Conversations in the Lamb Pen

We were breezing through lambing season until Ewe #11 gave birth to twins.

The black ewe bellowed in the paddock while her newborn twin lambs shivered in the afternoon breeze. I scooped them up and brought them into the barn and out of the wind.

Unlike the other ewes, she did not follow me and her babies.

She did, though, seem happy to follow a flake of alfalfa hay into the barn--until I shut the door, and she found herself locked in a stall with her two lambs.

Why are you leaving me with them? she screamed.

Sometimes ewes reject their lambs. A ewe with triplets may push one aside. A ewe disturbed during birthing and not given time to bond may reject a lamb. And, as was in the case with this ewe, a first-time mom might just be beyond nervous.

I'm a fan of no-fuss plants and animals. I don't grow roses. My Halfinger horses seem to get fat on air. My Katahdin and Dorper sheep thrive on grass and rarely need assistance with lambing or living.

But I wasn't going to give up on two healthy lambs. I'd first make sure they got antibody-rich colostrum from their mother. To do that, I caught and haltered the ewe, then confirmed that she was making milk. I next directed the lambs to the udder.

She gave me a wild-eyed look.

"You'll warm up to them," I told her.

The few times I've had a ewe reject a lamb, I've had success holding the ewe and allowing the lamb to nurse frequently for the first 24-48 hours. After that, the lamb smells like her mom, and the two bond. It's time consuming, but less so than raising lambs on bottles.

"I'm not sure I'd be wild about taking on twins," I tell the ewe. "But you only have to do this for 90 days, and then you can join the Working Group (the sheep I use for dog training)."

She responds by leaping into me.

When I return to her pen two hours later, I bring a stool. She brings an attitude. After catching and haltering her, I sit on the stool as the lambs nurse.

"You only have to do this for 60 days," I say. "You'll get the best food. You can probably talk some SuperMom into watching them while you nap."

She struggles to escape--and I hold on, and listen to song after song on the radio as the minutes tick by.

During my third visit, it is dark and cold. I bring a stool and my phone. Might as well catch up on the news while I'm holding the ewe. Instead, I get sucked into Facebook and all the photos of lambs nursing from their patient moms.

"Why can't you be like them," I say, showing her the photos.

Sometime after my third visit, another ewe gives birth to twins. After settling them into an adjoining stall, I resume my position on the stool.

"Look at them," I tell the black ewe. "She's standing so quietly while her babies nurse." The ewe still struggles to escape. I am getting better at hanging on.

The ewe is less cantankerous in the morning--but still is not going to stand and allow her babies to nurse.

"Never have I dreamed of spending the pre-dawn hours in a freezing sheep stall," I tell the ewe. Though it's really quite pleasant. The other ewes and horses are munching hay; the cat is perched above me; and snow is falling outside. When I scratch the lambs rumps, they wag their tails and nurse more enthusiastically.

"You have really bad breath," I say while holding her during the dawn feeding. She happily chews her cud.

When I return in the afternoon, she looks at me and stands still, allowing her babies to nurse. Apparently she's accepted them--or decided she'd rather nurse them than chat with me. And I'm okay with that.

Lamb TV

To create an attention-grabbing scene, start with lambs, green grass and sunshine.

When working outside this weekend, I let the two ewes and four lambs into the yard to graze.

All work stopped as I watched the one-week-old lambs zoom around the pasture and leap into the air.

But, I'm not the only one who whiles away the hours watching Lamb TV.

When I stepped into the barn this morning, I discovered the barn cats, too, indulge in this pleasure.

Trick the Cat opts for a balcony seat and observes the goings-on from his straw bale.

Leslie the Cat chooses a front row seat in the lamb pen where the lambs give her a good sniff before showing off their dance moves.

Respecting the Mama

The lambs are just a week old, but they've already learned to listen to mama--both the one with fur and the one with feathers.

The chickens roam the pastures and paddocks on the farm.The lambs learn at an early age to ignore them.

Sometimes a hen will hop on a ewe's back. Often in the afternoons, the hens and ewes snooze together under the overhang.

When the hen jumped into the lamb pen, mama ewe  paid her no attention. The lambs followed mama ewe's lead--and another generation of chicken-sheep coexistence begins.

A Christmas Request

The phone call came six days before Christmas.

A friend of a friend of a friend was looking for a lamb for a live nativity scene during Christmas Eve services.

"Do you  have any lambs?"

