Lambs, Life, Death and the Purpose of Man

No sooner had I put off the vet, then the lambing started. A singleton born the morning after the new moon, Monday 11th. All went well. Then there was a pause, no newcomers until the morning of the 15^th when an exhausted ewe presented twins. One was extremely large, the other very small, there were two placentas, so the lambs were not identical twins. The ewe occupied herself with the smaller one which staggered to its feet and tried to find the udder. The larger one just lay on the ground, breathing feebly, almost as though it had hiccups. He, too, must have had an exhausting birth experience.

Arnold was immediately reminded of last year's disastrous experiences with twins and so convinced the large lamb would never survive. He removed it from the pen, laid it on a bed of straw and covered it in more straw, leaving the head uncovered. I dithered in my kitchen and then went down to see – the lamb was trying to lift its head! Audrey put her finger in its mouth and it sucked. We looked at each other and decided: we are going to save this one.

A dose of colostrum was given and a bottle prepared. He gradually took to the bottle and gained strength. We wrapped him in a fleece blanket, in a cardboard box, under the infra-red lamp. (He was too big to be put in the bottom oven of the Rayburn, pace romantic sheep legend, and anyway it was full of pine cones drying into firelighters.) We kept him in the same pen as his mother, so that he would remember he was a sheep, not a human. And yet, every time a human came into the nursery, he would lift his head and call.

At the end of the first day of intensive lamb care, we thought we had won. He was out of the blanket but still under the heat lamp and sitting up. He made attempts to stand but he was too feeble, yet he held his head well up and looked around him. The ewe sniffed him perfunctorily. It took some while, nearly two days and several bottles, for him to gain sufficient strength to stay upright. As soon as he could he started to seek under the ewe for her udder.

Me in my Blanket

And then the miracle occurred: she adopted him. Normally when a new born lamb has been so much man-handled, the ewe loses interest and abandons it. But this time she licked him clean, especially the back end, and pushed him in the right direction with her nose.

Now, on the third day after his difficult entry into the world, he no longer calls when we come, he has rejected us and our bottles. He is a sheep and the ewe suffices. I tried to take an 'after' photo to compare with the picture of him in blanket under the lamp. But the ewe will not let me. She gets between me and the twins every time.

Of course - I am being stupid. As far as sheep are concerned, the whole purpose, the whole point of Man, is to be of use to sheep. The human job done, the ewe can do without us. Except, of course, for the delivery of breakfast, lunch and dinner on a regular basis until she is out in the fields.

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See the little lamb

busy running in the fields

with his frisky friends

had upon his heels.

Round and round they go

off to the left, then to the right,

then up and down they bounce,

legs stiff as virgin springs.

And in the eyes of God and Man

it is a wondrous sight.

Innocence and Joy,

Sacrifice and Food,

all in one small animal

combined.