And So It Begins…

Lambing Journal ~ March 12, 2010

The bond between a ewe and her lambs starts the moment they are born.

Lambing has begun!  We’re a week early, but since sheep have a hard time with calendars, I guess that’s to be expected. The first ewe to lamb was Winnie. She’s a veteran three-year-old and she took care of birthing by herself. I saw her on the “Lamb-Cam” when I came down to start the coffee this morning and I have to admit, after seven years of shepherding, I still get a thrill when the first lambs of the season are born. Mom and I hurried to the barn to make sure mother and children were well and, happily, they were fine. We ushered Winnie and her two sons to a “lambing jug,” a private stall where the ewe and her lambs can bond without distraction. Each new family stays in a jug for twenty-four hours, after which they move to the “kindergarten,” a large area inside the barn where the ewes with lambs live together. While the ewe and lambs are in a jug, we can assess the ewe’s mothering ability, make sure the lambs are nursing properly, and watch for any health problems in mother or children. Its a handy way to give each new family some quality time and attention before they enter the more chaotic world of the flock.

Once Winnie and her lambs, named Jeff and Lance (after the two mushers leading the Iditarod dogsled race this morning) were in the jug, we made sure both lambs were nursing well, then we weighed the lambs (Jeff weighed 9 pounds and Lance 8.25), sprayed their navels with iodine (to prevent bacteria from entering via the umbilicus) and gave Winnie water, hay, and a handful of corn. Soon all three sheep were resting – Winnie munching hay and the two boys sound asleep in the straw.

We went back to the house for a cup of coffee and some breakfast, but our down-time was short-lived. The Lamb-Cam sits next to the dining table, so we were watching when Lucy went into labor. A ewe in labor is easy to spot: She digs incessantly in the straw, lies down, strains, then stands up and repeats the process. The intensity of the “symptoms” varies from ewe to ewe, but the pattern in generally the same. Mom and I called our lambing partner, Kindra, as soon as Lucy started digging and we were assembled at the barn a few minutes later. Lucy was very focused on her labor, so she didn’t mind when we sent the rest of the flock outside, into the barn paddock. Sheep are nosy by nature and it is almost impossible to assist with a birthing when the whole flock is crowded around, so we try to lure them outdoors when one of their flock-mates is in labor. Its easier for everyone concerned.

It wasn’t long before we saw the amniotic sac appear at Lucy’s vulva and soon after, a tiny foot and a black nose appeared too. In a normal delivery, a lamb is born front-feet first, with the head following them, as if the lamb is diving into the outside world. We always hope to see this presentation because it means an easy delivery. Lucy was pushing hard now and didn’t seem to mind when I stepped in behind her to lend a hand. With gentle downward pressure, I eased the lamb out onto a clean, dry towel. I help with all deliveries if I’m present – not because every ewe needs help, but because the less effort she has to put into delivering her lamb, the more energy she has for mothering. A ewe exhausted from a hard labor is more likely to reject her lamb, simply because her brain is too scrambled for her natural instincts to kick in. Helping Lucy now meant she’d feel more like mothering later. Sure enough, Lucy’s instincts kicked in as soon as the lamb was on the straw. She turned around quickly and began licking the birth fluids from her lamb’s coat.  We let Lucy bond with her first lamb for about fifteen minutes, then I did a quick exam to see if another lamb was on the way. Sure enough, right inside the vulva, were another set of feet and a nose. A few minutes later, Lucy’s contractions began a second time and she gave birth to a lovely ewe lamb.

Mom, Kindra, and I sat back and watched the little family as the lambs struggled to get on their feet and find their mother’s udder. Most lambs are up and wobbling about within five or ten minutes of birth and these were no exception. As if guided by some instinctual GPS system, the lambs headed towards Lucy’s udder. She guided them by licking their back ends and nudging them in the right direction and soon both were enjoying their first sips of milk.

Once the lambs, now named Peanut and Linus, had gotten a good drink, Kindra and I weighed them, sprayed their navels and entered their names and weights in our lambing notebook. Then we checked to make sure both Lucy and Winnie were doing ok and headed back to the house. We knew we’d be back soon, for once the first lambs are born, it’s all-hands-on-deck as we wait for the next birthing to begin.