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Friday, March 05 2010


I've said it before and I'll say it again. A farm knows when you have some free time and will find some way to eat it up. Other Half and I are both on vacation. I actually had the gall last night to wonder out loud what our plans for today were. I will go on the record and say this was ALL MY FAULT.  This morning New Police Dog got in the pasture with the new sheep.  That was a Very Bad Thing. For all practical purposes, sheep are completely defenseless.  Police dogs are not.

Other Half checked trailers in at the livestock show all last night.  When he came home at 6:30 AM, I turned his police dog out in the yard with Blue Heeler and then we both went to bed. I woke up later to check on them.  Police Dog was chewing on a deer antler outside the bedroom window. (I don't know where she found a deer antler, but it kept her happy and so I didn't question it.) I woke up later to Blue Heeler's furious barking. Police Dog was inside the isolation pasture with the three new sheep.  It was ugly, Folks. It was ugly.

I spared you the photographs because frankly, I didn't think the sheep would survive. I was certain that two of them were goners. Large chunks of flesh were ripped from their hindquarters and both had right hind legs which just dangled. So with only three hours of sleep, Other Half helped me carry sheep back into the barn.  The Porch Pony, St. Napolean, fussed and fretted over one of his sheep buddies who was gravely injured.  When I found her, he had been hiding her behind him.  Bless his little heart.  He is only a Miniature Horse, but he has the heart of Clydesdale.

I was certain that two of the sheep would die of shock, (Thus, no pictures.) but our attempts to save them took up the better part of the day. First we gathered vet supplies. Then we called Friend who is Vet's Wife. Sewing up Sheep was definitely a Three Person Job. That's another thing about farms - they will suck up the free time of your friends too!

Good friends know this and so with good humor and a strong stomach, she joined us in Today's Farm Adventure. Other Half has stitched up cows, horses, and dogs, but he hadn't stitched up my sheep before and so there was a great deal of argument (discussion) about whether or not to use sutures or the new staple gun that he was just dying to try out.  I voted for tried and true sutures. He wanted to play with his new staple gun. We called Vet for advice on the staple gun.  Other Half was delighted to hear a vote for his new gun. (I was outvoted.) We reached a compromise though. He used sutures on part and stapled part. Vet's Wife and I held the sheep while he stitched and tried to repair the hamburger that used to be a hind leg. It was slow work.  Soon we were all smeared with blood, betadine, and sheep poop.

I was still certain that the sheep would die. Other Half insisted that they would survive.

"They're tough," he said. (What Universe does he live in??)

"They're sheep," I pointed out. Sheep are born looking for a place to die. (Turning a police dog in with them tends to speed up the process though.)

So by the time Vet With Actual Diploma arrived, Cow Man with Vet Skills and Two Vet Wanna-Be Assistants had stitched up the two patients. Vet admired Other Half's work.  Other Half preened.  He was quite proud of his job and chided me for not taking pictures. (He was right!  I should have taken pictures.)  I explained that some Readers (most readers) probably didn't want to see photos of mangled sheep. He pointed out that he would liked to have had Before and After pictures of his handiwork.  Touche. This was a good point.

Shortly after suturing up the sheep, Other Half informed me that we were going to the Livestock Show again this evening.  Again???  OH Yess!  The Kids were going and he had told them that we would be there.  Again???  I hadn't done laundry. We had no clean jeans.

And that's how we both ended up at the Livestock show wearing jeans smeared with blood, betadine, and sheep shit. Par for the course when you have a farm.  You know what? We fit in just fine.

When I returned home, I rushed to the barn to check on our patients.  They are still alive. (So is the Police Dog.) Keep your fingers crossed and keep them in your prayers.  (Police Dog too!)

  Today I named her "Jamaica."  (dreadlocks)


  Today I named her "Roany."


Posted by: forensicfarmgirl AT 11:44 pm   |  Permalink   |  0 Comments  |  Email

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