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Archive for the tag “lambing”

Lambing Season 2017 – Part 2

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Perfect!  N-Kerry’s ewe lamb

So 3 ewes (out of 8) had lambed, with 4 babies on the ground so far. Next up was N-Kerry, who quietly presented me with a simply beautiful little white ewe. It was 2 days after Duna’s twins had arrived and I came out in the morning to find N-Kerry with the lamb up on her feet and obviously a couple hours old. N-Kerry is enamored of her baby, and has even settled down a bit (she is probably my wildest sheep, taking after her grandma, Cinnamon). She took to motherhood like she’s been waiting her whole life for it and it’s been wonderful to have an easy, attentive mother with a strong healthy baby.

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N-Kerry with her ewe lamb at about 4 weeks.

Later that day we had a storm roll in that all the weathermen were talking about – thunder and lightning and lots of rain expected. I began improvising shelter for the sheep. The shed was a maternity ward of 3 jugs (and 4 ewes and babies – Cinnamon and Nutmeg where sharing the big one with their singletons; Duna and her twins; C-Kerry and her premie twins) and now I needed a fourth for N-Kerry, plus some cover for the other sheep in the general pen. The storm came on like a freight train, with the rain pouring down in buckets while I was still nailing up tarps and plywood cover. I got everyone settled (two sets of clothing later) and went out later in the evening to check on the mamas and feed the premies. I looked over to see Trixie under my new corner shelter. Good girl for using the shelter…er…oh, sh**! She was in labor! It was 9 p.m. or so and the rain was still coming down in buckets. Water was running down the pen in sheets (it is on a slight incline – the corner where Trixie labored was in the lower end) – and the gutters were overflowing. I’d climbed up on a ladder during the afternoon rain to empty the leaves/blockage, only to have the French drain overwhelmed, and with the water flowing like a river, I realized Trixie’s thick straw bed wasn’t going to be thick enough.

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Amid thunder and lightning and torrents of rain, Trixie’s ewe lamb arrived.

At about 10 p.m. she produced a lovely little ewe lamb, and though I would normally prefer twins, on this night, and in this year, the singles are fine – I’ve got enough on my hands! I dug channels into the pen floor so the water would flow away from her and the lamb, and put up a temporary fence to keep her there and under cover, and (mainly) to keep the other sheep out. So at 11 p.m., with the light on in the shed and the pen’s spotlight on, I was out in the pouring rain digging and getting Trixie set up in her makeshift jug with her newborn lamb (hay, warm molasses water, more straw for bedding). Fortunately it was pretty warm, despite the monsoon drenching we were getting. Due to the crazy setup with the multiple jugs and my limited space, I had to be part monkey to move around in there, using the hay feeder to climb over the partitions and into the pen, over and over and over. I was exhausted by midnight, yet still had more to do. And still it rained.

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It wasn’t pretty, but it would do the trick for a day.

It was at this point that my water situation said, ‘hey, what about me?’ and crapped out.  With pouring rain outside, and I came in at one point to get some supplies and wash my hands and WTF, no water from the faucets.  I went outside to see if I’d left the yard hydrant on (I knew I didn’t but couldn’t think what was going on). I waited 10 or 15 minutes and had water again, and figured it was just something to do with the power in the lightning storm (though the house hadn’t lost power…grasping at straws). I still wonder at the timing on this.

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The next morning. A little muddy, but strong and healthy.

At about 3 a.m. I finally got things buttoned up enough so that I could go inside and sleep for a bit, admonishing the two remaining ewes, Pebbles and her daughter Minnie (who is Trixie’s mama), to wait until the weekend, when the weather was supposed to clear up a bit.  Thankfully, they did.

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Pebbles’ newborns.  Big brother watching as mama cleans up his new sister.

