Wooly Knob Fiber Mill

     Today me and my friend Xenia drove up to LaOtta (outside Fort Wayne) to the Wooly Knob fiber mill. We took in almost 50 lbs. of clean, washed fleece to be turned into rovings. It was awesome. The big mill was very impressive and made gorgeous roving.

     The whole place was amazing. More fleece and fiber then you could imagine, everywhere. I could have lived there as a small creature darting between shelves, touching things all day long. It was like an amusement park for the totally fiber-mad.

     Since our fleece was skirted, cleaned, and washed before we went up (we made an appointment) we were able to stay for the day, have it all done, and bring it all home that night. Fun fun! The owner, Jamie, is an exceptionally nice guy and even stayed till 7:00 so we could finish our load (note to self- 50 lbs. is more then plenty for one day).

     I had two Romney sheep fleeces processed (socks!!!) and 4 alpaca fleeces. I have... ohhh 1, 2, 3, MANY alpaca fleeces left to skirt/wash but it was a dent in the pile. Xenia got all her fleece from her herd done. So now it's back to tinkering with the raw stuff, then hauling another 50 lbs. up there. That is, in case you are wondering, A LOT of fleece. 50lbs. of roving in trash bags filled the back of my truck. :) Most skeins of yarn are between 2-4 ounces, so 4-8 skeins in a pound. So in the end 200-400 skeins of yarn worth of roving. Should keep me spinning for a week or two...

     Most of the Romney, which is a long, lusterous wool, will be spun then dyed. I like dying bright, vibrant, eye-blistering colors which tend to make Xenia wince as I apply them. It's either natural greys and browns, or something that look like it crawled off the nearest neon sign. But I like it, and that's the point. Nobody else needs to like it, and if they don't they can go make something they like and leave me alone.

     One day I will discover how to hook up my camera to the new computer and post pictures of my latest wild-ness. I have three new designs and I call them "Lizard Yarn", "Giant Purple Cat Thing From Avatar" (there's a story to that one), and "Thing That Made Xenia Cringe".

     But anyways, Wooly Knob was awesome, Jamie was beyond nice, and I will be excited to go back later with another load. Meanwhile I must go drool on the fuzziness...

   

The Jacksons Garden Show

     Today Andy, Pocket, Jasper, myself, and my trusty minion Edwin, went to the Jacksons Garden Show. It was only about 5 miles from home, and we set up a 10'x10' pen for the three boys. They talked to strangers, ate grass, and watched the goings ons of the world. I ate 2 quarts of blueberries and a handful of peaches.

     Pocket was actually the friendliest of the group. Andy has done more of these kinds of things, but Pocket had elected himself in charge. He has started loosing a lot of his "but I'm a cute baby" tactics and replaced them with "I'll spit on you!" He is becoming quite a rough tough guy. As long as he knows he can't give people the same crap he can give the other alpacas, he will actually be very easy to get along with and train.

     Jasper did great, he actually wasn't nervous at all. I thought he may be uncomfortable with the people, since he's a bit squirrely sometimes, but he did his usual "chess-player pondering" and decided this was no big deal and he'd like some hay and a nap. He took the whole thing in stride, and calmly talked to many people. I was very proud of him (despite the fact that he rolled in mud the night before).

     The boys are doing great, and I am terribly happy with them.  

    

Finally have a Computer Again!

     About three weeks ago my computer bit the dust. Started halfway, then crash. It was ten years old, and ran slower then the average snail, so I suppose it was time.

     So now I have a new computer. I am not a technological person, I shopped via, "I like this keyboard", and my mom shopped by saying, "That is a computer made for small children, you can't have it."

     I picked a second choice via keyboard. That one was apparently quite old and no longer stocked or made. We spent way too long in Best Buy, I typed on way too many awful keyboards with all the buttons in the wrong places, until finally I got this one. It was the least disagreeable. Mostly the buttons are in the proper places (ie. where they were on my old computer).
     It'll take some getting used to mostly because now pages load when I pull them up, I can't cook dinner while I wait. It's a bit irksome, and looks like it may become an enormous waste of time, as I will get researching something and simply continue for hours, instead of getting fed up after learning simply what I need to know and moving on. For instance I sat down to check my email a good 3 hours ago. Though I do now know the history of Santa Claus's pagan roots with Poseidon and how to knit a giant preying mantis. In case you didn't know, the internet is also made of cats. All in all and excellent use of three hours, simply because it's too hot outside to actually accomplish anything.

When I Grow Up I'm Gonna Be a Farrier... or a Mechanic

     I was working on my truck the other day and someone asked me why I would do this when God had provided the world with mechanics for exactly this purpose, and I told them because when my business fails due to lack of metal shoes I'm going to be a mechanic and I needed the practice. They didn't get the joke, but it made me think about how far my business has come since I had that conversation, and how many times I've had it since.

     One day after I had only been trimming professionally for a few months (and had a small number of clients and a large number of rank horses), my truck had gone wonky in a McDonald's parking lot and I was under the hood trying to add transmission fluid or adjust something, and another farrier came over to say hi and yack for a bit.

