Dog Dilemma; Crossbred or Purebred?

   The plan had been to get a female English Shepherd, last Spring... Y'all may remember that plan. However, that never happened. I had a deposit down on a lovely sable-colored girl, and she was supposed to be shipped to me in May. Everything seemed good to go. However, I had a continuing feeling of anxiety in the pit of my stomach about the situation. Something wasn't right... It took a few weeks, but eventually I came to the realization that I am simply not ready to have another English Shepherd. Not yet. Gyp was the best dog I have ever had, and possibly ever will have had. He was intelligent, loyal, had great instincts, and was always right where you needed him.

 And that was my problem. I didn't feel like I could have another English Shepherd now because Gyp was so darn good! I was afraid I would constantly be comparing her to Gyp, expecting her to be like him, and getting upset when she failed to meet those expectations. That's no way to treat a dog. So I cancelled the deposit, and began researching other breeds for our budding farm. 

 I have researched so many possible breeds that I could probably be an impromptu AKC/UKC dog judge. Oy vey. It's been a lot. During June and July, it looked like we might get a Border Collie from a renowned breeder here in the states. The pups were born, we picked out a male that we liked... All seemed good. Then the breeder called one afternoon and said some other big wig breeder wanted a pup from this litter and she wanted to give him/her our chosen canine. What does one say to that?? I guess I could have held my ground and kept my deposit, but I figure if something's supposed to happen then it'll happen. Maybe this was fate's way of saying "No Border Collie". 

 Back to the drawing board.

  In the end, it was probably a good thing about the collie pup. I am dying to compete in sheepdog trials, but if I'm truly honest with myself, I have to admit that I'm not in that stage of life where I can jump up and toodle off to some competition. Not with a farm, and young kids. Sigh.

  It also probably worked well since Hubby and I agree that we really need a dog that has hunting/tracking instincts too. So now we were looking for basically a variant of the English Shepherd. A herding, hunting, guarding, companion kind of dog.

  We need something that can track a wounded deer, keep a wild hog pinned in one spot (Hubby is quite smitten with hog hunting and is trying to get me into it; to which I said I would only do it with dogs!), flush rabbits and birds out of the brush, retrieve downed waterfowl and other small game, herd our growing number of calves (and soon nurse cows), help with adult hogs (if we decide to go the route of breeding), alert us of strangers on the property, and still be a dog I can trust around a toddler. 

 Yeah. Basically we need an English Shepherd on steroids. 

 I was eventually pointed in the direction of a breed that I hadn't considered before: The Catahoula Leopard Dog. Looks like a hound, but does whatever you need it to do. I've been around these dogs before, but I had only experienced poorly-bred, hyper, idiotic specimens. I got in touch with a breeder who had champions in the ring and field, and was shown that these can actually be very impressive dogs that come with an on/off switch. Bingo. The breeder is willing to put me on a wait list for next spring, but is asking $650 per pup. A price I'm willing to pay for quality, but then there's the other side of the pendulum's swing:

 A crossbred.

 My husband does not understand paying that much for a dog. Neither does any of the family that I've found myself married into. Sure, they all like dogs, but to them a crossbred works just as well as a purebred. I'm hesitant. Using crossbreds for working seems an awful lot like playing with fire, or simply getting a grab bag of instincts. But then, I'm also willing to try something new before judging it; so I'll consider a crossbred.

  There's a family an hour north of me who has a litter of pups from their working farm dogs. The sire is a Blackmouth Cur/Catahoula cross. He hunts, herds, and guards. The dam is a Blue heeler who works cattle. They've got seven pups up for sale in the next few weeks; asking price is $180, but they'll consider a swap.

 I admit, I'm tempted by these pups. But still hesitant. Purebred or crossbred? What do you think? Which option would you go for? 

Handspun Yarn Up For Grabs

Hey guys, I've got some handspun skeins of yarn up for sale this weekend! I was originally keeping these for myself (love the colors on all of them!), but chose to sell them so I can add to my "dog fund". I'm also slashing the price on each skein by 50%! Awesome steal!

 Price is $12.50 per skein + $5 shipping. 

 If you're interested in buying some of this wooly goodness, shoot me an email at: applethornfarm@gmail.com

  I have the fiber content and yardage listed below the pic.

Listed by Skeins shown left to right:

Sky Blue: 115 yards; 2-ply, Fingering weight. 60% Suri Alpaca, 40% Merino. Gorgeous drape and color!

Light Purple: 128 yards; 2-ply, Fingering weight. 50% Merino, 50% Silk. Soooooo soft and shiny!!

Pink/Blue/Green: 134 yards; 2-ply, Sport weight. 100% Merino. Love the happy Spring colors on this one!

Fall Colors: 61 yards; 2-ply, worsted/bulky weight. 100% Blue Faced Leicester. Gotta love those pumpkin hues...

