Halloween night at the farm, or not...

Out here in South Henly, the farms are pretty spread out, and it can be hard to meet the neighbors (or it could be my social-idiot tendencies). It also makes it difficult, if not impossible, to do any trick-or-treating (locked gates, guard dogs, and so on). Most of the "big" churches (the one that burned down a few months ago has only 200 parishoners) have some sort of "Fall" or "Harvest" Festival (gotta take the night back from those pagans *eyeroll*), and a few of the local businesses had parties over the weekend (at least one of them was charging $5/ghoul). The occasional neighbor will throw a party, but out here, it's mostly for the grown-ups.

As with last year, I wanted our son to get a better idea of what the secular aspect of this holiday is about (well that, and the photo-op that the grandparents demand), so DH and I drove up to the north end of Austin to trick-or-treat with some friends of ours (actually, our birth-attenders, they were the first to see Anthony when he was tiny and slimy) who have two little girls (one each slightly older and younger than Anthony--both redheads--whom their own father has dubbed "heartbreakers"). They live on a long cul-de-sac, which turned out to be the perfect number of houses to visit for 3 3-and-unders. At one house near the end of our route, there was a skeleton by the front door, and as I was walking up with Anthony IT MOVED. Gah! Took a few years off me right there. It didn't faze him, though (either he's too young to be creeped out, or we've done a good job of showing him what's natural in the world, so to speak), and he looked at all the decorations that she pointed out, and waved "bye" like the polite little Texan he is (no laughing from those who know better!). Oh, he was a purple-caped bat this year. He wore that cape well, and knew it, too. That's my little Leo ;)

In other, miscellaneous news, we lost one of our ewes (the friendlier one, too) to a predator last week. I guess Sombrea was concentrating on protecting Firefly (not that I am complaining--he's the higher priority), and wasn't available to drive the canines off. Last Sunday, DH and I sheared the remaining sheep, but were not able to get a really good pelt from any of them. DH bagged some of what might still be salvageable for, I don't know exactly what, carding practice, maybe? Our hens are still on laying strike, and I've no idea when the eggs will come back. They seem to have recovered from their molt, and I changed out their nest bedding, but am still seeing nada.

My main focus this month will be on my other blog; I'm participating in NaBloPoMo, but I will make an effort to check in here more often, even if it is a lot of memeage and lists.

Dances With Sheep

[no, not the ones at Things Celtic this afternoon]

S has been shearing the 2-years-past-due Karakuls while he's been off this week. None of them have been cooperative, but this last "gelding" was an extra-special piece of work. S originally attempted to shear him on Thursday after the flock had been penned (the good farmer lets his sheep fast overnight so there's minimal gastric stress when put in the proper sitting position), but the sheep wiggled loose from the hog-tie and took off. This put him in the front yard, away from his flock; in the meantime, S sheared the "newer" ewe, and wound up with a horrible sunburn--I've been on aloe duty for the past few days. S tried again to catch the rogue, but Bucky managed to clear the fence, but not without injuring his nose (S thinks it may be broken). Reuniting with the flock was probably the best, as it's easier to corral all than to cull one on 9-something acres full of cedar.

On Friday, as I was doling out pellets, husband yelled across the yard "I'd appreciate it if you'd step on that lead rope." Well, I did, thinking it couldn't be that difficult. Alas, the sheep was too quick for me, and he pulled my foot out from under me. The only thing that kept me from falling over completely was the fact that he had a horn to grab--not that it was the most stable thing to hang onto. I, of course, panicked and screamed like an ax murderee (we were both surprised that we didn't get a visit from the neighbors, or the sheriff). S quickly ran from the house to the pen (wish I could have seen that), and rescued me from Bucky.

Later on this afternoon, S eventually wrestled the sheep onto its side and hogtied it again. In his words:
"My [shearing] technique did improve, though what this psychotic gelding lacked in nicks he made up for in self-injury [prior to being tied up], insisting on ramming into the side of the garage side of the pen, the 2x6 boards on the back side of the pen, and the metal gate, culminating in leaping into the air and landing on his head, twice."

Apparently, this one is not hooked up to the sheep matrix, as its "anti-wiggle reflex" (their will to fight is supposed to switch off when all their feet are off the ground/immobilized) doesn't seem to be operational. DH said that he took a few hits to...sensitive parts. *wince* I hope everyone's OK. I'm fixing to ovulate soonish.