Buried Alive!

 A typical morning starts with me feeding grain to my goats, sheep and pig @7:30 in the morning.  It is a feeding frenzy.  I don't understand why the sheep and goats nearly knock me down for the grain in my buckets, when they have been feasting all night and day on a big round bale of mixed alfalfa.  Every morning is the same.  At 730, I look out the window, and I see them looking at me through the fence waiting for it.  As soon as my garage door opens the choir starts up: baa! baa! baa! They will not stop until I bring them grain.
  Amongst the small flock of goats and sheep lives Louis, our black pot belly pig.  He was a birthday gift for my youngest daughter a year and a half ago.  He weighed only a couple pounds when we first got him and he was still being bottle fed.  At first he lived in our house, but soon he began to expand to a whopping 80 lbs.  And when he started rooting on my wood floor, it was time for Louis to enjoy the great outdoors.  He adapted quickly to living outside and probably enjoys the ability to root around for buried treasure.  Surprisingly, despite fur, Louis can survive -30.  He has a wonderful ability to plough himself deep into old hay and straw.  It has happened that I (or the goats/sheep) have stepped on him without seeing him, but he certainly lets it be known if you do!  His squeal can be ear piercing!
  So, yesterday morning, as I fed the goats and sheep, Louis did not coming bursting forth from underground hovel, nor from the bale of hay as usual.  He was no where to be found.  I called for him, and I gently stepped in the soft hay around the round bale where he typically buries himself.  I looked closely at the bottom edge of the round bale where I could see nose hole sized openings.  Could he have dug himself into the bottom of the round bale?  The hay was warm and rotting at the bottom, a perfect spot for a pig to make a toasty hovel.  I pulled out clumps of the wet hay and reached into the opening, suddenly a squeal like no other burst forth from the bottom of the bale.  Louis was under the bale!  I pulled more wet soggy hay out and found that Louis was wedged and stuck under the bale.  As the sheep and goats had eaten away at the bale, the bale had tipped over and was crushing Louis.
  I ran back to the house and asked Kaitlyn to come help get her pig out.  We pulled at the hay and tried to dig Louis out.  I was afraid that eventually the weight of the the 1000lb bale was going to crush the air right out of Louis and we wouldn't see him until Spring thaw...but we had to try to free him.  He was still screaming so he was still alive and breathing!  Then, Kaitlyn and I were able to finally push the bale upright enough that Louis was able to wriggle himself out from underneath it all.  Finally he made it out, without a scratch or broken bone!! It was amazing.
  Louis had sought shelter in the warm and cozy hay; but it had nearly cost him his life.  It reminded me that we  too can be seeking comfort in what looks good for us; sometimes comfortable can also be deadly for us.  We need to carefully evaluate our situation, not always seeking warm and cozy.  Life can always shift, like the weight of the round bale. We need to evaluate and be aware of our situation.  Thankfully we have a good shepherd who is able to meet our needs and be a game changer; like we were able to do for Louis.

Dear Louis,
Next time you want a warm cozy place to lay, please do not bury yourself underneath the bottom of a 1000lb round bale, I may not always be around to hear your squeal and dig your fat butt out!

Grief and Gratitude

Today is another beautiful day in paradise.  The sun is shining and it is bright against the snow.

All is peaceful; the guardian dogs are quietly laying amongst the sheep and goats.  Then, I hear the sound of a tractor coming down the drive.  One of my neighbours has stopped by in his John Deere.  I have previously learned that in Farmington, one should always be dressed  appropriately to do your morning chores, as you never know when someone should just pop by for a chat...I cheerfully greeted my neighbour and anticipated some interesting community news.  However, his face told me that he came for another reason: he told me that he had come to give me bad news.  My first thought was that a neighbour had fallen sick or had been hurt on the farm.  No, it was more personal than that...was it my son working on a gas site?  Or my husband in a highway accident?  Finally, he told me that we had a dead horse in the field.  It didn't register, because only 15 minutes ago, I had seen our horse herd travelling the pasture fence line.  He told me that the horse was laying dead next to the feeder. We have not been spared the tragedy of losing a horse (and the bigger the animal the bigger the heart break!).  My heart skipped a beat.  As I looked out onto our field, I could see that the horses had moved back to the hay and the feeders...I booked it across the field to see who was laying at the feeder.  I could see a chestnut down with stiff legs off the ground....Ace!  All I could think about was how was I going to tell my youngest daughter that her little prized boy was dead? I called to him, but he laid still..no movement.   As I touched him warm in the sun, he stirred.  He was alive!  I burst into grateful tears. Thank the Lord for his mercy and grace!  Then laughter filled my heart.  It has happened before that we have mistaken sleeping horses for illness.  Ace had been laying on a mound of hay that propped his legs up...it truly looked like rigor had set in.  It was so funny, I wish I could have taken a picture of it.  But once he was stirred, he was up.

