#sheep health

[farmerstrend]

From Wall Street to Farmstead: How James Kahiga Found Meaning in Dorper Sheep Farming

“Discover how James Kahiga transitioned from Wall Street to Dorper Sheep Farming in Kenya, establishing Capri Dorper Farm with innovative, sustainable practices.” “Explore the success story of Dorper Sheep Farming at Capri Dorper Farm, where James Kahiga combines financial expertise with sustainable agriculture.” “Learn about Dorper Sheep Farming and the innovative zero-grazing model at Capri…

[deadkraker]

All the time in the world to figure it out.

[susitseart]

In return.

For your friendship.

That's what I must be. As good friend as you are.

Otherwise I'll never be worth of you.

You, who deserves all the best in the world.

Darkness has always been a part of our existence. We born from dark to dark, to find our place in this world. To look for the glimmer of light that would make life worth all of our searching.

We went to do this alone. And eventually some of us were lucky enough to find it.

Our own way and reason to be happy.

Someone other who was searching too.

A friend.

The other who became so dear to us and to whom we grow so dear. The other, in whose light the world wasn't so dark and lonely anymore.

In the glow of that other, we were happy. For a friend was healing some part of us that somehow felt sore and numb at the same time.

But it's possible that one day the glimmer of the other starts to feel too much. Too bright. Too beautiful. Something we cannot be worthy of.

Not someone like us. Who deep down feel so permanently broken.

Too broken. And as too broken, we don't know how to be there for the other as we should.

We can't find words of comfort to the other when the other needs it. We cannot bear part of the other's pain, for it mixes too much with our own pain.

We can barely breathe. How could we be something to someone who is more precious to us than anything?

That's why we may retreat back into the dark. To the place where we belong.

We may spend a moment or an eternity there. We don't know and we don't care. It's all just so comforting and safe.

While we're there, our friend can find something better than us. While we are there, at least we are not a burden to those we love.

It doesn't matter if we'd disappear for good.

And yet, our friend comes to find us. Shining brighter than ever.

Saying they wants to be our friend. No matter how broken we are.

That's our friend. Wanting to give us everything, even though we ourselves can give nothing in return.

How could one bear such a debt of gratitude?

- - -

Do you know this debt of friendship?

[faelingmagic]

Fanart of Cofi from Chikn Nuggit!

I wanted to do one more character from the animated series, she’s one of my favs!

Cofi embraces how different and weird she is, and I could see her encouraging it in others as well. Being different from others isn't something to be ashamed of; instead, it's something to celebrate. Your differences make you special and add to your beauty. Everyone has their own qualities that make them who they are, and that's a wonderful and beautiful thing. Stay different, your difference is what the world needs! If everyone was the same, it would be a very dull world. If being different bothers someone, that’s their own issue, you are beautiful for being different no matter what others say or think! 💕✨

[ominousvibez]

i know a lot of people tend to define dani/ellie's "obsession" as the ocean to go with danny's space obsession but tbh i feel like as dani gets older she's going to do a lot to separate herself from her identity as danny's "clone" and become her own person

like, that's why i love that the fandom has adopted the "ellie" nickname so much for her. i so wish the show went on for longer with more competent writers or the comic could expand on this maybe but i think finding her own identity and voice would be such a powerful narrative. you're made for one thing but you don't wanna do that, so now what do you do?

(tbh that kind of identity exploration is probably too anit-christian for b*tch h*rtman so i'm glad he didn't get to touch it)

it's canon that dani goes off and travels the world, so why not have her obsession be traveling? she's got a huge case of wanderlust. she likes the outdoors, she likes hiking and camping and is a huge granola girl. like, i think that kinda just fits her a bit more, in my opinion. traveling/exploration.

