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We welcome stories, news, annoucements or any item of experience. Click and use this form to type in your story. It will be sent to the Ladies Of The Mill and to the webmaster. We will notify you when it has been added to our stories page. We reserve the right not to publish.
One day our oldest son, Ty, phoned to say he, granddaughter Katie and her friend Alexis were coming to do the 'experience' thing: birthing, cleaning out jugs, feeding and 4-wheeling.
On the day of their arrival I was out with a ewe that was having some difficulties. Grampa said go on out to see if Gramma needed help. Away they went. As they approached Alexis hesitatingly stepped forward to help hold the ewe. The lamb was breached but soon came out slimy and alive. Granddaughter Katie looked and said "YUCK!" Well, Ty, in his mind thought, "oh, this is not going to work". Yet by the end of their stay all were enjoying the slimy lambs, the dirt, and the joy of watching the lambs do their races. Oh, they too had fun slowly driving the 4-wheeler checking the ewes that would soon give birth. It is fasinating as a grandparent to watch as the grandchildren learn from their 'experiences'.
Planning for Lambing from South of Town and
Up the River By Carlyn Schroeder Wildflower@rangeweb.net It was a blistering hot day, August 29th, my gorgeous, and I thought contented big bad boy bucks were grazing in there designated pasture and all was well. Hours later that same day, while working in the barnyard I saw those same delinquent bad boys with the ewes. There noses were high in the air sniffing for goodies. I freaked! There date with the girls was not on the calendar until October 10th. It took over an hour, but I got them out, put them in a secure corral and marked this date on the calendar. Five months minus five days later I scheduled myself for what I like to call ‘pre- lambing.
By the fifteenth of January I was ready. The jugs were put together, alfalfa and grain were in place along with two round bales of straw, medicine, docking and castrating bands were purchased also CD&T serum, supplements, paint, lamb jackets and scissors were all in order. My little room that I stay in during the night was complete with cot and blankets, clock, crock pot and heater. I was prepared, I was ready, bring it on!
On the night of January 25th, I brought the flock in and started my week of night lambing. Every 2 hours the alarm would blast in my ears, up I would get, put on extra cloths and out I’d go to check the girls. With each trudging I would say a silent prayer, ‘Oh Lord! Please let there be NO lambs!’ It was too dang cold!
I was prepared to have between 10 and 30 ewes lamb out, but much to my surprise and delight there was only one on the 3rd. night. A fine set of twins too. By the time I got to them they already had icicles on there legs. Yes sir re that was it; seven nights in the barn and only one drop. I must have noticed the bucks with the ewes just as they got there, thank-goodness. Two of the nights were double digits below zero; it was so cold in my little room (even with the heater) that the buckets of water that I had for a new birthed mother, froze on top.
This episode of ‘pre-lambing’ was something new for me, but without a doubt not for most all others that have livestock and an errant buck or bull. I learned my lesson in regards to making sure the fences are secure. A flimsy fence will not hold back the call of mom nature. Hats off to those that schedule birth in January and February burr, I prefer March, April or May!
It was early morning the Wednesday before elk and deer rifle season opened. I was startled awake by a sound I had never heard before, it was loud and resonated. My only description would be something between an injured large animal and a horse whinny. A sound or cry that was new to my ears.
As soon as the light of day came I followed the sound which took me to the edge of the Powder River. I could not see anything but it came from directly across.
I called neighbors on the other side of the river and there was indeed a huge herd of elk. I now know what a bull elk bugle sounds like!
I began to hope that the elk would not get spooked by hunters on opening day to make them dash across the river and tear down my fences on there way to the hills.
But WoIsMe!! To my utter amazement and awesome surprise two days later the elk were standing in the middle of my alfalfa field. They were so close I could almost see there eyes and so clam one was laying down. There must have been between 60 and 100 of them. I just stood there at my dining room window muttering “oh my goodness, good molly, holy shit, no way and holly mackerel!” I could not believe my eyes.
I did hope that they would not get spooked on opening day, but I never expected them to be standing right in front of me. And wouldn’t you know it my camera was in the truck.
I did finally try to sneak out to get the camera, but they must have radar ears because they began to move towards the hills. There was no fear in them because they just eased away and jumped all the fences. Then they were gone.
` And if this powerful experience were not enough, a couple of weeks later another majestic moment happened. It was about 8:30 in the night and I was on my way home from town. Just past my first cattle guard but before Butte Creek Road, an albino bull elk crossed the road just in front of me. He was not running but had a gentle lope on his way to the hills. His neck was off brown and so was his rack, but the whole body was white. I did shout out loud “Oh my God, go baby go!”
