Lambing on the couch.

Last night was my 8th on the couch in the sitting room. The couch is fine, though I could do with it being about 2ft longer, so as I don't have to poke my legs off the side/stick them up on the arms/curl them foetal-style.  The benefits of being on the couch far outweigh the negatives; I can cough, blow my nose, [flu while lambing, of course] stoke the fire, make coffee, watch the cctv for signs of lambing in the barn and watch tv: multitasking, all without disturbing the rest of the family.

The lambs are appearing slowly and the latest arrivals are triplet girls. The first lamb arrived naturally and was so tiny I feared I may have to rear her myself, but Cocoa instantly mothered her. Next lamb was taking too long to appear so I helped a little and she was a good size. Finally Cocoa, tired from licking and loving her two new daughters, lay down to try to deliver the last lamb. This lamb was enormous and seemed to be stuck halfway, coming out Superman style. It took a fair bit of pulling by me before the lamb was free in a great whoosh of fluids. All lambs seem to be thriving and as I have no suitable foster mums at the moment, I may leave Cocoa to raise all three and supplement the tiny one with some extra feeds.

There were no new arrivals last night, giving me a chance to catch up on some sleep. When I'm not sleeping my choice of tv through the night is almost exclusively food related. Greedy guts. Loving the Hairy Bikers Bakeation and I've discovered a wonderful programme called Destination Flavour: Japan with chef Adam Liaw, explaining Japanese cuisine. So interesting, love learning about new techniques and flavours.

It's 6am now and the sun, though not warm, is sending a lovely glow to the land. I'm off to check the barn and the sheep and feed the alpaca girls in the fields. Happy Easter all, enjoy your chocolate!

Doubly proud.... Pink's babies

 

It is now 23:37 and I've just been awoken for my 12th consecutive night shift, having passed out slept earlier this evening from 7pm. Actually I feel rather refreshed after my four and a half hours. Our house guests of last weekend, Erin, Fen, Cate and X, were bemused by my nocturnal activity. Erin, a friend who writes the blog 'Cross The Pond, pointed out that I was operating in a similar fashion to Thomas Eddison [get me!] who allegedly thought sleep was for the weak, believing more in power napping. I found this interesting article on Eddison's opinion of sleep here on Brain Pickings. 

I must admit, that the house is calm and quiet at this time of the day, no one needing me to feed, muck out, cook, clean or water them but I do crave a little more shut-eye. On Wednesday I didn't even manage my early evening nap and went through from Tuesday night till the wee hours of Thursday. Mind you, it was worth it.

Wednesday: A good, bright, warm day where I managed to clean the house, see to the animals and take a picnic (with sproglets + guests) to a rural wildlife reserve where a craggy rivulet cuts a sway through miles of clay (significant.) In fact, while the children shrieked with delight slightly up steam of me, (out of sight but not of hearing,) I snoozed, dribbling into the grass. The sun felt hot on the back of my jeans - lovely.

I was rudely awoken by a tribe of dripping, pygmy, spa types who'd overdosed in the mud treatment room! It was terrifying. The mile or so hike to the car, across gorse and fern; the girls in swimming costumes and colourful Crocks, carrying their wellingtons and jeans, the boys in squelching boots and wearing their, by now, cardboard jeans, was interesting.

Later, having Googled how to fix the washing machine by emptying the filter of silt and mud, we designed home-made pizza and the kids settled to watch a movie. I cleaned up and waited for Hubby to relieve me of duties so I could sleep. He was due home from a meeting at 9pm.

Before Hubby arrived I'd managed to herd the children and their guests into their respective bedrooms. I took the opportunity to walk up the drive to check on the pregnant ewes in the stables. Pink, my cade lamb of two years ago, was definitely showing signs of lambing.

By the time hubby arrived Pink was pacing and her water sack was visible. Hubby left me to fix his dinner. By walkie-talkie I described each gory labour stage, while Hubby attempted to prepare and eat his pizza. Funny but he seemed reluctant to hear every detail.... [Lou: Smiling evilly - I'm overtired OK!]

Anyhoo, by 10.30pm we roused the children and they came to the barn to see Pink, (slightly aided by me as I could only find one little lamb foot initially,) give birth to her first lamb, a bonny baby girl. Mum and baby immediately bonded.

An hour later, as requested, we roused the children again as Pink began to deliver lamb number two. Unfortunately she only presented the head of this lamb and try as I may, I couldn't slide it back in to the ewe in order to recover both of the legs for a perfect birth, the canal was just too narrow and I felt very inexperienced. I did manage to find 1 leg but the shoulders were too wide to allow the lamb to birth. After a few moments and a stunned silence from the kids, Hubby phoned to ask our nearest farmer friend to help us. [All the ewes we're lambing this year were bought from him originally and he has been such an invaluable teacher for me.]

Within minutes he was with us. He flipped Pink on her side and had the lamb out moments later. My mistake had been to try to lamb Pink while she was standing, with her lying on her side the lamb slipped out easily and was given to mum to lick. Another lovely girl. I feel sure, having watched the technique used, I could repeat this on another occasion.

This lamb struggled a little through the night. I stayed to make sure all was OK. In the end, maybe an hour later, when the lamb was badly shivering and not attempting to stand like her sister, I intervened. I made up a little bottle of warmed colostrum and fed it to her, keeping her close to my body warmth. Next I wiped her in the birthing fluids that dripped from Pink's backside in order to disguise my smell and lay her next to her sister in the straw.

The result: two happy girls today and one happy mummy. Phew.

Snowy: You're next!

 

The Science Bit.....

