To Sleep, Perchance To Dream?

So I've decided to embark on a little experiment. Anyone who knows me or has read this blog for any length of time knows that my sleep schedule is absolutely verkacht, which is a Really Bad Thing, particularly where all of my neuropathic issues are concerned. Or when I drive home after the 15-hour shift that turned into 18 hours.

Anyway, I've been considering polyphasic sleep schedules for quite a while. Certainly biphasic sleep, at a minimum, was well known in the pre-industrial world, and there's at least anecdotal evidence that it's quite doable. And, let's face it, I've been essentially living a bi- to polyphasic sleep schedule for years now.

Considering the problem and my general state of feeling tired most of the time, though, I've realized that my polyphasic sleep has not been regular. Not one little bit. So after reading up on the Everyman sleep schedule and with some encouragement from Mush, I think I've sorted out a variation that can work for my crazy schedule.

The plan is to get a core 4.5 hour block of sleep in the morning, then 20 minute naps at about 4PM, 1AM, and 5AM. The 4PM to 1AM stretch is a good bit longer than the recommended no-more-than-6 hour interval between naps, but it's the most workable solution I could think of that I could maintain during my regular work schedule. The nature of emergency work, of course, is that you never know what to expect, but the first half of my shift is almost always the busiest and I can typically find 20 minutes to spare in the post-midnight half. I'm hoping that my body will say, "A semblance of regularity? I'll take it!"

In Other News

The other day I dug Angus's lamb fleece (from last year) out of the shed and scoured it. Now I'm in the process of combing, then carding it. The combing is to get out as much of the vegetable matter as possible before carding the fiber into rolags. Also, the shearer made a lot of second cuts, and I'd prefer not to have a lot of neps in the yarn. At any rate, I've got a bag that's filling up with rolags and am looking forward to moving on to the spinning process.

Shearing Day & a Sad Weekend

Friday was shearing day, and I got home from work in time to video Spirit getting his hair did. In case you don't recall, Spirit has been featured in this here bloggie before. Remember this post? Anyway, he's a bit of a drama queen about getting shorn, as you'll see.



I wasn't around to see the sheepies get clipped, since they were done first thing that morning, but I did catch up with them to get their thoughts on it all. It's funny to see how much more forward Angus is than Shaun-Fergus these days, when the reverse was true before I castrated them.



Unfortunately, the weekend ended on a sad note. Mizzen, one of Paula & Wendy's maiden girls, died rather unexpectedly Sunday noon. She was bloated and colicky on Saturday but had seemed to improve. Then yesterday morning she deteriorated rapidly. We were concerned that perhaps she had suffered a fluke bowel torsion during shearing, but the post-mortem exam, I'm told, showed no such thing and no explanatory lesions.

Then tonight our friends Kit & Sue called me about their dog Alex, who we knew had terminal cancer of the liver. He was going downhill rapidly, so I headed over to their house near midnight to help him on his way. Mercifully, he passed on his own. Also mercifully, I managed not to hit any of the two porcupines, one raccoon, one opossum, and one deer who were in or alongside the road on the short drive to their house and back.

And with that, I think it's about time for bed.

Snippity

Warning: The weak of stomach may wish to stop here. On the other hand, anyone visiting this blog regularly should know to expect it by now.

As I recently mentioned, we found out at shearing that the boys were, um, a bit more boy than we had thought. According to Meg, this is sometimes done to maintain the testosterone levels in animals being raised for meat (as most ram lambs are), while cooking their little swimmers to minimize the risk of unwanted breedings.

In fact, over the past week they've become rather amorous with Posey, who suddenly decided that maybe they weren't so bad. Seeing as she's had a rather long dry spell, I suppose it's understandable. Shaun Fergus seemed to be the most attentive to their collective needs. It also turns out that whoever banded him was sloppy and only got half the scrotum, meaning not only has he earned the nickname "Lowball", there may be a chance that his boys weren't quite as cooked as they were supposed to be.

So I brought them in to work with me last night so that we could do a proper snip job this morning and, a few issues with IV catheters notwithstanding, everything went, well, swimmingly.



Mountain oysters, anyone?

The one at lower left is the one with greatest potential to cause trouble. The others are all a bit underdeveloped as a result of the increased heat, but Ol' Lowball there is a fair bit larger, meaning there's some possibility that, despite his tender age and lack of experience and Posey's (hopefully) atrophied and unused ovaries, we could see an unplanned new addition to the farm come May. I'll keep y'all posted.

In the meantime, being a sharing sort, I thought my coworkers might get peckish during the night.



I hear that brining improves the flavor.

