The second-to-last lamb was born a few days ago. Regular readers of this column will recall I’ve only been lambing for two weeks, making this the fastest and most furious lambing season I’ve ever experienced.
Apparently, most of the ewes were cycling together, and our ram took full advantage of that fact. In other words, it has been an exhilarating, exhausting and immensely rewarding few weeks.
The last lamb, of course, will not be born for a while yet. This is an important, and under-discussed part of shepherding — the tacit understanding within the flock that one ewe must hold out as long as possible after the rest of her flockmates before she gives birth.
This is true no matter how long your lambing period. You can put your ram in with the ewes for one, two, even three whole cycles (aka months), and you will always be left with one as-yet-to-lamb ewe at the end, who, despite looking hugely pregnant and very uncomfortable, will not lamb until many more days have passed.
My husband says the same is true with cattle, and that’s why, if you are going to have problems, it is at the very beginning or the very end. At the beginning, it is because you aren’t quite ready. At the end, it is because your vigilance has worn thin. And I’ll tell you what, my vigilance has definitely worn thin.
Meanwhile, the second-to-last lamb was a total surprise. We don’t ultrasound the ewes, but once they are shorn, it is usually pretty obvious who is pregnant and who is not.
In addition to baby bulges, in the days and sometimes weeks before they give birth, the ewes begin to “bag up,” a term that refers to their udders filling with milk. This year, all but one ewe who had been in with the ram had a visible baby bulge and had begun to bag up well before the date we were supposed to start lambing. (In retrospect, that should have been a red flag that a lot of lambs would be arriving in rapid succession!)
Hildy, the one-eyed targhee, was the only holdout. Hildy lost her eye to an infection when she was just a lamb, and until this year, she’s always been docile and well-meaning. She didn’t have a lamb last year despite having one the year before, so I worried she might be barren.
She was in good health, however, and taking a year off from pregnancy meant that she’d been eating for two while only eating for one twice as long as anyone else. The result: Hildy had gotten … chunky.
She’d also gotten pushier in the last few weeks. She is the tallest sheep in the flock and the heaviest by a long way, and while everyone else seemed to be slowing down in the last days of their pregnancies, Hildy was speeding up.
She was always at the front of the flock when a gate was opened to a new pasture or when some other treat was offered. She’d nearly knocked me down in her haste to be first enough times that I was beginning to wonder if we needed to find her a new pasture altogether, especially as I watched her shove other ewes away from the feed bunk who were eating for two because they were actually eating for two.
Then, two days ago, while checking Daisy, the only other ewe who hadn’t had her baby yet, I noticed Hildy standing alone with a faraway look in her eye. I walked up beside her, and sure enough, after nearly two years without any noticeable changes, Hildy’s udder was bright pink and very, very full.
I walked Hildy to the barn, and it was not a moment too soon. Less than half an hour later, she had a giant ewe lamb snuggled beside her (and for the record, did not look any less chunky).
As of this writing, I’m still waiting on Daisy. Hildy’s baby reset the last-to-lamb clock, so I’m sure it will be a few days yet!
