Don't let his "ah, shucks" expression fool you. This guy's been up to no good. At morning chores I was startled to discover the entire ewe lamb group in the breeding pen along with Teaberry and the ewes. I ran through the pasture to check the gate that separates the two adjacent paddocks. From a distance it appeared closed which mystified me until on closer inspection I saw that the latch had been bashed out of shape. In fact, the staple that held the latch was nearly pried from the post. 

So Holly rounded everyone up into catch pens and we spent the first part of the morning sorting sheep. The little girls are now on fresh pasture on the opposite side of the road. Thinking back to yesterday, I recall seeing a few of the little ewes gazing flirtatiously through the fence. Those little pop-tarts. I should know that a gate is not enough to stop a ram.

I've marked the date of the incident on the calendar and we'll just have to watch the girls closely come late February. Good grief.

Elsewhere on Patten Hill.  My neighbors' fowl have run of a patch of pasture. I love their hen hut on wheels. The guineas raise the alert every time I run by and got very agitated when I stepped closer to take some pics. I am living vicariously through my neighbors chickens. Last summer I had hoped to get some layers. I'm not interested in raising meat birds but would love my own supply of fresh eggs. Maybe next year.

Last week Teaberry, our Cormo ram, came down from the hilltop in Andy's truck. We call the ram's first day with the ewe flock "big love day". Lots of excitement. Teaberry waited patiently in the truck while we adjusted sheep coats on the ladies and trimmed their toenails. He needed no coaxing to enter the pen, so happy to greet his girls.

All of the Cormo ewes have lambed before, so this group is looking pretty happy and settled. Everyone knows what's expected. Tea is not wasting any time. I can always tell which ewe he's pursuing; they'll always be standing together, sometimes a little ways off from the others. If he's standing with two ewes, then it's likely that both ewes are cycling and vying for his attention.

He had been following the ewe standing just to his left all morning; hence the brown marks on her coat. It appears the ewe in the back left has also been receiving attention.

Here taking a breather. 

Teaberry isn't the only ram at work. I've decided to give our junior moorit ram, Chai, a test run. He's in with 5 black cross sheep, though I'm not sure how lucky he's been. They're all much older, except for Stella, and also larger than Chai. And at first they were completely dismissive. Poor little guy. I've only seen him show interest in one ewe, Comet, a few days ago. He seemed to be figuring things out and she was being patient.

You might be wondering why I'm using a ram lamb for breeding this year. We're fishing for the moorit color gene, a recessive trait for true brown coloration, in our ewes. It seems the most likely place to find the gene is in our mixed bred ewes of color, since they have the greatest genetic diversity behind them. Since our Cormos have all been bred away from color, the likelihood that a Cormo ewe may carry the recessive moorit gene are smaller.

Several of my fine black wool ewes are now middle age, by sheep standards. I don't want to lose this year to try for moorit lambs. It will be so interesting to see what happens. If Chai gets lucky, that is. That's him in the center, flanked by Comet, left, and Star, right. Comet, Star and Ursa are sisters, three of a set of quads born to Cocoa in 2004. Their brother, Oreo, lives in NY state. They are black sheep (you can tell by their black faces and legs), even thought their wool has faded in color with age.

Elsewhere on Patten Hill today . . .

My neighbor's bull, taken with my iphone camera while on my morning walk.

At dusk I stood on the stone wall behind the barn while I waited for the flock to come in for dinner. I called them in from the pasture and let them take their time filing through the gate, slowly picking their way across the wet ravine beside the barn. They always balk at that, hate to get their hooves muddy. If the goats are in the lead, the sheep hesitate. Experience has taught them not to crowd the goats or they'll get a nasty butt with the horns. Caitlyn always brings up the rear.

With the change in season, grass is diminishing. I can tell – the sheep are pretty hungry when they come in at night. They make a bee line for the feeders.

Mishka, my youngest golden, and I took a little walkabout after chores. Visited the neighbors cows, who were also having dinner against a lovely backdrop.

And ended up at the Patten District sign. I'm not sure why there is a huge map sign for Patten Hill (or "the Patten" as the locals call it).  It shows the location of most of the farms and families who live within the neighborhood. Except our farm still has the name of the previous owners. I think maybe you have to live here for several generations to get your name on the sign.

I've noticed a huge drop in tourist traffic, both around the farm and in the village, now that leaf peeping season has gone by. I actually love the muted colors and soft beauty of this time of year. The woodlands are exposed and it's easier to see the bones and contours of the landscape.

