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Guilty Pleasures
They’re so funny. And, in many ways, so human.
This is Oleg. He’s tiny for his age (about six weeks), and his “sister” (Tatiana) who’s only a couple of days older, is about twice his size. I only named them this morning, upon the increasing certainty that the little fermentation vats that comprise their multi-compartmented tummies have got themselves sorted out and on the boil, and are working properly. Saying anything more about that would be TMI, other than that orphaned or rejected lambs which are bottle-fed and which start out with only a little, or none at all, of their mother’s natural first milk or colostrum, are at a huge disadvantage when it comes to developing the proper digestive enzymes and processes to support their ruminant systems. (Brief digression: That’s making me wonder if a high-born sheep should be referred to as “Your Ruminance?” Note to self–perhaps ask @arahant. He might know.) Anyway, it’s a bit of a juggling act to get it right, and sometimes I don’t. This year, I think I have. Perhaps it’s the light diet of spring bulbs that’s done the trick . . .
So, this morning, I thought I’d try a new approach with their bottles, of which they’re down to three feedings a day, so I got out two bottles at once, filled them up, put one in each hand, and tried to get them both going at the same time. Oleg, who’s a bit…umm…wooly about certain things, seemed to figure this out, and latched right on.
Tatiana was incensed. She had absolutely no interest in the second bottle, which I was holding right in front of her nose. All she could see was that her brother had a bottle, and, by gum, she wanted it for herself!
After much racket, pushing, and shoving, during which I became soaked with milk (at once point she was, literally, standing on top of him), I had to separate them, and feed them one-at-a-time, just to make sure the poor little fellow got his due.
I’m beginning to suspect that Tatiana must be a registered Democrat.
Published in General
Best check to see if she voted in the last election.
What I know is that this is funny. You can certainly try it and see if they respond.
Awww. That picture needs to be converted to a cross stitch pattern so I can make an Easter pillow from it.
Yeah. I should probably look to see when her ‘gestational privilege’ might have gone into effect.
She would have voted even if she was dead.
Have you ever done that? There’s software to do such things, and a few years ago I used a free program to take what was a small medieval manuscript illumination and convert it to a cross stitch pattern (for a gift). It did a reasonable job, but I still had to do a fair bit of tweaking and adjusting to get it to scale and balance. Here’s the finished product:
And the original:
It was a fun little project, at the time.
I get a kick out of most of your posts She. You live such an earthy life but write with such elegance. Thanks.
Thanks, @manny. I know I’m a bit idiosyncratic, but I think that’s what makes like interesting and fun, and it’s what I enjoy about Ricochet.
I have heard of that software. I’ll have to look it up again. Most of the pictures I like have so many shadings of color it might make for a difficult translation.
Yes, it’s not perfect. But it does provide a starting point, and one which is much further down the road than I (speaking for myself) might otherwise have been. Also, I suspect that with time, and perhaps with a willingness to spend a bit of money, the results might be better…in any event, I love cross stitch, although I’m not all that good at it.
I meant it totally as a compliment, if that wasn’t clear. You’re welcome.
And I took it as a compliment. Sorry if I wasn’t clear myself. We Brits love to see ourselves as icons of iconoclasm. So, thanks!
Please She, do not share this program next time you catch up with Linda. I am already drowning in her needlework and quilting projects….
It will just give her ideas.
LOLOL. I am still sharing, and enjoying, the “stash” meme, which I think may have originated with you….
Do this one next!
Rabbits, a dog, and a snail with Charles Darwin’s head.
You’re on. I’ll report back.
I guess I should ask if I can use the picture??? I uploaded it to an online program and converted to 14ct aida. The finished size would be about 16″ x 20″. Uses 43 colors. Aaah. Another year’s worth of work.
I’d buy this one. But replace the dog with a monkey, please.
Not a monkey.
That would be ridiculous.
Yes, of course. Make that Wm. Jennings Bryan riding a rabbit.
Its a common concern:
Of course! If you think it will work, you’re most welcome to use it.
No luck so far. At least it doesn’t seem to trigger them.
I’m not kidding about the difficulties of kick-starting (metaphorically speaking, of course) the digestive tracts of ruminants. That, coupled with the fact that a sheep (probably any livestock) mother which abandons her young often seems to do so out of an instinctive sense that something’s “wrong,” or that the baby is too weak to survive, makes raising them difficult, and the success rate reflects that.
I tweaked this post a bit, and put it on my blog, and in that version, I referred to:
That about sums up the latest go-round. Seems to be working. Although I do sometimes feel a bit like the unfortunate fellow whose job it was to inspect the Emperor of China’s “movements” every morning in order to read the auguries and divine the future.
