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<description><![CDATA[This is a tribute album. Dedicated in stories, and pictures of the friends I have lost {I took this name from the title of my favorite song; "Take care of those wings my friend" by The McKrells}
Note: All pictures on this journal are copywrited.]]></description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/</link>










<title><![CDATA[Take Care Of Those Wings]]></title>

<pubDate>Tue, 02 Sep 2008 18:03:44 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;This entry is a tribute to&amp;nbsp;a &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;truly&lt;/SPAN&gt; spectacular animal, and a loyal friend. I honestly wish that all of you could have met Alex, and know him as I did. I also wish that I could share every detail, every moment of his life with you. That I fear is not &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;passable&lt;/SPAN&gt; in a journal entry. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;Alex came to us at a few hours old. We &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;received&lt;/SPAN&gt; a phone call saying "My ewe &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;doesn't&lt;/SPAN&gt; have enough milk for all her lambs. This ram lamb is worthless, so I took him away from his mother. If he's still alive when you get here, you can have him."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; This was not the first time, &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;nor&lt;/SPAN&gt; the last that we got such a phone call from this man. It made me mad, but I could not ig&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;nor&lt;/SPAN&gt; the plight of the helpless lamb, who's only fault was he'd been born a ram.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; He was a cute little brat. Solid black with white on his feet, and &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;forehead&lt;/SPAN&gt;. &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Romanov&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; sheep are born matching that general &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;description&lt;/SPAN&gt;, and change color as they age, but I digress.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; We brought him home, and bottle raised him. He was smart as a whip, and looked like he'd make a spectacular ram one day. We would have &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;wethered&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; him otherwise. We had no use for a ram at the time, but he was very striking. That's how he ended up with his first name, Danny. When he was weaned he would go to my Uncle Dan's farm. Of course Dan changed his name when he got him. &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Alexia&lt;/SPAN&gt;v, &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;which&lt;/SPAN&gt; was &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;later&lt;/SPAN&gt; shortened to "Alex".&lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;Now when most people think about rams, they &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;think&lt;/SPAN&gt; of those &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;videos&lt;/SPAN&gt; you see on TV with the ram pounding in the door of a car, or butting someone, and knocking them down. Truth is, Alex might have ended up that way too, But for one thing. When Alex was a baby I taught him Manners!&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Most sheep don't get that treatment. But I knew, that if he was to survive, and not wind up in a meat market somewhere, he had to behave. An unruly ram can be dangerous. On the other hand, if you can &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;control&lt;/SPAN&gt; a full grown breeding ram,&amp;nbsp;and he produces good quality lambs, (&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;which&lt;/SPAN&gt; he did) you &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;aren't&lt;/SPAN&gt; likely to get rid of him.&amp;nbsp;My Uncle Dan had him for many years. He bounced around from farm to farm breeding ewes, always coming back to Dan when&amp;nbsp;the season was over.&amp;nbsp;One can only use the same ram just so long, before you end up with all of your stock being related. That being the case with my uncle Dan' Alex came back to me.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; He was an old man by then, but he&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;boss of the herd/flock. He kept all of the goats, and sheep in line, &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;until&lt;/SPAN&gt; just before he died. He loved babies, and &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;protected&lt;/SPAN&gt; them &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;fiercely&lt;/SPAN&gt;. They didn't have to bee his, or even the same species. He just loved babies. I wouldn't have trusted any other&amp;nbsp;ram&amp;nbsp;with&amp;nbsp;a baby, like in # 22 &amp;amp; 23.&amp;nbsp;It was my Brothers idea. That's my&amp;nbsp;Brother&amp;nbsp;with his niece. I put the halter on Alex, so I'd have a little extra &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;control&lt;/SPAN&gt;, but it's presence told him I meant &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;business&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;, and that's all that was &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;necessary&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;. The lad rope was slack the whole time, and he never moved, except to turn around and sniff her. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;SPAN style="VISIBILITY: hidden" woohooNameSaved="classicView"&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2008/06/15/alex/468</link>
<guid isPermaLink="true">http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2008/06/15/alex/468</guid>




