pasture raised meat


Moving sheep. They get pretty loud when they see you coming with the rolled up sheep nets. They’ll follow you from one end of the fence to the other as you move and get things set up. Then when you open the corner, there’s a stampede. Just as quickly as it started, it’s over and all you can hear is munching of grass. But, within a few moments the lambs realize that their moms are missing and everybody starts calling out and running frantically. Mom doesn’t usually answer. She’s too busy eating first choice grass. 

Sheep are strange. I don’t know how I feel about them. They’re pretty dumb. The other day they had plenty of shade, but insisted on standing in a group in the sun while trying  to hide under each other’s shadows. They take a lot of work. Not so much physically demanding (minus shearing and hoof trimming), but time. It takes time to lay out nets and pick up old ones. Move water buckets and fence chargers. That’s precious time we could be hoeing or transplanting. But they are fertilizing the ground, keeping the pasture mowed, and providing some extra income from fleece and meat. I dunno. 

Time is a commodity in farming. And it’s time for me to pass out. 


I felt like posting something, but I don’t have the energy to write about it tonight. I’ve been sick. It sucks. 

Max and I made Portuguese Kale Soup with hot lamb sausage from Crabapple. This is a picture of one of the lambs that is in the soup. It’s Julie’s ram lamb that we kept intact. He didn’t meet standards for breeding so he was sent off with some other ram lambs. And a picture of the soup…