Lambing Day 12 - Friday

As Friday arrived, I felt, for once, quite perked up, and most definitely delivered of the aches and pains I had suffered over the last few days.  It also promised to be the day that a lamb might finally come, for the suspicious ewe of the night before was even more suspicious now, as she refused her breakfast, and did not join the general charge and hullabaloo normally accompanies this most welcome of meals.  Furthermore, this previously submissive ewe, low in the pecking order, had reserved unto herself a large a prized corner of the pen, while other matriarchs meekly stood by and crowded into the other area of the pen.  She was clearly in the early stages of labour, and required a Close Watch.  Further checking revealed that she was Quartz 7 – who had always had lambs without any trouble, and last year had naughtily dropped her lambs out in the middle of the night without supervision, but was a good mum.  So, keeping a close eye on her, I assisted Sir with cleaning out the remaining bit of the lower pen. 

By now, so much manure had been removed that we now had a plank going to the top of the heap, so that the wheelbarrow could be wheeled up the plank, and the load deposited on top of the pile.  This looked very simple.  Sir is closer to the ground than I, and more agile, so I wheeled the barrow up and promptly fell off.  How I did not roll into the manure I do not know, but I did remove a small circle of skin from my hand.  With my hand now covered in manure and blood, I decided I should wash my hands and go and search out protection.  Happily, Mrs Farmer was on hand in the kitchen to provide plasters and a nice pair of gloves for me to wear and continue working.

In the midst of all this Quartz 7 had started pawing the ground in front of her, which moved her onto Purple Alert for immediate transfer to the labour ward.  As sheep are sociable creatures, she did not, of course, wish to leave her sisters, but we eventually persuaded her of the benefits of a nice warm pen in the labour ward, and removed her to get on with things there.  Such a long labour did point to a malpresentation of some sort, although with her history, we were hopeful she was just taking a long time to get around to things.  Even with a good ewe, as she gets older, malpresentations become more common, as she often has a bit more room for things to move around.

Mrs Farmer had to take the Young Master swimming that evening, so, even though we had had some very nice fish for lunch, with Slimming World Chips, Sir and I decided that fish and chips from the local takeaway emporium would give a much needed energy boost to help us through what promised to be a busy evening.  By the time Sir went out to garner the provender, Quartz 7 had broken her not inconsiderable waters (in the clean labour ward) and was making gentle concerted efforts to push.  Once we had feast upon our fish supper, we kitted up to go and see, and beheld a largish head pushing out, but no evidence of any feet, which is the correct presentation.  Sir decided to investigate. 

For the first time this lambing season, I hurried to fill up the yellow bucket with hot water.  A big splash of Dettol, and a pair of lambing ropes were added.  Towels and violet antiseptic spray were prepared.  The bottle of Superlube was opened, and a glob plopped out (with a most inappropriate noise, I might add) onto Sir’s freshly washed hands so he could investigate while I held Madame Sheep and made comforting conversation of the joy soon to be hers.  Upon examination, Sir declared that both front legs were back, so he had to repulse the head back in so he could bring them forward.  This he did, against some very strong contractions – I restrain the sheep with a knee behind their front shoulder, and you would be quite surprised how strong the muscular wave of contraction is.  Having announced he had found a leg, he then realised it belonged to a different lamb, so more repulsion ensued before the correct arrangement had been made.  A few more pushes and out came lamb 1 of 2012, a little boy.  Mrs Farmer, recently returned and supervising the effort, quickly sprayed the navel with purple antiseptic spray to ward off infection.  Mother was quite pleased with her efforts, and soon set about licking her lamb clean.  This is an important instinctive function where she can bond with the lamb, clear its airways, and warm it up.  The licking also stimulates the lamb to breathe, and indeed, this lamb, having perhaps endured a rather long labour, was breathing only irregularly and with some effort.  A quick rub with the towel soon help shift things along a bit and it was not long before the first lamb bleat, a surprisingly trumpet-like affair, of the year was heard. 

After about 25 minutes, mother was still licking her little boy, and had not stopped to pause or show sign of pushing.  Sir’s investigation revealed the next lamb was in exactly the same position and so this was corrected (a little more easily this time) before the second and last lamb, a ewe, was pulled out.  Mother was quite delighted at having two lambs again, and continued with her licking marathon.  A quick injection of antibiotics is always advisable in cases where there has been a significant internal examination at a birth (the labour ward is kept clean, but is not at all aseptic) and this done, we could retire of an evening game of Settlers of Catan, which, for the first time this year, I won, much to the disgruntlement of Sir, and the dismay of Mrs Farmer who had not been able to obtain her desired commodities in this game.  Feeling thoroughly merlissimot, I introduced my friends to the guilty pleasure that is Benidorm, before retiring for the night.