Storm clear up

When the dogs went out the other day they were startled to find woolly monsters rustling in the bushes. We've had several small trees fall over or shed bits of themselves in the storms recently so there are branches fallen all over the farm. Recovery work is slow. Mainly because once the trees are down they pose no real danger and there is so much else to do that the simple task of clearing up gets put on the back burner. So the sheep like to assist with clearing storm trees. They particularly like to assist with the tasty ones.
Gimli and Elrond are currently in the ram yard grazing that before reseeding. In an unforseen bonus a wind gust dropped an acacia in full flower on their fence. It was an opportunity not to be missed. A lolly scramble!

They munch the further branches using teamwork. Gimli's a bit short to reach them and has to put his head through the fence whilst the leggy Elrond leans over the top. Elrond pulls the branches down to Gimli who holds them, chewing delightedly, whilst Elrond munches the higher parts.

Wilber watches, intrigued. The younger sheep invite him over, giggling. He's always cautious, but discovers the sweet acacia buds, only in flower for a few weeks now, are a culinary delight not to be missed. Gourmet grazing.

Even when they've stripped the reachable branches bare the wethers keep reaching for more, licking the bowl and scraping their plates. Elrond chews the last tasty morsels of bark off each stick, much to Wilber's amusement.

We'll throw them the rest in portions each day as we clear up too. They'll have a wonderful lunch and leave us just with a pile of sticks for kindling. Perhaps the council should employ sheep as storm debris crew?

Gentle Giant

The bachelor lads were crutched separately due mainly to the innocent young females in the rest of the flock not ready for breeding but still very attractive to rams. Putting the lot together would probably result in unwanted teenage pregnancies. The only ram here is Wilber the coloured Merino who is a gentleman but a slave to testosterone nonetheless. Gimli, the older pet, and Elrond, last year's orphan live with him for company. Gimli had been through this crutching business before and looked for an escape route.


Elrond had no idea what crutching was, who the new voices were or anything much outside his breakfast. Sometimes being blind has advantages.


Being pets, they follow us like dogs and Mr Shearer had no problem tipping them over for a quick shave. Wilberforce is a little more wild, having lived in an enormous commercial flock previously. Several months of living with sheep who think they are humans has rubbed off though, and he submitted quietly to the new haircut. He ended up with a mohawk.

It's not really his look although he has the pierced ears and tattoos to go with it. He could probably pretend to be a big, mean, wild ram but his good breeding and sweet nature mean
he is not deceptive. A little puzzled at the world perhaps, sometimes scared and often contemplative, but generally just wanting to mingle with the flock and graze. A gentle giant.

Shed for blokes

Part of the rearrangement of accommodation required for the shearer to do the crutching was moving the bachelor boys to a smaller yard. Since the ram yard is - most helpfully - inaccessible to vehicles and the only other small yard is the lamb yard, that is the one the boys got. Imaginative names for yards aside, this one has a shed for shelter rather than trees. We thought they'd miss their huge old pine tree but they've all huddled up to the shed with enthusiasm. Cold southerly winds probably helped.


Before we landed here it was a pony shed. It even has a wash bay, where Gimli is sitting nicely out of the wind, confidently expecting not to be hosed down. Wilber is standing in front of a little shed the former owners used for feed storage. It's supposedly vermin proof but we think that was a sales pitch because if you open the door you are stampeded by mice and rats. We think they can get in but not get out again.


Elrond spent the summer of his youth (one, given he is not yet a year old) in this yard and gambolled into it like meeting an old friend. He does tend to gambol everywhere but we know he likes it here because he takes advantage of the sun's winter angle and spends most of his time basking on the hay in the lamb shed, despite all the good grass in the yard. We fox-proofed the front with gates and wire but he doesn't see it as a prison. He seems to see it more as holiday home.

A bit be-Wilbered

Wilber has been without his harem for a few weeks now. He seems to be coping alright with Elrond and Gimli for company. Here he is with his own surprise pink lighting courtesy the rising sun,

He hears the ewes calling from the other side of the valley two paddocks away and sometimes calls back. Otherwise he just stands and listens and thinks.

Poor lad got moved from the ewes three weeks after arriving here, then moved from the flooded ram yard after a heavy storm three weeks after that. His stay in the Pine Paddock is now at the three week mark so he's probably wondering where the next move will take him. He never seems quite certain what is coming next.

