An Unexpected Arrival

 

When I take Ferretfingers up to the Rising Sun Farm I often go and have a little look around after leaving him at the day centre.  I usually end up at the sheep shed where there is a small flock of rare and unusual breeds.  Amongst others, they have two pairs of Deepdale Valais Blacknose sheep, which have long wavy angora fleeces.

Last Wednesday morning one of the lads was bringing the sheep a bag of hay and they were all clambering to get to the manger.

In the middle of the straw on the shed floor there was a tiny lamb.

"August is late for lambing" I commented.

The lad looked quizzical.  Until I pointed the lamb out to him whereupon he looked startled, said "It must have arrived in the night" and scuttled off to get the Farmer and his wife (who we got Teddy from).  

The ewe seemed not to know what to do with the lamb.  The lamb would bleat occasionally and the dam would stop filling her face with hay for a second to reply over her shoulder.  She would go over, they would sniff each other, the lamb would nibble her ear, she would shake it off and go back to the hay and the lamb would lie down again.

“Is it her first lamb?” I asked.

“Yes, and she’s barely past being a lamb herself” said Mrs Farmer “I wonder if the other one is pregnant too.  They’ve been running with the tups* for ages and I was beginning to suspect they were firing blanks.”

The ewe had cleaned the lamb up well, but she had no idea about feeding and neither had the lamb.  The vast amounts of fleece didn’t help.  It appeared that the lamb had had no liquids or nutrition since being born.

The lads and Mrs Farmer got the ewe sitting up and held the lamb to her udder but she was having none of it, and there was a danger that the little one would be kicked.

After making them a little pen, away from the public, they sat the ewe up again and milked her by hand.  Meanwhile Mr Farmer prepared a bottle of formula.  The milk was put in as well and the bottle offered to the lamb, who emptied it fairly quickly.

Mrs Farmer was delighted to discover that it is a ewe lamb.

I came home reassured all would be well and, a few days later, emailed this photo of the lamb to Mr Farmer.

Yesterday I got this reply 

“Thanks. You may (or may not!) be pleased to know she has named it after you.”

It pleases me more than I can say.

 🐑🐑🐑

*Bigsister was hugely amused to learn the North country word for a male sheep is tup not ram;  especially when I explained that it was also the verb for what tups do.

“Gives a whole different meaning to Tupperware” she chortled.