Our host, Tracy Toth, visits Rebecca Gunther of Jersey West Farm who shares wonderful tips about sheep wrangling in the show ring. We learn a lot about the conformation and characteristics of Navajo-Churro sheep in Webisode 1 of this two part program.

The story continues with Webisode 2, be sure to check it out.

We bred our ewes to Baw Blue (or Blue as he’s commonly called) last year. Reese, our matriarch, “threw” Penny this past Spring.

Reese and newborn Penny

Penny was born jet-black except for a little patch of white on her nose, crown, and very faint white “tears” (which I didn’t even notice until it came time to note her markings).

Penny Today

As Penny’s coat grew over the summer, she exhibited signs of black and brown in her wool. The color of churro wool will do that. It can change with age and bleach out with exposure to sunlight. Yet, when the shearer came last week??? What a lovely surprise! As her outer coat fell to the floor, her inner coat was a shimmering light gray-blue against her black legs and under-belly…matched with her distinct “tears” means she’s BLUE. English Blue to be precise.

Blue is the genetic color designation (which does not change) and will be noted on her registry paperwork. Her wool color will change with age and will also be noted on the paperwork — which will accompany a fleece sample from her shearing at one year of age.

[The following “Genetic Color Terms” courtesy of  www.navajo-churrosheep.com]

Blue – Born black but in first year develop silver/charcoal inner coat while outer remains brownish/black. May develop white on eyes and muzzle but keep dark points, legs, body and belly are dark. Hips, sides are greyed.

English Blue – Must have white tears, may have white in ears or on muzzle. This is a pattern on Black or Brown.

Texel Blue – Resembles Badgerface. There is a dark bar over each eye, dark top of nose, dark under jaw on light face.

Why is this so special? It’s special because of the rarity of this particular color. The table shows, historically, less than one percent of the population of registered Churro possess this genetic color.

Navajo Churro Color Data – Past and Present

I’m so thrilled to have this color combination in our flock—and to know it’s the matriarch’s ewe-lamb that has it. I can’t wait until Penny’s of “breed-able” age to see how her very special traits are passed on!

Navajo-Churro sheep need to be shorn twice a year. Their wool grows an inch a month.

Typically, we’ll have the shearer come in September and March (or thereabouts). The shearing happens before they’re bred and then again after the lambs arrive. The timing is good in that it cleans the mamas from the lambing and gets them ready for the warmer months.

Our shearer has been doing this his entire life. It’s something I wouldn’t mind trying but it’s such a delicate job, and I love my flock so much, that I’d rather a professional be at the helm of this task.

He’ll trim the hooves, de-worm (if we wish) – which just means he administers a “drench,” that is a liquid – and shear.

His technique is one that many spinners like because he doesn’t take “second cuts.” He takes one long pass along the sheep instead of going back to cut again (resulting in smaller “bits” of wool left in the fleece).

Another good thing about having him do the shearing is that he’s an “outsider” to our flock – he’s a valuable objective observer as to the overall health and well-being of everyone.

Sheep almost look like different animals after a shearing. It just has to feel good to have that “haircut” every six months or so –  just look at how relaxed they all looked that next morning.

Look at my little freckled friend—freckled with pollen, that is.

I love taking my camera around the yard and finding new subjects. Take, for instance, the pictures of my sedum. I was traipsing through the flower beds noting the faded blooms, dead leaves, and broken, spent stems when I came upon my three sedum plants. All three were ablaze with bumble bee activity! 

Nothing else was going on in those tired, old flower beds except for the little energized world on those sedum blooms. 

It’s funny:  I’ll slow down to capture something and end up being captivated by what I’m viewing through the lens.

Gee, who’s catching whom?

I believe sauerkraut was one of those accidental discoveries. Someone put cabbage in a vessel and just, plain, forgot about it. I’ve done that; who hasn’t?  Typically, it’s something in the very back of the refrigerator though… resulting in a finale not quite as pleasant as sauerkraut.

It’s easy to think of “kraut” being a German “discovery,” isn’t it?  After all, it’s a typical pairing on a German dinner plate.

Believe it or not, the beginnings of sauerkraut actually date back a full 2,000 years—to the Chinese laborers building the Great Wall. At that time, apparently the cabbage was fermented in rice wine, whereas today we know kraut-making as a “dry method” of salting the cabbage to extract the natural juices in which it will ferment. It’s believed to have spread to present-day Europe as nomadic tribes made their way to those parts—picture Genghis Khan, plundering all the way, energized by a crock of kraut!

Captain James Cook, the 18^th Century Pacific explorer, always took a store of sauerkraut on his sea voyages, since experience had taught him that it was an effective preventative of scurvy.

