Rusty’s Adventure

“What are those crazy ladies up to next?” the neighbors must think of us. “They’re always bringing home something odd.”

Or, it might be equally said, we have an odd way of bringing things home.

I still remember our first two piglets—squirming and squealing as they left their momma. We picked them up in our white Freestar minivan in a dog kennel. Now, that wouldn’t have been too bad, but the large dog kennel had seen better days, so most of the clips locking the top and bottom together were missing. Kara rode all the way home in the back with those piglets, holding down the top half of the kennel so they didn’t escape.

One of our bottle lambs—Edelweiss—rode about with us in the same minivan in a cardboard box as she recuperated from having been stepped on and rejected by her mother. Open the door and, well, there you go, a lamb!

One road trip in the farm truck to Minnesota brought home our Clun Forest ram Puck. Kara and our intern at the time had to stop for gas in the Twin Cities. Two construction fellows hopped from their work truck the next pump over and turned sharply at the alarming “BAAAAAAH!”

“It’s a lamb!” they exclaimed, not quite sure if it was funny or horrifying. Certainly, it was unexpected in the urban environment. The encounter probably generated as much discussion at the watering hole as the time Kara stepped out of the truck at Hayward’s Kwik Trip one day to hear the residents of the next vehicle over announce, “It’s a lady!” (Yeah, sorry guys, farm gals DO drive trucks and back up trailers too.)

But that farm truck is getting pretty old and various pieces keep falling off. The latest trip to the repair shop found the gas tank was about ready to rust off its moorings (yikes!), and while that issue was fixed, the vehicle is no longer deemed worthy of long road trips. Maybe a run to town for lumber or a trip to the butcher, but not cross-country.

So when Kara did her research about buying a new ram for the flock and found her pick in Missouri, the old farm truck was out of the question. You may remember our previous adventure a couple of years ago with the New Hampshire cows in the back of the rented cargo van, but this was one sheep—not two cows and a pig. Surely, a whole cargo van would be a bit over-kill for this job.

The new sheep (a California Red ram lamb) was too big for the dog kennel for such a long trip, and too small to warrant renting a truck and taking the stock trailer. Finalizing the plans for getting the ram all wrapped up last-minute in relation to the time we would have to go and pick him up, so we had to develop a creative transportation plan in short notice.

“What about the PT Cruiser?” Steve asked as we were all sitting around the dinner table, pondering the conundrum. We could create a stall (not unlike a miniature version of the rig for the cows), pull out all the back chairs in the Cruiser, and the ram would have a nice amount of space for the trip.

So out came the cardboard, tarp, and painter’s drop cloth. Farmer market hauler by day, the vehicle was transformed into a mini-barn on wheels. Too bad the minivan had long since given up the ghost!

We packed the cooler and snack bag for Mom and Steve and sent them off on their adventure while Kara and I held down the farm. Down the unglaciated banks of the Mississippi they traversed, listening to music and realizing it might be a muggy drive as the air conditioner conked out. There’s always some kind of hiccup on these adventures!

“What shall we name him?” Mom asked, since they were going to have such an intimate travel with this new ram.

Back and forth they went, settling on Rusty in honor of his coloration. “But sometimes we called him Stinky.” Steve admitted later.

The hour got too late that evening for the scheduled pickup, so they held over at a Super 8 Motel (the only lodging in that area apparently), rising early to meet the owner before she left for work as a vet tech.

Without much fuss, Rusty was hoisted into his special carrying pen, the vet and pedigree paperwork was processed, and it was time to begin the journey homeward.

“He’s really doing pretty good,” Mom reported during one of our phone conversations. “He’s looking around and not baahing at all.”

They stopped for lunch in a Winona, parking along the main street. Rusty watched through the windows as people and cars passed by. Someone surely wondered at seeing a lamb in a red PT Cruiser. I wondered what Grandma would think if she saw what had become of her hand-me-down “gangster” vehicle. I’m sure I’ll find out when she reads this story!

But by the time they crossed over into Wisconsin, Rusty was growing weary of the travel and began complaining now and then.

“Not much longer!” Mom offered. “We’re getting closer!” The stuffiness was getting oppressive, so they opened with windows, which caused the wood shaving bedding to drift about the vehicle—like being in one of those shake-up snow globe scenes. We’ve really got some awesome parents to put up with the projects we dream up on this farm!

Kara had been working all afternoon to build Rusty a pen in the barn. When adding a new animal to the flock, it’s important to keep it isolated for a month to watch for any indication of disease. That way, if there is a problem, the animal can be treated appropriately and not contaminate the rest of the flock or herd.

I was already in bed by the time Rusty and the beleaguered crew arrived home. 24 hours of driving! Rusty was carried into his new pen, everyone hit the shower and collapsed into bed. So I had the pleasure of meeting the fellow in the morning as I filled water buckets at the hydrant by the barn.

“Hello fella!” I greeted as he eyed me in the morning light, his big reddish-brown ears twitching.

Kara’s sheep dog Finlee bounded over to meet the newcomer. Rusty jumped back, threatening to butt with his head. To him, everything was new. The routine was new, the voices and stance of his caretakers was new, the animals around him were new. That would make any sheep spooky and suspicious.

This morning, though, Finlee bounded into the barn once more, and Rusty just stood there, letting the wagging dog give him kisses on the ears. Mom and Steve’s sinuses have finally cleared from the ammonia, the stall was dismantled from the back of the Cruiser, and the car is once again available for routine and mundane vehicular purposes. We’re all glad everyone made the journey safely.

“That was really something,” Steve shook his head at breakfast the next morning. “Can’t say I’ve ever done anything like that before.”

What’s your next adventure? Hopefully it won’t be quite as perfumey as having a ram in the car, but you can certainly say we were using resources creatively! Besides, the Cruiser had much better gas mileage than the old farm truck. Imagine if Rusty could have fit into the back of Steve’s Prius! Well, then again, maybe we’ll leave that idea for now. See you down on the farm sometime.