In the “working” side of the barn, where the “office” is (see Barn Tour–the “Office”), there are five roomy stalls, accessed from the alleyway.
Three of them seem to have been constructed with horses in mind. (Or at least, reconstructed with horses in mind. The barn is vintage 1890s, and the stalls were obviously renovated at some later period.) Across the left side, there are three equal-sized stalls with sliding metal doors.
Outside the stalls, there are “doors” to fill feed buckets without going inside.
Inside, there are hay racks and the feed buckets.
There’s a window for ventilation in each stall, and there’s plenty of room for a horse or several sheep or goats.
All the stalls have electric lighting. With the way the doors are constructed, it’s easy to see inside if you want to know what’s going on without opening it up. One of these stalls will be for Morgan’s horse. It will be spring soon! Horse time! The horse, by the way, along with expenses and supplies/equipment for said yet imaginary horse, is a gift from Morgan’s dad. (I can’t afford a horse. And know nothing about horses. Looks like I’m going to be learning soon, though.) The last two horses housed here were named Reggie–
–and Cavalier.
I told Morgan it would be so much simpler if she named her horse Reggie or Cavalier, but she didn’t seem to think that was going to happen.
I’ve already found these stalls very handy for sheltering the sheep and goats when it snows, and for bringing in the donkeys for hoof-trimming. I’m planning to bring the sheep in here for shearing. It feels luxurious to have such a nice place to pen up animals when work needs done, and is so much easier than chasing them around pastures and trying to herd them into temporary holding spots. I’ve done enough of that to genuinely appreciate the convenience the barn and its stalls afford.
Across the alleyway from those three stalls are two more. One is the “odd” stall that I haven’t quite figured out yet. There’s a bit of a step up to it and it’s quite rough in comparison to the three stalls across from it. The door is wooden, and you can’t see in if it’s shut.
I’m not sure what may have been kept in here in the past, or what I’ll use it for in the future. I’ve had the sheep in here a few times, but I’m not using it now.
Between the odd stall and the “office” (aka tack room), there is another roomy stall with a sliding metal door.
It’s not set up quite as nicely as the three stalls across, and whatever it was used for in the past, it was last used for storage of this white aluminum picket fencing, which was left behind by the previous owners.
Directly outside this stall is where there was another (third) barn water faucet. (There are two water faucets in the front barn yard–one right outside the barn and another one in front of the goat yard.) I say was in regard to this third faucet inside the alleyway because it was knocked down by the previous owner’s horse. I’m planning to have it repaired.
My thoughts on this stall is to turn it into my milking parlor, which is why I want to have the faucet repaired–for easy water access to the milking room. The stall will need quite a bit of work (more labor than money). The ground is uneven and could use some minor grading. While there is electric light here, it needs a bit more lighting, and of course the addition of a head lock for a cow. I’d also like to add a small goat stanchion for milking the goats when I dare. A work table and some shelves would be helpful as well.
It will be nice to have a dedicated, indoor, dry space to milk!
There is one more stall–but it’s accessed from the outside (the rear barn yard) and is where the cows and donkeys shelter and is on the other side of the barn.
The alleyway outside the stalls is interesting in and off itself. It’s lighted, of course, and has electrical outlets if you need them. There are also some interesting things hanging around here and there, such as another one of those horseshoes–at least this one is hanging up right!
Lots of giant hooks to tie animals.
I use those to hang my camera sometimes if I’ve taken it to the barn and need to put it somewhere while I do some work.
I like this sun thing.
I’ve got some buckets and stuff lined up here because there’s a space here where those naughty goats would slip into and go under the barn. I have to constantly assess the barn for goat escape routes because they’re so ornery.
There are a couple of metaphysical shop signs that belonged to the previous owner’s sister, the one who was a psychic and lived in the studio. She had a shop in Clendenin.
I might set up one of these signs and a little booth and see if Poky wants to go into business in the rear barn yard.
Maybe she could start with predicting when/if she’s going to have a baby. Donkeys are pregnant for 11 months. She’s been with Jack for a year and a half. Where’s the baby?
I love this barn. Every time I do something with the animals in the barn, I feel like I’m on a vacation. In a storybook. It’s just all so cute.
Next up–
I’ll take you through the “people” (or “storage”) side of the barn.
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Every morning starts with heading to the barn to throw down some hay for the sheep and goats. Annabelle’s always right on me.
Good morning, Annabelle.
She wants some lovin’.
And a good scratch. MinnieBelle isn’t quite as friendly, but she’s not unfriendly, either. Mama likes me, and babies take their cues accordingly.
She’s got her mama’s face, but she’s a Cotswold through and through in her body type and coat.
Mr. Cotswold was always in fine form with his skill at passing his long, curly coat onto every lamb he fathered at Stringtown Rising. We never got a pure Cotswold as neither of the Cotswold ewes we had ever lambed, but with all the crosses he produced with the Jacob ewes, they all had their mama’s coloring in the dark wool, but the wool itself came out long and curly.
