Murphy’s Law: If you husband’s going to take on a project like rescuing an animal and bottle feeding it, he’s most certainly going to get two days of overtime at the firehouse taking him away from home for 4 straight days. This is absolutely par for the course on our little one-acre ranchette. He’s into animal husbandry whereas I’m the farthest thing from a country girl. So if an animal is going to be born, get sick or hurt, die, need transporting, what have you, I can guarantee he will be either on duty or out of town. (Maybe this is God’s way of making me a country girl.)
Our most recent acquisition is Dixie. Dixie is the baby of a mother ewe that was killed by a coyote. The woman raising her by bottle just couldn’t handle it anymore, that woman being the mother of a fellow firefighter. So naturally, Jeff’s hand shot straight up “We’ll take her!” and hence the formula mixing and early morning and daily feedings began. The kids- before and after school- and then I pick up the slack. The added bonus is the recent fever she’s been running, possibly pneumonia, so I am driving her into town to the firehouse in a dog crate in the back of my Suburban to get her daily antibiotic shot from Jeff (he grew up the son of a large animal vet, so it’s second nature to treat his own animals.) The rest of the flock has not taken to her so she stays pretty isolated in her own fenced area of the pasture. Therefor, we take her out on little walks around the property a few times a day. I sit in the back yard with my lap top & coffee while she munches on the landscaping.
Dixie behaves much more like a pet than livestock. Until she grows big enough that she can no longer sneak between the boards of the pasture fencing, she’s going to have to wear a collar with an ID tag, (should she try to make her escape into the neighborhood.)
So, if I’m a bit behind in posting fun and crafty tutorials, returning emails, commenting on blogs and the like, this is why. (Can you tell by my tone that I’m trying desperately not to fall in love with her?)