Yes, I'm actually sitting down this morning at Struan Farm to write a blog post, WOW. Perhaps I may get back into this particular groove, we'll see. Peak tomatoes is probably not the best time for that.
But something happened this morning that warrants a post, especially for long time followers.
Farmer John arrived at the house this morning. He's dosing and sorting sheep this morning. The ram lambs are being sent off and he's checking everyone else. It's not been the best season with dry conditions and unusual worms plus the risk of facial eczema. So he's onto it.
But he was coming up to talk to me about Rosie. He said she had severe mastitis. This meant she couldn't breed again. We talked about possible treatment, but he said that there are subsequent risks associated with that. The best course of action was humane euthanasia.
In rural life (and life in general) there are times when you need to make decisions that you'd prefer not to have to make. I told him if this were the best course of action for her that of course that's what we would do. But I wanted to come down to see her, feed her an apple, and say thank you and good bye.
As if we all aren't dealing with enough sadness, uncertainty, etc. at the moment with Omicron on our doorstep. I also wondered how the heck Hubby John was possibly going to move the sheep from paddock to paddock around the farm without Rosie in the lead. The lambs pay no attention to him whatsoever. Rosie and Cookie are teaching them the ropes.
There's good news. I went down to the yards at the wood shed to see Rosie and all the lambs, apple in hand. She was standing right at the front of the yard, predictably. It turns out that Farmer John had made a mistake, the ewe with mastitis was someone else, not Rosie!!! A few months ago she lost her ratty red collar, and he isn't able to identify the pets and former pets as well as I can. She is fat and healthy, doesn't even have her usual runny nose. The other ewe, another former pet no longer socialised, was gaunt and had red irritation visible on her udder.
Major phew. LONG LIVE ROSIE!
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