So, sauerkraut fed laborers who eventually crafted a man-made wonder which can be seen from space, nourished nomadic tribes as they made their way around the world, and kept sea-farers free of scurvy. Nothing in the back of my fridge could ever fuel such remarkable accomplishments… but that’s why I have sauerkraut on standby.

We had a powerful line of thunderstorms to go through last night. I watched the approaching storms thinking we’d finally get some much-needed rain but it turned out to be more fury than falling water.

As everyone turned in for the night, one by one, I was left doing some last-minute work on the computer. Finally, my eyes were just too heavy so I began the route to lock doors and turn lights off. As I made my way to the back door, I was overcome by the night sounds.

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(Click start for night sounds.) It was very dark; my eyes couldn’t adjust to capture any form out back but my ears were overwhelmed. I grabbed my camera and began to set it up for a recording but it warned me “Subject Too Dark.” I knew that. I didn’t want pictures, per se; I wanted the sound.

For once:  no airplanes, no cars, no horns, no tractors, no television, no computer, no roosters, no sheep, no “nothing else.” It was so… settling. Yes, the subject was “too dark” but in my mind’s eye?  It was perfectly lit.

Our host, Tracy Toth, shares her recipe for making homemade sauerkraut in the first installment of this two-part webisode. We expect to post part two after the cabbage fermentation process concludes.

Cycles of all sorts…

Monarch caterpillar on milkweed (host plant)

Milkweed plant “going to seed”

I plant tobacco. I love it. It reminds me of growing up and taking family trips down I-95, seeing fields and fields and fields of this majestic plant with gigantic leaves. I’ve rarely seen insects on or around our  tobacco plants; the leaves are sticky. And although I find the scent appealing, I imagine in the bug world there might be something off-putting about it. So,  I usually don’t bother to check the plants for pests.

Tobacco Budworm

That all changed a few days ago, when I noticed these worms on the tobacco. I assumed they were corn earworms—after all, they looked like them and were less than a foot from the overhanging corn leaves. Maybe they just dropped onto the tobacco from the corn leaves?

Wrong. I was amazed to find I have tobacco budworms.

A very close relative of the corn earworm, the tobacco budworm attacks field crops—tobacco, soybeans, cotton (which, by the way, is planted at the end of the tobacco row). A common predator is the wasp. Host plants include beardstem, lupine, and sunflower to name a few—all of which are present at our place (including the wasps!).

Just goes to show:  there are so many “mini-lifecycles” going on every day all around us…if we just take a moment to notice—like those pictured here.

There we were, at our annual family reunion in South Carolina, and Aunt Renie said something like, “and remember those pokeweed salads?” That has stuck with me for a few years—especially since pokeweed grows like, well, a weed around here. I finally decided to do some research on this beautifully-berried plant since there is no better time than the present given all the bunches hanging out back.

First and foremost: pokeweed is a toxic plant. Let me repeat this. It is poisonous for humans, pets, and livestock!

Yet, in days of yore, poke “sallits” were a staple of southern cuisine in the U.S.

Young pokeweed leaves (collected before acquiring a red color) are boiled three times to reduce the toxin, discarding the water after each boiling. The result:  poke salit or poke salad. Be warned. It should never be eaten uncooked.

Many authorities advise against eating pokeweed even after boiling three times since traces of the toxin could still remain. Even today, doctors in the south launch frequent awareness campaigns to warn that pokeweed may remain toxic even after being boiled.

That said, let’s move on.

Apparently, pokeweed is a jack of all trades as far as plants go. It has been the star of folk song lyrics, used topically or internally as remedies and poultices by Native Americans, and enjoyed as an ornamental plant. The berries have functioned as writing ink, a paint to color aboriginal horses, and natural fabric dye.

It doesn’t look like pokeweed’s dance card is filled, though, by any means. A member of the Phytolacca family of plants, scientists have been able to isolate a protein from pokeweed that is being used to try to inhibit the replication of the HIV virus in human cells.

Oh, the possibilities…

Butter.

It has assisted in and flavored many a recipe and, at times, come to my absolute rescue in the kitchen.

After researching “butter” (and, let me tell you, I was fascinated by all of it: the history, the “tools”, the commercial production) I was surprised to find there’s a USDA grading system — AA, A, and B — that is based on flavor, body, color and salt.

Oh, and how about this:  the color of butter is directly related to the naturally-occurring compounds in the feed of the cows. Makes sense, right?

Did you know that in order to make one pound of butter, the cream from approximately 11 quarts of milk is needed?

It’s said the discovery of butter happened when a nomad hung a sack of milk around his horse’s neck and it shook and shook with the horse’s gait until butter formed. Now, we can just reach for it in the refrigerated section of the grocery store.

We’ve come a long way—yet butter remains, amazingly, about the same.

Here’s to you, Butter!