Also, the footnote regarding the Spectinomycin:
That reminds me of Doxycycline (which I also have several hundred capsules of, but I did get those from a vet; to treat my two Great Pyrenees, both of whom are Lyme-positive, and occasionally exhibit symptoms. You haven’t lived till you’ve tried to force three or four large capsules down the throats of two 150lb dogs three times a day for two weeks.) I just came off a ten-day course of it myself, for a puncture wound from what must have been a particularly malevolent multiflora rose thorn which made my finger swell up like a balloon, and almost had me on IV antibiotics. (“Sorry, no can do,” I said. “Too busy.”) Anyhoo, Doxycycline is another antibiotic that was used, initially, to treat STDs. I’ve always wondered if the person who discovered it had a whimsical sense of humor, since “doxy” is an archaic English word for prostitute….
That “fish antibiotic” woman has got nothing on me, trust me.
I had two rounds of doxycycline for two rounds of Lyme disease last summer, presumably two separate infections from two of the maybe 18 strains of the bacterium. Not fun. Better not to have to take it in the first place. And some people have to be careful to stay out of the sun when they’re on it, too. If the Lyme disease doesn’t knock you back, that stuff will. At least it does now. Ten years ago or thereabouts when I had a prescription for it as a precautionary measure when I got a deer tick bite not long before some European travel, it didn’t seem to bother me much.
Yes. The photosensitivity aspect wasn’t all that hard for me, as I’ve been a redhead all my life (although somewhat faded in the recent past). But hat and sunglasses are de rigueur when outside, and have been, since my college days. It doesn’t seem to bother the dogs that way, though.
How did you come up with those names? It sounds like sibling rivalry is the same in nature as with human siblings. Where did the mother go?
A sheep Oleg may be, but at least Oleg is defiant enough to walk around without a mask!🙂
Oleg and Tatiana.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Americans
Tatiana’s mother rejected her. I did my best to get them back together in the barn, but it was near midnight, about 12 degrees and snowing, and I just didn’t have it in me to mess with them anymore. Oleg’s mother had a very difficult birth–twins. One didn’t make it, and she needed a little extra time to recover, so I took him off her hands.
I almost never get tired of watching my animals and observing what I think must be going through their little wooly, or doggy, or bunny, or….minds.
I’ve written before about how Levi, one of the Great Pyrenees, is apparently unable to distinguish the side of the door with the hinges from the side of the door with the handle, and that he’s about as likely, once he sees the door swing, to try and shove all 150lbs of himself through the 3/8-or-so inch gap that appears on the hinge side when the door’s fully ajar. I’ve had other dogs who’ve tried the same thing. I’ve never had a cat who did that, though. Cats are different. They mess with me. They’ll wait for me to open the door, then they’ll refuse to go through it. But they never try and squeeze through the hinge side.
Or about how Xena once rescued a mouse (during an horrific mouse infestation, years ago), and carried it around in her mouth until I noticed, put her outside, and she set it free and let it run away. (Or about the time the mice took dozens of Q-Tips out of a jar I’d left the lid off, carefully carried them (visions of Stonehenge Kit, the Ancient Brit and his ilk dragging the sarsen stones from Cornwall–or wherever they’re supposed to have come from at the moment) to Wiltshire–inside the washing machine, painstakingly stripped off all the fluff, made themselves several nice little nests, and threw the little sticks on the floor.
Or about how Psymon the cat hides little treats for himself under the corners of the throw rugs, and goes back and enjoys them privately when I’m not looking (talk about “guilty pleasures.”)
Today, it’s stairs.
Full disclosure: I teach my bottle-baby sheep to go up and down steps. So I don’t have to carry them. Now, stair-navigation (and much else) isn’t instinctive for sheep. They don’t cotton on immediately, but eventually, they do figure it out. And Oleg and Tatiana have mastered the house stairs and the outside steps to and from the driveway. All good.
What defeats them, are the three little steps on the back porch (they’re temporary, the guy who’s putting the permanent steps in has been waiting for parts since January). So these are just rough, pressure-treated stringers (the side pieces), with treads (what you step on), and no risers (the vertical surface which would close the opening that is be between each step.
Here’s the current set of steps:
Oleg and Tatiana won’t go head-on, full-throttle, up these steps. They just stand at the bottom and dither. I decided a couple of days ago that it must be because there are no risers, and that something in their depth-perception, or in the way dimension works with their field of vision, doesn’t recognize these as the same thing as the other, enclosed staircases they leap up and down with ease. So, OK, I had to pick them up and carry them. (They still get put in the playpen at night. I’m still not quite ready to let them out overnight.)
Well, today, they figured out what to do with these very unsatisfactory steps. Rather than simply walking up the steps from bottom to top, they approach from the side, where there’s a vertical structural member than they can see (the stringer). Then they jump onto the first step so they’re standing parallel to the step. It’s a little awkward to climb up steps two and three, sideways, but somehow they manage it, and, still sideways, they get to the top, and–into the room.
Animals are funny.
Animals are funny! And endearing!!