<title><![CDATA[Alex]]></title>

<pubDate>Sun, 15 Jun 2008 23:15:54 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;This is the story of 4 lambs. 2 sets of twins, born in the spring of 2004. It's a sad story. To be honest, it all starts with &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;, in the fall of 2002. See, in that year I sent &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; (my &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Romanov&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; ewe) to my Uncle's farm, to breed her to his &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Katahdin&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; ram.&amp;nbsp;I didn't have access to a &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Romanov&lt;/SPAN&gt; ram at the time. Then, in&amp;nbsp;the spring of 2003 Titan was born. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;The next spring, Titan fathered twins by my two ewes.&amp;nbsp;The first to be born were Glitter, and Dazzle. There mother was Coral, a &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Romney&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; sheep.&amp;nbsp;Coral was a good mother to Glitter, but had no affection for Dazzle. So, after Glitter had nursed her mother, I milked out a little &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;calosterum&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; for Dazzle, and started feeding her on a bottle.&amp;nbsp;(Have you ever milked a wild sheep? I can honestly say I did. Coral was not&amp;nbsp; happy!) Both lambs thrived, and&amp;nbsp;were well built, beautiful lambs. Dazzle was of course stuck to me like glue, because I was her mommy. She&amp;nbsp;and her sister got along OK, but&amp;nbsp;Glitter was&amp;nbsp;a tough girl who liked to be on her own. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;&amp;nbsp;The next set of twins were born to &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;. I should have known that&amp;nbsp;Titan would breed his mother, but I don't know, it never really &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;occurred&lt;/SPAN&gt; to me &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;until&lt;/SPAN&gt;&amp;nbsp;after the fact. Breeding&amp;nbsp;animals that are that closely related can be&amp;nbsp;dangerous for the &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;offspring&lt;/SPAN&gt;, but &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah's&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; twins were born &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;healthy&lt;/SPAN&gt; and happy. Like Coral's twins, &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;one&lt;/SPAN&gt; was born red, the other white. Ruby and &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;&amp;nbsp;All was happy, and life was good for a long time. The lambs &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;grew&lt;/SPAN&gt; strong, and were weaned from milk to hay grain and grass. There mothers &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;taught&lt;/SPAN&gt; them all to drink water, and all was right with the world. For a while. That summer I sold Titan so he wouldn't breed his mother again that fall. I &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;needn't&lt;/SPAN&gt; have worried. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;That summer was hard for me, and it got no better the next year. But the next year is another story that I will share later. In the summer of 2004&amp;nbsp;Dazzle,&amp;nbsp;my bottle baby died. There was no indication that&amp;nbsp;there had been anything wrong with her. It hurt, but I had to figure that&amp;nbsp;maybe there was something&amp;nbsp;wrong, that Coral had sensed it, and that's why she had abandoned Dazzle at birth.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Not long after loosing Dazzle, &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; died. Though she had been &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;de wormed&lt;/SPAN&gt;, sh&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;e &lt;/SPAN&gt;e&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;nd&lt;/SPAN&gt;ed up with "bottle jaw". By that time it was to late to save her. At least all the others were healthy. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Next thing I knew Ruby died in a very freak accident. One of the other animals was pestering Lady. I don't remember who, but Lady was sick of it, and chased them away. Then Ruby walked up to Lady and started to n&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;uz&lt;/SPAN&gt;zle her. I saw the trouble coming but couldn't do anything about it. Lady spun around and butted Ruby. Lady hadn't meant to h&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;ur&lt;/SPAN&gt;t her. She &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;probably&lt;/SPAN&gt; thought it was the one who had been annoying her. I saw my surprise and fright mirrored in Lady's eyes when Ruby landed. There was nothing to be done however. Ruby was dead.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; My poor &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Nilchi&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; was the next. Her story is written in another entry. But she had been neglected before we got her, and &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;despite&lt;/SPAN&gt; our best efforts she did not survive.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; By that time I was a wreck. &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;, and Glitter were my last two babies, and I clung to the hope that nothing would happen to them. The next week though, I &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;found&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; dead, and the week after that Glitter followed. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;It had been a hard summer, with a lot of loss. We later figured out that they had gotten into deadly nightshade. They had been poisoned by it, and I had overlooked it. It wasn't intentional, just an accident, but God what a price to pay for a mistake. &lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;I know this story is sad, and may be hard for some of you to read. I'm sorry for that, but it was harder for me to live it. As sad as it is though, I can't help but smile whenever I think about any of them. Titan my little boy, his momma &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Tullulah&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;. What &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;characters&lt;/SPAN&gt; they were. Ruby, the &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;frady&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; cat, and &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Bling&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; the flashy little girl who was always alert. Aunty &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Nilchi&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;, the one the babies all ran to when they were bad. Coral, and Dazzle, and the strong willed Glitter. The best of&amp;nbsp;the lambs that year. She would&amp;nbsp;have been a great &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;matriarch&lt;/SPAN&gt; of the herd. And Lady too. Don't hold a grudge, I never could. I miss her too. I smile to think of them though. Lady in her ball cap, The dancing and chasing lambs, The first time Coral nuzzled my face, and a million other memories. The good sticks with you more than the bad, and that's the way it should be.&lt;STRONG&gt; "Don't cry because it's over. &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;Rejoice&lt;/SPAN&gt; because it happened!"&lt;/STRONG&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;SPAN style="VISIBILITY: hidden" woohooNameSaved="classicView"&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2008/05/20/2004/439</link>
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<title><![CDATA[2004!]]></title>

