Patience

Introducing reluctant lambs or reluctant ewes to nursing requires an immense amount of patience. Dave has it, I don't.

We trap the ewe in a corner, I use all my weight to press her shoulder against the wall. Dave kneels beside her and leans against her rib cage, pressing it to the wall also. Then he presses his head into the angle between her spine and her pelvis, leaving him two free hands  to manipulate the nipple and the lamb.

Sometimes the ewe tries  to escape repeatedly. Every movement of hers twitches the nipple from the lambs mouth. Sometimes the lamb doesn't suck. Dave wiggles its jaw, he wiggles the nipple, he expresses a little milk into the lambs mouth. He refuses to try the ewes most successful technique for recalcitrant lambs - lick the lambs bottom.

Although we enjoy bottle lambs, they make a lot more work for the shepherd. This year, our first two lambs became bottle lambs because their mom's udder touched the ground and the lambs couldn't find her nipples. Six times a day for the last three days, Dave has patiently connected each lamb to it's moms nipple. Sometimes they nurse and sometimes they don't, so after each sucking session Dave expresses more milk from the udder and we feed that to the lambs with a bottle.

Tonight for the first time, the little boy finally nursed enthusiastically on his mom. Her udder is tightening up and the nipples no longer touch the ground. If we can keep  moms milk supply up,  we may eventually wean these lambs from their dependence on the bottle, and give Dave's patience a chance to recharge.

Serenity

I sat in the straw. The lamb in my lap was only 18 hours old. Tight black curls covered her body. Her black triangular nose wrinkled as she sucked on the bottle nipple I held in her mouth. The lamb was warm and dry and nursing. She was doing well. Her sister, who had just finished off her half of the bottle was curled up beside her mother’s leg, sleepy, warm and full. Serenity.

Except I shouldn’t have been feeding these two lambs, their mother should. With a sigh, I propped the bottle in a corner of the pen, set down the lamb and knelt to deal with the ewe. She was big, with long legs and a heavy body, even after lambing. I set my left knee in front of her chest and leaned into her armpit with my right shoulder. Theoretically, I had her pinned against the wall in this position. I picked up the lamb and pushed her under her mother, facing backwards. Then I gently pushed the lamb’s head up toward her mother’s udder. When the lamb’s mouth touched her nipple, the ewe lifted her hind leg and brushed the lamb away.

I leaned harder, pushed the lamb closer to the udder and tried again. This time, the ewe moved forward, right over both lambs, nearly stepping on each of them. Close call! Ewes have killed lambs by stepping on them. Heart pounding, I put the second lamb into another pen and repositioned myself, left knee in front of the ewe’s chest, forehead in the depression right in front of her thigh. That should keep her from moving forward.

I put the lamb between her mother’s legs right under her belly. In this position I had two hands free, one to push the lamb under the udder and the second to stuff the mother’s nipple into her mouth. The lamb in the second pen was crying and her mother was baaing. The lamb opened her mouth to baa back to her mother, but not to nurse. The ewe moved. I gritted my teeth, pressed harder with my head, and moved my left knee from the ewe’s chest to the lamb’s butt. Now I could use my left hand to pry open the lamb’s mouth.

With the lamb’s mouth open and head in position, the ewe shifted her weight and the nipple slid out of my hand. I grabbed it again and inserted it. The lamb refused to nurse. I tickled its nose. It sucked. The ewe moved. The lamb was restless, trying to stand. With my left hand, I pushed down on her shoulders, raised her head and jammed the nipple in. The lamb sucked once and the ewe broke my hold, circled the pen, with me following, until we ended up back where we had begun. I threw my knee in front of her chest, leaned into her belly with my head, dragged the lamb into position and stuck the nipple into her mouth again. Just as she started to nurse, her mother lifted a foot and brushed the nipple out.

Goaded beyond endurance, I lifted my head and bit the ewe right in the soft skin in front of her hind leg. Blech! The only effect was that I had a mouthful of dirty wool. I sat back, wiped my mouth on my sleeve and picked up the bottle again. Perhaps I could regain my serenity by bottle feeding to the accompaniment of two lambs and one ewe baaing in my ears.