Other things on their minds

SO gazes at the hills wondering what's for his breakfast.

Jelly, Wilber, Elrond and Gimli gaze at SO, wondering what's for theirs.

Maximum security

Today's main objective was the second attempt at separating our Merino ram, Wilberforce, from his new harem. Poor chap had just begun to get to know them. In the ramly manner this occurs after the intimate relations, not as a prelude. Three weeks after his move to our place he'd begun to get comfortable, to know who was whom and to mingle with the flock at all times, not just feeding time.

Then we stole them all away. This was no mean feat and involved a tactical plan mapped out and repeated to ensure it covered all contingencies. Stage one involved separating Wil into the raceway adjacent the home paddock serving as the ewe's current residence. This is usually done by bribing everyone with food into the raceway then closing in on the sheep with a portable fence made by each of us wielding a hurdle - sometimes even as a team. Then in the resultant confined space we can grab the required sheep and shunt them back through the drafting gate  where they are directed to the appropriate paddock, yard or enclosure. This needs to be conducted in the correct order as the remainder of the sheep then have to go to whatever other paddock, yard or enclosure they have been allocated. If you're not careful you can snooker yourself. Sheep in the wrong place or the right place too early can block other sheep from moving to their allocated position and so on.

From the raceway we got Wil to the Pine paddock where Gimli and Elrond were wildly excited to see him. They met him a few days ago before he left them to get back to the ladies. Their greeting him like a long lost friend now was met with indifference but at least he didn't try to jump back.

Then all the other sheep and the two alpacas along for the ride were put back into the home paddock by way of simply breaking the temporary hurdle fence and getting it out of the way stat before they injured themselves on it trying to rush past in a frenzy to get to the very exciting new place being the paddock they were in five minutes before.

The raceway now empty and acting as a buffer zone should anyone try showjumping over their respective fences, the separation of the sexes was completed. Then we simply bribed the ram and pet wethers into what was formerly known as the lamb yard - now to become the ram yard - with sheep nuts. Their favourite! Well, Gimli and Elrond were bribed, Wilberforce followed them for moral support.

Everybody else looked on from the hills above, yelling encouragement. Or yelling for their own sheep nuts. Difficult to tell which.

Worries and doubts

Wilberforce has been doing all the right ram-related things, sniffing hopefully around his new harem, pawing the ground, taking the ewes out for sheep nuts or extravagant meals of clover hay and whispering sweet nothings in their ears. Yet no lamb-producing action has actually been witnessed. He still seems a bit bewildered by his new surroundings.

Perhaps the ewes are tired, have headaches or just don't feel like it. The latter is a worry, it's possible they were made pregnant by their younger cousin before he became a series of roasts and cutlets. This would explain why they won't come into season. Perhaps the daylight hours are now too short. Perhaps Wilber is just shy,

or perhaps he just needs time to think about it.

New stud on the block

After much discussion over whether to breed lambs this year (I wanted to, SO didn't) we came to a compromise. We'd breed - or try to - a limited number of coloured lambs. Of course, some of them may be white, but they'd carry coloured genes to breed back to next year. To that end we needed a ram. Rather, the ewes needed a ram.

We bought a ram today, a big move since actually buying a ram instead of hiring our shearer's rams means we are admitting to seriously getting involved with sheep-breeding. Sort of. If being serious means mixing up your breeds completely.

We got this lad from the Lower North - flat wheat, sheep and barley country. Very different to our land but he'll adapt. Actually he's not really a lad, being a bit long in all his teeth and a cull from the 1300 acre sheep farm where he'd been working. Coloured rams probably abound in the Adelaide Hills, but we couldn't find any. Commercial wool properties usually cull anyone with a bit of colour due to no coloured fibres allowed in the wool clip. Our shearer, the invaluable John, put us onto a lovely brother and sister team who breed coloured sheep exclusively.

His wrinkly nose is because he is a Merino. This should help to make our subsequent fleeces finer. The Merino breed, not the wrinkly nose. Apart from him we don't have any pure Merinos (but since when, despite our best intentions, did we stick to one breed in any animal?) He is a dark grey now, but is genetically black. He looks like a bison with the extra Merino folds of shoulder skin, and he looks like he's wearing spats so we called him Wilberforce.

He's in the home paddock as it's the flattest area we've got. He's getting to know the select ten ewes who will hopefully have his children.