I feel privileged to have had these experience and so many more while here in Montana. But they do not pall to the majestic virgin birth of our Lord Jesus, which always fills my soul with gratefulness. Christmas is so special to me, not so much for Santa clause and the gift giving but rather to have received a gift from God Himself. It is a time of year to outwardly show love, joy, understanding and tolerance.
Merry Christmas to all and the wonder of the season touch every heart.
I remember...softly, silently the brown earth changed, taking a new form as the first snowflake drifts to the ground. Sparkling snowflakes are a joyous, magic gift, a pretty inspriting moment for me as I recall my most memorable Christmas.
Have you ever wondered which Christmas was special? Christmas to me had been made up of many little things, each possessing some unmistakable quality. Everywhere we are transfored into a seasonal showplace: red, green, yellow lights; Nativity and Santa scenes; the hurry, scurry of shoppers; and preparing of ourselves for the arrival of our Savior.
I had lived most of my life in an area where seasons never change. There was a constant pattern of sun, wind, little rain and never experiencing the chill of snow. It was until that first time away from my immediate family that Christmas took on a new meaning for me who was now a wife and a mother. As the year moved, the seasons changed. Spring had it birth of new: trees budding, flowers blooming, baby calves and little lambs. Summer with its sizzling days, thunder about, and the smell of cut hay. Autumn beckons with orange, red, brown and yellow colors aglow. And finally wintertime: barren with rains and winds, leaving the trees as bare a skeletons and embarrassing the landscape.
On this particular Christmas everything was ready. The gifts had been selected and wrapped now tucked under the tree with its branches wearing the trimmings made by the children. The home is sweet with promise of wonder. And the night is illuminated with stars and the glow of a swollen moon.
The night passes silently only to be awoke with the exuberant cries of my children. Then arising to gaze from my window, like magic, to see the world had been transformed. Softly, feathery light the snow had wordlessly fallen to the ground. To celebrate our first Christmas as a wrapped package. This was our Savior's gift for us to call our own. The trees and its limbs trimmed in white fur. The pasture fences as crystal filigree. The awesome quietness prevails. All a view of an undisturbed beauty that has changed our surroundings. This memorable moment showed me that Christmas was not of material matters or words that are said but of what one feels from the heart. Peace, quiet and faith is the gift that will LAST.
We welcome stories, news, annoucements or any item of experience. Click and use this form to type in your story. It will be sent to the Ladies Of The Mill and to the webmaster. We will notify you when it has been added to our stories page. We reserve the right not to publish.
One day our oldest son, Ty, phoned to say he, granddaughter Katie and her friend Alexis were coming to do the 'experience' thing: birthing, cleaning out jugs, feeding and 4-wheeling.
On the day of their arrival I was out with a ewe that was having some difficulties. Grampa said go on out to see if Gramma needed help. Away they went. As they approached Alexis hesitatingly stepped forward to help hold the ewe. The lamb was breached but soon came out slimy and alive. Granddaughter Katie looked and said "YUCK!" Well, Ty, in his mind thought, "oh, this is not going to work". Yet by the end of their stay all were enjoying the slimy lambs, the dirt, and the joy of watching the lambs do their races. Oh, they too had fun slowly driving the 4-wheeler checking the ewes that would soon give birth. It is fasinating as a grandparent to watch as the grandchildren learn from their 'experiences'.
Planning for Lambing from South of Town and
Up the River By Carlyn Schroeder Wildflower@rangeweb.net It was a blistering hot day, August 29th, my gorgeous, and I thought contented big bad boy bucks were grazing in there designated pasture and all was well. Hours later that same day, while working in the barnyard I saw those same delinquent bad boys with the ewes. There noses were high in the air sniffing for goodies. I freaked! There date with the girls was not on the calendar until October 10th. It took over an hour, but I got them out, put them in a secure corral and marked this date on the calendar. Five months minus five days later I scheduled myself for what I like to call ‘pre- lambing.
By the fifteenth of January I was ready. The jugs were put together, alfalfa and grain were in place along with two round bales of straw, medicine, docking and castrating bands were purchased also CD&T serum, supplements, paint, lamb jackets and scissors were all in order. My little room that I stay in during the night was complete with cot and blankets, clock, crock pot and heater. I was prepared, I was ready, bring it on!
On the night of January 25th, I brought the flock in and started my week of night lambing. Every 2 hours the alarm would blast in my ears, up I would get, put on extra cloths and out I’d go to check the girls. With each trudging I would say a silent prayer, ‘Oh Lord! Please let there be NO lambs!’ It was too dang cold!