     We talked for awhile, and he was quite surprised that I was a farrier with no intentions of nailing on metal shoes, and crazier still I was not specializing in a "performance" shoeing style, but I blatantly refused to do any "performance" work at all. I explained most "performance" work was hideously bad for the horses health, shoeing babies small, cutting toes short, putting on ungodly wicked things to change gait, not to mention the ugliness they do to TWH's. I told him I got into this because I am my boss and I can choose what I will, and will not do. And that this doesn't include metal and unhealthy shoeing. He agreed with me on all this, agreed most horses would do much better barefoot, and obviously sacrificing the horse itself for the movement wasn't in the horses best interest.

     But he said, you'll never feed yourself doing trims. You have to shoe. There aren't enough barefoot clients to make a living, you make your money on shoes. Sure shoes have drawbacks, but if a farrier can't make a living he'll quit, the horse will go without hoof care, and so actually shoes are the morally correct way to go for the horse. I maybe could survive on trail horse shoeing, but I wouldn't be in good business unless I was willing to "adjust" hooves on performance horses. He hated to break it to me, being young and idealistic, but I'd never be able to make it without bending my morality.

     I thought about it a minute, glanced over at my gimping truck, and said, "Oh well, I'll just have to be a mechanic."

     He stared at me for a minute, "A mechanic? Like on cars?"

     "Yep."

     "Like a grease monkey mechanic?"

     "Yep."

     "Why on earth would you do that?"

     "Don't care where the metal goes on them. If I have to start compromising the horse's health to make my living, that's fine, I'll just work on trucks. It's fascinating you know."

     He looked at me like I was completely mad, which I am, and gave me his best wishes toward success. I'm sure he got quite a chuckle out of my craziness, probably told everybody about that silly green girl that thought she could make a living actually only doing what was good for horses. Probably one those tree-hugging fairy people. He was perfectly nice, but he thought I was an idiot.

     At the time I had never given two thoughts toward being a mechanic, but it's my simple answer whenever people get into this debate with me. Most are owners and trainers, not farriers, who tell me I simply can't do it. They tell me how if they weren't willing to "bend" the rules of the horses well being they'd never get anything done. They'd never advance in training, they'd never have clients, they'd never win a ribbon, and certainly because they'd never make any money. They *have* to you see, there's not a choice. And me going about not *having* to is just plain wrong, someone might start feeling bad. 

     Contrary to the lot of them, I'm doing just fine, and have been for 4 years. Business is great, business grows constantly. I don't believe I've been prouder then when one of my clients introduced me to a friend saying, "She's a little crazy tree-hugger of a gal, but she's the only one who can keep my horse sound, so I recommend her highly." 

     It's for the best really because I'm an inept mechanic, I can only fix things on '85 Fords.    

Casey 5/30/11

     I lost Casey today. He was doing great, full of ornery and feeling good. Sunday he learned to spit properly (straight into my friend Edwin's face). Monday he laid down the in the pasture with the herd for a sunbath/nap and died.

     I let him out that morning and he took up a speeding toddle across the pasture to the gate, wanting out to eat grass. I had to go shear, so told him he had to stay in. He stomped, whined, and gave me evil looks, then finally went to eat hay with Jasper. I wasn't home, but my mom was. She watched everyone playing, then going to a sunny spot and laying in a goat/alpaca pile of sunbathers. After a few hours everyone got up and resumed eating, except Casey. She became worried when she saw the other alpacas out standing around him pushing at him, and still he didn't get up. She called me.

     There were no thrash marks, no signs of a downed animal trying to get up. I think he went in his sleep, I doubt he felt anything or knew. I'm glad he went that way, instead of being in pain or lingering. It makes me wonder if he didn't have a weak/defective heart, which is one of the causes of failure to thrive. It was one of the things I was warned might be wrong with Andy, that he'd either improve or die very suddenly.

     I had him just about a month, and many people loved him. He toddled right up to you, squinted up, and wanted to know who you were, and what you had for him. He wasn't scared of anything or anybody, and wouldn't hesitate to shove Snap or even Pixie out of the hay or grain. His only speed was a toddle, but he expressed himself well with it. He could stomp-toddle, pout-toddle, angrily toddle, happily toddle, proudly toddle, and even trot-toddle which is a gait not even listed as possible.

     He had an incredibly interesting personality, he was at the same time tiny and baby-ish while being stubborn and bossy. Innocent and bossy have rarely gone so well together. I'd have loved to spend more time with him, to know him grown up. He loved his goat family, but he'd become very close with Snap, Andy, and Jasper. He had no herd bound ways at all, and would be seen toddling off somewhere in a far corner, and Andy or Snap would run after and bring him back.

     I was just getting ready to write a post about how well he was doing, his energy was way up, his nose healthy, and he'd abandoned his nest for running about with the herd. I honestly thought he was over the hump, it wouldn't have surprised me at all if he'd gone the first two weeks I had him, but he was doing so well it was a total shock.