[natsukishinomiyaswife]

WAIT I JUST REALIZED-

HALLOWEEN IS COMING UP!! I GOTTA THINK OF COUPLE'S COSTUMES FOR MY OC X CANONS!!! ♡♡♡

(Also, for my mutuals... I would love to know what your OC x Canon would dress up as 👉👈)

[alexandor]

Oh shi, not me judging myself for things I've never judged another person for

[smexydilflover]

Hopefully in another life animals are not enslaved for human pleasure.

[chxxrricola]

My birthday is August 23rd. I turned 20 this year. For my 20th birthday, I went to Oregon with my boyfriend. My dad and his girlfriend had asked me what I wanted for my birthday. And I gave them a list. My list was " any old kitchen stuff you want to throw out, vodka, or money to use on my trip" simple right?... They asked me what cake I wanted for my birthday. I requested a strawberry cake as It's a tradition I set for myself to have strawberry cake for my birthday. My dad texted me before the trip and said that his girlfriend had a gift card to give me for my trip. I get it, it's a $50 visa gift card that I found out someone had given to her. So she didn't even get it for me in mind. They didn't ask how my birthday trip was. They said they had a present waiting for me. I never received no present. No strawberry cake. No party. No text to see how my birthday was. But I didn't say anything! I didn't want to cause a scene. I tried to make the best out of my birthday. Even though I had no cake, no family, no presents. I made it to Oregon though, so that's something. But what's insane is, I've been sitting back, just waiting, and I've been watching dad throw these birthday parties for his other kids. Tomorrow is my brother's birthday. Guess what he's getting...a strawberry cake...I want to cry. And Dad has the audacity to ask me to come to this party. Wtf? I'm so hurt. I want to cry. I want a parent to fucking love me. I want anybody to fucking love me! I feel so worthless it's pathetic. I moved to Washington, so I could be closer to my Dad. He wasn't in my life for 18 years. I met him two years ago. He left me and my Mom and was on drugs for the majority of his life. After becoming homeless I had to move states to be here with him. And I fucking regret it.

[shrodingersbox]

anyone looking for a an ovine companion? this beautiful kathadin whether sheep skull is still looking for a new home. this guy was one of my sheep last year that i raised for meat. He's almost perfect - only missing one tooth and a small bullet hole in the back of the skull, and would look awesome on a wall or shelf. won't you adopt him today?

[crowntism]

Lambsona.... their name is Ritz (like the cracker) and they enjoy gambling and kissing their many spouses

Also while I haven't rlly looked I haven't seen anybody do a lamb with an undocked tail???? so they have an undocked tail that they have to meticulously groom (also fuck yeah wool undercut)

[autisticrosewilson]

First of all, you have given me so much to work with, thank you so much. Second of all, I’m really glad you could see where I was going with Grant’s real test not actually being about killing Slade. Third of all, I absolutely love what you’ve suggested with the powers and I am currently designing met gala esque outfits for the trio and Tara’s specifically is really fun to play around with. I’ve been thinking to show they’re becoming more divine I’ll change their hair and eye colours but not their faces for the most part. I was drawing robin Jason with Natalia and decided he should have brown eyes and a crooked nose from breaking it as a kid but once he returns his eyes get weird (eg go blue and occasionally other colours), a patch of his hair went white and he lost all of his scars. Also, I think the closer they get to divinity I’m gonna draw cracks on their body that glow with their specific colours just to hammer home how they’re shedding their mortal forms.

With Tara being able to see the strings of fate, I though it’d be fun to give her a harp and then with Jason having the see no evil trait I thought it’d be fun to give him weighing scales since lady justice wears a blindfold. Idk what to give Grant though. I mean probably a weapon of some sort or maybe a Shepard’s crook that he can turn into a scythe to play into the sheep, wolf, Hunter thing.

With Jason and Tara’s splintering, I love the idea of them making fun of Grant for being the baby god. He hasn’t even had a cult yet, gosh he’s so young. Also them being besties just holds a special place in my heart.

