Lambing Adventures 1

Lambing season started in earnest on January 28 with the birth of triplets to one first time ewe and twins to another. We were excited, then the disasters I hope won't happen started. We lost all 5 lambs. They were very small--all under 5 pounds--and their moms did their best. The triplets seem to have succumbed to an udder infection their mom had; they all died with full bellies. It was really strange until we discovered blood in her milk while easing pressure on her full udder by stripping out excess milk and moving towards a gentle weaning that would preserve her bag. We gave her a round of penicillin and the milk cleared; hopefully she will do better next year.

The second ewe just didn't have colostrum the first 36 hours; instead, she had a gluey clear substance. We had colostrum on hand, but we slept through the four am feeding and the lambs died; first one then a few hours later the second. This ewe mourned their loss and protested when we tried to remove the second lamb from the jail. About that time another ewe gave birth to a set of twins. John quickly grabbed the second lamb and took it to the mother who had just lost her last lamb. She eagerly took to the task of cleaning that lamb and made it hers. Her whole body said, HAPPY! It is highly unusual to have a ewe adopt a lamb without the shepherd preforming a few tricks of the trade to fool the ewe into accepting a lamb not her own. A ewe that will eagerly adopt a lamb is worth her weight in gold.

Between that day and now all lambs are thriving and doing well. The older ewes have presented their lambs without problems. We now have 28 lambs, including three sets of triplets, running races and jumping from the hill while their mom's bellow desperately to get their attention every time a hawk flies over, a cat wanders near, or the geese start yelling. The joyful melee makes me smile; I love lambing season despite the occasional trials and dissapointments

Blind Girl

Hi, My name is Blind Girl. My sister and I were born on February 8th. She could see; I couldn't. Our mother took good care of us and my sister was always by my side. In fact, I fooled the shepherd for almost two months. Some days he thought I could see; but then again he wasn't quite sure. Finally, my sister got bored with my hanging around all the time and I was weaned. Then my secret was out: I was totally blind.

However, I am a very smart lamb and have learned some tricks to survive. In fact I weigh more than my twin sister. That's because I use my sense of smell to find all the best grass. I can also hear better than my sister. I have learned to go out in the pasture with the rest of the flock by listening for hoof steps, munching, and baaing. Sometimes I wander off on my own and the rest of the flock goes back to the barn or to the far side of the pasture without me. I listen for sounds and if I can't hear anything close I call out to find the direction everyone has gone. The flock seems to know I need a little guidance and someone will always answer my call so I can join them.

I also have a very good memory. The shepherd has a special place where he trims our hooves and weighs us. The path to the treatment station is long and has lots of turns. At first I got confused about which way to go, but now I am experienced and don't miss a turn. I have also figured out just how far the jump from the treatment station to the ground is. Once the shepherd removed a box that had been at the end of the station. I couldn't see the change and I fell down. The next time I remembered the step was a big one and lept gracefully to the ground.

I am very friendly most of the time. I do get frightened in strange places until I learn where the fences are. I have learned to walk close to the fence if I am in a new place. I don't like coming to a corner because I always bang my head into the fence. Sometimes the shepherd tries to help me but I like to find my own way. If he tries to catch me, I run. His feet make lots of noise and I just run away from him and try not to hit a fence. It works best if he talks quietly to me. Then I will let him help me get to a safe place.

I wonder if the shepherd is thinking about keeping me. I think I would be a very good mother, especially if bells were put on my lambs so I could find them when they don't answer my call. After all you can see what a fine ewe I will make even if I am blind.

Predators

Everyone always asks if we have trouble with predators. Our usual answer is no because we have not lost sheep to coyotes, lions or bears . Besides we have Stoney the llama to stand guard. His former owner reports that he has killed several coyotes and chased a bear straight through the fence. Here, his biggest worries have been the neighbors' cattle. He hates them and only a strong fence keeps him from chasing them into the creek. So we feel fairly safe from cattle, coyotes, bears and lions. However, we have had predator problems of the smaller sort: raccoon, possum, skunk, rats, rattlers, a great horned owl, and just this week, a vicious yellow jacket.

We were cleaning out the barn and getting ready to put up this year's hay. It is a dusty job and the jug of water ran out. We decided to open cans of soda to enjoy as we finished sorting through the stuff that accumulates in a barn over a year. While our attention was diverted, a yellow jacket decided to join us and share John's soda. John paused in his labors, reached for his soda, yelped and started spitting. The yellow jacket did not want to share the soda and stung--well maybe bit-- the inside of his upper lip.

John has been stung many times and only this summer has started showing an allergic reaction to their venom. Because of this, he didn't hesitate but ran to the house to get some Benadryl and ice. Within fifteen minutes it was obvious that this sting was something serious. As you can see in his photo his lip became enormous. I hate to say it but to me he looked like a cartoon character and I couldn't help laughing.

We finally decided to consult with his VA phone nurse. The verdict was get to the Mather VA hospital in Sacramento ASAP. We learned that when there are stings in the mouth it is likely that the tongue will swell and block the windpipe. I made the hour an a half drive with John complaining that I worried too much and that the swelling was going down. True, his lip was smaller but the right side of his face was swollen by the time we got to the hospital. They put him on IV Benadryl and monitored him through the night. His throat did swell but minimally since he was on medication. When the doctor was satisfied that the throat tissue swelling was receeding he was released.

