April 2006

I’m not placing lace antimacassars on arm chairs as Maude (it’s strange to write her name; grandfather called her “Maudy” but I always called her “grandmother”) would have done with care, but still I’m a homemaker of sorts, making a habitat for my animals on new land that looks like a prairie compared to the cold hills we’ve come down from.

Tuesday and Wednesday, Mark and I established winter quarters for the sheep where they will stay until the pastures are ready to be grazed. We put out 1/16 of a mile of electric net fence; it is portable, weighs 10 lbs., comes in 162’ lengths, stands 40”high with vertical stays of plastic that keep it upright (every 11’ is a 1/2" diameter post with a 5” metal spike that is pulled tight and poked into the ground) and has 8 horizontal poly wires with a metal filament braided into them. These braids will carry the charge keeping the sheep away from them (after a shocking trial and error with a nose) and more importantly it will keep dogs and coyotes out.

Within the net enclosure we put metal feeder panels around the 4 round bales that Hans had put out the night before with his John Deere tractor; the panels will keep the sheep from trampling the hay as they stick their heads through the bars to eat it. Sheep on hay need grain as a protein and energy supplement; we brought in 6 low troughs for their daily ration of oats. They have access to a pond but have never drunk from one; to give them a choice, we ran a hose from a spigot to a water tub with its level regulated by a float valve.

Thursday, Eddie and Georgie came in two trucks with 20’ and 24’ livestock trailers behind them. Loading sheep into a trailer is never easy but this time it went well; they seemed to want to go. The ride down to Goshen takes about an hour; Mark, Shade and I went ahead to make sure everything was in order for their arrival. Before we could see the trucks and trailers, we heard them rumbling up the drive; Eddie backed up his trailer and opened the swing gate; out they came, jumping off the back of the trailer, calling out to one another. The sheep were here.

Shade will stay on the farm with the sheep in a large kennel when she’s not with me. We carpeted her dog house with first cut; there is no better smelling dog than one who smells of fresh hay.

At dusk Mark and I drove back to the old farm to gather our stuff; we walked into the barn where the sheep had been for so many years. We were astonished by absence. Mark said, It’s so quiet in here now.” Ghosts are everywhere if you listen for them.

Eugene Wyatt

May 12th, 2020 Warwick, NY

Ghosts Are Everywhere by Eugene Wyatt