a relationship with my sheep until they know me. 

Yesterday I started by putting a little dish of oatmeal on the ground and then sitting on a stool about 10 feet away.  Eventually, Amber and Mirta were curious enough to investigate and get the treat.  I spoke quietly to them the entire time they ate so they would associate my voice with good food.  Later in the evening, I strategically sat under the tree where the shade was the deepest and the biting flies were few.  The ewes came in from the pasture and laid down in the dirt under the tree with me.  Enough progress for one day.

Amber & Mirta

First thing this morning I put a tablespoon of oatmeal in 5 bowls and visited the ewes again.  They came forward but hung back with hesitation.  So I pulled down a basswood branch full of tender leaves they had not been able to reach.  Little Heidi galloped over to the leaves and started munching the treat.  Within a few minutes all the girls were crowded around me eating leaves and discovering the dishes of oatmeal.  Over lunch I pulled down a branch and the girls came running.  This evening, I even scratched Mirta, Amber, and Heidi on their throats for just a few seconds while they were busy vying for the best leaves. (Petting sheep from the underside is less threatening to them than petting from above like a predator.)  It will take a bit more time for these girls to trust me as they did their original shepherd, Kelly.  But I'm delighted that all the girls are willing to mill about my legs to get a treat.  Little Heidi even used me as a brace to stand on her hind legs to reach higher.

Amber, Holly, Mirta

Mirta & Leda

Heidi

Yet there is no vacuum in nature.  Last night a wolf was howling quite near, which set off a whole pack of high-pitched coyotes...also very near.  Wild animals are so intimately aware of their surroundings, irregardless of how oblivious humans are to their environment.  It is probably not a coincidence that both species of canine predator announced themselves 24 hours after the sheep arrived.  I'm relying on Lleulu and the Electronet to keep us all safe.

Bonfire & Bears

One of three fires Clancy lit last night.

Six teenagers were on hand to make the most of it.

What a gorgeous night.

 Plus the plum blossoms are in full bloom. 

And I saw another black bear (this one a true shiny black rather than last week's Hershey brown color) grubbing for turtle eggs along Boston Lake Road yesterday.

(sorry-no time for a photo before he bounded into the watery cedar swamp)

 But thanks to our faithful Lleulu, no bears in the yard so far this year.

(I love love LOVE her!)

This has already been a lovely weekend...with one more day to go.  

Thanks to all the Veterans and their families out there.

Waterfowl

Such a variety of waterfowl on Boston Lake!  

The trumpeter swans are trying to drive away the Canada geese.  They've been successful in past years, so we shall see.  

Lots of ducks

Great blue heron

King fisher

Sandhill cranes

Osprey

Bald eagle

Common loons

Love them all!

Ice Out

The small bit of ice on Boston this morning was completely gone by late afternoon.

Clancy heard loons before dawn.

Leif went kayaking in the evening.

 

Spring

Thanks to the ice being almost out on Boston Lake, there are many wonderful dead things washed up on shore for Lleulu to roll in.

She is very pleased with her smears of stink.

It also appears as though a pair of Sandhill Cranes have taken a liking to our small sheep pasture that is currently void of sheep.  I thought the trumpeters were loud...these cranes produce a true cacophony of croaking!  They make quite a fuss when Lleulu makes her rounds in their area.

Clancy is busy cutting down more trees today....trees we've been meaning to cut for several years now.  It seems as though the spring cleaning is happening out in the yard this year.

Boston Lake Pier

It has been a very dry summer and the lake is down.   The old timbers that were once support for a pier at the south end of Boston Lake are visible once again. 

 

When the original forests were logged off a century ago, the huge logs were floated across the lake and loaded onto the rail spur that bordered the south shore.  The submerged timbers, and the rail bed that became Boston Lake Road, are some of the more noticeable reminders of that era.

 

Our farm shore is in the upper left distance.  Those tall white pines are the trees I often photograph with the sheep.  And the spruce spears are next to our house.

 



Lleulu

Since Pooja died this spring I have been looking for a replacement LGD.  Shachah is older (8) and it was obvious that he really appreciated having a partner LGD to work with.

Enter Lleulu (lulu).

She will be coming home to Boston Lake next week. 

She has been receiving excellent love and training at her birth farm in Iowa called

The Country Hatch.

Check out their website for all types of poultry breeds.  Kristin at TCH even has some Shetland Ducks!

