Tag: Lambs

Today at Briden Farm: Seven Hundred Feet of Trust

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Homemade Pasta and Lamb Steak

Monday, July 20, 2026

Seven Hundred Feet of Trust

The boys had me up around four o’clock this morning.

Not because anyone had made a mess in the house.

They simply needed to go outside.

Then, shortly before seven, they asked again.

For the second night in a row, Bow kept the house clean and let me know when he needed out.

For a young puppy, that’s a pretty big milestone.

Every day he seems to grow just a little more.

After chatting online with a couple of friends, I settled into my usual breakfast of porridge, toast and tea before heading outside around nine o’clock to begin the morning chores.

The hens and their chicks, the Muscovy ducks, Maple and Brooke, the pigs and the roosters all needed looking after.

Only a short time ago those chores usually took me close to an hour and a half.

Today I finished them in about an hour and fifteen minutes.

I suppose routines eventually become habits.

By 10:15 I was back at the house.

Normally that would have felt like a good start to the day.

Today was different.

My mind wasn’t on the chores I’d just finished.

It was on the ones still ahead.

This afternoon the sheep were moving.

Not into the barn.

Not a couple of hundred feet to another paddock.

Today they would be making their biggest move yet.

About seven hundred feet.

Across Sissiboo Road.

Down one driveway.

Up another.

Into fresh pasture.

The ewes had done it before.

The lambs never had.

That was enough to keep me thinking about it all morning.

Before moving the sheep there was still plenty of work to do.

I fed the flock before beginning to dismantle the electric netting from the pasture they had grazed four days earlier.

Everything had to be moved by hand.

Two electric fences.

Fence posts.

The gas trimmer.

Fuel.

Tools.

Several trips later, everything was finally across the road.

I trimmed the new fence line, set up the fencing and made sure everything was ready.

Roscoe, River and Bow came along for the adventure.

Partway through I let the boys rest in the cool barn while I finished carrying equipment.

Bow may be a puppy.

But judging by the energy he still had afterwards…

He hadn’t worn himself out very much.

Before bringing the sheep over, I walked up to a neighbour’s house to ask for someone to stop traffic while we crossed the road.

Thankfully, neighbours once again came to the rescue.

Thank you.

You know who you are.

Before heading back, I filled a small bucket with grain.

The ewes follow me well now, and the lambs are learning quickly, but a little encouragement never hurts.

Then something happened that made me smile.

Barbara spotted me.

She could see me across the road carrying the electric fence on my shoulder.

Immediately she began calling.

To most people…

“Baa… baa…”

To me…

It sounded like…

“Dad! Dad!”

She kept calling until I finally walked back, switched off the fence and opened the pasture.

The flock gathered around me.

For a brief moment they all seemed to be asking the same question.

“Where are we going?”

I smiled.

“Come on.”

And with that…

We started walking.

The neighbours watched for traffic.

Roscoe quietly brought up the rear, making sure nobody was left behind.

River absolutely amazed me.

Despite being a mixed-breed dog with vision problems, he’s becoming an exceptional little sheepdog.

Whenever one of the sheep drifted off course, he’d naturally move to the side.

If he became just a little too enthusiastic, all I had to do was call his name.

He’d turn back toward me, and in doing so gently guided the sheep back toward the flock.

It was beautiful to watch.

Bow simply enjoyed being part of the whole adventure.

About seven hundred feet later, we walked into fresh pasture.

No sheep scattered.

No lambs were lost.

No confusion.

No panic.

Just a flock quietly following their shepherd into fresh grass.

Standing there afterwards, I realized the move had never really been about seven hundred feet.

It had been about trust.

The ewes trusted me.

The lambs trusted their mothers.

Roscoe trusted that I’d tell him when I needed him.

River trusted my voice.

And I trusted every one of them.

Today…

Every one of us kept our part of that trust.

With the sheep happily grazing in their new pasture, the rest of the afternoon settled back into its usual rhythm.

Lucy needed feeding and watering.

The Saanen goats were looked after.

The rabbits and quail received their feed.

Patsy patiently stood for milking before I headed straight home to filter the fresh milk, wash everything up and tuck it safely into the refrigerator.

The work wasn’t quite finished.

Preparations for winter continued too.

Large round bales of hay have now been arranged, and with the help of another neighbour and his tractor, they should be arriving later this week.

One more piece of the puzzle falling into place.

By the time evening arrived, my body knew it had put in a full day’s work.

My back was sore.

My muscles ached.

But they were the kind of aches that come from accomplishing something worthwhile.

Instead of collapsing into a chair, I decided to make supper.

I mixed fresh pasta by hand using flour, fresh Briden Farm naturally laid eggs, a splash of olive oil, a little salt and pepper, and even a touch of Watkins Chicken Soup and Gravy Mix blended into the flour.