And I just came up with this, of course they have parallels to the trinity but in universe rumours of their existence have been around much longer than Bruce, Clark and Diana. They’re the big three of the justice league but these guys are justice gods. So they start calling themselves the justice trinity but then people get confused about which trinity is which because the justice leagues’ trinity sounds awfully close to the justice gods’ trinity. The new all caste is certainly more distinctive branding but the point isn’t to be distinctive, it’s to be petty.

I'm so glad my unmedicated rambling helped!!! And I'm so excited for the outfits!!! I love when characters start becoming less and less human, when they're stuck in that uncanny valley spot of not quite human but not entirely Other, when they lose control and the cracks start to show...um I should probably give a warning for slight body horror elements. Not in the gore sense, in the "this body is not made of flesh and there is something divine clawing it's way out". Uh also there are teeth. Just. Teeth. I dipped into a little bit of cosmic horror at the end there because I wanted to cover my bases with mixed mythologies

Jason, with his defined splinters, is usually depicted with three faces in ancient texts. The Child, gaunt and dark colored, is said to appear before the downtrodden and impoverished. The few stories remaining tell of kindly people who give him an offering, and in exchange he reveals his true form, with his crown of golden ivy and beautiful strong wings to gift them bounties of food and water and riches. Other stories tell of not so kind encounters, where The Child witnesses an injustice - typically against women or children - and again reveals his true form, one with clawed hands and a mouth dripping with blood. Scholars argue what the wings looked like, but whichever All-Caste member annotated it before has compared their likeness to either a Robin or a Shrike.

There's also The Ghost, He appears young at first glance, but his hair is wirey and gray, his eyes milky and unseeing, in bloodied armor he greets the souls of the damned as they're delivered to him, and with scarred hands he wipes the tears of children taken too soon. Accounts of this face are few and far between, but all of them are entrenched in sorrow.

Finally there is The Soldier, scarred and still smoking from the ruins of battle he emerges, giving voice to the weak and resources to the needy. He champions revolutionaries and philosophers first, a strategist who delights in the liberation of the people from corrupt systems. Accounts of him usually come from times of famine and war, and he was particularly popular with poor villages, who would mark the graves of their dead with the symbol of his sword as offerings. For some reason or other, he got particularly popular with the youth, girls and boys both seemed to pray for him and leave him offerings.

The way these manifest on Jason is subtle at first. I could go the body horror route, but I won't. Yet. Instead I think his splinters show up as reflections, shadows, imprints. The faint echo of bell-like laughter when Jason does a move he learned as Robin, the image of a younger him with longer hair and unblinking eyes staring at him in the mirror. It gets worse when he gets the blades, the white streaks his hair, the swirling mark covers more of his skin every time he uses them, he trails the scent of smoke and blood behind him like a signature. His scars...they should disappear. They have for everyone else who used the pit, but instead his skin starts cracking. Any place he's ever been scarred glowing cracks break up his skin. He can't feel them, but he's always aware of them, the meaning behind them, the divinity literally leaking through his body. His eyes aren't brown anymore. They aren't even green. He looks in the mirror and they are copper, molten and burning. He tries his best to keep his mask on.

What do you think of when you imagine the word divinity? Probably something like Tara. Something with skin carved from stone, with moss and fungus crawling up her legs and snow laden shoulders. They say her hair is made of swirling clouds and the sun and moon are her eyes.

Some say she's a nymph although no one knows what kind. You're just as likely to see her name among the naiads as the dryads. Whether flowers bloom where she dances or waves crash when she sings, she's known to be more vicious towards suitors than her sisters.

Others have said she's a faerie, who takes the faces of lost daughters and lovers, slipping into their places seamlessly, forcing unruly men to pay their dues. Others say she's a shifter of a different sort, with a shawl of feathers and a crown of twine and gems. Stories range from men trying to steal her coat (and paying dearly) to lost children returned safely home on the back of a swan.

