One of the Manx ewes didn’t rush down for her oats and seaweed this morning - I found her behind a fallen branch, sheltering a tiny, black lamb. At the sight of my bucket, greed overtook caution, and calling to the lamb, she encouraged him onto his feet, nuzzling him to reaffirm their bond. Then slowly she picked her way down through the daffodils and he followed, wobbling and staggering - obviously organising four legs at the same time is not as easy as it looks!
The ewe began to tuck in, and I scooped up the lamb, examining to find he was a ram, the jet black miniature of his Black Welsh Mountain father. I sprayed his umbilical cord with iodine (as usual managing to squirt myself with a stain of the enduring stink) then putting him back down, thought how much more difficult it would be to catch him in three days, to castrate him and dock his tail. Returning up the field to the fallen branch and birthing site, I checked to find the ewe’s afterbirth had successfully been ejected.
Munching appreciatively on the last mouthful of oats, she looked satisfied, rather than expectant. I doubted a twin was on its way. I was pleased. I don’t like to feed lots of cereals and concentrates - the meat tastes inferior; and with just an acre and a half of pasture available, a dry summer could mean a shortage of grass. Also, the mother is a skinny, old girl - I’m glad for her sake she is spared the burden of twins.
The ewe began to tuck in, and I scooped up the lamb, examining to find he was a ram, the jet black miniature of his Black Welsh Mountain father. I sprayed his umbilical cord with iodine (as usual managing to squirt myself with a stain of the enduring stink) then putting him back down, thought how much more difficult it would be to catch him in three days, to castrate him and dock his tail. Returning up the field to the fallen branch and birthing site, I checked to find the ewe’s afterbirth had successfully been ejected.
Munching appreciatively on the last mouthful of oats, she looked satisfied, rather than expectant. I doubted a twin was on its way. I was pleased. I don’t like to feed lots of cereals and concentrates - the meat tastes inferior; and with just an acre and a half of pasture available, a dry summer could mean a shortage of grass. Also, the mother is a skinny, old girl - I’m glad for her sake she is spared the burden of twins.
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