Yes, it's that time of year again. The time when the weather is nasty and icky and freezing cold. The time when mama sheep decide that it is the perfect time to birth little tiny baby lambs. Because of course we want them to have the best chance at survival with their itty bitty tiny and short wool coats. Riiiight!
Only my sheep aren't cooperating, and I am Very Upset. Where are my cute babies?
Clarice, our eldest matron, is due any day now. She is so fat with child (lamb?) that if you pushed her over and off all her feet, I don't know if she could get back up again without help. She is just this great big round ball of white wool with a light chocolate head sticking out. Very amusing to look at. Chocolate Chip is also rotund as well, although I don't expect her to deliver for perhaps another month or so. Oreo, the youngest of the three producing ewes, probably won't deliver until late February or early March, and she's only pleasingly plump. The other two females we're hoping aren't pregnant (yeah, right! I'm probably dreaming!) but I'm not going to butcher them because of the possibility that they might be. They'll get a reprieve from the dinner table until May at this point in time. If they haven't birthed by then, they're fair game and will still be mighty tasty.
Every morning as I drive by the pen on my way out the gate, I count sheep. Are there really only six in there? Is there anything small and white on the ground? What is that? Oh, just the water bucket. Crap. Where are my babies?!? Same thing coming home.
We listen to see if Clarice is nickering - it sounds much like a soft horsey nicker - calling to her newly born little ones to let them know that she is there. Nothing. Yet.
I'm on lamb watch and I'm impatient.
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