Sorting and 'turn out' day, Oct 24, 2014

Well, after a hectic summer of constant activity, fall came. And here it is, that eventful day in October.

It started out with a lovely sunrise.

But its Oct 24. A nice round number, and marked on the calendar as 'Turn the Bucks out' day.

So Don set up the sorting  chute - for the first time. It has been here awhile, but being not sure where to set it up, it remained leaving against the shed. This year, he decided there had to be a better way to sort all those ewes than catching them all by hand.

So it got a trial run in a temporary location. And it worked. The girls even walked right through to the gate. 

Here it is in use. The metal structure just beyond the black ewe is the actual sorting gate. The panels on each side swing to the center, leaving a path for the sheep to go straight forward, to the left, or to the right. The addition of the wood panel just past adds a fourth destination. Which means by simply adjusting the gate positions, each ewe is directed to one of four pens.

 Ewe numbers were already sorted into breeding pens, thank heavens. The girls filed in without much fuss.

And after lunch, each pen got moved to more comfortable accommodations.

And the boys came out.

 Grandpa got his group in the lambing shed.

Sonny and his girls.  (well, this is with the 3 that were interested in him today. There are many more.)

Jean Claude was assigned to the group in the East lot.

And 140 has a group too.

So it all worked well. And all the rams are already at work. A total of 90 ewes will begin having lambs come next March. (usually the first is born on March 19th, regardless of the day the rams go out).

And I managed to get a blog post done. Finally.

I have so many subjects, and so little time. Maybe the colder weather will help settle me in at the computer. Maybe.

# makin' lambies.  Go Rams.   Thanks to Alex for the 'trade'.

Looking both ways

Things are looking good here at the Farm. The recent 1in plus rain was needed. Last night and again today, there was and will be a mad scramble of picking and planting before the predicted stormy season arrives. The garden is already in early production phase. Strawberries, rhubarb, snap peas, new potatoes, radishes, lettuce, spinach, and the new experiment in Swiss Chard have passed into harvest mode.

Out to the north, the  Sheep are now grazing the first patch of oats. Full sheep are happy sheep. and it didn't take long to train them to the fence.  By day 3, none of them were even coming close.

So - on to days subject.

I am a 'fan' of Harvest Public Media on Facebook, and had taken an interest in their special with NET about Hispanic farmers in Nebraska. It aired last Friday night. It came on before I got out the door, and I found I couldn't leave the couch. It was interesting  -as expected.  But the thoughts and feelings it aroused in me were not.

I had watched some of the video clips linked to those posted on FB, so I had an idea of the story. More Nebraskans need to hear and see what has quietly been happening happening out-state. I was aware, but not to the extent the local culture has shifted. And no, its not what some believe. Change has always been hard. And for both sides. But thats not for today.

As I watched and listened, particularly to one story more local - outside Lincoln, they said - about a farmer on 2 acres, with a calf, some goats, and a few chickens, I felt a strange sense growing inside. I couldn't identify it at first, but it was growing. The show ended (I was disappointed there was nothing about the horse trainers I had seen in the video clips - they were amazing), and I went outside to attend to my chores. but the feeling was still there.

I watched the sheep race through the 'woodland gap' (the windbreak) in from the pasture. I filled the water tanks. And I thought.  And somewhere in there, it occurred to me - the feeling was resentment. I felt bad, feeling hostility toward those hard working emigrants, who I full knew were pursuing dreams I understood so well.  Aha! There it was.

Through the night, and into the next day, it became clear. But not until I looked back.

In 1975, Don and I were newly married, farm raised kids, with 2 college degrees in agriculture, and eager to stake our claim - as farmers. We found 40 acres of gently sloping farmland, made a plan to raise sheep and vegetables, and went to the only likely source of financing  - then called Farm Home Administration. Granted, sheep were little recognized as financially viable, and vegetables? They would have to be marketed to restaurants and smaller grocery stores. Farmers markets were yet unknown.  We filled out papers, and made our plea.  A few weeks later, a letter came. Rejection. They didn't think it would work. Discouraged, but not defeated, we modified our plan, and 3 years later planted our now little family on 5 acres.

Fast forward 35 years to today. Where we own a small farm where we raise sheep and vegetables. So why the resentment? - other than the obvious time and much work?  And the struggle to be recognized as 'farmers' on so many levels.  As female. With sheep. And vegetables. On only 5 acres. The struggle with neighbors, the public, and County, State, and national government to establish ourselves as 'real'. It took a long time, a lifetime almost, but we did it. Without help.

And the resentment?  Well,  now days there are all these programs. Community Crops, Beginning Farmers, grants, and now an focus on loans to Minorities and women? Hmmmfp.

Wait....... Could it be that things are changing?  Maybe. I hope so. I hope the changes will be of benefit, and not just more red tape and regulation. I hope the help gets to those who need it.

Maybe, just maybe, (I may be thinking this as self consolation), we have helped in some small way. Like our ancestors, we have been pioneers, unknowingly. Re-claiming a homestead. Breaking ground for a new way of farming and farmers.

I do not resent the individuals. Empathize more like it. I saw my own reflection in those dark eyes. 

Thanks HPM. Keep telling the stories.

They may be differed, delayed, detoured, and discouraged, but dreams should never die.

Farm on.