The sheep are suffering mightily.

The goats on marginally less so.

The flock spends most of the day seeking shade and drinking water. We’re going through 150 gallons or so a day and we have to top off the tanks every hour or so with fresh, cool water to keep them drinking it. We’re adding electrolytes and apple cider vinegar as well.

Everyone has a very spot that they return to each day. Colorado and Buster share one of the run-in sheds.

Cosmo takes up a whole shed by himself.

Miss Linda and the rest of the goats stay in the back pasture where the shade of the trees and the slight breeze keep them cool.

Hannah

Jasmine

Waldorf and Statler

Ernie is the one I’m most concerned about. He’s just so big. He’s panting like crazy, but he’s hanging in there.

Even the chickens are suffering. They spend their afternoons in the landscaping, only coming out when I call them to come over for cool treats like watermelon and peaches.

The forecast is calling for cooler temps (92!) starting Monday. Till then we’ll just keep encouraging everyone to hydrate and keep the barn fans running.

The Angora goats are completely fine in this crazy heat- most Angoras are raised in Southern Texas and South Africa, after all- but my poor, sweet sheep are suffering. They would have fared better if the heat had ramped up in an orderly fashion, but a 10 degree spike is brutal for them. Of course I provide them with plenty of shade and a continuous stream of cool water throughout the day, but I worry.

Sheep cool themselves through respiration, and continual panting all day long can lead to mechanical pneumonia. Mechanical pneumonia provides the perfect breeding grounds for opportunistic bacterial to get into the animal’s lungs. In these conditions, bacterial pneumonia can be fatal in a matter of hours.

I’ve spent the weekend adding blocks ice to the water tank, checking and re-checking the flock for signs of distress. This afternoon, Sicily, one of my original Cormo ewes, started showing signs of heat stress. Labored breathing, snotty nose, listlessness- she had them all. I quickly mixed up some electrolyte solution and got it into her, and dosed her with antibiotics. Then Maggie helped me move Sicily and her lamb, Fairfax, into a stall in the barn where we can have a fan blowing on her and keep an eye on her tonight.

Sicily is already looking better, but she’s not out of danger yet. Even if she seems 100% by morning I’ll be keeping her in the barn for a few days or until this stupid heat breaks. Sicily is one hell of a ewe. She’s given me big, single lambs every year, and I was over the moon to get a ewe lamb out of her this year. It would kill me to lose this sheep. Kill. Me.

Please keep Sicily and Fairfax in your thoughts tonight.

MONDAY MORNING UPDATE: Sicily made it through the night and seems much better, although her breathing hasn’t returned to normal and her nose is still runny. I dosed her again with antibiotics and electrolytes and am going to keep her indoors again today in the cool. She isn’t happy about it but I’ll feel better today knowing she’s got a breeze on her.

Mr. Hopkins, my hay farmer, is bringing a large round bale over today and positioning it in the shade of the woods in the west pasture. My hope is that the sheep will stay in the shade munching hay for most of the day,rather than grazing in the heat of the sun all day.

But once I pulled into the driveway I felt my equilibrium was restored. The farm looked absolutely beautiful and it was so quiet and peaceful.

We have a few trees down.

Our driveway still hasn’t been plowed, so I had to park by the road.

Of course, my first stop was the barn to check on the lambs and kids. Dimples was modeling some serious hay-head.

The dogs were super-happy to see me.

We brought the little lambs into the barn during the storm. They don’t have as much body fat as the big sheep and they were looking a little miserable.

They were happy to see me too,

but only because I had a pocket full of animal crackers.

I love the chicken footprints in the snow.

The snow hasn’t stopped the hens from laying.

Alabama (right) is now officially bigger than his mama, Daisy (left).

It was so great to be home that not having electricity or running water didn’t seem like such a big deal. Which is good, because it doesn’t look like I’ll be getting power back tonight. And tomorrow? More snow!

I’m sleeping over at Kris and Charlie’s house in Arlington, VA tonight so I can get up bright and early to head back to the farm.  There’s a pretty good chance we could be without power for another three or four days. So no internet, no phone, and no water. We do have heat, thanks to the woodstove and the delivery of wood we got last week.

I think I might have a case of the Day-Three-of-the-Storm Blues. Not at all looking forward to going home to no heat but very much looking forward to getting home to my flock and my dogs. I’ll blog when I can, but I might have to drive in to C-ville to find electricity and WiFi.

Hope you are all some where warm snuggled up to someone you love.

I woke up to three inches of snow this morning. We could get as many as 12 inches, but I’m skeptical.

Paige is off this weekend so it was just me and flock.

Amazingly, our flock is still grazing on pasture, but not today. I couldn’t get the hay to them fast enough this morning.

Ernie looks like the Abominable Snowman.

We’ve been putting Sabine in the small paddock with Lucy during the day to stave off the depression Lucy was starting to suffer. The two of them play for hours and you would never know that Lucy nearly died a little over a week ago. It is so good for my spirit to see them together.

Obviously some jobs are more effected by the weather than others and shepherding is one of them. But whenever I start to complain, I think about roofers and housepainters who CAN’T work in this weather and I shut my trap. (Our own house has been half painted for months now.)

All this rain is also terrible for farmers who make- and depend on- hay.

These fields probably look beautiful to most people driving by…

but to farmers, these pictures are heart-breaking.

Absolutely heart-breaking.

See how the stalks are bending over? That’s because they are going to seed. Which means most of the nutritional value in the hay has already been lost. It will still be cut and baled and fed to animals in the fall, but it will take a whole lot more of it to meet the nutritional needs of the cows, horses and sheep that depend on it for the majority of their diet.

The expression “make hay while the sunshines” isn’t just a suggestion: it’s a stone-cold, iron-clad order. Hay can only be cut when it’s dry and when there is no rain the forecasts for the following week. Since we haven’t had that kind of sunshine in a month, the hay remains uncut in the fields.

The only thing worse than letting hay go to seed is trying to sneak in a cutting and getting caught by the rain. Once the hay is cut, it has to “cure” in the fields for a few days before baling. Rain on cut hay = a total loss to the farmer. I actually got a lump in my throat when I took this picture and I’m getting another as I write this.

Why is all of this so important? Besides the fact that small farms that almost always teeter on the edge of insolvency are watching one of their key cash crops rot in the fields? Because I make wool and wool is made from hay. Hay prices will almost certainly skyrocket in the fall.

What can you do? Support your local small farmer. When you pass a farm stand this weekend stop and buy some berries, lettuce or apples. Try to buy more yarn from small farms and less from international conglomerates.

Farmers will survive this rain, as they have survived all kinds of weather since time began. They are a tenacious, never-say-die lot. They don’t need your pity, they need your business.

All the babies are muddy and wet and tired of this weather.

Except for Ophelia and Odette. They are warm and dry inside with their mama.

Every year after Christmas we give our tree to the sheep and goats for a treat. As you can see, they strip it like a school of piranas strips a wildebeest.