I've sold all of this year's lambs except one. She is 9 months old and a good 100 pounds. I'm pretty sure she'd object to leaving her flock and playing the part of meek and mild during church services.

The lamb is the one in the center. Like how the spotted-nose ewe on the left obliged to my "down in front" command.

Sheep are flock animals and they don't like to be separated.

"Do you think you can get any lamb to be still during services?" I ask.

"Maybe if it's a day old," she said. "Know of anyone that lambs at this time of year?"

"Not on purpose," I said.

We discussed other animals that could stand in for lambs. A kid goat? Again,  no one has young kids at this time of year.

We settled on a Maltese dog. It is white, small and would sit quietly through church services.

The Black-Faced Ewe

She thinks I don't notice her, lying in the shade, ruminating with the mama ewes and lambs.

A few weeks ago, I noticed I was missing a ewe from the dry ewe flock--the group of yearling ewes and older ewes that didn't have lambs this spring. The dry ewe flock is the one that gets the sparser pastures, that is worked by the dogs.

How did the black-faced ewe escape? She is a hefty girl. I'm sure she didn't fly.

One gate between the pastures has a gap, and sometimes the lambs shimmy under it for a little romp away from their mothers.

Could she have squeezed under?

She's not telling. And for the past few weeks, she's been trying to appear that she belongs to the other flock. She joyously goes to the prime pastures for grazing, and at nap time, she nestles in among them. No appearing like an outsider for her.

Her game is up this weekend. We're vaccinating and deworming lambs and trimming the mama ewes' feet. After trimming the black-faced ewe, she will be diverted back to the other flock.

Waiting for a Friend

Most Katahdin lambs are born with instant playmates. For the first few days of their lives, twin or triplet lambs play chase games with each other.When tired, they curl up and nap with each other. As they grow older and their world expands, they join the other lambs for games.

Sometimes, though, a lamb is born as a single, with no playmate. Singles usually cling to their mothers for several days before searching for other lambs that will play.

We're at the beginning of lambing season.

As always, one ewe gave birth several days before the others. She had a single lamb.

(Here's our single at two days old. My mother says she looks like an Edith)

So, she's hanging out with her mom, practicing her leaps, and waiting for some other lamb to admire her moves.

As a single lamb, she was born bigger than most twins and, as the only one nursing, is growing fast. I'm hoping playmates arrive soon... and that's the others still see her as a lamb, and not a BIG bossy sister.

I took a short video of her today, at age 2 days. No, those are not lamb sounds that you hear.

She Gets Knocked Down

When working Raven about a month ago, a five-month-old ewe lamb stopped and looked at my 2-year-old Border collie.

Then, being a ewe lamb from a long line of stompers, the red ewe lamb approached Raven and stomped.

I cringed.

Raven turned her head.

The ewe lamb advanced and stomped. Emboldened, she head-butted Raven and knocked her over.

I went, "Oh no."

I should have told Raven to get in there and snap at that ewe lamb.

The following day, I had a dog that turned away when the sheep turned and looked at her.

Ewes being ewes, they spread the word about this fearful dog.

I wasn't sure how to handle the situation, so I called my mentors and received a packed pen lesson.

Raven had worked a packed pen -- but not with me.

So, for two weeks, I put 15 ewe lambs in a horse stall and told Raven to move those sheep. With 15 sheep, one human and one dog, there was not much room. Raven had to grip and nip to get the job done. I had to tell her to get in there and move them. When she didn't, I had to physically put her behind or even on top of the sheep.

When we emerged from the packed pen, I had changed as a handler, and she had changed as a dog.

I was more forceful in letting her know what I wanted. She had more confidence in herself and me.

When we went to our next herding clinic, it was obvious that we'd taken a giant leap forward.

Alas, No Wings

When I first spotted the red ewe lamb in the yard, I paused.

In all of our years of raising lambs, we've never had one escape the pasture. Upon finding no holes in the mesh that separated the yard and pasture, I chalked it up to wings.

Weeks passed before, once again, I found a red ewe lamb in the yard. Was there some gap between the ground and fence?

Yesterday, when photographing sheep, I found the problem.

A concrete block had been moved, thus creating an opening. As I put the block in place, the lamb ran up the driveway, through the yard and toward the barn.

I followed.

Try as I may, I could not find wings.

I was hoping for wings.

But when I returned home from work today, I found this same lamb in the yard.

She looked at me and winked.