Photos:
1 – Josephine and Jack with Lily in the background
2 – Lily, eyeing freshly-picked tomatoes
| O |
ne day, in June 2004, when it was time to have lambs again, we arranged for Oscar (Jeremy’s mate) to visit our lifestyle block in Matakana. Oscar is mainly white with black patches, so we thought the lambs might be very interesting! And, in December 2004, there were lots of stories to tell. Before Jeremy and Oscar, we had borrowed a lovely, quiet ram named Bobby from Dianne and Gill. When people let you use one of their animals, they choose one of the babies as a thank-you. Dianne and Gill selected a cute female with black circles around her eyes – they named her Josephine. As they were moving to a new farm, they asked if we would keep her with us until she had her own lamb.
| J |
osephine was the first ewe to give birth in November 2004 – a male. Dianne and Gill have named him Jack, after me! Almost from the first moment Jack had quite a personality – rather like his namesake, do you think? He was a very independent ram-lamb – he kept hiding from his mum. Newborn lambs, like human babies, need lots of sleep.
Several times during the first day or two, Josephine would call and call for Jack. I would hear her and watch to see what was happening. Usually, he would come bounding up to his mum. But, on about the third day, I could hear Josephine baa-crying. When I looked from the deck, she gazed straight at me and called and called. “Oh, dear”, I thought, “That naughty Jack has either run away, got himself into trouble or is fast asleep somewhere”. I immediately rushed down the hill to the paddock and opened the gate. I was almost pushed over by all the eager sheep, thinking I was going to feed them multi-nuts – with Lily at the front, as usual! Poor Josephine came up to me, looking most distressed. I started to walk to the place where Jack was born, because sheep like to stay in the same area for the first few days. Josephine was trotting behind, baa-crying all the time. “Never mind”, I said, “we will find him”, stopping every now and then to talk quietly to her – which seemed to help. However, I wasn’t feeling very confident myself! Down to the flat area we went, both calling and calling. No Jack. “Where could he be?” I asked Josephine, who was watching me very closely, head tilted to one side, waiting for me to decide what to do.
There are rushes in that particular paddock, but they are not very tall, and both Josephine and I imagined it would be easy to see Jack. But no – he had other ideas. After searching for a few minutes, we found him, curled into a tight little ball, fast asleep. I was very pleased to find him! I picked him up and had a quick little cuddle before placing him next to the very happy Josephine! He didn’t seem at all fussed. Josephine nuzzled him and let him feed before looking up at me, and sighing, “Baaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa-aaaaaaaa”. Sheep can definitely talk!
On another two occasions, I would hear the special, “Please come and help me” baaing from Josephine and off I would go again. There would be Jack, at the far end of the paddock, totally ignoring his mum’s pleas. Sounds like some naughty human children, doesn’t it? This happened a few times – in the end I would point to where Jack was, calling to Josephine, “There he is. You go and find him yourself! I’m not his mum!” She would then trot off to get him. Jack loved being with the other 10 lambs so it became easier for Josephine to locate him amongst the lively little group.
| A |
nother time, early one morning, when I was fast asleep, Great Uncle Norman came in and said, “We are in trouble! One of the ewes needs help”. Evidently, Lily had been calling and calling to him – she was staying close to Pandora and baaing with great gusto! I jumped out of bed, threw on some old clothes, clipped my fingernails, washed my hands with Dettol and rushed into the paddock. After being woken up out of a deep sleep, without any drink or breakfast, having just turned 60, and not being as fit as I should be, I found it very difficult chasing up and down the very steep paddock, together with Great Uncle Norman, trying to catch Pandora. “I can’t do this – I haven’t got the energy – we need to get her into the pen”, I puffed.
Sure enough, once penned, we could see the lamb’s head and one foot, but it was stuck. Our kind neighbours had helped twice before, but I had only watched. This time, we knew we had to do it by ourselves – which took us a little while! However, we were very proud as, finally, out popped a male followed by a female. Pandora was a very happy mum! And ……. all this time, Lily stayed on the other side of the pen, right up against the gate, watching the whole process.
After the little female lamb had her first drink and could only just stand, she wobbled over to Lily and gave her a couple of gentle little kisses through the wire. Lily looked at her in a very motherly, caring manner. It was almost unbelievable. We named the lamb Sweet Pea. We left Pandora and her offspring in the pen for a few hours to make sure they were okay and during that time Lily stayed close by. I said to Great Uncle Norman, “She is a midwife, baa excellence!”
| T |
hen it was Desmine’s turn. I could see her walking around in circles and making sheep-grumbling noises, which are special sounds they make when talking to their lambs – especially if they are worried about something. I guessed she had given birth, but must have needed help. Off I went to see what was wrong. We hadn’t crutched Desmine, so her baby couldn’t work out how to find a teat. The first few drinks of milk are very important to their offspring. Because Desmine’s wool was very long and so was the grass, there was no space in-between. I lifted a handful of wool and gently pushed the lamb onto a teat. Sheep learn by smell and as I had touched and helped the little white lamb, she must have thought I was her mum – she kept coming to me for a drink, bunting me gently!
I knew I had to crutch Desmine. I clambered up the steep slope, grabbed the clippers, and slid back down again. I lay on the grass with my head under Desmine while I worked. I was very surprised – she let me remove lots of wool from under her belly. She knew I was helping and she simply continued her soft grumbling while standing still, nuzzling her baby. She had never let us do that before – as soon as she saw the clippers, she ran away!
Desmine and her lamb (Great Uncle Norman named her Desminx) were very, very close. Lily was a Grandbaa again, but this time she didn’t seem to need to lamb-sit as often as she did for Desminor. Perhaps male lambs are more independent, or perhaps it was because Desmine was more relaxed. Desminx often spent time near Lily and sometimes went to her by mistake for a drink of milk – Lily would give Desminx a little nuzzle before the lamb ran away again to find her real mum. For the first few days Desminx remembered me helping and must have thought I was like another mum or Grandbaa (or Baaaunty?). I was so lucky – she would let me lay in the grass close beside her while stroking her lovely, soft wool and talking to her. Desmine, nearby, would look at me as though so say, “You go ahead, you enjoy yourself. I am quite happy for you to be with my new baby”.
And that is the absolute truth! When she was about a week old, Desminx didn’t let me stroke her any more – she was growing up! That’s okay, because Desmine loves having her ears rubbed and I still have my Lily, who simply adores a massage! Desminx has been very aptly named – she seemed to be the main troublemaker. At around 7.00 pm every night, the lambs would line up for racing, jumping and making a general nuisance of themselves around the mothers – with Desminx in the lead. Sound familiar?
| A |
h, yes, this is what farming life is all about. Sometimes it is not easy and then the lambs arrive …… one of the best times of the year.
