Lambing is the most unpredictable, challenging and rewarding time of the year. The only things you can rely on are some long, lonely nights interjected with a few explosive panics and an overriding concern for the creatures that you care for.

But once you navigate the obstacle course of “what new problem will we face this year?” you get to settle onto an overturned pail or sit in a pile of straw and just fall in love. Lambs are quintessentially innocent. They define the word. They are meek and mild and curious and just looking for kisses and their mother’s milk. Most of our ewes have twins or triplets so we get to see the little lambies curl up and lay their heads on each others back making a little pretzel of warmth and comfort.

We also have some new mothers and sometimes they just don’t know what has happened to them. One new mother gave birth and just ignored her firstborn. Luckily my husband entered the barn just in time to find him lying in the pen and wiped off the sac to keep him from suffocating. He had to assist her in birthing the second lamb but she wasn’t licking either of them off or letting them nurse. How rude! We put her head in a stanchion and she nearly ran us over carrying this steel pen on her shoulders. Explosive Panic #1. We gave her a little Banamine (which is like strong sheep Advil) for her swollen udder and after a night of sleep she recovered herself. She still prefers her second lamb but she lets the little ram lamb nurse, and to watch the ewe lamb tend to her brother just defines sweetness.

Today we have a ewe who is retaining water. Her udder is way too big and the milk is backing up insider her making her belly look strange. We had the vet out at 10:30 last night because she wouldn’t get up and with her engorged udder we feared Explosive Panic #2, but he said she should be fine and should give birth today. I’ll keep you posted.