I was prepared to have between 10 and 30 ewes lamb out, but much to my surprise and delight there was only one on the 3rd. night. A fine set of twins too. By the time I got to them they already had icicles on there legs. Yes sir re that was it; seven nights in the barn and only one drop. I must have noticed the bucks with the ewes just as they got there, thank-goodness. Two of the nights were double digits below zero; it was so cold in my little room (even with the heater) that the buckets of water that I had for a new birthed mother, froze on top.
This episode of ‘pre-lambing’ was something new for me, but without a doubt not for most all others that have livestock and an errant buck or bull. I learned my lesson in regards to making sure the fences are secure. A flimsy fence will not hold back the call of mom nature. Hats off to those that schedule birth in January and February burr, I prefer March, April or May!
It was early morning the Wednesday before elk and deer rifle season opened. I was startled awake by a sound I had never heard before, it was loud and resonated. My only description would be something between an injured large animal and a horse whinny. A sound or cry that was new to my ears.
As soon as the light of day came I followed the sound which took me to the edge of the Powder River. I could not see anything but it came from directly across.
I called neighbors on the other side of the river and there was indeed a huge herd of elk. I now know what a bull elk bugle sounds like!
I began to hope that the elk would not get spooked by hunters on opening day to make them dash across the river and tear down my fences on there way to the hills.
But WoIsMe!! To my utter amazement and awesome surprise two days later the elk were standing in the middle of my alfalfa field. They were so close I could almost see there eyes and so clam one was laying down. There must have been between 60 and 100 of them. I just stood there at my dining room window muttering “oh my goodness, good molly, holy shit, no way and holly mackerel!” I could not believe my eyes.
I did hope that they would not get spooked on opening day, but I never expected them to be standing right in front of me. And wouldn’t you know it my camera was in the truck.
I did finally try to sneak out to get the camera, but they must have radar ears because they began to move towards the hills. There was no fear in them because they just eased away and jumped all the fences. Then they were gone.
` And if this powerful experience were not enough, a couple of weeks later another majestic moment happened. It was about 8:30 in the night and I was on my way home from town. Just past my first cattle guard but before Butte Creek Road, an albino bull elk crossed the road just in front of me. He was not running but had a gentle lope on his way to the hills. His neck was off brown and so was his rack, but the whole body was white. I did shout out loud “Oh my God, go baby go!”
I feel privileged to have had these experience and so many more while here in Montana. But they do not pall to the majestic virgin birth of our Lord Jesus, which always fills my soul with gratefulness. Christmas is so special to me, not so much for Santa clause and the gift giving but rather to have received a gift from God Himself. It is a time of year to outwardly show love, joy, understanding and tolerance.
Merry Christmas to all and the wonder of the season touch every heart.
I remember...softly, silently the brown earth changed, taking a new form as the first snowflake drifts to the ground. Sparkling snowflakes are a joyous, magic gift, a pretty inspriting moment for me as I recall my most memorable Christmas.
Have you ever wondered which Christmas was special? Christmas to me had been made up of many little things, each possessing some unmistakable quality. Everywhere we are transfored into a seasonal showplace: red, green, yellow lights; Nativity and Santa scenes; the hurry, scurry of shoppers; and preparing of ourselves for the arrival of our Savior.
I had lived most of my life in an area where seasons never change. There was a constant pattern of sun, wind, little rain and never experiencing the chill of snow. It was until that first time away from my immediate family that Christmas took on a new meaning for me who was now a wife and a mother. As the year moved, the seasons changed. Spring had it birth of new: trees budding, flowers blooming, baby calves and little lambs. Summer with its sizzling days, thunder about, and the smell of cut hay. Autumn beckons with orange, red, brown and yellow colors aglow. And finally wintertime: barren with rains and winds, leaving the trees as bare a skeletons and embarrassing the landscape.
On this particular Christmas everything was ready. The gifts had been selected and wrapped now tucked under the tree with its branches wearing the trimmings made by the children. The home is sweet with promise of wonder. And the night is illuminated with stars and the glow of a swollen moon.
The night passes silently only to be awoke with the exuberant cries of my children. Then arising to gaze from my window, like magic, to see the world had been transformed. Softly, feathery light the snow had wordlessly fallen to the ground. To celebrate our first Christmas as a wrapped package. This was our Savior's gift for us to call our own. The trees and its limbs trimmed in white fur. The pasture fences as crystal filigree. The awesome quietness prevails. All a view of an undisturbed beauty that has changed our surroundings. This memorable moment showed me that Christmas was not of material matters or words that are said but of what one feels from the heart. Peace, quiet and faith is the gift that will LAST.
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