Recently I’ve been watching over a friends farm while they’re away. Due to some fencing issues (aka ram getting in, aren’t fences always the bane of a farmers existence?!) lambing is coming sooner than they thought. It’s just down the road and I pop by a couple time a day. So far we’ve had one rough go (the point where I got called in) and since then one ewe has dropped a singleton and two more sets of twins. While all of that has gone well, I find myself questioning multiple things I’m doing, in part because it’s been a while since I had sheep and partially because it isn’t my flock. That’s why I’m so tickled pink that I get to call on my favourite farming mentor to answer my questions.
Grandma.
{Far Left to Right Adults; Me, Grandma, sister Molly, Mom, sister Anna. Kids left to right; Hamish, Mac, then my nieces Amy, June and Ava}
Countless times Grandma has come to my rescue either in person or over the phone.
While she’s gracefully bowed out of many more physical things these days, in favour of taking care of children (still not easy. But much better than pig castration), she stood on the other side of the gate talking me through pulling my first lamb.
She’s helped me in the last few days making decisions to do with this small flock.
She’s helped with animal pregnancy nutrition.
She’s sassily told me that “You know, if you were a cow, we would have shipped you a long time ago” (Stays on the skinny side no matter how good you feed her, Doesn’t get pregnant easily, Miscarries, Gets mastitis when finally does have a baby. I get it. We laughed together. I too would have shipped myself to the butcher if I was a cow!)
In fact, Grandma and I are pretty similar in many ways, because in our family, we’re both the farmers. We both love the job of being a Homemaker. But we both revel in the role of being a farmer.
And for that we’ll forever be bonded in a way that is much stronger than just Grandmother and Granddaughter.
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