Lambing Season

     I wrote this almost week ago, but forgot to post it until now.

     New lambs are born almost every day at this time of year. They are some of the most photogenic creatures out there with their curly coats and their tiny faces, bouncing around the barn and snuggling up together to nap. This morning, a ewe gave birth to triplets, two back ewe lambs and one white ram lamb. It is not unusual in the case of triplets for the smallest to be rejected by the mother, and in this case, one of the little black ewe lambs was rejected. She was weak and cold this morning, and after being born, was not making the usual attempts to stand and to find milk. I was working in the barn this morning, taking care of cows, so I did my best to dry her off and warm her up with a towel until Susie, one of the sheep's owners, arrived.

     The lamb needed milk, so I was asked if I was willing help catch a ewe who might have some extra milk that we could put in a bottle. You should know, that these sheep get handled only a few times a year and the best way to describe them would probably be feral. We picked a ewe who only had one lamb and would likely have some milk to spare, and the usual sheep wrangling pandemonium began. I started edging the ewe towards a corner as all of the other sheep ran frantically past me. I made a lunge for the ewe as she shot by me and latched onto a big clump of wool, which promptly fell out as the ewe raced away. We reset our formation and tried again. This time we got her. As she once again attempted escape, I lunged at her and wrapped both my hands deep in her wool. Having a human attached to her back slowed the ewe only a little bit as she continued across the pen, me dragging on my stomach behind her. We probably made it about ten feet before she gave in and ground to a halt. I got to my feet, and tried to regain my dignity, which is hard to do when you have hay in your collar and sheep manure smeared across your arm. I pinched her neck between my legs and held on tight as Susie tried to milk her. And of course, after being chased all around the barn, she had no interest in letting any milk out at all. She began to lunge forward again, and I was puled off of my feet and slid backwards onto her shoulders. For a moment I thought that she was going to take off again, with me clinging to her wooly back for dear life, but she seemed to decide that I was too heavy for her so she gave up. We gave up on her and went for another ewe who had just lambed and was still in a small pen away from the rest of the flock. The space was small enough that she could not run away, but she barley gave us any milk. I guess that it is a good thing that these sheep are usually good mothers and bottle feeding is unusual, as for me I have done my share of sheep wrangling for a few days, so I will spend the next few days regaining my pride that I undoubtedly lost when I got dragged across the floor by a sheep.