<pubDate>Tue, 20 May 2008 17:14:34 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;Mystic has a very short story, as she died very young. That doesn't mean it's not worth telling though. Mystic was born on our vet's farm, and we bought her just after she was weaned. Being raised by her mother, she was wary of people, but that changed quickly.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;We had never seen this lamb before we bought her, but had been told about her by the vet. "She's a solid black, ewe lamb, and very cute."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; By the time we were able to pick her up, it was the day we were to leave for the Agricultural fair. We'd hoped she would be&amp;nbsp;here&amp;nbsp;before that, but it didn't work out that way. My Mom, and I had been trying to figure out a name for her, but&amp;nbsp;nothing either of us could think of, sounded right to the other.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I remember that day like it were yesterday, instead of three years ago.&amp;nbsp;When I walked out of the house to feed the goats and sheep, the sun was shining. It was a beautiful day, and as I stood there enjoying the feel of the sun on my face, a soft rain began to fall. The sun still shined, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. It&amp;nbsp;was strange, and beautiful. I had never seen anything like that happen before, and haven't sense. As I stood&amp;nbsp;there&amp;nbsp;my mind caught on the&amp;nbsp;fact that it was a&amp;nbsp;mystical rain.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I didn't mention it to anyone,&amp;nbsp;but right then, and there, I decided her name&amp;nbsp;would be "Mystic Rain."&amp;nbsp; Mom, and I went to get her. We took the car, as Dad was doing some last minute work on the truck. I still didn't say anything about the name I'd chosen, fearing that Mom wouldn't like it.&amp;nbsp;She was indeed solid black, and cute as could be.&amp;nbsp;On the way home, I sat in the passenger seat holding her on my lap. When she started to struggle, I whispered&amp;nbsp;in her ear. "Easy Mystic, your a good girl."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; "What did you call her?" my Mom&amp;nbsp;asked, and I told her "Her name is Mystic Rain."&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I didn't care much if Mom liked the name or not. I'd named her, and that was that.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; To my surprise, Mom had chosen a name for her too. She had&amp;nbsp;taken the name from an old movie, called&amp;nbsp;"The Dark Crystal.&amp;nbsp; In the movie there was a race of gentle peaceful creatures, called "Mystics."&amp;nbsp;We had both chosen the name Mystic for the little black sheep neither of us had met. It fit her well. Mystic was a calm peaceful creature, who loved people. She was a yearling when she died, but she had a place in my life. Rarely does a name fit an animal so well as my Mystic. Mystic Rain!&lt;/P&gt;&lt;SPAN style="VISIBILITY: hidden" woohooNameSaved="photoPileWoohoo"&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/05/31/mystic-rain/209</link>
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<title><![CDATA[Mystic Rain]]></title>