I'm trying to enjoy it while it's quiet. When deer hunting begins in a few weeks, it won't be safe to walk at dusk. On the drive home I spotted two does. The stags must be in the vicinity, although so far I've only spotted one. Our land is posted, all 220 acres of it. If the deer are smart, they'll hang out at the farm!

I've been saving these pictures I took at the New York Sheep & Wool Festival to share with you today. These jack-o-lanterns were in the booth of Hugh McMahon, master pumpkin carver. I didn't get to see much of the festival, but I was glad I didn't miss meeting Hugh and seeing him at work (this is why I love sheep festivals, where else would you find such a spectacular flock of  lamb-o-lanterns?). 

Enjoy.

A Merin-o-lantern.

A Cormo-lantern?

I think this one might be a Leicester-Lantern.

There were even a couple llama-o-lanterns. (Crackerjack and Caitlyn are so pleased).

Happy Halloween from me & the flock!

Our Rhinebeck homecoming just happened to coincide with the first decent stretch of dry weather in nearly four weeks. While Mike and I unpacked the van, Norm wended his way through the fields cutting large swaths in the dense grass with his Kuhn mower. Clear skies and a light dew fall Monday night made for excellent drying time on Tuesday, perfect for tedding and raking. Then we let the breeze do its work, rustling through the windrows. When the windrows change color from bright green to dusty blue, it's time to run the baler.

Norm baled the upper end of the high mowing where the grass always dries fastest on Wednesday afternoon. That left the lower end of the high mowing and the big field directly across from the studio for Thursday. Boy, did we hustle to get it all in the barn.

Towed behind the baler, the "buncher" collects the bales. When it's full, Norm reaches behind the tractor to pull the string that pops the spring loaded gate at the back end of the buncher.  It deposits a tidy pile of squares. We still have to go around, retrieve them by hand to load the wagon, but at least they're gathered in groups (more or less) rather than spread willy-nilly throughout the field.

Even so, there's tons of walking.

And lifting and stacking. We had many, many loads in the small truck. It's stake bed only handles loads of 50 or so bales. Since it's the only wagon narrow enough to  squeeze down the aisle of the open barn, we made do. 

If you're stacking the wagon, you stand on the empty deck. Everyone pitches bales onto the truck. They're coming at you, left, right, sideways. You stack as fast as you can, since there's many tossers but generally only one stacker. But then you end up on top of the load when the truck is full. Which means you get to toss down the bales at everyone else inside the barn. And they get to stack them. We took turns throwing  square bales at each other all afternoon for two days. 

Fred is the expert when it comes to backing the wagon through the gate and down the narrow aisle of the barn, without clipping a gate post or losing a mirror. 

For Crackerjack and the boys, haying is a spectator sport for their dining pleasure and entertainment. They lounged in the afternoon sun while we bustled back and forth from field to barn. 

 As daylight exited, we gathered the last wagon load. I began tending to the sheep while Mike, Norm and the gang stacked the last bales in the barn, close to 760 total. We then raced around picking up broken bales and "sinkers" out in the field by the light of the tractor.

Relief doesn't quite cover the way I feel about finally having all my barns stashed for winter. We've never had a wetter summer nor a more fickle autumn for making hay. I've been worried that we'd have to go "shopping" – unimaginably expensive with a flock the size of mine. Farming sustainably means balancing the size of a herd with the capacity of the land to feed the herd – in all seasons. It looks like we'll squeak by.

Amen.

I promise to post some shots of Rhinebeck, once I've caught my breath. 

My main reason for posting this evening to is tell everyone how much we've appreciated your comments during this difficult week. I know that time will eventually dampen the hurt, but your thoughts have helped immensely. We miss Emma terribly and our home just isn't the same. 

The feat of readying for a major show is all-consuming. My  very wise younger sister Kathleen commented yesterday that the distraction is letting me work through the grief a little at a time. We'll see if that's a good thing. Grief is tricky. We'll see if it doesn't clock me between the eyes once the energy of the show subsides.

I somehow managed to pull it together and here I am, in Rhinebeck this evening. Writing now from the Beekman Arms, my favorite place to stay for the NY S&W gig. I can literally roll out of bed tomorrow morning, head north a few blocks and I'm in my booth. Does anyone know where I can find latte at 6 a.m.?

Holly and I packed the van in the midst of a snow squall – a first. We made it here mid afternoon and the time quickly evaporated with setting up the booth and tending to vendorly tasks. I've already met up with some of my favorite people, one of the perks of attending a show. Holly phoned at dusk to say the flock is well, all tucked in before dark.