While the pasta rested, I seasoned one of our own lamb steaks with garlic and rosemary before searing it.

The finishing touch was generous slices of homemade goat feta made from Patsy’s milk just a couple of days ago.

As I sat beneath the new dining room light, I took a moment to say grace.

I thanked God.

And I quietly thanked Darius.

Some people may find that unusual.

I don’t.

If an animal gives its life to feed me, I think the least I can do is pause and be grateful.

Of course, I wasn’t the only one to enjoy supper.

Roscoe, River and Bow each received a couple of small pieces of lamb.

Pete and Callie did too.

The dogs had worked hard helping move sheep.

Pete spends his days on mouse patrol.

Callie faithfully keeps watch over the house.

They all earn their keep in their own way.

Around here…

They’re family.

Now, as I write this, it’s just after eight o’clock.

The windows are open.

The cool evening air is drifting through the old farmhouse.

A mug of tea sits beside me.

The only chore left is to close the chickens safely into their coop at dusk.

Until then…

I have nothing more demanding than simply enjoying the quiet.

After a day that began with anxiety…

Ended with trust…

And was celebrated with one of the finest suppers I’ve had in a long time…

There’s only one word that really fits.

Contentment.

Sometimes people ask me why I chose this life.

Days like today are the answer.

Not because they’re easy.

Quite the opposite.

Because every once in a while, after all the work is done, you find yourself sitting in a quiet farmhouse with the windows open, a cup of tea beside you, animals settled for the night, and a heart that’s simply thankful.

And somehow…

Those seven hundred feet across Sissiboo Road become so much more than a sheep move.

They become a reminder that trust—whether between people, neighbours, dogs, sheep or even ourselves—is built one small step at a time.

This Week at Briden Farm: Week Ending July 4, 2026

Circus Tricks with Briden Farm Goats

There are weeks on the farm that quietly pass by, and then there are weeks that remind you exactly why you chose this life.

This was one of those weeks.

It really began the Saturday before, with our Birthday BBQ and Landowner Appreciation Gathering.

The day celebrated two birthdays, but it was also our way of saying thank you to the neighbours and landowners who have trusted Briden Farm with pieces of their property. Although we own 22 acres, today Briden Farm has access to about 117 acres of grazing land because of those relationships. That’s something we never take for granted.

Like most farm gatherings, not everything went according to plan. The charcoal barbecue never got used after someone decided the gas barbecue would be enough. The baked potatoes took longer than expected, and we finally confirmed what we’d suspected for some time—our kitchen oven isn’t heating properly. The crown rack of lamb had to be finished on the barbecue.

There were a few hiccups.

But by the end of the day every bit of the pork and lamb (actually a 3-4 year old Ram) had been eaten, people were talking about how good it tasted, and before everyone left I took a moment to thank them for allowing Briden Farm to graze our livestock on their land.

Looking back now, I think that gathering set the tone for the week.

It reminded me that Briden Farm isn’t built only on fences, fields, and livestock.

It’s built on relationships.

Then came the heat.

Friday was one of the hottest days we’ve seen this summer.

Temperatures reached at least 31°C, with the humidex feeling much closer to 40.

Instead of one round of chores, the weather demanded three.

Morning.

Afternoon.

Evening.

The sheep emptied an entire water container between morning and mid-afternoon, confirming something we’ve suspected for a while. On days like that, checking water isn’t optional.

It’s essential.

The pigs spent much of the day wallowing in the wet spot in their paddock. I’ve often wondered if it’s an old spring that’s been covered over. Maybe someday they’ll uncover it for us.

Yesterday I left a bucket of water sitting in the shade near their pasture. It meant one less trip pushing a wheelbarrow full of water through the afternoon heat. Sometimes the best chore you do today is the one that makes tomorrow easier.

Earlier that morning I spent three hours trimming fence lines and moving the sheep to a fresh paddock.

The move itself reminded me how much the lambs have grown.

Just a few weeks ago they stood watching, unsure of what was happening.

This week they simply followed.

I opened the corner of the electric netting, hung the post in a small tree, and every ewe and every lamb calmly followed me into their new salad bar.

Watching those lambs move confidently with the flock told me something.

They’re not just following their mothers anymore.

They’re learning the Briden Farm routine.

That will become especially important over the next few days as we prepare to move them into the barn for Monday’s shearing and hoof trimming.

We usually shear in April, but finding shearers has become increasingly difficult. Sadly, we learned this year how important timely shearing can be when we lost our Babydoll ewe, Baby, to fly strike.

Some lessons are hard.

Lucy is still keeping us guessing.

She’s still waiting to freshen.

Every morning and every evening I check on her, making sure she has clean water, grain, and a comfortable place to escape the heat.

