I personally have a love/hate relationship with the transition seasons (Spring/Autumn). On one hand they are a beautiful reminder of impermanence and sooth my ever present need to change things up and evolve. On the other hand they bring a sense of grief for the passing of another season on the farm alongside a sense of rush to get things prepared for what’s next. This is especially prevalent in the early spring when I am trying my best to hold on to the slower pace and quiet of winter all while preparing for the inevitable and thrilling rush of kidding/lambing season and all that comes after.

Our earliest kidding date is March 24th, so as of today, we are T-19 days out. Our team is the smallest it’s been for some time and we are making the most of the mild temperatures and energetic urgency of the countdown, checking off items on the list one day at a time. Thanks to the diligence of our dynamic livestock duo (Tig and Shannon) pre birthing season vaccines, hoof trimmings, and health checks are done. We managed to microchip, run biosecurity blood tests, and catch up on eight (!) years of registration papers for our herd of dairy goats. All tasks that have been on my list for years, but finally gave me the push to accomplish now that we will start selling breeding stock when we find ourselves with an over abundance of goats come summer.

The trees are tapped and Brett is in the last stretch of building a “sugar shack”. A project he has been dreaming about completing for some time now and has been chipping away at in between this winter’s many snow storms. He’s worked as a one man show, building out a lovely building nestled in the woods that houses our sap boiler and will serve as the farm’s wood processing zone. Some (all) members of our crew are suspicious that he’s really just built his dream hermit home in the woods and will one day fully retreat into its confines. It’s a good thing I have a clear view of it from our bedroom window so he will never be too far away from me.

We still have winters deep bedding to muck out, a wall to move in our milk house and parlor, deep organizing and cleaning of the dairy and creamery, endless random repairs throughout the farm, and a barn camera to install to make my 3am kidding night checks a little more cozy. Like most task lists on the farm a lot of the things will get done and then at some point we will have to give it a good nuff’.

The transitions of these seasons often bring the birth and death cycle to the surface. It seems that each spring we say goodbye to older members of our menagerie all while ushering in the newest additions. Unfortunately this year was no different and forced us to bid farewell to one of our dearest team members, Cash.

If you have visited the farm there is a good chance you witnessed the magic that is our livestock guardian dogs, June and Cash. Beautiful Colorado Mountain Dog litter mates that joined our flock in the fall of 2018 when they were just six months old. I didn’t know anything about LGDs at the time, but had a hunch that we needed some sort of protection in pasture for our sheep and chickens. I thankfully put my trust in a new friend, who serendipitously was a CMD breeder with an upcoming litter of pups due. I put a deposit down on a brother and sister pair site unseen, with the request that they spend some extra training under their breeder and dam, Luna to learn the basics of multi species protection, giving me a huge jump start to integrating them with our flock.

Our breeder friend lived in Tennessee at the time so we drove south to Indy and met her and her husband halfway in a Starbuck’s parking lot. We transferred June, Cash, and a very stinky buck in rut (Dapple Dan) into the back of our Honda Pilot. Cash immediately climbed into Brett’s lap in the passenger seat and spent the remaining trip with his head on his chest, those two bonded from that moment on. We were instantly smitten and in awe of them both as we watched them seamlessly integrate with our flock of sheep and chickens that same day. Cash made some mistakes in the first week and we lost a few chickens to his immaturity. I would like to say it was us who trained this out of him, but in reality it was the watchful eye and snapping corrections of his sister June that truly put him into place. June had established herself as alpha between the two and Cash was her devoted admirer.

Until two weeks ago the pair were rarely separated beyond vet visits, recovery periods from health treatments, and the occasional stints Cash made with the chickens when we faced predator pressure there. They had some rough teen years when June had to routinely remind Cash who was boss, but ultimately they were true loves and ideal compliments to each other. A perfect duo out in the pasture, they spent their nights tag teaming the most important job on the farm, keeping the vulnerable safe while we slept. The day time was for resting and you could always find them nestled up close to each other proudly encircled by our ruminating flock. In lambing season Cash was the first one to check on the babies and keep them company while their moms grazed nearby, he truly loved his role as doting uncle to all the lambs born here on the farm.