Miss Crazy, on the right, is a 50/50 Cotswold-Jacob cross. She was one of Jester’s babes. She was the lamb that was constantly in the road at Stringtown Rising. She hasn’t escaped here once, so I’ve just about decided to keep her!
Junior there on the left is her ram lamb. Notice he looks just like her. The Jacob ewes all produced lambs with Mr. Cotswold’s curly coat, their coloring, and also their body type. Crazy was bred back to Mr. Cotswold, but that didn’t change the dynamic. Still no Cotswold heft–just the curly coat along with the dark coloring and the lighter Jacob body type.
I’m keeping Junior around long enough for a breeding, just because he’s handy at the moment, then he’ll have to go. Crazy’s offspring from him will be a sort of convoluted second/third-generation breed-back and I’m not going any further, plus his body type just isn’t what I’m going for. I’ve had people inquiring into purchasing lambs, but around these parts, the interest isn’t in the exotic wool. It’s meat. Besides being related too closely to both Crazy, his mother, and MinnieBelle (half sibling), he doesn’t have the body type for my purposes. He isn’t related to Annabelle at all, of course, so I’m hoping she might produce a ram lamb from a breeding with him that will have some heft, but we’ll see. I won’t keep a ram lamb from either MinnieBelle or Crazy next time because of the relation combined with my desire to breed out the Jacob genetics. If I don’t have a ram lamb from Annabelle that fits the bill, I’ll probably go looking for an “outside” suitable ram lamb and bring in something fresh.
I’m not sure about whether or not I’ll keep any ewe lambs, either. I’m not particularly looking to increase my sheep, but it depends on how sales of lambs go and how the pasture works out. I have a lot of pasture here, and plenty of rotational fields planned for the four sheep I have, but sheep eat a lot and I don’t want to devote any more space to them than I already have planned.
Crazy was mama-reared, and like most mama-reared sheep, this means she thinks I’m out to kill her, and so of course Junior thinks I’m out to get him, too. Well, actually, eventually…. NEVER MIND. They watch me curiously as I enter the front barn yard to head for the hayloft and the morning ritual, but they are quick to run when I pass by too closely.
RUN!
Barn cats run toward me.
Then back to the barn door.
I mean, what if I forget the way? They have to lead. They know that hay time also means that while in the loft, I’m going to dump some cat food in their pan. They don’t keep the mice under control for nothin’, you know.
Once I get to the hayloft (after escaping Annbelle’s clutches–she’d like some cat food, too), I roll a bale over to the loft door.
This whole process makes me feel like I’m on vacation. I can’t tell you how difficult it was to get a bale of hay to anyone anywhere at Stringtown Rising. (Though I tried. Sometimes it could be quite ridiculous and exhausting and a total production.) All I have to do here is push down a bale from the towering stacks in the loft, roll it end to end over to the loft opening, and push it out.
Except.
There’s MinnieBelle!
Notice the rest of the sheep have positioned themselves at a reasonable distance from the drop point.
Sheep brain cells are limited. Apparently, between the four of them, MinnieBelle doesn’t get to have any. OR she’s the smartest one! The head of the class! She’s gonna be first!
Either way, one of these days, she’s going to get her head taken off by a bale of hay.
MINNIEBELLE!!!
I hang around the loft, petting the cats. Sometimes I hang out the window to the rear barn yard and talk to BP and Glory Bee, or Jack and Poky, whoever is out around there. Then go back to check on MinnieBelle again. And admire the view. I moved here on the brink of winter, and I stand here at the loft door, staring out over the pastures and hills and trees and imagine what it will all look like in the spring.
Note that the goats are clumped over there at the fenceline. They’re bawling their heads off, annoyed with their waitress at the breakfast service delay. I yell to them, “YOU NEED TO TALK TO MINNIEBELLE.”
It reminds me of the quiet time you get at a cow’s udder when you’re hand milking in the morning. Nothing to do but what you’re doing, nowhere to go but where you are. Sometimes MinnieBelle eventually forgets I went into the barn at all and wanders off. Other days, she sticks right there and just won’t budge. If I have other things to do, I give up and hone my aim as I push the bale out in a new game in which I attempt to avoid striking the target.
Whew.
I toss down more hay to load up in my handy little cart and take to the goats, who never believe it was all MinnieBelle’s fault. They never leave me a tip. I’m the worst waitress ever.
I go back to the house with visions of spring pastures still dancing in my head. This is a beautiful farm, and I have so many plans. There are difficulties and worries, and more difficulties and more worries, but every morning I get to go out to the barn, scratch a sheep’s head, admire the view out the front of the loft, lean out the back of the loft to say, “Glory Bee Bee! Glory Bee Bee!” then toss down some hay and walk back to the house with a trail of chickens on my heels like Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown with my own poof of dust (er, feathery bodies) billowing from behind.
A reader emailed me recently asking me if the farm life was really worth all the obstacles and money drains and nights up with worry.
Oh, yes.
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