If you come by my booth first thing tomorrow morning, you may spot me with my photographer, Ben Barnhart, who is taking some shots for my book, Adventures In Yarn Farming (and maybe, if you're not camera shy, you'll get to be in some of those shots). Look for us in Building A. I'll have a stack of Teach Yourself Visually Hand-dyeing books at the booth (and will be signing them at the author's gathering on Sunday morning). Please come say hello.

Wishing all a good weekend.

Yesterday we said goodbye to Emma. Her condition had worsened overnight to the point where we were forced to make a very difficult decision. She passed peacefully in the arms of her people, surrounded by her favorite toys from home. It was the best we could do for her.

Emma, exploring a crystalline field after the ice storm, December 2008.

Celebrating the season with a Christmas hedgehog, December 2008.

Coming in from the snow, January 2009.

She was our little diva and we were so lucky to have her in our lives. Mike, Caleb and I, along with our pups Daphne and Mishka, will sorely miss her. Thanks, everyone. Your kind thoughts and support have given us solace during this rough weekend. Our deepest thanks to the doctors and staff at the Foster Hospital for Small Animals at Tufts Cummings School of Veterinary Medicine for their caring compassion.

My sneakers were soaked by the time I finished checking the electro-net in the pasture this morning. The  autumnal dew falls much heavier and lingers longer in the cool air. Holly had set fence around the hay field behind the studio on Friday, and the little ewes were delighted to have new places to explore when I opened the gate today.

The rest of the ewe flock has run of the sugar bush, further uphill where the  maples and beech are showy and colorful. My garden continues to flourish despite several frosts. I love the juxtaposition of the colors of summer and fall.

This Columbus Day weekend is lovely, but a difficult time for me and my family. I'm writing this from the Mass. Turnpike. Mike and I are en route to the Foster Hospital for Small Animals at Tufts University School of Veterinary Medicine in Grafton. Our eleven-year-old Golden Retriever, Emma, has been a patient there since Thursday morning. What started last Monday as a series of slips and stumbles has rapidly progressed into a full-blown crisis. Radiographs and MRIs show an abnormal mass on her brain. The pressure has caused her to lose physical control and posed a heap of complications. We meet with a neurosurgeon when we get there, to learn our options.

I took this pic yesterday when we visited her. She was alert, very happy to see us, but clearly not herself. I'm anxious to get there now, to kiss her pointy little nose. Please hold a good thought for her.

Another week's gone by, and it's still  too wet for haying. I'm really starting to wonder what on earth we'll feed the flock this winter. I wonder if we can extend grazing until Christmas. . .

Instead, my flock got to spend some quality time with their favorite shearer. We coifed the Border Leicesters on Tuesday. Yesterday was the goats' turn. Only our longwools get fall haircuts. They yield a nice 4-5 inch staple. Anything longer gives the giant carder at the spinnery indigestion. My Cormos, only shorn in spring, got fresh coats and pedicures, so they wouldn't feel left out.

For Gypsy and my shearer, Andy, this was a re-union. Andy brought her from his flock to mine last year, to keep Butch, my sweet old buck-wether, company.  He was pining for goat companionship after losing his brother, Sundance. Butch and Gypsy are in lurve; he was understandly upset when we pulled Gypsy from the pen.

When Andy and I finished with the goats, we spent some time primping the Big Boys. Teaberry has a date with the ladies starting a week from Monday, as soon as I get back from Rhinebeck. We wanted to be sure he is fit and all necessary equipment in good order.

Latte & Beckham staked out the apple tree yesterday. A wild and windy Wednesday knocked down bushels and the little guys helped me clean up. (Wish I hadn't cropped Beckham's ear out of this shot; his expression is too funny!)

And now some words on sharing.

Thank you everyone for your comments, that kept coming all week long on Teaberry's success at the Big E. Happiness is best when shared and I enjoyed sharing that moment with all of you.

Many of you took the time to share stories of personal milestones and accomplishments – and I was truly blown away by the range of experiences, totally different but all significant. Some of you shared stories of intensely difficult trials -  good reminders about keeping perspective, reality checks for the rest of us. Overcoming adversity is cause for reflection – and many cases celebration, too. I'm sending my strongest congratulations (where appropriate)  and thanks to all of you for sharing slices of your own experiences.

Today I promised to draw a name for our Teaberry Champion prize: a basket of Cormo Silk Alpaca yarn, over 1000 yards of it, enough to complete a project. Lori B. is our lucky winner!

Pardis Amirshahi, editor of Living Crafts magazine, has kindly added five copies from her fall issue in which she reviewed my book, Teach Yourself Visually Hand-Dyeing, as additional prizes. For those of you not familiar with this lovely magazine, its focus is on crafting as part of a holistic lifestyle and fostering creative play with children. Sarah L, Doreen, Stacy, Amrita and Shell will each receive a complimentary copy.

