Two dogs. Same farm, same activities. One clean, one really not clean. Same roles every day.
Cass refuses to explain.
Tagged: border collies, Cass, Chloe, clean, dirty, Hollow Oak Farm
Two dogs. Same farm, same activities. One clean, one really not clean. Same roles every day.
Cass refuses to explain.
Tagged: border collies, Cass, Chloe, clean, dirty, Hollow Oak Farm
Perhaps spring is coming — Cass and Luc had their first chipmunk hunt this evening. Chloe is still figuring out how she fits into the household; she desperately wants to join in the game, but she’s rarely clear what game Luc and Cass are playing.
It’s worth watching with the volume up, as the chipmunk announces itself, and then makes a brief appearance. I’ve spent years wondering what the evolutionary benefit of the chipmunk’s chip could be… It seems that my dogs rarely realize that a chipmunk is present until they hear the vocalization (though in this case, Luc found it by scent, and Cass joined in), and then they start chasing, so you’d think the better strategy would be to shut the fuck up. I’ve come up with many hypotheses to explain this, none of which seems entirely plausible, but the two top finishers are:
If anyone has a better idea — or actual information — I’d love to hear it.
Tagged: Cass, chipmunk, Chloe, fitting in, Hollow Oak Farm, hunting, Luc, spring, Tamias striatus, unclear on the concept
Yesterday was another gray, chilly day of early spring, but as I looked more closely at the ground, I realized that the pasture was starting to come out of dormancy.
I love the change of seasons because it brings me astonishment and joy at completely predictable events.
Today we regressed a bit.
I was worried yesterday that I’d have to start managing the sheep differently to keep them from overgrazing and killing the new growth of grass, but now I guess I have a little more time to figure out a plan.
Tagged: border collie, Chloe, dormant pasture, Hollow Oak Farm, new growth, pasture, sheep, snow, spring, winter, young grass
Folks regularly tell me that they can’t tell my three border collies apart — 3 fast-moving, 35-lb, black-and-white dogs… what could the problem be? — so I thought it would be fair to provide a field guide to the herders of Hollow Oak Farm.
Luc is the one who got me started on the path of penury-by-sheep. He’s now 8-½ years old and hasn’t slowed appreciably. He’s got pointy ears, and in poor light is indistinguishable from a coyote. More than one friend calls him Crazy Eyes, which is apt, but I discovered is also the name of a TV character, so I have mixed feelings; I think he deserves his own nickname. Luc is terribly keen to work sheep, but is not very good at it, so he mostly sits out the actual herding.
Cass is the youngster in the house at 2-½, but has designs on world domination, so the others mostly let her have her way. She has floppy ears and lots of black speckles, both of which belie her true nature. She has the classic border collie mind-control gaze, which she deploys equally on sheep and people holding tennis balls. Cass had irregular access to sheep until we moved to the farm, but now she’s emerging as a very capable herding dog. She and I both have lots to learn about working with sheep, but she’s already the one I want at my side when the shit hits the fan.
Chloe is the newest member of the household, though at 5 she’s the middle dog. Her brown eyebrows make her the easy one to distinguish if she stops moving long enough for you to notice them, and her ears are usually at half mast. She also likes to show you her tongue, handsome as it is. Chloe got to join us because she washed out of the high-pressure world of herding competitions, but she’s been a great farm dog so far. She’s got a calm presence around sheep that balances well against Cass’s intensity.
Tagged: border collies, Cass, Chloe, field guide, Hollow Oak Farm, Luc, Zenit Helios 85mm f/1.5
The weather was the whole story today.
The sheep out on pasture managed to eat for a while before things got crazy (ewes and lambs in the barn seemed to be gloating).
And then the wind started to pick up.
I was feeling some temptation to prepare a revised Beaufort Scale with border collies in mind, but you run out of dynamic range once they become airborne.
It’s late February in northern New England, and it’s been in the mid 60s for the last three days. It feels glorious out, a wonderful respite from the cold, but it’s hard to ignore the little buzz in the background suggesting that unusually warm weather might not be entirely benign. Thankfully, Bill Clinton gave us the answer to all such quandaries: Don’t ask, don’t tell. Four little words to ease the mind and slice through moral turbidity! A vegetarian enjoying the delicious hot & sour soup at a favorite Chinese restaurant? Don’t ask, don’t tell. Your previously broke partner buying lovely gifts with a new credit card? You know the answer…
With my conscience thus assuaged, it was a lovely day on the farm. The south-facing pastures are now free of snow for the moment…
…and all the melting has brought the streams on either side of the fields to a full boil.
The last of the current rotation of barn ewes also lambed this morning.
Once again, the birth seemed to be stalled, so I pulled the lamb after an hour of nose and feet poking out with no further progress. This time, though, the little ram lamb was vigorous from the moment he joined the world.
Tagged: Bill Clinton, border collies, Cass, Chloe, climate change, Don't ask don't tell, lambs, pasture, sheep, spring flood, warm, winter
When I first sat on a tractor — just four months ago — and tried to get it to behave the way I intended, it felt impossibly awkward. Bob Jones, my friend and guide to all manner of machinery, assured me that in time I would be able to pick my nose with it, though he employed a less-genteel metaphor. I still buy toilet paper, but the tractor has fast become a partner, helper, and sometimes extension of self.
I’ve been meaning to modify part of the barn to make it work as a safe space for winter lambing, but the ewes didn’t look particularly pregnant, and there’s always something more pressing. I also wasn’t especially looking forward to lugging around all the materials I’d need to do the buildout. Well, this week a couple of the ewes started looking alarmingly big, and the barn project suddenly became the more pressing thing; looking for half-frozen newborn lambs by headlamp in a snowy pasture seemed like a very bad way to start my career in animal husbandry.
I was still dreading moving the lumber and plywood for the project, and then I remembered that I have a tractor (this happens much more frequently than it should). With forks on the loader, I picked everything up, brought it to the door of the barn, and got it all inside with only a little grunting. I’m hoping I can turn the almost-empty barn into a proper lambing facility in the next couple of days. Updates coming.
It was warm and foggy today, a little January thaw. Nice to be in short sleeves for a change, but lots of ice and mud to pay for it. Twenty degrees colder and a few inches of snow would certainly make the farm work better, though I can’t believe I’m having that thought…
Tagged: border collies, Cass, Chloe, fog, Hollow Oak Farm, Luc, sheep shit, thaw
Chloe has appointed herself Watcher of Milton since she joined the family in September. (We have ongoing negotiations about how much space I need for various tasks: trying to convince her that she can’t be between my foot and my hand when I’m putting on socks; explaining the mechanics of a human male using the toilet.) This afternoon, she was making sure that I was keeping up with the firewood needs of the property. While my tree supply is essentially limitless, the outdoor wood boiler (more on this beast soon) is very hungry, and I only started putting up the winter’s supply in October. I’ve come to learn that the wood from ash trees is more or less dry enough to burn well as soon as it’s cut, so I was happy to split a couple of days worth of ash logs after lunch. I’ve also learned that ash trees in this part of the world are doomed as a result of exotic beetles and diseases, so my forester friend tells me to cut them all down while they’re still solid enough to burn.
Tagged: ash, border collie, Chloe, dog, firewood, New Hampshire, snow, Sullivan, Timberwolf, winter, wood splitter