True loves 2026 (photo cred to Shannon Doyle)

Once in a while we would wake to the sound of their barking, laying there half asleep listening to the pattern. We learned to decipher between chatting with neighbor dogs or facing a real threat. In the case of the latter we would put on our boots and head out to offer some back up if need be. As hard as it was to drag ourselves out of our warm beds those nights it was the least we could do for them and it was always such a gift to witness them working in tandem. Most of the time Cash would stay back and protect the flock and June would work the perimeter, barking back and forth, anchored to each other under the moonlight.

We’ve watched them slow down with age and a bit of arthritis these past couple years so when Cash was seeming extra sluggish earlier in February I wasn’t overly concerned. I now know I was in denial as I brought him to our vet, believing he was merely experiencing some old man aches and pains. Within minutes our vet felt a large cancerous mass that filled his entire abdomen and in an effort to stave off any more suffering we made the choice to send him on his way that same afternoon.

We brought him home to June to offer her closure, she gave a quick few sniffs to Cash then went straight to comforting each of us in the circle, one after the other like she was tending a receiving line. In true working dog fashion, she was still honoring her role of protecting the most vulnerable in her flock as she made sure we all were okay. I realized then that she was well aware of what we were blindsided by that day. She was weeks, maybe months ahead of us in the process. Long before he turned his nose to kibble or stopped running up to greet us with his big beautiful face, she had already started grieving her beloved brother and pack mate.

We buried him at the highest point of the pasture and she kept an eye on us from a distance while we cried all our tears and wrapped him in the earth. Feeling split open and empty I sent everyone home for the day and headed down to our half barn to wrap up night chores in the quiet of the setting sun. Looking back to pasture I saw the flock meander up to the burial site. Watching in awe as they nibbled on early spring grass stubble while June pawed at the newly turned soil and laid down over Cash for one last goodbye.

Francis and Assisi (photo cred to Tig Hartson)

Having June, a geriatric LGD, in pasture alone is not ideal for several reasons, one of which is the crushing sight of seeing her saunter amongst the sheep in pasture without Cash by her side. We decided to expedite the already in motion plan of acquiring CMD puppies in order to get them trained in time for June’s retirement from the larger pasture in the next year or two.

As luck would have it I was pointed to a breeder outside of Grand Rapids that just so happened to have two 20 week old puppies available. An extra bonus was that these pups were from the Caspian line which is the OG CMD line that June and Cash were also out of. Plus the boy’s name is Assisi, as in the patron saint of animals and ecology and an all time fave of mine. If you don’t know the Prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, do yourself a favor and give it a read, it’s a real banger, even for a non catholic gal like me.

All the signs pointed in the right direction so I drove up a week ago thinking I was most likely just getting Assisi and ended up bringing home him and his supposedly timid sister, Corsica (now Francis) after she was the first one to run right up to me and shove her nose in my crotch. Yup, there was no turning back at that point. They spent the night in our house much to Captain Coconut's and Stella's dismay then we set out on Saturday morning for the initial introduction to their new pack mate June. Least to say, things did not go as planned by any means. I’ll spare you the gory details, but after several attempts of introducing the pups to June I walked away with a shaken nervous system and feeling all around disappointed.

She was simply not having it and not holding back when showing the new dogs just how much of a bad ass she is.

After talking to some more qualified people and on the verge of thinking that we just might be running Assisi and Francis as a separate pack I was able to get some helpful insight from my friend and original breeder. My heart broke when she explained that June is most likely feeling very vulnerable and in a deep morning state so that any new and obnoxious additions such as puppies most likely feel like a threat no matter how cute and fun they are. We do not want to miss out on the opportunity of June as a mentor to Assisi and Francis so she gave us some next steps and feels confident that June will eventually accept them as one of her own pack.

So here we are, making plans to build a small dog run so that the three of them can share a fence line and get to know each other better over the coming weeks and then maybe some baby steps at reintroduction after that. My hope is that by the time I write my next post in early April I will have news of lots of healthy spring babies, milk and cheese on the way, and maybe just maybe a breakthrough between June and her new companions. After all, what is more hopeful than the promise of spring and all its new beginnings?

Hope is the thing with feathers

Climbing out of the cold