This will be my first experience training an LGD.  I am sincerely hoping Shachah will help me out a bit.  And since I am not breeding the ewes for next spring, Lleulu won't encounter lambs until she is about two years old.  One LGD breeder told me that could be a good thing since Lu will probably be past her 'chew-small-animals' stage then.  Rest assured, I am doing tons of reading and preparation for this new little girl.  She comes from a long line of guardian dogs.  If she fulfills her potential she will bring a lot of peace of mind to both me and Shachah.  I know he can handle a great deal.  But we have some heavy predators around here, such as bear, puma, and timber wolf.  Just this week a neighbor had a mature black bear by his back door that came toward him when he yelled.  People like to feed the bears out of their cars at the dumps around here.  Perhaps it was expecting a treat.  Regardless of the reason for this bear's behavior, I feel better having a team of LGD's at my farm.  We see predators like this every few weeks, year-round.  I don't mind if they are out in the woods, but I don't really want them in my yard.

Little Lleulu has some big (Pooja) shoes to fill.  And I know it will take her a couple of years to develope her skills.  Her breeder tells me she is the pick of the litter, though....very smart!  I feel so privileged to be getting her.

Thank you, Kristin, for raising such a fine pup! 

Early Spring

I can't remember such early warm weather.  In the 70's today.

There is only a little snow left on the ground...

in places it was piled up or in deep shady spots.

Pooja rolled in dead leaves before I took her picture.  Look at those monster-size paws of hers. 

She and Shachah chased a wolf out of the yard just a few weeks ago.  Love these guardians!

There is still ice on the lake, of course.  But probably not for long.  It froze so late this year.  And now it's already melting again.  Clancy will be cutting a couple of the huge birch trees by the shore in a few days.  They are completely dead on top and starting to drop dangerously large limbs.  Hopefully the saplings that spring up will one day replace their beautiful parents.

Megan has been spending more time outdoors now that it is warmer.  Unfortunately, the deer ticks are already out.  Time to start up the tick prevention ointment again.

While on my walk with Pooja & Meg, I noticed this Red-Tailed Hawk flying over the big hayfield.  Not the best photo... but so gorgeous in real life.

And finally... the ewes.  No lambing this spring.  But that just means that last year's lambs get to act like babies for another year.  Spoiled, selfish babies!  I started bringing out animal crackers in an effort to tame down Penelope (Lana's lamb).  She now gets close enough to sniff the cracker in my outstretched hand.  But about the time she is ready to nibble the other three ewe lambs are on top of her, each other, and the cracker!... playing "first piggy to the trough."  They are absolutely greedy over those crackers.  The photo above shows them fixated on the cookie jar through the fence.  I'm not sure if I'm taming Penelope or just training the other lambs to jump up on me.

The Big Guy Saves The Day!

Once again a young bear decided to investigate our yard.

 Last year I chased one away myself while Meg and Greta looked on in horrified silence from the porch.  Though I was glad the bear was frightened away by my scream and charge, I sincerely hoped I would never be faced with such a situation again.

Tonight, Shachah was the hero.

Even though chasing away big bad predators is exactly what a Livestock Guardian Dog is supposed to do, I still think the big guy deserves honor and praise for his gallant work...

Around 9:30pm all three dogs started barking in a vicious manner.  Clancy went out to investigate and came back in to announce that the dogs had treed a bear in the white pine by the house.  I wanted to shoot it, but I ran out to see it first.  The bear was apparently even more afraid of human voices than barking dogs because as soon as Clancy got Greta called off, the bear slipped down the tree and ran for the woods.  The cool thing is that Shachah LET him.  The big guy chased the bear without engaging it in a fight until it was well away.  (The other two chicken-dogs joined in the chase once they were sure Shachah was in control of things.)  Clancy and I walked out to check on the sheep.  All was fine there.  We could see Shachah's dim white form step out of the woods as we walked back to the house in the dark.  He continued to investigate the "crime scene" and willingly accepted a cold hamburger as a token of our esteem.

I love how Shachah didn't fight the bear.  He just made sure it left with a good reason to never come back.  I am continually amazed at the wisdom and grace and courage of these LGD's.

Shachah, you are AWESOME!  Thank you. 

Sunday Swan Return

The Trumpeter Swans have returned to Boston Lake.

They bring me hope.

October Swans

One of the most amazing things about Boston Lake is that a pair of swans choose to nest on the north end every summer.  They are bold birds, apparently finding the shore of our farm tranquil enough to frequently skim alongside.  For as often as I see them up close, I rarely pursue them with a camera.  They seem to know when I am just out doing my chores and when I'm trying to spy on them.  I prefer to help them feel as welcome as possible.

