Another Day, Another Life Saved

Lambing season has begun! On the 29th of January, I went out to check for eggs and found Cassiopeia in labor. She was lying on her side, grunting and straining, with only a stream of goo hanging from her backside. I gathered that she had not been laboring for long, but she was already tired. Ewes usually give birth standing up.

Conventional wisdom states that when you see a ewe in labor, you should run inside, boil water, sit down and have a cup of tea, and by the time you have finished drinking it, the lamb will be born safe and sound. So, I went inside and set the kitchen timer for half an hour. I couldn’t stand waiting that long, though, so I went back outside in half the time. Cassi was still down, but now there appeared from her hind end four toes and a nose, a perfect presentation. I spent the next fifteen minutes or so helping Reed bring in firewood.

When I checked Cassi again, there’d been progress, but the poor girl was really thrashing and straining. She looked sore and exhausted. So, I helped pull the lamb. It was not easy. I could only pull so hard without risking hurting the lamb. I had to massage and try to stretch the vulva over the lamb’s forehead, but it just wasn’t coming. I considered doing an emergency episiotomy, but I had no sterile equipment, experience, or anesthetic, nor am I set up to be able to do stitches. But before I got that desperate, the lamb came out, a little white ramling. A big boy!

I dragged him around to Cassi’s head, but she didn’t pay him any attention; she just lay there panting and gasping. I had to use a wad of hay to clean the lamb’s face so he wouldn’t aspirate amniotic fluids. Within a minute, Cassi recovered enough to start licking him. I went back inside to prepare a bucket of warm water with molasses to help get her strength back.

Cassi happened to be in the front half of the barn, by herself, so I had closed the gate to keep the rest of the sheep from bothering her. When I came back out with the molasses water, Firefly, the matriarch of the flock, was by the gate. I thought it might comfort Cassi to have an old hand at mothering nearby, but Firefly must’ve sent out a signal. As soon as I opened the gate to let her through, the whole flock came charging through the barn’s back door and they surged through the gate faster than I could close it, so I gave up trying. Everybody sniffed the newborn, sniffed Cassi fore and aft, checked out the blood and discharge on the floor, and then sauntered out. It’s interesting how they all rush over to greet a newborn. It’s like a big party that only lasts a minute or so and then they leave mother and baby alone. I wonder what they communicate in that time. Is it so the lamb gets to know his flock? Or for the flock to get to know and forever recognized the lamb?

When the party broke up, Firefly stayed on, and slurped up every drop of Cassi’s molasses water. I figured poor, elderly Firefly probably needed a boost, herself.

Cassi never did properly clean the lamb. That first bath is critical, especially in cold weather. A good, rough licking stimulates circulation and prevents wet, sticky wool from sapping body heat. I went inside for a terrycloth towel and scrubbed him as dry as I could. A towel is no substitute for a mother’s tongue, however. The lamb started to shiver. Normally, that’s not a bad thing as the shivering generates muscle heat that helps the lamb to dry. I left them for a few more minutes, hoping Cassi would take over.

She didn’t. I came back to the barn to find the lamb shivering hard, his back hunched like an angry cat, with ears drooping weakly. I tried to steer him under Cassi to nurse, but he resisted my moving him around. I pried his mouth open to get to a teat and found even the inside of his mouth felt cold.

So I put the pair of them in the treatment room over in one corner of the barn, and went inside for a bottle. I milked Cassi into the bottle and stuffed the nipple in the lamb’s mouth. He resisted until he figured out there was something warm and delicious there, and then he drank all of the small amount I’d been able to squeeze out of Cassi. Her teats were softer than they’d been at the time of birth, so I figured the lamb had already been nursing, but I wanted to see some milk get into him, myself.

But he was still shivering violently, and his wool still felt damp. I scrubbed him some more with the towel, but it wasn’t going to be enough to warm him

I didn’t want to bring him in the house lest it break the bond with his mother, so I heated a rice pack* in the microwave, wrapped it in a baby blanket, put on ski pants, prepared another bucket of warm water for Cassi, and went to the barn to sit with the lamb until he warmed up. I settled myself on the hay-strewn floor with the rice pack between my legs and the blanket draped over my legs. I put the lamb in the middle and wrapped the blanket around him so that only his nose showed.

And there we sat. Cassi drank her “tea.” She ate some hay, sniffed at her lamb, and sniffed at me. I talked quietly to her, telling her what a good, brave mother she was. She had her nose right in my face, but because she was Cassi, a former bottle lamb who has remained very tame and friendly, I trusted her not to suddenly bash me in the nose. She seemed to perfectly trust me, too, that I had her best interest in mind, and I was not going to harm her lamb.

Gradually, the lamb’s shivering eased. Cassi finished her snack and lay down. I put the swaddled lamb against her shoulder and curved the rice pack along his other side. Cassi bent her neck down over his back, cuddling him. I heaved myself up off the floor and left them.

At my next check 45 minutes later, the lamb had improved. Both were on their feet, and I saw the baby, heretofore to be known as Wrasse, dive under Cassi to nurse. He was no longer shivering. His ears were perky, his head up, and he even jumped around a bit. Another day, another life saved.

Wrasse at two days old, enjoying the winter sun with his mother, Cassiopeia

*A rice pack is a comforting source of moist heat, great for tense shoulders or other muscle aches. It’s also good for warming a cold lamb! To make your own, cut a piece of cloth about 20”x20”. Exact dimensions don’t matter. Flannel works well! Fold in half. With Right sides together, stitch along the long side and one short side. Fold down the raw edges of the remaining short side and hem. Turn right-side-out. Stitch three channels lengthwise. Fill each channel with uncooked, dry rice. White rice is best since it won’t go rancid. Use about two cups of rice altogether. Machine- or hand-stitch the hemmed edge closed.

To use, microwave on high a maximum of two minutes.