My neighbour was sorry that he had scared me...and I am grateful that he thought enough to take time to pull up with his tractor (to move the dead body?) and bring me the bad news.  I am grateful that I was spared having to tell my daughter bad news today.  I am grateful that our animals are alive and well.  I am grateful that I am alive and well.  I won't be one of the 10 lepers who forget to be thankful and worship Him who gave them a new life. (Luke 17:11-19). When one considers all the grief and sad things that happen in a life time; we can be all the more grateful for all the good things that we have the privilege to experience.
And here I am grateful.

"Giving thanks always for all things to God and the Father in the name of our Lord 
Jesus Christ." ! Thess 5:18

Wayward Sheep!

It was a Saturday afternoon early in September, 2012,  that I decided it was time to turn our flock of sheep out on the hay stubble of one of our unfenced pastures.  It had been six weeks that our 6 new mature ewes had bonded with our small flock which consisted of 5 Cashmere goats, 2 milking sheep (Ida and Ewenice), an old white faced sheep named Frost and a crooked legged wether sheep named Shellen.

The sheep were happy to be turned out on fresh grass and kicked up their heels as they ran out onto the pasture.  I returned to my kitchen to start preparations for supper, and I could see the little flock slowly mowing down the stubble.

About half hour later, I peeked out my window to check up on the flock and couldn’t see them from my viewpoint.  So I slipped my boots on to get a better look and realized a wind had come up.  The flock was nowhere in sight!  I quickly grabbed a halter and hopped on the first horse I could find.  We booted it across the field, me bareback on a fat red horse of my daughter’s (it was like riding a table—as wide as she was tall!).  We got clear across 30 acres and the sheep droppings left our field and down the road headed west with the wind.  I turned around home in need of more help.  As I just got in to the driveway, a neighbour pulled up in his pickup to tell me the flock was 2 miles down in our neighbour’s pasture still running with the wind.  I enlisted the help of my two girls: one drove me out to the pasture and the other followed on horseback with her best shepherding dog.  My son drove out in the opposite direction to try to cut the flock off and drive them back to us.  Once I got close enough to the flock they turned their heads to me and I called out to Shellen; he heard my voice and turned back to me.  Soon, the rest of the flock followed.    Out on the open field the flock were scattered and distracted, but I was able to find a drainage ditch and drove them quickly back down to our fields.  It made me think of Psalm 23 He guides me along paths of righteousness. Once on our fields, we all could relax. On the way home, I pondered how Shellen had followed me.  We had spent a lot of time together last winter when I had to mend his broken leg.  I spent hours with him.  Bandaging and applying liniment to his limb and praying over him that we wouldn’t have to put him down.  Back in the OT times, sometimes a shepherd would purposely break the limb of a wayward sheep.  Then in the process of caring for this sheep (carrying it on his back until it could walk again) a special bond would be made with the shepherd.  Shellen, my special wether, has proven this to be fact.  He had heard me call and he led the flock back.  The 6 new ewes, had been so skittish, I could not get close enough to them to read their name tags.  They didn’t know me and I didn’t know them.  That began the process for me to develop that special bond with them.  I started by bringing in grain and little treats like bread to them.  In a couple weeks I was able to read all their names: Abba and Aboo (twins—flock leaders gray speckle faced), Polka (white sweet faced), Banjo, Jeannie and Vanessa (black faced and quiet).  Now months later, I call them and they come running.  Aren’t we all like sheep?  Do we listen to the voice of our good shepherd who looks after all our needs? He makes me lie down in green pastures…and He knows me by name.

Now to work on the training of the guardian dogs (Mercy and Goodness aka Georgio and Ted).  LOL!