In the early spring and late fall, several swans congregate here.  They spend quite a bit of time socializing before they migrate.  The sound of their wings beating on the water is loud enough to hear from inside the house.  Which reminds me of one of the greatest gifts of living next to Boston Lake: hearing the swans talk to each other in the middle of the night.  They have the clearest voices which can be heard in the wee hours as they gently speak to one another.  It is hard to describe.  Suffice to say that their midnight calls are in complete keeping with the awe-inspiring beauty of the Milky Way and depth of heaven.

These photos were taken from my truck, on the road that borders the south end of Boston Lake.   My camera's zoom seems to be broken...or the batteries are low.  But if you click on them, the photos might give you an idea of just how lovely these majestic birds are.  My heart-felt thanks to the folks that worked so hard to bring Trumpeter Swans back to Minnesota. 

Bald Eagle

Clancy and the boys were working in the back yard a couple of weeks ago.  Some one looked up and there was this beautiful eagle sitting on the old dead tree just east of the back door.  We've seen eagles on this tree many times before.  It must be an advantageous perch. 

The photo is grainy, not because the bird was so far away, but because I have the camera set to the lowest density photo possible...so I can get them to upload on dial-up. 

Wolves in this Wood

Ponderous Leil

It was very windy yesterday. But by 10pm, when Clancy went out to fix the fire, the night was calm and beautiful.

Clancy and the boys found a wolf kill on our driveway early this morning. Several deer had opened up a round bale of good alfalfa a few weeks back. The blood started there and ended a few yards down the road at the carcass. The heart and front shoulder of the fawn were devoured. Tracks were all around. It was simultaneously shocking and natural to behold.

As I passed by, a swirl of black crows twined upward from the remains...only to circle back down again in my rear-view mirror.

Seven hours later, as I returned home, a complete skeleton rose above a rug of hide. Each rib was clean and the spine and legs were visible from a distance. Clancy and the boys reported that the hide was picked clean from the inside. There was even less left of the deer than there appeared to be. The wolves had opened up a carcass. Undisturbed, the crows, the eagles, and perhaps even a fox or coyote, had made short work of their daylight discovery.

There isn't anything left of that carcass for a wolf to eat tonight.

Feisty Ewes
AnnaBelle & Silvy

Not Again

I think I mentioned in the last post that I took Greta Grub into the vet on Monday to have quills removed. (She's the furry face in the side bar.) That day didn't turn out so well. I was out of sorts when I picked up Greta-only to learn she had a staff infection on her skin that required antibiotics. Something to do with folic-itis or something. My conversation with the vet didn't go so well. I chalked it up to being really tired-and he agreed that I did indeed look really run down. Like I needed serious rest. "You're going to go home and take a nice long nap, right?" he soothed. You know you are a mess when a stranger is concerned about your health. Yes, I was tired, but I would like to think I was just having a really bad day and it showed.

Well, since that humiliating experience, I've made a few more trips to the vet...

It's a very good thing the sheep have been sheared-it probably saved Arvada's life. Monday I noticed that he was looking pot bellied. I made a mental note to de-worm him soon. Tuesday morning I found Arvada as ballooned as I've ever seen an animal before. Full term pregnant ewes can't even compare. So I mixed up the bloat remedy from my sheep book and did my duty administering it and holding a dowel in his mouth until he started burping. Eventually his side bulges reduced and I left him to burp the rest on his own. I repeated this remedy again Tuesday evening as it seemed he was puffing up again. Throughout all of this he was snorty and ornery and still very interested in eating.

Wednesday morning I looked forward to a nicely recovered ram lamb. What I found was Arvada even more bloated than before and huffing for breath. I treated him again and sensed that I was only slightly diminishing the problem-not solving it. So I called up the vet in Gonvick and they could see him in the early afternoon if I brought him up there. Thank goodness Shetlands are small and they fit in dog crates!

Somewhere in all this worry I consulted my friend Gail and also Clancy. The real puzzle is that Arvada had been on pure alfalfa for 2 months, and I switched him to a regular grass bale the day I noticed his pot belly. He has not had a single blade of fresh grass yet, nor has he had any grain. And my other three rams on exactly the same diet were just fine. I was pretty anxious this could be something more sinister than bloat since there didn't seem to be any ordinary causes for it.