On Monday afternoon I came home from work to find Pebbles in labor. Pushing and struggling and half presented. I hadn’t even gone in the house yet (to change clothes, let the dogs out, etc.) and rolled up my sleeve and reached in as Pebbles labored to realize that there was one leg back. I pulled it forward gently and a fine ram lamb was born a few moments later. There was a little more fresh blood than I would have liked, but I watched Pebbles closely; thankfully it slowed and stopped. Within half an hour a ewe lamb was born. Pebbles took care of both of them expertly (this is her third lambing – twins every time) but the little ewe was definitely not as strong as she should have been.  I began tube feeding her as well. Her little ears were floppy and though she got up to nurse, I’m wasn’t sure how much she was getting. It was touch and go for a few days. I spoke with the vet and got some selenium to give her, and also tried to give her some vitamin B (injection). She just languished as her brother got strong and bouncy, and I worried. I made an appointment to bring her in, then spoke to the vet again in the meantime. She okayed another selenium injection and recommended the vitamin B injection, so I tried again. I don’t know how much got into the lamb, but the second selenium injection seemed to do the trick. She started to perk up and her little ears began to stick out straight, like they should. Both of these lambs are especially cute, with their mama’s big eyes and sweet expression. And both are very friendly. The little girl is a definite keeper (it looks like she’ll turn gray, too, just like Pebbles did).

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Minnie watching Pebbles with her new babies.  It won’t be long now.

The day Pebbles had her twins, Minnie was hanging around the activity with a decidedly funny look to her. So I wasn’t surprised when I came home from work the very next day to find her in labor. She was pushing hard with minimal results, and again, I reached in and found a leg back. I pulled it forward gently and in short order a nice little moorit ram lamb was born. Minnie didn’t get up and seemed a little distracted, so I pulled him forward so she could lick him, which she did readily. A few moments later, I realized why she was not fully engaged – a black ewe lamb slipped out of her so easily, and so quickly after the first that they must have been nose to bum in the birth canal.

And lambing season was officially over at MacFinn Farm, just two weeks after it started.

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Twins!  Born nearly simultaneously, and Minnie wasn’t sure who to lick first.

Lambs @ MacFinn Farm 2017!

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Cinnamon, now 8 years old, with her 2017 baby, a single, perfect moorit ewe lamb.  Ginger.

As you may know, I only breed my ewes every other year. And due to my lung thing and overall poor health because of it, I skipped last year too.  So it’s been three years since I had lambs. I could hardly wait. (But then again, more time would have been nice, given the month I just had!)

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Lamb daddy.  Sir Terry, a very handsome ram with great conformation, beautiful fleece, a lovely temperament, and great bloodlines. I was lucky to have him stay with us for 5 months.

Sir Terry, the handsome Shetland ram, came to visit in late November, leaping into the back of my Honda like a golden retriever when I went to pick him up.  The girls acted like brainless ninnies for the first half day – especially all those virgins, who’d never seen a ram before (5 of the 8 ewes I was breeding were maidens at 2 ½ years old), but they eventually settled down, and Terry became part of the flock for five months. (And when it came time to leave he did NOT jump into the back of my Honda – it was a bit of a wrestle to get him away from his girls and into the car.)  I saw some action in those first few days, and charted my due dates accordingly.  But it was a full week after that (and with a ewe I never saw consorting with the ram!) before I saw my first lamb. But true to form, Cinnamon was first to lamb again this year – a beautiful moorit ewe lamb, the image of her mother – and Minnie was last again, with twins that were born nearly simultaneously.  And a rollicking ride in between.  I ended up with 12 lambs again this year (the same as 2014 when I bred only five ewes, compared to this year’s eight ewes).  There were four singletons and four sets of twins, with a total of five ram lambs and seven ewe lambs – a nice ratio.  I got four white lambs, three moorits (brown), and five black (some with white) – a couple of these blacks will end up being gray or another light color.

Meg (Nutmeg), Cinnamon’s daughter, produced a fine white ram lamb a couple of days after her mother, the only one born in the rough (in the pasture, vs. in the pen) and he’s the image of his sire – gorgeous wool and a perfect little fluke tail, just what I am breeding for.

A few days after that, I came home from work one rainy afternoon to find two weak lambs in the general pen, and a very stressed out C-Kerry.  I got her into a separate jug (term for the small, individual pen for mothers with new lambs) and realized I had a problem.  The lambs were very weak – who knew what happened in the time from birth until I found them (guestimating 4-6 hours).  It had been raining, and although they were mostly dry from mama cleaning them up it was still chilly, and they may have been stepped on or worse (the other sheep can be quite aggressive with butting/ramming).  I got a heat lamp on them and quickly realized they needed to be fed – they were too weak to nurse!  C-Kerry was NOT happy about me grabbing her to milk out some colostrum, but I got about 2 ounces down each of them (they were too weak to suckle a bottle so I tube fed them).  The boy seemed a little stronger than the girl, but both were pathetic little things, with floppy ears and weak baas.  The next day I tried milking C-Kerry some more – I would get about a half ounce each time, before she got too fractious.  She was wonderful with the lambs once she settled down, and very attentive and watchful, but was very clear that she didn’t like to be milked by a human.  But they were so weak they couldn’t nurse much (at all?) on their own.  So I made up some milk replacer and kept tube feeding them.  Then I contacted my Shetland shepherds on my chat list for advice and got good instructions on what to do.

