Lambing Time – Life and Death on the Farm

Motherly Concern!


Displacement activities are a problem for any writer. In my case they are a real challenge and the annual 5 or 6 weeks my sheep spend lambing are a particular problem and many things are truly ‘displaced’ particularly sleep – it is extremely hard to write when you sit down… open up the laptop… and immediately fall asleep…

But then to write you need to experience life.. and death… and the lambing season is all about that!

When I tell people I have Cotswold sheep often people (some of whom should know better as they are farmers) say to me is – ‘But why? Surely all sheep want to do is die.’ And it is true that often when you find a sheep ill in the field, it is very ill indeed and will often die. But people shouldn’t forget a sheep is a ‘prey animal’ and this means their instinct to keep up with the flock, and look fine, and therefore not a target for any passing predator is immensely strong – so when you find a sick sheep, it is past caring and probably indeed near death.

The Cotswold lamb on the left of the photo was the final of the triplets to arrive. She was unexpected as mum had been scanned for twins. She arrived in a birth sack of fluid and possibly took a breath of birth fluid before the ewe could get to her to lick her free. She developed pneumonia over the next day or so from the fluid on her lungs – and in spite of my efforts to save her with a hefty dose of antibiotics and feeding her milk through a tuTriplet lambsbe into her stomach (not as horrid as it sounds) she lay under the lamp for a day, between her brother and sister, without moving. I was waiting for her to die. I made sure she was comfortable, but there was nothing else to be done. I kept checking her to see if she had breathed her last…

But she kept on going… one laboured breath after another… then in the evening I thought she had gone at last, and gently picked her up. At that moment she lifted her head and stared at me. She was fighting so hard to live; I gave her another feed, some more antibiotics and a painkiller. Half an hour later she was on her feet. And a day later she is feeding from her mum, and jumping round the pen like nothing was ever wrong with her. She might be small, but she really did fight for her life! She wanted to live – she is definitely a sheep, which has no intention of dying!

And so with lambing over, and a good night’s sleep beckoning, there are no excuses left and tomorrow it’s back to writing…

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