<pubDate>Wed, 31 May 2006 22:03:50 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;Harry was my best buddy. I fell in love with him, when he was a kitten. We got him, for someone else, who wanted a kitten. By a quirk of fate, that person changed there mind. He was suppose to go back to the home we got him from, but they had brought in a sick cat, and all there cats were soon sick. He couldn't go back there to die, so he staid with us, and lived. He had a long happy life here. At one time, when he was little, he liked to ride in the car. Mom brought him to the Vocational center a few times, where I took Animal care class. He would ride down the hall on her shoulder. One day a student raised a fuss, because she had a "fox" with her.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Harry also reserved the right to pick my boy friends. One day when I was talking&amp;nbsp;to my boyfriend on the phone, we got disconnected. I looked over at the wall, where the phone was mounted, and there stood&amp;nbsp;Harry with his foot on the cradle for&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;hand set. He did that a couple of times to that boy, who &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;promptly&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; told me I was &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;lying&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;. Harry was right of course, and I &lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;happily&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;&lt;SPAN class=correction id=""&gt;stopped&lt;/SPAN&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt; seeing the boy. &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Harry was my study buddy. He loved to drape himself across my neck while I did homework. His favorite thing was to help me write. He would bat at the pen when it moved. When I used the gold pen that Mom gave me, he would reach down and steal it. That was HIS pen.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In August of 2005, I had to have Harry put down. He was dyeing of cancer, and I could not stand to see him suffer any more. He was 10 years old. &lt;/P&gt;&lt;SPAN style="VISIBILITY: hidden" woohooNameSaved="photoPileWoohoo"&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/03/11/harry-monster/194</link>
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<title><![CDATA[Harry Monster]]></title>

<pubDate>Sat, 11 Mar 2006 20:26:28 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;In the spring of 2003, we fostered two lambs. They belonged to my Uncle Dan, who at the time, had more bottle lambs, than he could keep up with.&amp;nbsp;We took care of two&amp;nbsp;ewe lambs. I can't remember what there names were when we took them, or even if they had names. They had names when they left though! In a fit of silliness, Mom, and I dubbed them Cowa, and Bunga. Let's face it' Cowa had the markings of a Holstein cow. Bunga? well, What else&amp;nbsp;could you name her?&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;I had a lot of fun raising those two wild Indians. They lived in a cage in the house, coming&amp;nbsp;out&amp;nbsp;when they ate there bottles, and then had a little play time. They were trouble! We tried to keep them in the kitchen, when they played, but they would break out, and climb the sofa. Thank God, the weather warmed, and they could stay out with my goats, and sheep, soon after&amp;nbsp;we got them.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I don't have may good pictures of the two of them, but they were a lot of fun.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; More fun, was Uncle Dan's reaction, when he got back two weanling lambs, named Cowa and bunga. I don't know what eventually happened to the two of them, just that they were sold. It was a grate experience though. &lt;STRONG&gt;cowabunga!&lt;/STRONG&gt;&lt;/P&gt;&lt;SPAN style="VISIBILITY: hidden" woohooNameSaved="photoPileWoohoo"&gt;&lt;/SPAN&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/04/02/cowa-bunga/195</link>
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<title><![CDATA[Cowa-Bunga]]></title>

<pubDate>Sun, 02 Apr 2006 23:40:47 GMT
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<description>Gueido Had a short life, but it was full of both pain, and pleasure. He came to me, because my brother had a pair of hamsters. The male died, and he got another. His female didn't like the new boy though, and beat the heck out of him. My brother, not wanting his female hurt grabbed the new male, who grabbed right back. He bit my brother, who then asked if I wanted a vicious hamster. I took Him, and named him Gueido.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; I dare say, that my brother needn't have worried about his female, as she had ripped off Gueido's ear. He lived a pretty good life here though, and seamed happy. As happy as any other hamster I have met.</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2007/03/27/gueido/352</link>
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<title><![CDATA[Gueido]]></title>

