Long stretches of boredom and grinding work interspersed with fear, terror, exhaustion and joy. It’s lambing 2021. And it’s started.
We moved the ewe flock down from the hill. Into the lambing field. Rolled the hayfeeder in along the drive. Hauled gates and folds down to the stables from all corners of the farm. Took down the treehay* to feed the new mothers. Set up the stables. Filled the hay with barn. No. The barn with hay. Packed boxes with calcium, needles, tubes, bottles, powdered milk, gloves, disinfectant.
Rosebud lambed this morning. One of our oldest ewes. Gifted to us by an old, dear, departed friend to start our journey with. No drama. No tears. Rosebud and I have lambed this ling time together. Her two black lambs easy born this year. Small. Shetland small. She called from the rain drenched field this morning. Hearing her I gathered the rest of the flock around the troughs with a feed of oats and went to fetch her. I knew, without looking, she had started labour. We are old hands with one another.
Her first lamb born as I closed the gate in the maternity fold in the stable. Still. Limp. Small enough. But not moving. At all. Rosebud nuzzled, nickered, licked and roared. No response. I picked the lamb up. Limp. Completely. Tore off my fleece and dried her. Roughly. Nothing. Picked up handfuls of rough straw and rubbed her flanks and nuzzle. Nothing. Once more. Kneading the straw in hard. A shudder. A kick. A cry and a wriggle. Mother took over. Pushed and pulled and licked and nickered, teasing her new lamb into life even as she birthed the second.
Two black lambs. Belters. Thirsty for life and already up to mischief – they snuck out a gap in the fold within minutes leaving mum to explore the stable world.
A relief, to have caught them. I worry the first one would not have made it. Old girl. Well done. We will leave you to it. Snug in the stable.
The two watercolours in this post are by Maker Magpie. Artist, knitter, yarnspinner, art and crafts workshop guru, artist, craftkit maker and seller ans shepherd. Her website and her Instagram are very cool.
- Treehay, if you are interested, is an ancient technology for saving forage for animals in winter. It;s rare now, but worth doing if you are smallscale. You harvest branches of trees that your livestock like, and that will survive or benefit from pruning. We cut young willow, ash, poplar and hazel, which are flexible and easy to bundle when young, and all grow back stronger. Leave the branches out in the sun for a few hours, then tie them in bunches and hang in a well ventilated sheltered area for a week. When the leaves are papery dry, the treehay is ready. Store it, and feed it in winter. It will keep for two years if kept dry, and often has a high protein and sigar content. We string the bunches up in the stable and barn, and the ewes like it so much theyt will stand for an hour and eat, giving new lambs plenty of time to get their first milk.