He's ok now and back to cleaning the barn and tending our sheep.

Sheep Talk

Did you know that sheep can talk? Children's storybooks always portray sheep as saying, "Baa" or perhaps a more emphatic, "Baa-Baa". They never let you know that sheep are quite capable of varying their sounds to communicate their needs.

Our experience with sheep talk began the first morning we awoke on the ranch. We had spent the night sleeping in the back of John's plumbing work van which we parked under a She Oak tree near a paddock gate. As we parked and got set for the night we were unaware that a band of sheep lived in that paddock. As the sun pushed dawn into the sky, we were awakened by the gentle "Baas?" of about 30 sheep.

Yes, the baas had a rising inflection at the end that asked the question, "What are you?" We sleepily sat up and returned the gaze of the sheep. It took a while for the sheep to realize that we were people; people meant food and their sounds shifted first to the typical "baa" then. as we didn't seem to understand they wanted to be fed, they added emphasis by increasing the volume. We still didn't respond appropriately so they shifted to the most pleading "maas" I had ever heard.

I still don't know how they do it but the initial sound changes the more desperate they become to get our attention. If their needs are not being met, we have even heard the sheep add a "duh" to the end of their "maa". When they get "maad" we know that they will not be easy to work with.

When our first crop of lambs arrived we were even more amazed as we discovered the endless variety of sounds a ewe uses to communicate with her lambs. Each ewe has a different voice and different set of sounds to help her lambs learn how to be sheep.

When a ewe calls, her lambs come running. Well most of the time; just like kids anywhere if the lambs are having fun running and jumping there are those who prefer to play rather than obey. However, if a lamb doesn't heed its mother's voice, I have seen the mother butt the lamb away when it does come to eat. That is a big incentive to listen and obey.

As the lambs grow and are weaned the ewes return to speaking only when necessary. If their lambs call out they answer with a calm "muh." That seems to calm the lambs and everyone goes about the business of harvesting grass. That gentle "muh" is my favorite sound. It reassures me that the sheep are content and that makes a happy shepherd.

Breeding

Today we are sorting ewes into breeding groups. Yesterday, we spent time with ZooEasy our data management program determining relationship co-efficients. We set up breeding groups that show there is either no relationship or that the relationship is under 13%. We have three goals: 1) to prevent birth defects, 2) to preserve the gene pool of the Capay Reds (a new breed that we are working toward registering), and 3) to enlarge our stock of registered Tunis.

This is a Capay Red. Notice the upswept ears and broad nose as compared to the purebred Tunis above. The Capay's do well in temperature shifts common to the Sacraento Valley area. They have an excellent meat that one chef calls "sweet."

Weather

Today I was reading the Shepherd's Almanack that is a part of Sheep! magazine. It stated that there would be a weather front the 1st and 2nd of September and that combined with a new moon would make the days a poor choice for working with sheep. Well here we are in sunny Northern California and I didn't believe the information applied here and we scheduled a sorting and toe trimming project for Labor Day. I was wrong. The wind blew like the dickens indicating a change in barametric pressure in the valley and the sheep reacted just like the almanac said. We finally got the job done but not without having to resort the sheep at least three times. They kept inventing new ways of escaping our clutches. It helped to know that the weather and new moon were combining to create crazy ewe behavior as we were able to take all their shenagains with a sense of humor and patience that would not have been there without prior warning.

Trimming Toes

John spent the day trimming the toes of seventeen ewe lambs that we want to add to our breeding herd. Toe trimming seems to tickle even an experienced ewe and they will kick a little in protest. But toe trimming to a lamb is a fight for life and death; they have no idea that they will survived the assault to their feet. As gentle as John tries to be they still react as if their whole life is in danger. By now all the lambs have learned to walk peacefully through the sorting chute as we have checked their weight frequently. They are expecting to be stopped on the scale and then have the gate opened so they can rush through the treatment station. They are astounded that after rushing into the treatment station they can go not further. They shift restlessly back and forth looking for a way out. Much to their astonishment John reaches in and tips them onto their side. Some lay there in momentary shock; while others struggle to right themselves. Just as they start to settle down John takes a hoof into his hand and begins to trim off the excess nail from each segment of hoof. A rare lamb just lays there and lets the trimming proceed. Most kick violently in protest. John came in with hoof marks on chest, back, arms and knees. Next time will be easier and in ten years they will just stand there and say thank you.

Death Comes Quietly

Our Tunis ram, Dobbie, just died of bronchial pneumonia. One day we were celebrating his successful breeding to Etta, a beautiful purebred Tunis ewe, and it seems such a short time later we are mourning his loss. We had no idea that he was ill. One day he was leaning on the fence with the other rams and the next day he was missing. John found him laying alone near our sorting chute. He was a gentle soul even in his final hours. He had put himself where he would be not bother and quietly slipped away. I have a great sadness and miss him sorely. Dobbie was special: he was the only ram we have had who loved to have his nose and back scratched and to get a hug. It was an awsome experience to burry my face in his soft woolly back while he gently huffed hot breath on my shoulder. He will be missed.