Early Reflections on Lambing

It’s very early to say how all our lambs will fare, but with no pregnant ewes left (we think), I thought it a good time to pause and reflect on what this first lambing season has been like.  I am going to try very hard to avoid comparing the experiences with the birth of our girls and those first few days of wonder, anxiety, and sleep deprivation. Never mind, how can I not?

We have had the support of veteran sheep farmers who, much like maternity ward nurses, hold the wisdom and patience that can, in some of the most critical moments, lift one’s spirits and even make one feel like it really will all work out. I have known for a while that in times of stress, practical advice is necessary but not enough.  We need to be comforted. We need to be assured our lack of experience won’t harm our charges, and that the decisions we must make on our own, will be the right ones because they have to be.

Yet all too soon, the wise experts must leave and you are left to your books and the highlighted sentences that don’t cover what worries you most. Birthing it turns out is the easy part. Living is the hard part. Keeping fragile lambs alive suddenly is all that matters. And here is where lambing and child rearing forge similar but different paths. We hope a mother will do what she must. A sheep farmer can only do so much. And a new sheep farmer – blinded by ignorance – fumbles and tries things they’ve never tried before.

We’ve tubed an empty tummy, kneeled on the ground leaning into mom to hold her still while wedging a lamb in our laps and pressing her head to the udder and fingering a swollen teat until it’s tucked into the small mouth. Sometimes she sucks, but why only sometimes? Help all you want, at some point each lamb must figure out how to latch on to mom’s teat for survival.

I have been both impressed and depressed at the mothering I witness in our ewes and what limited roles we can play. The attentive mom nudges her lamb to the teat, licks the lamb’s tail to stimulate the urge to suck, talks back and forth with baas and nickers. Despite a bumpy start, Jewel, our first lamb, has a rock star Mom. Martha has always been there working to ensure Jewel latched on early and often. The result – Jewel has grown right before our eyes. She is a month old today and appears to be very strong.

Dolly, our second Mom, seems to have figured out her role and both her lambs seem to be doing well and all three are with the flock on the fields.

Daisy remains in the barnyard today with her two small ram lambs. They’re only five days old, but both are still skin and bones. We have tried all the tricks we have learned and added a few others. Daisy hasn’t rejected her babies, she’s just not attentive. Or so it seems to me. This morning all I can do is hope the “mother” in Mother Nature takes the course that allows these lambs to thrive because I’m not Mom and I am not wise enough yet to know what is really hers to do and what is mine.

The books write about bottle feeding babies, and next year that may be our role, but this year, we have worked hard to try to help each lamb find his or her mother’s milk. I hope I have worked hard enough.

Peggy