<pubDate>Wed, 28 Mar 2007 00:01:33 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;&lt;FONT face="Book Antiqua" size=3&gt;Nilchi was the most inspiring, and heart breaking animal I have had the privilege of meeting. I got her from my Uncle, who rescued her originally. He gave her to me, after I lost my girl Cassie. That was in October 2003. I chose her from the dozen sheep he had rescued, and being a Navajo sheep, she needed a Navajo name. Nilchi is Navajo for wind. It was fitting, as she was quick, and hard to catch. She had not been handled much, and was scared of people. That wasn't her biggest problem though. She was thin, and had not been sheared in several years.&amp;nbsp;Her matted wool was like a suit of armor, restricting movement. With winter snows just weeks away, she couldn't be sheared, so she would have to wait until spring. I did trim the wool off of her face, neck, and tail area.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; From the beginning, it was obvious that Nilchi was special! There was such a light in her eyes. Even though she was little more than bones under all the wool, she was a spirited girl, and at times, she would come close enough for me to pet her nose. I lived for those moments, and she loved when I would sing to her, and the others in the evenings. She would stand a few feet away, and look into my eyes. I don't know who was more mesmerized.&amp;nbsp; No matter how bad things were in her life, the light never left her eyes, and she always looked as if she was smiling.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; In February of 2004 we had babies born, and Nilchi was in her glory. None of the lambs were hers, but she mothered them anyway, and they would run to her, if they got in trouble.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; Nilchi was sheared that spring, and despite the shearers best efforts, he cut her badly trying to get the mats off. She required stitches for that, and the vet expressed his surprise that she had survived the winter, even though she had gained a bit of weight.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;She improved a lot after that.The first breeze she felt after being sheared, she jumped, and looked at&amp;nbsp;her side, not knowing what had touched her.&amp;nbsp;She reveled in the touch of the wind after that. Nilchi Lived with us for a little less than a year, but she touched my heart forever. It was a special gift she had. You just had to fall in love with her. It was because of Nilchi that I met Navajo Sister Lawrie. (It doesn't matter we are not blood relation, She is my Sister, and I'm glad Nilchi brought us together.) &lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/P&gt;
&lt;DIV&gt;&lt;FONT face="Book Antiqua" size=3&gt;I learned a lot from Nilchi, about the person I wanted to be. It didn't matter how many times she stumbled and fell, she would get up, and try again. It seems funny in a way, that one who is with you for such a short time can teach you so much.&amp;nbsp; {I love you Nilchi}&lt;/FONT&gt;&lt;/DIV&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/03/02/nilchi/193</link>
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<title><![CDATA[Nilchi]]></title>

<pubDate>Thu, 02 Mar 2006 20:55:17 GMT
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<description>&lt;P&gt;When I started this entry, it was to be a strait forward entry, with pictures of the animals who have graced my life. It soon became apparent, that it wasn't that simple. There are so many animals I have loved, and lost. To many to mention in just one entry, so many stories yearning to be told. It will take many entries to tell them all.&lt;/P&gt;
&lt;P&gt;Kasodi had a lot of impact on my life. I bought him, and his sister Maria, when they were only a couple weeks old. I raised them both on bottles, and tried my best to get them used to anything, and everything in there world. Back then, Maria was the friendly one, following me around like a puppy. At about 6 months old, Maria died in my arms, and Kasodi, finding himself friendless, stuck to me like glue.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Kasodi was a cool goat! I could get him to do practically anything, just by asking. He took part in my high school&amp;nbsp;English class, as the topic of a speech. He stole the show, when Mom tossed the leash over his back, and he stood&amp;nbsp;unrestrained, waiting to be called. Anywhere that I was, Kasodi&amp;nbsp;wanted to be too.&amp;nbsp;That devotion to me, lead to the worst experience of our lives. He jumped the fence to get to me, and broke his leg. We took my boy to the vet that night, to have him put down, and Dr. Kelly said "We don't do that anymore, We just amputate."&amp;nbsp; Now, as much as I loved Kasodi, the thought of a three legged goat seemed strange. I soon found out he was still the same goat, just one leg short.&amp;nbsp;We had three good years together after that, and many more adventures.&amp;nbsp;A lot of our fun, was at the expense of others, like the time I took Kasodi for a walk, at the Agricultural fair that we go to.&amp;nbsp;A gentlemen came running up to me, and said "Do you know&amp;nbsp;your goat is missing a leg?" I turned to&amp;nbsp;Kasodi, and asked him "Where did you loose it this time?" He blatted in reply, and&amp;nbsp;the&amp;nbsp;man asked "What did he say?" and I cracked up. That same day, a woman stood there looking at Kasodi for about half an hour, then came to me and said "There's something wrong with that goat." I, thinking he had hurt himself, went to&amp;nbsp;take a look. "What is it that's the problem?" I asked, not seeing anything wrong. "I don't know.&amp;nbsp; he just looks funny."&amp;nbsp;So I asked,&amp;nbsp;"You mean because he has three legs?"&amp;nbsp;to which she replied "HE HAS THREE LEGS!" &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;Kind of makes you wonder about people, but&amp;nbsp;life with Kasodi wouldn't have been nearly as exciting, without&amp;nbsp;the reactions of strangers.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/P&gt;</description>
<link>http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/03/01/friends-ill-never-forget/192</link>
<guid isPermaLink="true">http://journals.aol.com/tkcrofthozwings/TakeCareOfThoseWings/entries/2006/03/01/friends-ill-never-forget/192</guid>




<title><![CDATA[Friends I'll Never Forget!]]></title>

<pubDate>Wed, 01 Mar 2006 22:52:41 GMT
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