 Dark Purple: 80 yards (I have an additional 20-ish yards that I can spin up and add to this); 2-ply, Worsted weight. 70% Merino, 30% Alpaca.

  I have a ton load of fiber that I'm working on spinning up, so if you want yarn of a different color or fiber, let me know! 

Healing From Burnout

 

  There is a legitimate ailment that affects all people, no matter your age, experience, social status, or how careful you are. There's no bottle of pills to cure it. Doctors and herbalists can't help you with it. You're alone, for the most part. And only you can figure out how to fix it.

  This mystery disease is known as "Burnout". And it is a very, very serious thing. You never know when it will strike, or how long the healing process will be. It simply settles on your shoulders one day, like a damp, gloomy cloak; stealing the joy from the things that used to light you up, stealing the energy from your very bones, stealing the point to life. There it will stay; that ill-fitting, invisible piece of cloth that enshrouds you in mediocrity and depression.

 Don't worry though. There's a light at the end of the tunnel. There's a cure for it. It will take time, and effort, and gentleness. But you can beat it. Though it hangs on with the stubbornness of a tick, you can shake it and come out stronger. I'm positive about this. I'm positive, because even after wearing my cloak of gloom for three years, I am finally healing from it.

  When I left Oregon three years ago, I knew I was burnt-out from farming. The years of struggling so freaking hard to make the farm work, while living with family who didn't want it to work, took its toll. I thought perhaps a change of scenery would help, so I moved to Missouri. But that didn't help. The joy of working with plants and animals was gone. I felt tired and drained. There was no joy in any part of my life; not in the beautiful area that I lived in, not in being married to be best man on earth, not in welcoming our firstborn son, not in starting up a farm of our own... Life was dim. I slept a lot. I cried a lot. I began dabbling heavily in paganism and self harming. I was burnt out and knew it. I also knew that I wanted to heal. I just didn't know how.

  It took a very abrupt piece of news to start the healing process. A piece of news that took me 4 months to come to terms with, and one that ultimately changed me for the better.

  And the news was? 

  Well, it came in the form of a positive pregnancy test.

 Yes folks, I am pregnant with Kiddo #2. *insert bombshell dropping*

 This was very much a shock to Hubby and I, as we were hoping to wait a year or two before adding to the family size. Being the superman that he is though, it only took him about three days to get used to the idea and then become completely ecstatic over the news. Me? Not happy. Not. Happy. I hadn't even figured out how to be a mom for the first one! And we were just starting the farm! How on earth was I supposed to do everything while pregnant and then do it with a newborn!?

 So there was more sleeping. And more crying. And more being depressed.

 And then I'd had enough. I didn't know what I was going to do, but by George I was going to start fixing these problems. I wanted to be excited about this baby. I wanted to have tears of joy when I finally met this new little one; not have tears of dread like last time.

  It took four months, but I can now say with a smile that I'm on the firm road to recovery. It took time, and effort, and gentleness. It was baby steps of fixing my faith in God through reading just one small chapter of the Bible each day and finally stepping foot inside a church again. It was learning to love being a mother through a special book gifted by my mom and taking delight in my chubby, smiling son. It was realizing that making this house a home and being cheerful for my husband gives far greater rewards than globe trotting to Bali and Aruba ever would. It was accepting the gift of a new child. 

 And now it is learning to love farming again.

 Like all the other areas in my life that needed fixing, it's taking time and gentleness to heal from this major burnout. I'm taking tiny steps back into finding the joy of it. It started out with things like buying a couple books from Amazon ('Woman-Powered Farm', and 'Made From Scratch'), and going to the feed store to simply look at chicks and flip through magazines. Then it went to slowing barn chores down and taking the time to enjoy the veal calves that we've raised over the summer (and will be butchering in 4 weeks!). Then it was pulling the spinning wheel out and making yarn... Then it was ordering 2 dozen Sapphire chicks (Sapphires are a F1 cross between a male Cream Legbar and a female White Leghorn.). And then I felt ready for the next big step: Three Ossabaw pigs, and a working dog. 

  These tiny steps weren't rushed. I waited until I was champing at the bit to do each one. I wanted to feel the joy again! I wanted to remember how fun it was at the beginning to simply hold a fluffy chick in the palm of my hand. Or to outfox a crafty calf or pig. Or wake up in the morning feeling excited at what might happen. I'm getting there. I can feel it. I don't have my pigs or my dog yet; but they're coming in the next week or two. And I am so, so excited. Life has joy again. Life has purpose. 

 And I am happy.

  If you're feeling burnt-out, my friend, take heart. You can conquer it. I know you can. Focus on finding the joy. Do something tiny that brings a smile. And do it every day. The gloom doesn't last forever. Joy will always win.