    Cody left his hay to come help bury him, to wrap himself around me. As long as I was in the pasture he walked right up against me, letting me throw an arm over his neck and be dragged along. He even gave Edwin kisses to make sure he was ok too. Zak walked on the other side of me, licking my fingers occasionally as he always does when I'm upset. Edwin stayed to help me feed and tell me jokes. Casey was very loved and so am I.

     R.I.P. Casey Coo, sweet little boy, num num num's to you.

Quick Updates

     It's shearing season, madness abounds.

     Between shearing alpacas, llamas, and the occasional sheep, and trimming horses, I am working seven days a week, getting home after dark, and getting nothing done with my animals. Cody is feeling very neglected, he is threatening to remove some vital piece of equipment from my truck so I have to stay home. A good hard stare could drop vital bits off my truck, so I know he can do it.

     Sonny is doing great, running and bucking like a crazy thing. It takes him a bit of steam to get going, but boy can he move when he does. He's keeping Honey in excellent shape for me, she's ripped.

     Snap, Jodi, and Andy have been sheared. It was ungodly hot out, so I rushed to shear them, then it dropped to 40's and 50's. Yes, the weather is my fault.

     Pocket, Jasper, and Pixie were wet the day we sheared thanks to a sudden downpour. Pocket and Jasper stood out in it, and Pixie threw herself in puddle when I haltered her to take her to the table. I made her go anyways, she was Jodi's emotional support. She was so pleased with herself for foiling my plans, she didn't mind hanging out in the barn a bit.

     Poor wee Casey is too cold to shear. I plan to shop for him a small dog coat tomorrow and shear him then. He is cold in his own fiber. Suri's are not known for their weather tolerance.

     During the sudden downpour Friday, Casey was outside. We had a week of solid poo, and no runny nose. He was apparently on the other side of the pasture at the time, and moved through the downpour at his usual toddle. I cam home to a soaking wet, sneezing, suri alpaca. I toweled him off and put him in the stall, but by that night his nose was plugged up and he was hacking and sneezing with diarrhea again.

     I put him on a round of penicillin, which improved him greatly within the next day. I have since learned Casey hates shots. He doesn't have spitting down quite yet, all he does is spit air, no regurgitation. As soon as I begin parting his fiber he spins to begin "spitting" like mad, I give him the quick shot and let him go, and he immedietly "chases" me across the stall (at a speeding toddle) to rapid-fire spit until I am out the door. He then stares at me with a puckered "death to you" face, spins on his heels, and does the toddling-stomp back across the stall to his nest, where he resumes his meal, nap, and show.

     He is improved again, just about back to were he was before the rain. Cody and Zecilly have rain-proof StormShields which they quite love, so I plan to see if I can get one in wee-paca size. He does not seem to have body temperature control down yet, he's young, small, and underweight. Hopefully we get some nice sunny days for him, I think he will be rebounding well again then.

     Everyone else is well and happy. Here is Cody taking a bath on one of our miserably hot days.

Casey

     Meet Casey.

    

     Actually his names is Cassius, but it's well known I'm too lazy to pronounce that long of a name to call him for dinner, so his barn name is Casey.

     Casey is a wee Suri alpaca. You can tell this from the wet-mop look. I have a personal major soft spot for suris, plus the already well known 6-mile soft spot for sickly needy creatures. So Casey was an impossibility amongst my softness.

     He arrived with a major runny nose and diarrhea, so I didn't immediately turn him out. He stayed in a stall were he could see everyone, and the goats where in the next stall over. This didn't seem to phase him a bit, he built a nest for himself in the straw in the corner of the barn and buried his nose in hay. He keeps tabs on the world from this spot, he watches "Days of Our Alpacas" through the stall wall.

     The goats immediately surveyed the newcomer through their stall wall. There was a brief discussion in which the boys voted to ignore him because he was tiny. Zecilly, who is my old mama goat (who also harbors a 6-mile soft spot for sickly things) considered him and then ruled that diminutive though he is, he's also young and will likely grow into something large that will then share his food. It was discussed, the votes were casts, and Casey was made an honorary goat.

     Whether this was done because Zec thought he was cute and was selling it to the boys, or because they recognized in him a genuinely sweet and all-around gullible guy, I don't know. Either way, Casey is a goat.

     Casey is quite delighted to be a goat. I have spent much time trying to convince him to be an alpaca, and he really does love Snap and Andy, but he is also a very happy goat. He has made it perfectly clear, via stamping his tiny feet and giving me the most pitifullest "hhuuummmmmm"s that you have ever heard, that he wants to be with his goats. So despite my prodding, Casey sleeps in the stall with the goats at night, cuddled down in his nest in the corner, face in a flake of hay, contentedly watching the other alpacas outside. Such is the rough life of a 10-month old, 44 lb. suri alpaca-goat.

     To my delight though, Snap has also adopted Casey. If Zec is his new momma, Snap is dad. He is out all day with Snap, who watches over him, eats with him, makes sure everyone is nice to him, and even sleeps with goats so Casey can be with his whole family. Snap is an alpaca saint (and again with the 6-mile soft spot). I couldn't be prouder of that big boy if I tried.

     And yes, that is actually a picture of Cody. :)