We Bought a Farm: The story of my morning

Here's the lesson of the day on the farm: 

"Training them to eat out of your hand 

may turn out to be very grand."

Last week, I wrote of how we lost one of our prized rams to a toxic plant (seeds of the mimosa tree). His paddock-mate, Captain, however, has been doing well and did not appear to ingest enough of the plant himself to find himself suffering the same fate.

Unfortunately, we haven't been able to get another ram in with him with yet to keep him company ...

(We have a male lamb we were unable to castrate due to his testicles not dropping who would make a perfect companion -- aren't you glad you asked?)

... and so today, he decided to go find some company of his own.

Ever since Admiral died last week, I've been really working with Captain. Captain has never been as friendly with people as Admiral was. We always relied on Admiral to follow us from paddock to paddock on the farm -- which brought Captain right behind him. But without Admiral, we knew we were going to need Captain to start following us himself.

For months now I've been going into the paddock with the rams and calling them to me. If they came, the reward was some much-loved alfalfa right out of our hands. Admiral always came easily. Captain was always hesitant. But with Admiral gone, I stepped up my game. I started visiting Captain regularly. In the beginning, Captain wasn't so sure, but over the course of the last few days, he's even been letting me pet his head as he chomped on alfalfa.

Okay, so fast forward to today. My cousin Eddie and his oldest son, Gabe, came over to do a little farm work this morning. Gabe came running into the house to tell me that they had found Admiral all the way across the farm trying to get in with the ladies.

Egads.

Not good at all.

Timen was taking the morning off, but I asked Abigail to please go and wake him up. JB was at work and Grampa was running errands. I knew I would need Tijmen to solve this.

Here's the thing: a big ram like Captain is well over 200 pounds of nearly pure muscle. These guys are strong. In addition, they can charge you if they want to -- adding to the drama of the situation. With more than 30 ladies baaaaa-ing for his intention, he obviously has no interest in leaving them to come with us.

Here's the other thing: our farm is very, very hilly. Like really hilly. Just remember that when I tell this story. Especially remember that this spot you see Scrubs in on the picture below? That's where we were having to try to wrangle this ram.

(Oh, and see that pond there in the photo? We call it Superman pond. I may have actually fallen in it up to my knees today. But that's another story I don't need to go into details on.)

By the time Tijmen woke up and joined Eddie, Gabe, and myself, we had already gone up and down a hill mountain two times trying to see if we could try to lead Captain away from the ladies. But it wasn't getting us anywhere. He wasn't going to let us push him away from the gals. Our only hope would be to catch him.

Tijmen and I dialogued about this. Eddie and Gabe are new to the farming life and don't really know the behavior of rams yet, but Tijmen has been here enough to have enough knowledge to make a decision. I've learned that when facing one of these farming "conundrums", having two heads to really think about what is going on is incredibly helpful.

Tijmen: "We aren't going to be able to catch him. I think our best bet is to let him in with the girls. Then maybe he'll be distracted and we stand a chance to jump on him."
Me: "Did I tell you he has been eating alfalfa out of my hand?"
Tijmen: "Noooooo. That's a different story."
Me: "Yeah. Watch."

I preceded to trudge back up the hill mountain to where Captain was trying to figure out how to break through the line and get in with the girls. I walked right up to him with a handful of alfalfa and voilà I had him, literally, eating out of my hand. 

Now what? 

Tijmen knew he couldn't also get very close to Captain without spooking him. I was the only one he was going to do this with. So Tijmen got low to the ground and sort of snuck up the hill and got as close as he could before knowing he couldn't go any farther. All the while, I kept feeding the big ol' ram alfalfa. 

Me: "Now what. I'm running out of alfalfa." 
Tijmen: "You gotta grab one of his legs."
Me: "Really? You think I can do that?"
Tijmen: "Yeah. You can do it. Grab his leg. Once you have it, I'll run and grab his body."
Me: "Okay."

I plotted my next move carefully. I knew enough from being around sheep for the last three years that once they got spooked, you really lost your leverage over them. Once they got that "flight" instinct, your chances of success started dropping exponentially. I knew I probably only had one chance. And maybe two. If I was lucky.

I also knew that rams can be dangerous, and I really didn't want to take a head to the face or experience any other sort of uncomfortable pain if I could help it. I fed him and fed him and fed him. He kept his front left leg just out of my reach and then, I lunged for it.

I missed.

Tijmen: "That was a lousy attempt."
Me: "Well, thanks."

I love how honest Tijmen is. Truly. It's one of my favorite things about him. Even when he honestly tells me I suck at grabbing ram's legs. I mean, who woulda thought that was something you could be lousy at.

I lured Captain again and began the process a second time. I was pretty confident that this was it. I wouldn't get another chance. I had to fully commit. I had to grab the leg and NOT miss. I waited. I prayed. I tried to catch my breath. I went for it. I dove knowing I could NOT miss. 

And I got it!

One second after I had the leg, Tijmen came flying in. Once we got the ram on his backside, I knew we had won the first half of the battle. We got him on his side, both lying there while Gabe and Eddie ran up to give us some congratulations.

And now the new problem.

Wendi: "Okay. Good. We got the ram. But now, how in the world do we carry him down a hill mountain?"
Eddie: "What about the four-wheeler?"
Tijmen: "To steep a drive. We can only do it with a truck."
Wendi: "John's at work with his truck."
Tijmen: "We could have Grampa drive up here with his truck."

So thankful I had tucked my cell phone in my pocket, I whipped it out and called Grampa. He was in town getting his oil changed. It would be at least an hour before he got back. No way we could lay on this ram for an hour.

We finally surmised our only option was for Eddie to take over my laying-on-the-ram-position and for me to go back down to the farmhouse and find some big thick rope.

Lovely. Back down the hill mountain. Find rope. Back up the hill mountain.

(Did I mention our piano teacher had shown up at the house and was doing piano lessons? I had no idea what my kids were doing at this point. Truly.)

When I handed Tijmen the rope I had found, he wasn't impressed, and in typical Tijmen fashion, he didn't hesitate to tell me so. "This won't work," he said.

I almost started to cry.

He decided to give it a go.

Tijmen: "I've been designing a harness in my head ever since you left to find rope," he laughed.

Tijmen did an amazing job fashioning a harness. Would it stand the test of a big ol' ram back down the hill mountain? Only time would tell. We stood Captain back up and began the long walk to the kennel by our house that we call the "Thunder Dome." (Apparently that is a Mad Max reference that I don't get but everyone else things is fantastic.)

We did it. It was a long and exhausting walk that Captain was not excited to make. But the harness held up and Captain is now residing in the Thunder Dome until we can decide how he got out of his previous paddock and what to do to make sure he doesn't do it again.

So that was my morning.

I had 'em eating out of my hands, folks!