Let me start by acknowledging that this has been a particularly brutal winter. Here in Northern Indiana, we have not seen the ground in over two months. As I head toward the barn to do morning chores, I am walking about two and a half feet above where I normally would, with the occasional sinking up to my thigh through a hole in the snow.
So, of course, all our animals need special care in these sub-zero temperatures which mostly consists of keeping their water from freezing and feeding them twice as much food. Livestock will eat more the colder it is outside. So of course, at the end of last fall we came into possession of eight more sheep because "it was too good of a deal to pass up." And, of course, the sheep were already bred; and, of course, a sheep went into labor sometime on Tuesday night when the temperature was -12. Here is that sheep's story.
Charlotte calls me at 8:30 pm and says in an urgent manner, "The sheep's in labor can you come help?" I suit up in triple layers and hurry to the barn where the lamb's head is hanging out the back of the ewe. Now, sheep (and goats and probably most other livestock) are supposed to come out front toes/hooves first followed by the nose. But this lamb still had her front legs tucked under her little body inside the mama. There was no telling how long the lamb had been hanging head-out of the mama, but it was difficult to tell if it was even still alive. We had to act quickly; if we delayed we would loose not only the lamb, but also the ewe. Charlotte called the vet and he said that the only way to get the lamb out was to get its head back in, then rearrange it. First Charlotte tried with all her might to get that baby back inside while I held the ewe from the front. To no avail. Thinking that she just wasn't strong enough, she had me try to push the lamb back in. As hard as I tried, the mama was using all her muscles to push the lamb out. Quickly I realized that it was useless trying to push the baby back in, and without thinking much about it, I reached inside the ewe to better assess the situation. I found one leg, pulled it forward, then the other and out came the baby! Charlotte was amazed at my success. I felt very much the midwife's daughter that I am.
At that point Charlotte, the Fearless, took over and actually gave this little lamb CPR! Then she swung it by its hind legs to clear the lungs of fluid. (Yikes!). The baby began showing signs of life, but it was freezing in the barn, so we dried it off as quickly as we could (which is really a job the mama should do). Having safely delivered this lamb and having saved it from immediate death, Charlotte and I realized that the lamb had no chance of making it through this cold, cold night out in the barn with only a heat lamp. So! I stuffed the lamb under my coat like a thief in the night and Charlotte led the ewe out of the barn, through the snow and into the mud room of her house where mama and baby passed the night in warmth.
The good news: the lamb made it through the night, and the next night too. Mama and lamb are now back in the barn where they belong. The bad news: we have not gotten the lamb to nurse from the mama yet, so we have to trek out to the barn four times a day to bottle/tube feed it. The other bad news: I discovered I'm allergic to sheep.
