Before the sun comes up….

Good morning,

Here on the farm, my days are shaped by the flock.

I’m outside just before sunrise, Meg at my side, heading to move the pregnant ewes to their round bale for the day. This is my favorite part of morning—the quiet before everything else wakes up. Boots crunch on snow. My breath hangs in the air. Meg is already keyed in, alert and steady, laser-focused on the job she knows is hers.

At the barn, I take my first look at the sheep. Most are still resting, tucked into themselves against the cold. A few are up, stretching, nibbling hay, easing into the day. They’re about six weeks from lambing now—sides full and heavy, movements slower, deliberate. This is a tender season. Stressing them or pushing too hard could have real consequences.

That’s why Meg is perfect for this work.

She’s calm and respectful, but she doesn’t take any nonsense. The ewes know it, and they trust her. When they see Meg, the flock comes to life. They gather at the gate, expectant. At a quiet word from me, Meg steps in, easing them back just enough for me to open it safely. Then she turns and begins walking them up the hill.

It’s a slow procession—steady, gentle movement that keeps the ewes fit for the births ahead. Meg applies just enough pressure, an occasional light nip to remind a straggler to keep pace. Up the packed snowy path, across the face of the hill, and finally to their waiting hay.

When they reach it, Meg pauses.

She stands and watches them settle in, much the way I do. I like to think she’s taking pride in the sight of full-bellied ewes and a job done well.

When I call her, she comes flying down the hill, accepting praise as if it’s simply the natural order of things. Back inside, there’s more coffee for me and breakfast for her. Meg inevitably boasts to Bess and Gyll—“I moved the sheep again! It was glorious!”—and I assure the other two that their turn is coming soon.

And just like that, another day begins at Lucky Dog Farm.

Meg and the ewes this morning.

Hope you enjoy your day too!!

Warmly, Farmer Judith