Fortunately, the boys don't seem to be carrying a grudge for the injustice visited upon them, but I expect a little extra attention will be in order for the next few days.

Shorn

So early last week I came down with what turned out to be one hell of a cold. Hit me hard enough Tuesday morning that by that night I realized I needed to call in sick for Wednesday night. No fever, but I was still pretty sure none of my coworkers wanted me to share it. I made it in for Friday night's shift and am much improved, but I'm still dealing with lingering effects of it. And on top of that, Tuck came down with pneumonia very suddenly Friday morning, though I caught it almost as soon as it broke and he's responded incredibly well to antibiotics.

Anyway, in the midst of all this, Paula was able to get in touch with a nearby shearer to come shear Angus and Shaun, but David really wanted to get photos of me holding the boys first so y'all could get a better idea of just how tiny they are. Here's Angus:



And a pre-shorn Shaun:



If you embiggen, you can see all the weed seeds they'd picked up from being let into overgrown pasture that morning (not by me!). That should be fun to card out.

At any rate, the shearer arrived, started shearing away Shaun's belly fleece and made a slightly disappointing discovery. Whoever castrated him didn't make sure his testicles were in their proper place before placing the band, so he has no scrotum anymore, but his family jewels are tucked right up in his crotchular area. Poop.

And then we found the same had happened with Angus. Double poop.

So probably next week sometime I'll be doing a bit of surgery to rectify that situation. Fortunately, it shouldn't be terribly difficult, but it's one more thing I'd rather not have on my plate, either figuratively or literally. It does, at least, explain the head-butting issue.

Anyway, now they're even tinier and look like this:



And once they were all done and let back out into the pasture, they did what rams tend to do, especially when they're freshly shorn. They decided to figure out whether there was going to be a new king of the hill.



You'll notice Shaun doesn't look so brown anymore. If you didn't read my earlier post about it, his color is mooskit, which is primarily grey with brown fibers. Since this was their first shearing, he still had his baby coloring, but from now on he'll look more like these.

New Beginnings

On Saturday I went to pick up the newest members of our little farm family. One of the biggest advantages to sticking with smaller animals is that you don't need a livestock trailer to move them around.



Paula and Wendy were so excited that they stayed up late to wait for their arrival. Because the remnants of Hurricane Ida were blowing through, though, it was too messy to get a temporary holding pen ready for them for the night, so they got to spend a night camped out in the back of the pickup. Since they're maybe 30 pounds each and had plenty of hay and water, and a few apples, it was more Hilton than hardship for them, though, and they've since settled in quite nicely.



That's Angus on the left and Shaun on right. Or maybe he's Fergus - it's a topic of debate. Either way, Posey is less than amused at the moment. I'm sure she'll get used to them in time, but she's lived with goats for so long that I think she's forgotten what other sheep are. Still, she's as big as the two of them combined, so it's pretty funny to see her take off whenever they come near.

One thing I can see we're going to need to work on, though, is their tendency to butt when they want food. I learned about that today when I hand-fed them a little grain and Shaun/Fergus lowered his head and rammed my hand when the grain was gone, apparently in hopes that would make more appear. They're little, but those little heads are still hard. I'm expecting a bit of TTouch work and lots of handling will make a big difference with them. And eventually, I'm thinking it may be fun to learn to hand shear them. I'm definitely looking forward to using the wool, but even more toward seeing how their personalities develop.

Swatching

Just a quickie to show an I-cord-as-swatch I knat up of wool from one of the Shetland wethers, whom we should be picking up this weekend pending the last bit of health testing. For the blood draws I had to clip away a bit of wool, so I washed the locks, carded them open, and spun this yarn up from the brown boy (who appears to be more properly mooskit in color and will be much lighter in color once shorn). This is the finest yarn I've ever spun, and I am pleased with how it turned out. I'm even more pleased with the color and softness of this wool. His fiber may get a little bit coarser as he ages, but as a wether it's not likely to change by much.



I also have a brief anecdote to share. We had a husky in over the weekend who had been shot by a hunter (who is now in trouble with the game warden service, because shooting domestic animals is a big no-no). Anyway, the owners came in last night and were going to take the dog home because she was doing well, and I was talking to the mother about the dog's care and couldn't help but notice that she was wearing a very nice handknit Fair Isle sweater.

So after we'd gone over the important matters regarding the dog's care, I finally had a chance to ask her about the sweater. She told me that she and her late mother had owned a yarn store in the Midcoast area and her mother had designed all manner of Fair Isle patterns, including the sweater she was wearing, and knit them up in Jamieson & Smith yarn. She said she'd considered trying to get her mother's patterns published, so I encouraged her to do so. It was nice work and would certainly find a welcome audience.