Low Expectations for Motherhood

I am not known for my maternal instincts – my extended family wagered that I would lose my son as soon as we left the hospital.

I was worried, too.

But last weekend a few ewes made me look pretty darn motherly.

When I headed to the barn at sunrise, I took enough milk for four bottle lambs. Three were triplets and one had a difficult birth so the ewe left it for the coyotes.

Now it was my turn to try to keep them alive.

Before I fed the bottle babies, I scanned the sheep in the corral.

Seven ewes had lambed. A couple were older, experienced ewes, but most were 2-year-olds, plus one ambitious yearling.

The older ewes were old hands at this spring ritual.

The 2-year-olds were unpredictable.

I knew the yearling would be panicky by the new alien she loved dearly.

Worse, she didn’t have much milk and her lamb looked hungry.

I wondered if I would have another bottle baby soon.

I prepared myself to use all of my patience, agility and adaptive management to entice them to their individual barn suites.

Then I found two newborn lambs meandering through the corral, no mama anywhere.

I didn’t expect this development.

I added the newborns to the bottle baby pen, knowing they both needed critical colostrum as soon as possible.

Fortunately, a ewe with new twins had a big udder so I milked her out. I fed the newborns and, while I was at it, I gave some to the yearling’s lamb.

Then I discovered a dying day-old lamb. He had been fine the night before, but he died soon after I found him.

I don’t know why.

The 2-year-old mama ewe really wanted her baby so I skinned the dead lamb and gave one of the meandering newborns a new jacket.

The mama cooed her approval.

By the time I could lead the rest of the new mamas to their posh suites, a ewe that had yet to lamb was trying to adopt a newborn twin. The ewes bickered over one twin and ignored the other.

I separated the real family from the wannabe mama before a ewe with triplets escaped from her barn suite.

While I returned that family to their hotel room, a 2-year-old ewe with twins jumped out of her pen and disappeared.

I wondered whether I would have two more bottle babies.

Eventually, after one more fling before accepting the responsibilities of motherhood, she returned.

Meanwhile, another ewe needed to be milked out and I needed more colostrum so I strapped the halter on the ewe, tied her to a fencepost and hoped she didn’t smash my face while I filled an empty peanut butter jar.

By then, it was time to collect new families born out on the pasture, give them a ride in the horse trailer and settle them into their barn suites.

I spotted five new sets of twins. I loaded three families, but two ewes took their newborns for a half-mile run to the barn.

Well, most them anyway.

One ewe abandoned one of her lambs.

It rode to the barn in the pickup cab.

In the barn suite, the ewe who had ditched her lamb in the pasture head-butted her own baby.

Unacceptable.

I did not need yet another bottle baby just because the ewe just didn’t feel like accepting the lamb that came from her loins.

I wrestled her into the head-catch.

She can eat, drink and lay down, but she can’t head-butt her baby. The lamb can nurse.

Hopefully her attitude will improve within a couple of days.

Meanwhile, I feel better about my parenting.

At least I didn’t abandon my kids.