Arvada traveled really well and the vet was able to see us right away. She was super great with him-a true gentle soul. She decided to put a tube down into his rumen to see what type of bloat he had. It was frothy bloat: which meant that his rumen was full of noxious "soap suds" rather than just pent up air. If it had been air the tube would have released it and everything should have been a lot better for him. Instead, she administered a heavy dose of mineral oil into the tube and that was that.

I had been worried about water belly as a possible cause of his state, but he relieved us of all doubt by peeing on my shoe while we were working on him. When the tube got pulled out of his mouth it sprayed me head to toe with mineral oil. I'd like to think it was the oil still in the line, but I'm pretty sure it was from the submerged end. And I began to think "I put on mascara for this?!!!!" Remember the comment about looking really tired. Oh well.

The minute I got back home I had to unload Arvada, coax all the sheep off the grass back into their pen, and feed everybody. The boys had a performance at school Clancy and I were supposed to go to. We were just a bit late.

Next day, Thursday, Arvada looked a lot better, but still puffed up after his morning meal. Since the boys had a choir concert that night and we were going to be gone all afternoon and evening, I decided to give him some Rumen-Eze and probiotics. I figured he'd be safe enough till we got back. He was. But Greta greeted us at the door with another face full of porcupine quills.

I told the vet this morning that Greta was looking for a summer job to pay off her vet bills. Truthfully, I think she's becoming an anesthesia junkie.

From the Deep

Snapping Turtles are sooooooo left-over dragons. The boys think so. And really, I'm not about to argue. Myths more harmful than that are believed everyday.

Asa took this picture Sunday evening. It isn't the biggest turtle we've ever seen, but she was definitely large. (I read somewhere that only females emerge from the lakes to lay eggs and travel. The males stay in the lake all their lives. I'm not sure that's true but I do tend to call snappers "she's.")

The biggest snapping turtle I ever saw was so large it looked like something my Dad couldn't have lifted. It had emerged from Upper Puposky Lake and was trying to lay it's eggs in the gravel at the edge of the road, about a mile from the house I grew up in. Each plate on it's shell had a horn, like the tail spikes. The tail itself was so ridged it looked like an alligator tail. The claws were fearsome. It could raise it's head almost as high as Dad's knee. And it's entire shell was encrusted with moss and "barnacles" like the bottom of an old ship.

It must have been a very old turtle. I was convinced it was around during the dinosaur age. Maybe it's grandmother was...

What does our reaction to such a creature say about us?

The boys and I tend to make up stories about where the turtle has lived and which dinosaurs and dragons it has swam with. We speculate about it's secret lair and how mysterious it's underwater life must be.

Sometimes, after seeing a snapper alongside the road, we might see it run over the next day in that same place. Obviously, someone went out of their way to kill it, only to leave it behind...shell, meat, claws, everything.

Acts of cruelty like that...what compels someone to behave that way? Are these people deeply offended by the predatory mystery of this animal?

Last month my Mom looked out her window, and she saw a tawny cougar crouching beneath the trampoline about 20 feet from the house. A tremor of fear rippled through my entire family that day. We changed several patterns of behavior - just like the the person who swerves off the road, I guess. I confess to wishing I could kill that cat so I knew it wasn't a threat anymore. The DNR claims cougars in Minnesota are not a threat. Do people that kill snappers simply feel like I do about cougars in the forest? They just get more opportunity to live out their reactionary fear?
I don't know.

A few weeks after the cougar siting, I read that the cougar is a symbol of leadership and power. I relayed this to Mom and we discovered some profound meanings the cougar could symbolize for her. After that I no longer wanted to kill the cat. I just wanted it to never harm my family.

I've been dreaming about a cougar lately. These dreams are disturbing, to say the least. But I believe dreams come to us from the depths of our psyche...the depths of the universe...the depths of God.

Who can tell where the ancient snapping turtles come from? Do we see them rise from the surface of the water, expected? Usually they magically materialize at the edge of our paths. All of a sudden, a messenger from an unfathomable place is before us, displaying evidence of worlds we don't fully understand. We can swerve to kill that messenger. We can sometimes ignore it. Or we can look and listen; radiating and absorbing our fears for whatever they may be.

The cougar in my dream is only looking at me. It chooses to sleep behind the red barn of my childhood, or on the slope down to the lake. It isn't hurting anything. But awareness of it's presence causes me to be very agitated in the dream. I'm convinced it is dangerous. In the dream, eventually I want to provoke it so that I can have an excuse to kill it.