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Lambie intensive care.  They were best left with their mama, but so very weak.

On day 3 I called the vet and got them in to see her the next day.  Diagnosis?  They were premies!  It confirmed a suspicion I’d been having, but the vet estimated they were 7-10 days premature, and this was probably the main reason behind the weakness I was seeing.  The vet gave some vitamin D and selenium injections, and the wee ewe got some antibiotic for the pneumonia she seemed to be flirting with, and off we went, back to mama at home.  The boy responded to the injections almost immediately.  His floppy ears started to stick out like they are supposed to, and he definitely had more energy, with a few little lamb bounces that very evening.

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I think we’re going to make it.  They slept under the heat lamp for most of that first week.

The girl took a little longer, but by the weekend (they were born on a Monday), they were both going in the right direction.  I stopped feeding the boy about then, but still gave the girl a few feedings into the next week. C-Kerry has been a stellar mother to them – holding very still and even moving her leg out of the way when they got up to nurse.  They were smaller than the other lambs the same age, and the girl was very hocky – her rear legs meet at the hocks – but they slowly seem to be straightening as she gains strength and grows.  She lost part of her baby coat, and looked quite moth eaten for a while. I am chalking this up to the antibiotic injection she received as well as the overall stress she went through. But with Daisy’s recent diagnosis of ringworm, I watched the her closely (skin is clear, with new wool growing underneath the baby coat coming out).

But what about the 5 other ewes and their lambing, you ask?

The day after C-Kerry had her premies (so 3 ewes lambed, with 4 babies so far), Duna, my least favorite ewe (I’ve kept her for sentimental reasons (loved her mother)) decided to have a nice little white ewe.  I was home to see the birth, and moved Duna and the baby into a jug a short time after the lamb was on her feet. Duna was doing everything just as she should, but a little confused on why the lamb kept trying to go “back there.”

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Some dirt crumbles on her back, but Duna thought she was just perfect.

It was a nice-ish afternoon (we’ve had SUCH rain this year) and I was dinking around outside the pen (picking up sticks for the yard waste bin) when I looked over to see Duna pushing again.  They don’t push like that for afterbirth, but it had been nearly 4 hours since she had her ewe lamb.  Then the “afterbirth” raised up and shook its head.  OMG!  I went into the pen with her – after more than 3 ½ hours, she was already over the moon over the ewe lamb she’d had, but what was this?  She licked at him tentatively, but wasn’t hugely interested and went back to her ewe.  I wiped down the little guy with a towel – he seemed strong and vital, even with all that time between the births (normally twins come within 30 minutes of each other).

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Only minutes old and his mother and sister were ignoring him.

Duna was a little more interested after I cleaned him up some, and licked at him as she should.  But still, she wasn’t that attracted to him compared to her girl.  Then she decided he didn’t get to nurse.  Not a full-on rejection, but darn close.  I watched into the evening and realized I had to intervene. I haltered her and held her still to let him nurse – he latched on pretty well, but she was NOT happy.  So I tube fed him as well, to be sure he was getting something.  The next morning I wrestled her down before going to work so he could get some food.  But I ended up tube feeding him more than he got from her.  That evening, while on the phone with a fellow shepherd (Sir Terry’s owner, in fact), we brainstormed.  I thought about using an essential oil on him, but my friend said to use it on the ewe lamb instead.  It was aniseed oil, and sure enough, with the ewe lamb smelling funny, Duna let the little guy – a moorit – latch on and tank up.  I could see his little sides bulging by the time he was done.  Whew!  Crisis averted.  Or so I thought.  By the weekend it was obvious she wasn’t going to let him nurse.  He was resourceful, and tried some of the other ewes as he could, but again, intervention was needed.  So he – now called Rudy, or little fella – is my first bottle lamb.  I’ve been able to leave him with the flock, which is better for him, but was feeding him at least four times a day, more often as I could (with my work schedule, it’s hard).  He comes running when he sees me, and drinks his bottle like a champ (although I am now weaning him – he’s six weeks old already).  He’s smaller than some of the other lambs, but he’s growing, and is spunky and strong.  He’s going to be a tough one to let go…

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Rudy getting his evening bottle from my sister, who came out to experience MacFinn Farm lambdimonium over Memorial Day weekend.

