Planning With Lambs
Lambs began poking their heads out last week.
That means all of my plans flew out the window.
Lambs do not allow plans.
At daylight on Sunday, I checked the sheep corral for new babies.
Four ewes were murmuring to their newly-arrived cherished bundles of joy.
One cherished bundle looked like a runt that weighed about a pound.
Often, a runt is half of a set of siblings, the half that did not get enough in utero nutrition.
I looked around for a twin, but found nothing.
Other new families were doing well so I sent the main flock to the pasture for breakfast, leaving the ewes with newborns behind.
Two sets of twins, the runt family and a set of triplets needed to stay in my bed and breakfast for a couple of days.
Each new family gets a studio apartment so I can watch to be sure the babies get their meals on time, the ewes have plenty to eat and I can catch potential problems.
The triplets would be a problem.
Ewes only have two teats so one baby will get the short end of the deal.
I planned to watch throughout the day before deciding which to pull and feed with a bottle.
My friend, Mary, came to help. Mary raised a lot of sheep as a girl and is astute at assessing situations.
Mary watched the ewe with triplets head-butt one of her lambs away.
Ewes don’t head-butt their own lambs.
Maybe the third lamb was a twin to the little runt.
We put the triplet in with the runt family.
The ewe head-butted the big lamb against the wall.
I had an orphan on my hands.
We warmed some colostrum and discussed our theme for orphan lamb names this year.
My daughter, Abby, loves tennis so babies we raise this year will be named Rafa, Naomi, Venus and Roger, among others.
I paint the names on the backs of the lambs so we choose short ones.
While Rafa waited for his dinner, we checked for new families on the pasture.
Two ewes were claiming two lambs.
Sort of.
One ewe ran in circles and called for her lambs, then ran back to the staggering newborns. The other ewe huddled and nuzzled both lambs.
Both ewes had given birth.
Mary walked these confused ewes and lambs to the barn while I brought three other new families.
One guard dog stayed out in the pasture.
I was curious about the dog’s motivation so I wandered over.
The dog had solved the mystery of the crazy ewe.
Her birth had not gone well.
But I had Rafa waiting for supper.
I made a new plan.
Mary and I captured both confused ewes, gave the twins to their rightful mother.
The grieving ewe searched frantically, even jumping over the sheep fence.
“If you jump again, you’re on the next truck to Billings,” I yelled.
Miraculously, she dashed into her studio apartment.
Rafa joined her.
This plan never works.
Ewes allow only their babies to nurse.
The ewe let Rafa nurse.
Mary and I were stunned.
The ewe sniffed Rafa and pushed him away.
Not good, but certainly not unexpected.
Rafa was persistent and knew where supper was located.
The ewe turned in circles.
I trapped her head in a stanchion.
Now Rafa can drink until the ewe’s milk makes him smell like he belongs to her.
The ewe can eat and drink, too.
I plan to let her see and smell her newly-beloved baby in a couple of days.
Meanwhile, I don’t need to warm a bottle four times a day.
Yet.
I better go check my corrals and pastures.
Lambs don’t allow plans.