When farmers talk about lambing, it’s often spoken of as
just ‘one of those things’ that happens around springtime on a farm. Don’t be
fooled by their stoicism – we’re not even a quarter of the way through lambing here,
and I already realise it’s a full time job. Nature only supports the strong,
and whilst you can be on hand to help the delivery of lambs, there can be many
issues such as deformity, suffocation, hypothermia, pneumonia, starvation due
to lack of colostrum… all of which can severely impact the chance of a lamb’s survival.
Whilst we’ve had just shy of 30 healthy lambs born – including three sets of
twins in one day – we’ve also had a fair few casualties. It’s amazing to witness
a strong new-born lamb take its first breath of fresh air, but equally heart-breaking
when things go wrong.
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| A little newborn lamb |
The other day, it was with a stroke of luck that Fraser was
present to assist the birth of a pair of premature twin lambs. What I didn’t know
before is that it’s generally best to assist the ewe during labour, as if the
feet and head are in the wrong position there’s a chance the lamb could suffocate.
The first lamb was unfortunately dead on arrival, and at first glance, Fraser
thought the same fate of the second; but as he looked closer he saw the tiniest
sign of life, the smallest spurt of breath against the cold morning air.
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| Lucky - day 1 |
This was like no lamb I’d ever seen – the tiniest creature,
resembling something of an alien, with barely any fur; just a thin layer of
skin covering her tiny frame. As I rubbed her warm with a towel, Fraser injected
a shot of colostrum into her stomach, as her head lolled lifelessly against her
body. At this point, neither of us thought she had a chance, as she was so
incredibly weak. I named her Lucky right away, as I figured she was pretty lucky
to have made it this far, but I could never have anticipated her quick
progress.
Having kept Lucky next to the aga overnight, in a hay-filled
box with a hot water bottle for company, I wasn’t sure what I’d be faced with
the next morning. She was still very weak, but her eyes were a little more
alert, her ears more pricked up, and she could now support her head. Over the
course of day two she was walking around the kitchen; at first guided by me,
and then all by herself. Fraser’s uncle Hamish – the retired farmer of
Shellfield – said in his 40 years of farming he’d never seen such a weak lamb
survive, and he was astonished to see her walking around, tail wagging.
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| Looking more alert - day 2 |
I’ve been nursing Lucky for the past four days and she’s
come on leaps and bounds. She’s now sucking from a bottle, and I’ve been taking
her into the field every day, as I figure a little Vitamin D goes a long way. Her
wobbly amble has progressed to an unsteady trot, as she follows me around trying
to suck my nose, thinking it’s a teat. Coco is very intrigued by the
latest arrival, but is behaving herself; having said that, her ‘gentle’ licking
is practically knocking the poor thing over, so we’re keeping a watchful eye. Fraser
has said that I can keep Lucky as a farm pet, so there will no doubt be many updates
on this little survivor in the months to come. For now though, it’s just lovely
to watch her grow stronger and stronger.
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| Flo and Lucky |
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| Coco and Lucky |