Technical Difficulties: I've received several emails and pm's on Ravelry that some of you had trouble posting comments and I apologize for the glitches. Typepad's comment feature has been quirky of late and I've brought it to their attention. Rest assured that I have personally read the 189 comments that were posted as of today, and I'm working to make sure all comments appear. Thank you for alerting me to the problem and again, my apologies for the technical snaffoo.

One more item of note:

I received a very special honor yesterday which took me by complete surprise when I opened the Knitter's Review online weekly email and saw what Clara Parkes had to say about her book, The Knitter's Book of Wool, (Potter Craft), which will be released this week. I cannot wait to get my hands on a copy from her at Rhinebeck. If you don't subscribe to her newsletter, well, you should! And you can see what she had to say about my flock here.

I'll have more to say about Clara's new book, once I have a copy in my hot little hands!

Yesterday our day began with a call from a neighbor reporting a large coyote  inside our electro-net fence in the pasture! Grabbing my camera, I bolted out the door in my pajamas. By the time I reached the pasture, the coyote had vamoosed. I did a quick head count of the flock – all safe and present.

Likely, the coyote  found its way out, probably the same way it had entered: at the north end of the field, a section of net lay on the ground, knocked inward as if something had run into it. I bet it had been chasing prey and plowed right through the fence during night. Probably couldn't find its way out in the dark, getting a nasty shock each time it tried to scramble back through the fence.I scouted around the field, checking out the woody area, warily pushing through the brush. If it was still there, I would have flushed it out. 

The only evidence of its presence (aside from the fence on the ground) was a massive pile of fresh scat in a flattened swath of tall grass near the brook. Any time we find non-sheep poop on the farm, especially inside our pastures, it's time to "Name That Scat". We have books and use the internet, but when something is unusual, we consult an expert. Holly had the pleasant task of collecting the specimen and taking it to the office of a local tracker and wild life expert. Given the morning's events, he said it most likely belonged to a very large coyote or "brush wolf" which is a coyote-wolf hybrid. 

Sightings of to-large-to-be-coyotes have become disturbingly more frequent here in the hills of western Mass. Just two weeks ago, another neighbor alerted us to unusual howling just after dark, more wolf than coyote-like (coyotes are higher pitched yip,yip yips). Our dogs have been agitated at night, charging at the fences, barking like crazy at the woods where the wild things are. Very unsettling.

In September, 2007, we had a horrible predator strike, losing four 250+ lb. rams in one night (if you look back in my blog archives, you'll see how awful it was). The rams were grazing in electro-net in a field just out the back door of our home at the top of Patten Hill. The discovery the morning of 9/11/07 was the saddest day at the farm.

When the same predator attacked a neighbor's farm killing 12 lambs in one night several weeks later, it was shot, mistaken for a large coyote.  Fish & Game sent the carcass to a wildlife forensic lab for identification. The DNA analysis confirmed it was a Canadian Grey Wolf which stunned everyone. The story made Associate Press. It was chilling and forced us to examine and change many of our flock-safety protocols. Anytime there's a sighting of a "large coyote" now, we're all suspicious.

Yesterday I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if the boys had been out in the pasture on  Sunday night. Would Crackerjack, our llama, have been able to protect them? They come home to the barn paddock just before dark each night, for safe-keeping. Yesterday, I decided to keep them close to the barn, rather than send them out into the north pasture. We re-set the electric fence. Holly made sure it's good and hot.

Calvin

I took these photos of the guys when I checked on them yesterday evening.

 Cody -Teaberry's son, Red ribbon winner of the Purebred white Finewool class, Big E, 2009!

Crackerjack, flock body guard, with Calvin and Cody

I'm finishing my coffee, getting ready for a different type of visitor. Today we're hosting the Boston Knitters Guild who are taking a tour of Shelburne Falls, my hometown which just so happens to be listed one of the top 15 small communities in New England in the fall issue of Boston magazine. We certainly agree.

I want to thank everyone for the congratulatory notes on our BigE success – and for sharing some pretty amazing and in some cases very personal and inspiring milestone stories. Between my slow speed internet connection (slow to no-speed at times) and the coyote excitement, I didn't have time to respond to each comment – they just kept coming all day. But I read each and every one. Thank you for taking time to share. Our contest runs until 10/9 and I'll draw a very lucky winner for the Cormo Silk Alpaca yarn basket. I have some additional prizes that have been donated – more on that later!

Off to the barn!