On Wednesday, I chased a dog out of someone else's sheep. It had put holes in one, and stressed the rest. My sheep are right across the street. I chased the dog all the way home, hoping I'd catch it before it got there. I was planning on wholloping it with the large piece of wood I was carrying. And maybe taking it to the sheriff. Anyone who knows me knows I like dogs- ask the happy collie curled up by the fireplace. I, however, HATE dogs that go after sheep! I've lost sheep to a dog. It's never "Not my dog!" Nevermind the other dangers a loose dog faces, like cars. Just keep your dam dog contained.
Okay, on to better things, of a various and sundry sort.
This is the first year I don't have a Cotswold ram. I was going to borrow a cross-bred ram lamb, but decided he probably couldn't reach the necessary parts of my very tall ewes. Then I hurt my back and couldn't move for a week, and so my ewes are just now getting bred- roughly six weeks later than usual. Instead of a ram lamb, I borrowed the ram lamb's sire, Tex, KT's unoriginally named Texel. I personally think Tex is an ass- he's one of the few rams who has come after me more than once, and his daughters are kinda whacko. He does, however, throw a nice market lamb, and I'm not planning on keeping any of these crosses. And my ewes like him. Maybe it's his big, hulking body. Maybe it's the funny faces he makes as he chases them around. Maybe it's the way he tries to mount them when they're eating. Probably it's the bloody head wound caused by Clint, the one-horned Katahdin ram.
This Tuesday is Turkey Day. No, not Thanksgiving. My seven Norfolk (Spanish) Black and five Broad Breasted Bronze turkeys are headed to the freezer. I really like turkeys. They're hilarious. The Blacks are a heritage breed, and they're spectacular. The three big toms have been gobbling and strutting and generally acting like horny teenage boys for a few weeks, and they've provided endless entertainment. When one hen turkey gets loose, and Nick puts her back (yes, my Border Collie likes working turkeys), the toms court her like they've never seen her before. I kinda doubt turkey's memory... In any case, I'll be sad to see them go, but happy to have fewer chores to do (and a lower feed bill). I am looking forward to getting a box of little turkey peep-peeps in the mail next year. (Yes, I know. They're 'poults'. But I like peep-peeps better!)
Hot buttered rum. I love them. I'm drinking one now. I mean, it's alcohol and fat and sugar, what's not to like?
Potimarron Squash. It's a French heirloom variety, from 'potiron' for pumpkin and 'marron' for chestnut. Describes the flavour right on- sweet, but nutty. The texture, however, is not at all like a pumpkin. Instead, the Potimarron is a dry-fleshed squash, like a Kabocha, and totally smooth- not a hint of stringy-ness. I just roasted off a home-grown one to make into a pie tomorrow. I'll let you know how it turns out.
Kim & I are taking Sable (Nubian goat) and Amelia (Sable's half-Saanen doeling) to Anacortes to hang out with Hershey tomorrow. Hershey is a poorly named but very handsome black Nubian buck. Hopefully, next April, we'll have some of our own handsome Nubian bucklings. For once, I actually want males. We don't need any more goats, and it's easier to send even a good looking buckling to the freezer. And, as Kim discovered at Qulisascut, goat is delicious.
Derek Fisher was here this week, and we had lots of fun working dogs. Nick & I learned a few things, but I'll save that for another post... When I haven't had a hot buttered rum... or two.