I have been testing the theory, mainly at night, that a watched kettle does not boil. I can confirm this to be a very big truism.....

Though the sheep are the size of aircraft carriers, there is still no sign of their lambs.

Note to self: Next year, when the ram comes calling, I will be far more watchful of crayon colours on the girls' backs:..... of the 'servicing' date! Might even use this handy gestation table to save myself more night shifts.

Mothers' Day Thank Ewe.... 1st lamb

 

I've been negligent at my blogging. It's not from lack of material; tons of that here at The Larches, it's just time. I wish I was Samantha from Bewitched, or at the very least, could borrow her nose.

The chicks we grew are growing well and have moved from incubator, to brooder, to warmed coop, to outside al-fresco living in the outdoor pens. I expect we'll take them to market in another 10 weeks. They are an impressive bunch; 2 pure bred Salmon Faverolles and 3 mixed breed Salmon Faverolle and Black Rock. These are seriously cute looking.

In view of the fact that we were lambing this year I offered my services i.e. forced myself on, our gorgeous hill farmer friends again. I was their YTS girl several years ago and, looking back, realise I was a nervous, chatty, rose-coloured spectacles type of a girl who had not a clue what was going on in their sheds, all I could see were the lovely likkle lambs. If you're interested here's the post - sorry about the rude bits, oh and the weird formatting.... Can't fix it!! So annoying.

This year, again on their farm, I was still as much use as a chocolate tea pot but I absorbed, sponge-like the seriousness of lambing. I realised that it was a life or death situation where the shepherd is the key to success. I asked much more pertinent questions and felt, funnily, far less competent to deal with my up and coming lambing than I had felt (thanks to utter ignorance and insane enthusiasm) two years ago. In fact, on leaving their farm, with my three ewes approximately a month away from lambing, I felt like shouting out,

'I've changed my mind - no lambing please!'

Watching Lambing Live has reminded me of things I forgot to ask and of countless pieces of equipment that I have omitted to buy like lubricant gel and replacement milk. Here's hoping I won't need either before Countrywide opens tomorrow.

As I write to you now, it is 3am on Mothering Sunday and I have just started my shift after going to bed at 10am last night. I am sat in our American barn on a park bench covered in a picnic blanket, wearing most of my wardrobe, waterproof trousers, warm hat (but not a bobble hat like Ms Humble) and two coats. To be honest it's not cold, I suspect the temperature is probably a balmy 7* and there is, thankfully, no wind. It is a stunning night and the clouds have just cleared to reveal a starry sky, perfectly visible in our dark rural setting.

Here in the barn, makeshift lighting is pointing into a large birthing stable where Snowy, Pink and Moon are resident on fresh, golden barley straw. Hubby took the first shift tonight and has kept lovely warm fire going in the brazier outside the barn door.

Last evening was momentous: The girl and I gently assisted Moon, (the girl's 1st ever Cade lamb - the lamb she reared by bottle,) to birth her first lamb.

At dinner time, approximately 6pm, the 11yo excused herself from dishwasher emptying on the pretext of checking the barn for signs of maternity. A few moments later Hubby called out to say he'd seen the girl run back towards the house. It was happening.

After eating in shifts, we watched, fascinated, as over the course of an hour various fluids were deposited. The boy was transfixed one minute, revolted the next as Moon paced and strained and licked her lips. Eventually something, possibly a foot, was visible. I braved a long plastic glove to check. To my eye it seemed that the presentation was normal (thank Gawd) and we waited again, not interfering. Within moments with family Archer watching, a huge lamb appeared. It was fully encased in its sack so I got the girl to clear the mouth and nose ( which she loved.) I decided not to pull the lamb around to mum as the umbilical cord looked large and I'd been warned that you could cause a bleed. In the end Moon stood and turned to lick her baby and the cord was severed naturally. Phew! We left the mum and baby to bond. Amazing.

More than 20 minutes later and after Moon had licked and licked her baby clean, the lamb managed to get to its feet, searching for the teat. Moon couldn't quite understand this and every time the baby got close she moved off. Eventually The girl and I entered the pen we made for this new family group from sturdy hurdles and, while I gently held mum, the 11yo latched on the baby to Moon's udder.

I'm so proud of my girl; she finds this kind of adventure so natural and she seems to have a very special, instinctive way with the animals and they really respond to her. Thanks to her, baby is now regularly suckling loudly.

It's now almost 6am and there doesn't seem to be a sign of another lamb from Moon, just one huge boy. He's really leggy, with black socks and has really long ears, if I was asked what breed he was I'd say Blue Faced Leicester, though I'm sure the father is a Texel!

There's lots of indication that the next two ewes are on their way to labour but as yet there has been no evidence of a fluid sack from either. At least we have almost reached morning, in fact it will be light in a few minutes and so, if I have any real birthing issues today I will hope to be able to call our farming friends locally for assistance, though I must remember it us Mother's Day. Actually I've already had my present from the family: a brand new green wheelbarrow. I've already test-driven it when poo-picking the alpaca, it's a hottie, top sped of at least 5mph... (Top Gear presenters are quaking in their boots lest I take their jobs thank to that motoring review...)

Anyhow, here's hoping all our girls are safe and their babies delivered without complications. Lambing Live is a wonderful programme but, as one farmer told me yesterday as I purchased some straw.

'It doesn't go as smooth as that in real life.'

Apparently he has birthed many dead and rotting lambs this year and he puts this down to the bad weather. Very worrying, especially if this is your livelihood.

Still, on this lovely morning, coffee pot on in the barn, a wood fire for company and one healthy lamb delivered, I'm feeling rather content. Fingers crossed that it continues to go smoothly.