The Saanen goats continue their daily routine, spending part of the day outside while Lucy stays separated to avoid unnecessary jostling before she freshens.

Sometimes the calendar says one thing.

The goats have other ideas.

One of the highlights of the week was Patsy.

Milking her is beginning to feel less like a wrestling match and more like a conversation.

The first time she screamed, kicked, and protested every minute.

Tonight she calmly kept her head in the feed bucket while I milked her.

We collected over a litre, but more importantly, she trusted me.

Near the end I stopped, left the rest for Rose, and didn’t ask for more than Patsy was ready to give.

Every milking shows improvement.

I think we’re both being trained.

The dogs had a big week too.

The DOGOITM GPS virtual fence project reached an important milestone.

Both collars were independently programmed and tested.

Walking along Parker Road and later driving west on River Road with the collars sitting on the truck seat, both collars beeped and vibrated at almost exactly the same location.

That doesn’t mean the testing is finished.

It does mean the results are becoming repeatable.

Now the next step is to fine-tune the boundary before Roscoe and River begin their training.

Speaking of dogs…

Blue reminded me how hard it is to say goodbye to a good one.

Before she leaves for her new home, I sat with her while she ate and told her how proud I am of how far she’s come since returning to us in March.

I gave her a hug.

She quietly lay down beside me.

She’s never done that before.

I think she was saying,

“Okay Dad, if you think it’ll be good for me, and it’ll help you, I’ll go.”

Bear, meanwhile, is growing up fast.

He’s learned his name—or maybe I’ve finally learned it.

He’s coming when called, following us around the farm, and this week he made one of his first trips to Mary’s pond.

Roscoe swam.

River waded.

Bear watched.

Eventually curiosity won, and he got his feet wet.

Sometimes the best teacher isn’t me.

Sometimes it’s another dog.

This week also reminded me that good neighbours are one of Briden Farm’s greatest blessings.

While I was tending to the goats, Albert stopped to chat.

He asked when we were planning to bring the pigs over. We’d talked about it in passing a year or so ago.

Then he told me that if I ever wanted to use more of their land, all I had to do was ask.

That meant a great deal to me.

It wasn’t simply an offer of more pasture.

It was an expression of trust.

Briden Farm has grown because people have trusted us to care for both their land and our livestock.

That’s something we never take for granted.

Another change this week has been in how we’re managing the farm itself.

We’ve started buying livestock feed a month at a time.

The feed store isn’t far away, but every trip costs fuel, wear and tear on the truck, and usually a few things that weren’t on the shopping list.

Planning ahead means fewer trips, fewer surprises, and one less thing to worry about.

The same thinking led me to buying extra dog food while it was on sale.

We’ll use it.

It’s dry.

It stores well.

So why not buy it when it’s cheaper?

It’s all part of making Briden Farm a little more manageable.

We’ve been doing this for nearly six years now.

We’ve learned a lot.

Now we’re refining what we’ve learned.

The goal isn’t simply to make farming easier.

It’s to build a system that someone else can understand.

Someday we may need help.

Someday we may want a few days away.

And someday, perhaps, another small farm will adapt what we’ve learned here to fit their own operation.

That’s one of the reasons we’re building the Briden Farm Operations Handbook.

Not just to remember.

But to pass it on.

Looking ahead, next week promises to be another busy one.

The sheep will move into the barn ahead of Monday’s shearing.

The goats will have their hooves trimmed.

The GPS collars will continue their testing.

Lucy will, hopefully, finally freshen.

And life at Briden Farm will carry on, one chore at a time.

Some weeks are exhausting.

Some weeks are heartbreaking.

Some weeks are deeply satisfying.

Most weeks are all three.

That’s farming.

And when the chores are finally done, the boots are by the door, the animals are settled for the night, and the sun is slipping below the trees, there’s still something special about sitting down with a bowl of orange pineapple ice cream and a cup of old-fashioned #BridenFarm Tea.

Until next week,

Brian Hurlburt
Briden Farm, Bear River, Nova Scotia

Please, Bring Proper Carriers and Be Properly Setup when Picking up Animals

BaaBaaRaa’s Boy

I’m almost to upset you write this! We have an 8 Week old lamb. He was to be rehomed today to go into a Breeding Program. The people who wanted to but it, had to come from two hours away. They showed up a half hour late. They showed up in a sedan type car, with 4 people, 2 Dogs, and a wire cage in the trunk they expected me to put the lamb in so they could drive home with it! In a wire cage, in the trunk, on a hot day, for two hours! HECK NO!!!

Thankfully someone just sent me some Cute Puppy Pics just before writing this! Of one of our Puppies and showing how well it’s fitting in at its new home. Precious! 

Now, You might think this an isolated case! Right?