The week had wrinkles beyond weather. We were horrified when our shearer found a tick on the first ewe sheared. The source of that unwelcome freeloader became clear on the second ewe in line--one of eight outside sheep that had joined our ewes in late October to be bred by our buck. Each sweep of the shearing blades exposed fresh nests of those demon bloodsuckers, dozens of them, maybe hundreds, undoubtedly surprised to be so suddenly revealed in what had been deep cozy hiding places within the fleece. Each one of the seven flock mates was similarly parasite-loaded. All eight ewes had been purchased from a neighbor whose flock is well-known by our shearer to have a serious tick problem. ARGH! You can imagine my enthusiasm for packing those fleeces into wool bags. Our shearer said nothing, but I would guess that he was disgusted.
The story could be nastier. Our ewes and the eight newcomers had been widely dispersed on pasture with the exception of two nights and one day spent crowded inside the barn just prior to shearing. Thus, not all of our ewes were infested and of those scattered ewes who were hosting ticks, the number of parasites is low. Supposedly shearing removes many of the adults and most of their glued-onto-wool eggs. Those bits of good news did not alter our response. After the eight outside ewes went home and winter paused for a day, we treated all of our ewes and bucks with insecticide. Although ticks spread through sheep-to-sheep contact, we cleaned out every bit of potentially contaminated bedding from the barn. We will re-treat all the sheep in two weeks in hopes of exterminating any new adults that hatch from eggs during the interim. That timeline puts a few of our ewes awfully close to lambing, but we will make every effort to be gentle, move them slowly, and finish the job with as little stress as possible. May that be the final chapter in this tastelessly titillating tale of treacherous, traitorous, traumatizing ticks.
This morning began with a near disaster, a wrinkle averted. When I entered the barn to unlock the door and let ewes out, a brockle-faced ewe was stretched out groaning, not quite on her back but tipped over far enough that she could not roll onto her brisket. A boost and then support for her hindquarters when she first stood were all that she needed, but my help came none too soon, for she was wobbly and quite bloated.
On the bright side:
- Each layer of fresh snow allows us to feed repeatedly atop previous feedings in sheltered areas without worrying about contamination.
- Outdoor and indoor Christmas lights continue to bring joy and feel appropriate. Likewise, Pandora's Classical Christmas station, playing now as I compose, continues to fit perfectly.
- The vat of turkey/wild rice soup that I made last Saturday--featuring big chunks of carrots, onions, mushrooms, and celery--will last through the upcoming weekend.
- My daily trek to and from the mailbox on cross country skis is fun and keeps me warm.
- All mats are cut and assembled and frames are ordered for my new paintings destined for Western Art Week in mid March.
- Tomato and pepper seeds have arrived.
- The Christmas cactus that began blooming in mid-November continues to radiate hot orange splendor.
- A tall stack of must-read books awaits, should spare time hang heavily.