Last Friday was the day we took the lambs away from the ewes. That sounds heartless, but it was time. You’ve never heard such crying from the mothers and their babies. They kept it up for two days. By the third day, the crying was sporadic as they learned that they could fill their tummies with grass and grain; that life went on; and that all was well.
We had our strong, athletic, 15 year old grandson help us and it about did him in. Lifting 22 of those 30-50 pound lambs over the fence and into the correct pasture is no job for the faint of heart. We also wormed them and gave them a CDT shot. I’ve gotten pretty good at giving them shots. That’s my job. I can’t do the heavy lifting.
Now, a week later, all is peaceful on our little farm again. The sheep are grazing contentedly in the pasture; the trauma of last week is forgotten. Our sore muscles have healed; and happy days are here again.