Once again, our lack of experience was on display in late August.
Our smallest lamb just seemed stupid. And we concluded some just are until we thought, perhaps something was wrong.
A visit from the vet, two vets in fact, and we learned our entire flock was anemic due to worms and that our smallest was significantly compromised. Although they were all dewormed immediately, we lost the little one. Consumed with grief, I sobbed as I carried her to the hole Todd had dug.
I don’t know that we could have saved her if we’d called sooner, she was that far along. But I do know she hopefully saved the rest of the flock. Since that day, we have spent time with each sheep. Watched each closely. Rotated the fencing every other day to get ahead of worm eggs and, come to see the personalities of each.
And the ram? He is a pussy cat. He loves to have his nose and neck rubbed and willingly lets us admire his fleece and talk stupidly to him.