I'm not really that different than the person that swerves the car to hit the turtle, am I? Time to visit the depths of my soul, and face the mystery of my own fears...once again.

Birds, Birds, Birds

I had to change the little sidebar photo this morning because Mr. Rooster no longer exists. Our beautiful barred rock fellow started getting a little aggressive this spring. He had just turned two and that seems to be the age when a rooster tries to take on more of the farm management than just the running of his own flock of hens.

He had attacked me three times already. The first two times were completely unprovoked and I didn't even see him coming. I'm a little freaked out by chickens anyway, and his surprise attacks did little to secure his place here on the farm. Yesterday, I had the sheep out on the lawn and I had to move the chicken feeder so they wouldn't eat out of it. Mr. Rooster didn't like my interference with his food dish, even though he has the run of the whole blessed farm. He got me pretty good twice until I managed a defensive kick to his chest. Then he backed me all the way up onto the porch, where he finally let me go. I can honestly say I hated him during that little ordeal.

Once again I demanded from Clancy that he get rid of the beast. This terror could really hurt my young nephew or the boys if he decided to attack them. Yet again I heard how the job would get done just as soon as my darling had some spare time.

Well, this morning, while doing chicken chores, Mr. Rooster attacked my poor husband inside the chicken coop. The chicken coop is about 3.5 x 6 feet, and only 5 feet tall at the peak. I can only imagine the rodeo of that event, and how many times Clancy banged his head on the rafters while trying to dodge the rooster. I'm not laughing. Really. I'm NOT laughing! ;)

Out of breath and indignant, Clancy marched in the house to tell me the rooster had been disposed of. I thought he had finally decided I really meant those last three ultimatums. No, the rooster had attacked HIM and so the menace met a swift and justified end. Apparently Clancy knocked him down with a chunk of wood, and chopped off his head before he came to.

I told Clancy I would be making light of this situation. It is, after all, perhaps a universal experience for wives? Nothing is wrong with the car until HE drives it...There is no snake under the porch until HE sees it... Shame on me. I am really ribbing him way too much. He knows I'm teasing though. :)

Since the rooster had to be removed, I thought I would replace him with a photo of the beautiful swans that visit us here at Boston Lake. Almost any day, we can see them near our shore, or far out on the lake like brilliant sailboats. Each time I see them, I am filled with reverence for this beautiful place God has allowed me to live in.

And finally, I can introduce our two new cockatiels properly: Meet Bette and Greybird. They love to be with us while we eat and sit. Leif is doing his homework here, with the birds on his shoulders. My son would prefer it known that he is wearing my old sweater because the birds like the texture for climbing...and it's already dirty. In "real life" he would not be caught dead wearing my sweater. He is too cool for that.

Pre-teen, parent-induced mortification aside, cockatiels really are exquisite little birds. :)

Trumpeter Swans

Since last Friday, Trumpeter Swans have been flocking to Boston Lake. They seem to be gathering together for their upcoming migratory flight.

One pair of swans, and their two pearly grey cygnets, have been on the lake for quite a few weeks. They swim as a family unit distinct from the incoming swans.

On Saturday morning, as I drove past the south end of the lake where the road actually is the shoreline, I counted fourteen swans. They were so close to the road that I held my breath and slowed the truck. Incredible. Eventually they drifted farther away from the shore and I went on my way.

Later that same day I snapped this photo. Unfortunately, I had just adjusted the camera to produce the least-dense image possible. Again, I missed my opportunity to share a really stunning photo of these magnificent birds. But I will never forget the awesome beauty of seeing so many Trumpeters at once.

Trumpeter Swans

Today couldn't be more beautiful: blue sky, drifts of brown crunchy leaves piled up against every windbreak...

The swans were floating just off the shoreline of Boston Lake this morning. They moved farther out into open water as I approached to take their photo. Too bad I only had my ancient digital cam-corder on hand. Trumpeters are exquisitely beautiful, and that was not exactly captured with this shot.

More beautiful than its gracefulness is the voice of the Trumpeter. These swans do call out quite loudly when they are alarmed or when they greet incoming swans, or fly over the farm. But they talk to each other quietly out on the lake as well. The honk is so subtle that it seems one shouldn't be able to hear it. Except that its purity rings through the air like the clearest chime of a bell.

The whispers of swans to each other can't fully be described. I scarcely believed in its reality the first time I heard it. All I have been able to liken it to in my own mind is the sound attributed to angles' trumpets in the Bible...heard from the distance of heaven.