Lambing Live and a little Lucky

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.

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. 

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.

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.      

Flo and Lucky

Coco and Lucky