Tara doesn't think about it at first, the way gravity tends to cede to her, she doesn't notice how sunflowers turn their faces towards her instead of the sun. She doesn't notice the way her face...shifts. it's imperceptible really, and it's not like she looks in the mirror all that often. But everyone around her notices it, on some level, the way her expressions are off. A little too exaggerated. The way her limbs bend just a little too oddly. The way she never looks quite the same as she did the day before, the way she picks up features from the people around her the way she picks up rocks from ground to add to her collection. Clay molded subtly into the image of those she loves, a museum of everyone she's ever met. She does notice when her hair starts going white at the ends, the strange way her hair starts to curl unnaturally, almost floating. She's not so upset about her eyes, the deep blue of her father that has glared down at her day after day, she has changed her hair, her face, her language but she could not change her eyes. It seems she didn't have to, when she wakes up with one a little too silver to be gray and one a little too gold to be brown. And then her skin starts splitting, a cavern made from a broken rib and ravines made by the slashing of knives. She doesn't even bleed anymore, they never scab over. They crystallize, amber like ambrosia, like ichor. Her body a geode waiting to be cracked open to let the thing within finally break free.

They know the least about Grant, whatever he used to be. Half written scrolls, torn or burnt or simply stopped abruptly, illegible journal entries with symbols never recorded in any known language, half finished sketches where the details are never quite clear. A few things are usually consistent though, signs that he's been there, usually from hunters down on their luck or the particularly old and sickly. First, the howling. Like a wolf or a storm, although later accounts would add that it occasionally sounds like a mechanical whirring. Then the rabbits, dead and gutted, but not a trace of blood. Piles of them left in heaps on doorsteps or windowsills. Some have reported knocking at strange hours or finding teeth in their homes, a mix of human and animal. There is one photo on record, the most recent thing in the archive most likely, of claw marks on the side of a barn, too big and oddly serrated, certainly not from anything native to the area. Elderly that report these phenomena typically pass from heart problems within the week, according to some of the old medical files.

Grant came back wrong. Physically, at least. He knows that he's still himself for the most part, dying didn't make him a selfish asshole he did that all on his own, but...but something is wrong with him. It's the way lightbulbs flicker when he's mad and how cameras, no matter the quality, never quite get a clear shot of him. The way Joey can't ever grasp his features, not fully, the details slipping from his mind like water. The way eyes on his face slide right past, unable to look directly at him. It's in the gray spreading from his roots and his eyes too wide and dark to belong to something human. It's the way death clings to him like a second skin, sickly and pallid turning the tips of his fingers gray. His teeth are starting to feel too sharp for his mouth, and he hears things no one else does, whispers of voices that Are Not and Can't Be. The worst part is the orange, liquid candlelight under his skin, lighting up all of his veins and scars, webbing together like the world's worst game of connect the dots. No, there is no mistaking him for something human, so there is no reason to try. If this is his fate then he will take it, because he is not a sheep and he will not be a wolf, he is a hunter, and he is hungry.

[glincut]

I'm trying to fix myself, but it feels like i'm losing the best part of me.

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Black Sheep Grow Wool Too

-

You grow into an adult,

Clumsily following in the footsteps of your parents.

Desperate to return to

The only home you've ever known.

It has been swallowed by time and flames,

The screams still echo there.

Repeating mistakes until your body unravels;

Until your petrified bones admit defeat.

Falling on your journey to return to the home

You had so gallantly escaped.

Out of the ash and devastation-

Suddenly on a new path.

Suddenly homeless.

Suddenly aware

You always were.

x

[family-trauma]

Unfortunately I can say this is true from experiencing generational trauma due to accepted toxicity. Toxic family members tend to be a bit delusional, believing that whatever they perceive can't ever be wrong. Now this is only applicable to those who don't understand or want to understand the concept of self awareness and self consciousness.

I've come to realize that I'm the black sheep of the family and possibly the only one who might have some level of self awareness. Everyday is struggle as alot of the times I feel like it's me against everyone, fighting a war against those I know I can't win. Acceptance is very hard in these situations, but it's the only way I can probably get some solace in moving forward.

[mitzi-moo]

Spotted a sheep 🐑