To be continued…

Lamb season!

I didn’t get as much accomplished as I should have this weekend, but that’s par for the course.  I could easily sit and watch the critters all day long, instead of just a few hours as I do now.  As mentioned in my previous post, there are new additions in the way of lambs on the farm.  They’re already a month old now, and watching my little flock – now nine! – roam the property gives me a deep satisfaction that I’m unable to describe fully.  It reminds me of when I first got chickens, a lifetime ago it seems, when watching them was soul satisfying (it still is, but it’s not the wonderment it was for those first dozen years).  Now I have the sheep, and my bees, and the chickens too, and the soul-deep rightness of it all feeds something within me. 

I came home one rainy Wednesday afternoon in late April to the sight of two chocolate brown lambs in the pen.  They were Cinnamon’s babies, and she stood there, head low and attentive to them, looking pleased.  They were still damp from birth, but it had obviously been a few hours.  I could see I had nothing to worry about – she is an excellent mother, and looked well physically.  I had been expecting something for days; she had all the classic signs that it was getting close, so it wasn’t a complete surprise, but still completely exciting.  I stepped into the pen to look at them and Cinnamon, still charged up on whatever hormones had been making her hair-trigger skittish for the previous week (just filling the hay feeder had her panicking), trampled the little things in her freak-out response to my presence.  You’d think I went in there with a hood and scythe every time, for her reaction was always that of an animal being stalked and hunted for food.  Thankfully the babies weren’t hurt.  I caught each and checked them – both ewes! – and sprayed their umbilicals with iodine.  I checked several times that evening, taking many bad pictures and glad for my little shed – there was a torrential downpour at one point, a real gully washer, and the new family stayed safe and dry.

The next morning as I left for work Pebbles had a funny look.  Not her bright self, though I thought maybe she was subdued the night before because of the babies, and witnessing the birth.  She didn’t seem interested in them, nor distressed, just distant somehow.  Hmm.  I didn’t see anything imminent, and since she’s as round as a barrel you couldn’t see the same changes in her as you could with Cinnamon.  I left for work reluctantly and decided to come home early.  I got home at about 3:30 and sure enough, Pebbles was licking a brand new baby.  Another ewe!  She was fresh out, probably born no more than 10 minutes earlier, and still quite wet.  She was all black with some white on her head and down her cheeks like chin straps.  Pebbles seemed fine, and when I looked at her rear I could see that she would be having twins too.  Within 10 more minutes the next lamb slipped out of her with what looked like mild straining as she stood there licking the first one.  She turned around and began licking the newest…a ram lamb!  He was absolutely tiny, no bigger than a bunny, and mottled black and white.  Pebbles licked and licked, and soon the two newest arrivals were up and searching for their first meal.  It was amazing, as it always is with all new babies. 

So my little flock has almost doubled, going from five to nine.  The boys seemed nonplussed by the new arrivals, showing no interest whatsoever.  Still, the girls and the babies were penned up safely.  After a week or so, I allowed everyone out to graze on the new grass.  The pasture still wasn’t quite ready for full time grazing, but with just the three boys I pushed it early.  The shed and pen area is not set up for keeping two groups separated, and it was easier than trying to get them all back in the pen and separated with the panels up. 

In the month since their birth the babies have grown tremendously.  The little boy is still the smallest, (and he’s no longer a ram lamb, but a wether) but all are hale and hearty.  They had their first vaccinations this weekend.  Cinnamon continues to be a model parent, and though her girls are as skittish as their mama, they’re strong and healthy.  She’s only just relaxed on her vigilance in making sure they are always within sight.  The grass is just too good.  Pebbles is a little more lackadaisical, and while a good mama, isn’t as attentive as Cinnamon, and figures the lambs will find her when they need her.  Their cries of distress when they become “lost” barely trigger an answering baa, usually muted from her mouthful of grass as she stuffs herself.  Fortunately they’re both a lot like her, and while cautious, take things in stride. 

This weekend was fairly mild and I let them stay out on the pasture overnight Saturday and Sunday night.  The lamb races are adorable, as the four of them race around their mamas, and watching them roam the property, chasing a hen or two, or sniffing noses with the cat (who’s as big as they are) and nibbling the new grass and green shoots as they grow, is entrancing.

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