One more from the ‘past’. We stayed at the hobby farm of neighbours for a few weekends while constructing the boat shed in the summer of 2003.
I am learning more than I need to know….
The lambs were late this year. Seems they normally come in April but the local batch came in May. The last two came in the early morning hours, with ‘Ewey’ calling for help and the midwife-owner, Genny, waking out of a deep sleep to rush out in the nude to attend to her.
“Roy! Come suck!” she yelled. “Come suck! Come suck!” Roy (the mid-husband?) was still in the den with earphones on his head listening to the radio. It is a testimony to the combined lung-power of the two extremely focused females in the yard that he heard their cries and eventually looked out the window. He saw what he later described as a bone-chilling scene straight from ‘The Exorcist meets Deliverance’.
His wife was squatting ‘starkers’ behind the business end of a distressed ewe trying to catch the mucous covered, bloody bag of sticks that would soon become Lamby-pie #1. Lambie-pie #2 was soon to follow. Ahhhh, country life…
Actually, not all those who ‘go country’ go all the way like Roy and Genny. Many just buy plaid shirts and a pick-up truck. Add a dog, a barbecue, a case of beer, a little sunblock and ‘presto-change-o’, city-guy morphs into country-guy. Or so he thinks. That’s what I thought, anyway. But others make more of a commitment.
At one end of the spectrum are a number of country types who, like some snow-boarders and skiers, go extreme. Out of bounds. Bananas.
These ‘folk’ often subscribe to Countryside magazine, an Amish oriented periodical fixated on the diseases and bodily excretions of domestic animals. This magazine will do a five-page feature on ‘hoof rot’ or ‘pig nose’ or ‘mucous plugs’ – or whatever the readership thinks is current and hip.
There are few pictures in this magazine for obvious reasons. But there are still too many.
Committed Countryside subscribers not only ‘birth’ their lambs, they make sure their ewes get impregnated properly. Don’t ask – suffice to say that anyone squeamish about putting their arms in places where the ‘sun don’t shine’, should not subscribe to this life-style or even to the magazine, for that matter.
I subscribe, though. But I confess, it’s for reasons other than animal husbandry or ‘getting down’ with the Amish. I subscribe because it’s hysterical. In one article the expert contributor advised against some form of sheep dip because it tended to ‘make your toads go soft.’
Think about that. Frankly, I have always expected toads to be soft and I had no idea that ‘too soft’ was a bad thing. I was wrong. Firm toads, we are told, are much better. But ‘better for what?’ I have no idea. And, anyway, isn’t softness in a toad pretty subjective – and best left to the discretion (or indiscretion) of another toad?
By the way, there was a reason why Genny was shouting “Come suck!” When lambs are born their first attempts at breathing often result in a blob of birthing mucous getting sucked up their nasal passage thus making life difficult if not impossible. The ‘real’ Amish-style homesteader rectifies the situation by immediately planting their own mouth firmly over the lamb’s nose and making like a Hoover (don’t forget, the Amish don’t employ electricity so real Hoovers aren’t an option).
Lambie-pie survives but, if it were me doing the sucking, my own future would be very much in doubt. Dinner and a movie is definitely out of the question.
But it doesn’t end there……….oh no. Wanna know how to impregnate a cow? Hint: it takes a bull and it takes a cow. But it also seems that a middle-man is necessary and a pail is involved. Later, the arm of the exceptionally brave ‘cowtus interruptus’ completes the act when, presumably, he is in the mood. It’s claimed that it’s more efficient this way.
Honestly, it’s all way too much. I like animals and all that, but this form of intimacy is beyond me. I don’t want any animals around that can blackmail me. I want to be able to eat dinner without boiling my arm first. I prefer to see the front end of animals and, should the business end present itself, I would prefer it be in a state of rest, not anticipation.
Suffice to say, Roy did not come too quickly when called to “Come suck!” Instead, he shouted instructions.
Apparently he had learned that lamb mucous (or any mucous, I suppose) can sometimes be expelled by centrifugal force. In this method the homesteader is obliged to grasp all four lamb hooves and spin the new-born not unlike figure skaters do (head furthest or else you defeat the purpose) and, if all goes well, phlegm will fly. It is further advised to maintain a firm grip on Lambie-pie and ensure plenty of space for either the flung mucous or the suddenly airborne lamb.
But not all of the country extremists are as committed to the well being of the stock as Genny. As the story went, Roy,who was wearing plaid (a housecoat) at the time was also wondering what the price of lamb was going to be this year.
It is a jungle out there.
Our Off the Grid Home 
The under belly of farm life attracts. Later at diner when the roast is complimented. One hears, "Oh that is Snowball, we will try her brother later in the week." That is too much information.
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