For as long as I can remember, I have always loved Irish donkeys. In fact, I still have a small stuffed donkey made out of wool, complete with turf carrying baskets, that my Auntie in Dublin brought over to the states for me when she visited back in 1972! This wonderful donkey has now found its home on the fireplace mantle in our Irish home's sitting room.
With lambing season right around the corner – six weeks off to be exact – I am in high gear trying to get everything sorted for the "season". After a full review of my notes from last year, I will do my best to make improvements to the process. Big ones. Little ones. Anything, really, that will help me walk through lambing with as little side stepping as possible.
As each year of "husbandry" passes, I discover more and more little quirky remedies for the various maladies that crop up from time to time among the sheep. One of them is the use of an invaluable product called Rumen Booster. (And no, I don't get a nickel for the mention here and happily pay full price at our local farm co-op).
Okay, so is it just me, or are sheep absolutely crazy about creep feed and ewe nuts?
When we get going with stories of life on the farm, it is not unusual for one of my ewes named "Puffy" to work her way into the narrative. She is one of the original 25 “ladies” that transferred to us with the purchase of the farm. I think she is actually the oldest of the bunch – based on the triangle shape of her faded-yellow ear tag. By her teeth (she still has enough to graze longer grass), I would guess she is around 8 years old, possibly 9.
So, with "husbandry" came a few things that, at first, I wasn't so sure about. I certainly wasn't prepared to be giving injections with giant, gnarly needles (I hate needles and pass out when I give blood). Nor was I all that keen to be popping my shoulder-glove-covered arm into the birth canal of a ewe to rearrange a lamb that was not properly situated for the ewe to manage by herself. And I can definitely assure you I was in no way prepared to slide a 1/4" tube down the throat and into the stomach of a tiny, hours-old lamb in dire need of colostrum (a mother's first milk).
When we first took on the farm responsibilities, the previous owner sold us their Quad 4-wheel ATV to carry out most of the motorized farm chores. And, for the most part, it was up to task. All of the other implements we purchased for the farm were ATV-compatible, and they towed easily with the trailer hitch mounted on the back of the quad. We also had an ATV in the states, so we were very familiar with how they worked and, what it was – and was not – capable of handling.
I think it was our second round of lambing when we were left with Buddy, a wee little orphan lamb. Still here as part of my "lawn mower" crew, Buddy is an exceptional fella. From the start, he was not likely to live, severely hyperthermic and just a bag of bones barely covered in black fleece. But, we brought him in after his mother had already rejected her other two lambs, popped him into a box and placed him in front of the Aga stove. The wonderful, radient heat surrounded him and we hoped for the best as we turned in for the night.