Posted on

Don’t Look in the Pasture

We got new sheep on Sunday. Two lambs, a black and a white one, and then an old sheep named Sofi. Sofi was Melissa’s pet. All three of these sheep are adorable and very sheep like. They don’t have horns or anything, like our other ones. The new ones are Corriedales. Zanimal wanted to take care of the new sheep, so I didn’t feed them today. I just looked at them over the fence, and decided they looked fine.

After Zanimal got home from school, she immediately went out to feed the new sheep some hay and corn. And then came back with a strange and horrified look on her face.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, but… there’s some pigs or something dead in the pasture? I don’t really know what they are.”

“Maybe they are half eaten pumpkins?” I said.

“Then why do they have hooves?”

We went out to investigate. And, inside the small pasture where we are keeping Sofi and the two lambs, there were… ugh. Weird looking dead things. Looking up close, I decided they were deformed, hairless lambs that Sofi must have birthed. Sofi watched from a distance. So did Zanimal. The pink things had hoofs, and tails, and they had no hair, but they were just the right shape for lambs, except they had some deformity in the face. It was like their jaw bones were soft as pudding.

Both were clearly dead.

Looking at them, I could so easily see how people in old times believed in witches and strange, terrifying things in the night. And terrifying things in the day the day. I was queasy and I asked if Zanimal was okay.

“Yeah, I just want to go play Minecraft now,” she said.

So, I found a container with a lid. I put them into it. I carried it across the yard, and I started to dig a hole.

It takes an incredibly long time to dig a hole. It’s a pet peeve of mine in movies, how little time it seems to take people to dig a hole. Digging a hole to bury something (or someone) is difficult and time consuming. Sometimes, the ground is so hard that you just can’t dig a hole at all. I would like to see a murder mystery show where the entire program, the person is just desperately trying to dig a hole and failing at it. But I digress…

I dug the hole and them put them into it. I apologized to them.

“I’m so sorry. You just weren’t meant to live in this world.”

Then I covered them with dirt.

I reflected that, if they were just a little bit more deformed, I could have put them in a glass jar and sold them to some perverse curiosity shop, probably in San Francisco.

A petting zoo up the road lets people pay to come and watch sheep be born. Those people who own the petting zoo are insane. So much can go wrong! And when it goes wrong, it goes so, so wrong.

My friend Jane used to have sheep, before the internet. She once had a sheep born with two heads. It lived for a couple of weeks. They fed it with a bottle.

“The only problem,” she said, “was that we didn’t know which head to feed.”

Posted on

Mulder “Muppet,” Sheep Gigolo

Mulder isn’t really our sheep. Some kind friends have loaned him to us, so that he might get it on with our lady sheep and make more black sheep with great wool! My idea is to eventually make felted top hats with the black wool from all of the sweet little black lambs.

Muppet
Isn’t he cute as a muppet?

This is the second time they have pimped him out to us. The first time, they couldn’t quite remember his name when we picked him up. We thought that tuft of hair on top of his head made him look like a giant muppet, so we named him “Muppet.” Then his family companionators called a couple of days later and said they remembered his name was “Mulder.” By that time, we were already having lengthy conversations with “Muppet,” so the name stuck. I guess Muppet is his street name, for when he’s gigoloing.

Mulder enjoys his work. He’s enthusiastic. The lady sheep sometimes look as if they wish he weren’t quite so eager. But they like him better this time than last year, I think. At least they aren’t running away this time. They huddle together and cautiously peer at him from a safe distance. Give them a few days, though, and they’ll like him a lot (if last year was any indication).

Mulder the Muppet ram
The ram is confident. The ewes are cautious.

He’s a gentler breed than our Jacobs, and also (as you can see) hornless. This makes for an interesting aesthetic: all of the females have big horns, and the male has no horns. Muppet is completely comfortable with his masculinity, and he doesn’t worry about that sort of thing.

Last year’s lambs are a nice bunch, small and black, but all except one are male. We’re hoping for more ewes this year.

 

P.S. Thank you, Mo and Ned, for loaning us Mulder. He’s great.

Posted on

Princess Pink Horn

Princess Pink Horn

Princess Pink Horn

Princess Pink Horn will make her debut at the fourth annual Jangle Soapworks Open House on December second, 2016 at the #1 Old School House at 110 North Second Street, in Mount Horeb, Wisconsin. The open house will run from 4 to 8 PM. Our little art show/ local maker fair coincides with Mount Horeb’s annual Festive Eve. The whole town will have great deals on gifts of a higher caliber than you are probably used to. Come and take advantage of good deals on one of a kind art! Or, just buy people the usual crap you get them this time of year. It’s the thought that counts, right?

The Open House Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/events/1632605080370546/

 

Posted on

Meet the Sheep: Cloudy Wether

Cloudy Wether

Cloudy is such a jerk. He just rams everyone. 

Cloudy was a bottle lamb. He grew up with us feeding him, and he looks at people as his peers. And what do rams do with their peers? Well, they ram them. 

I don’t know what to do with Cloudy. He has great wool, but if you want to go anywhere near him, you have to carry a big stick and poke him with it whenever he looks too excited. He’s actually pretty easy to control. It’s just this idea that we have an animal who charges at us at every opportunity that is a bit bizarre. It’s like staying in an abusive relationship. I currently have a giant bruise on my leg, because I forgot about carrying the big stick the other day, and he rammed me. I scolded him. I don’t think he really understood.

Cloudy Wether
Cloudy Wether

We could butcher him and eat him. Except, you know, he’s our baby Cloudy.

When he was a baby lamb, his mom rejected him. He was so pathetic and sad. He had one ear that wouldn’t stand up. It just flopped over. We thought we still might eat him someday, him being a ram, so we called him, “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” Then I castrated him, and we changed his name to “Cloudy Wether.” So, you see, we are a bit attached to him. So we keep him in a separate area from the more gentle sheep, and we can admire his massive horns from afar.

Posted on

Counting Sheep

Every day, I go out and count the sheep, making sure no one got eaten in the night. I look them over and see how they’re doing. An easy way to tell they are all right is to drive a little farm vehicle beside the pasture, and if they all run after it- well, they’re probably doing okay. I took a movie of this yesterday on my tablet. Then I edited it in the youtube editing feature, which I had never used before. You can tell. I got a little carried away. I hope you find this amusing, anyway.

Posted on

No Black Sheep

I don’t want to sound all judgy or anything, but these sheep could have worn something a little less racist looking to go to the Dane County Fair last summer.

 

kkk-sheep-3 kkk-sheep-4 kkk-sheep1

 

These sheep were our neighbors (our sheep were in a pen next to them). Their people were really nice people. Am I weird to think these sheep look like they belong in the KKK?

 

P.S. Update: Yes, they do also look like WW1 flight suits. Bad Ass Husband agrees, too. Okay. I am crazy, then.