a dirty day
It's been raining for days. The ground can only take so much. The soft, often-trampled dirt and straw that makes up the sheeps' pen had become a bog. I didn't realize how bad it was until I saw Maude and Sal laying under a tree in a rainstorm. I couldn't understand why they'd opt for a tree when they had a perfectly wonderful custom-built structure across the pen? Then I noticed the 6 inches of mud inside. And not just mud, but mud and rain water in a stew of sheep feces and rotting straw. I walked in there and it smelled like nothing I had ever smelled before. It was putrid. No wonder the sheep had been avoiding it. It smelled like the way a perm smells out of the bottle, but mixed with burning hair and rotting shit-soaked straw. Not a delightful way to spend your Saturday afternoon.
How did this decline so fast? Three days ago this shed was dry, the straw compacted and solid. But the rain and the slight grade downhill sent all the water into their bedding. This would not do. I had to roll up my sleeves, pick up a pitchfork, and get that stuff out of there.
Which I did. And it was exhausting. For everyone out there thinking about taking on livestock, know that while the lambs and wool are heavenly...there are days where you do nothing but exist in shit. For hours I pitchforked and shoveled their pen. he weight of the wet straw and mud was ridiculous. My back and arms screamed for me to stop, but I knew if I did I couldn't pick up that fork again. So I kept going till the entire shed was empty. I created a three-foot pile of the waste outside their pen. I looked down at my hands and new blisters were already opened and bleeding.
It was still better than any task at the office. Which is how I am certain I'm cut out to be a shepherd someday. You get me my land and some good fences and a border collie and I will be a force to be reckoned with.
When the ground was clear I laid down fresh, clean, straw. I will go back in tomorrow if the rain stops and do more, but at least I was able to get their shelter back in order. And I know my work was well worth it because Sal went right back in and curled up in his spot. And when the rain came that night, and was hitting the tin roof on the porch, I knew two sheep had a clean, dry place to wait it out. So that's something.
It's Sunday morning. I woke up feeling like I'd been hit by a truck. I covered myself in sore muscle badger balm and went outside to let the sheep into their little pasture and feed the chickens. Right now I'm going to take Finn for a drive down to Wayside to pick up the Sunday paper. He sticks his head out the window sometimes, which is a riot.
You folks have a nice day. Check back later for garden photos and a veggie update.