Calm before the storm



Omena and Oneida hanging out in the feeder

Not exactly half way... but getting there.  There hasn't been a birth on the farm in almost a week.  This is like a vacation after the start we had. Three ewes that all gave birth to twins within a 20 hour period, followed by a brief two day stint, than one ewe delivered one lamb.  Followed by silence.  Of course a barn full of 21 sheep is never truly silent.  There have been quite a few barn checks that prove to be quiet in that there wasn't much action.  Frankly, there's been none.  Other than the big melt down underway, in which I have to carve valleys to drain the water away from the barns and coop, this simply hasn't been the "lambing season" excitement I was expecting.  Has it been nice to sleep through the night and not have to worry about lambs at 2am?  Sure.  But I know it's coming, and with every day that Artemesia, Ella and Alaina waddle around the paddock, I know its one more day closer to Lady Bird, Martha and Rosalyn bringing udder chaos when all 6 remaining ewes deliver right about the same time.  I thought three was crazy?  Look out.

I guess its alot like watching the pot boil.   I wait and wait, and time seems to go by slow and it's just a matter of time.  Meanwhile, I get to enjoy the fun of having these week old lambs running around.  Still seeming like half cartilage at this point, the lambs buck and bronk around the barn often running into each other if not walls and feeders.  They play hard for mere minutes before grabbing a quick drink from Mom and settling in for a nap.  The lambs climb on top of eachother and huddle into a ball of perfect innocent baby wool; fifeteen minutes later...repeat.  It's peaceful to watch, even the playing can leave me quiet with a simple smirk on my face, watching it all go on around me. I hop up on the stall wall and sit quietly, trying to fall into the scenery around me as to not disturb the protective mothers watching over their lambs.  It's a little after Seven O'clock, the sun is still shining, the snow is melting and for the first time I feel like Spring is truly coming.  There's a lot that goes into running this farm, but these sure are the moments that I treasure the most.  There is something pure, something so natural, watching a completely dependent lamb nurse from it's mother.  The patience displayed, the vulnerability, the dependency all witnessed, it is truly something.   

Mary Jo and her little one.

Two in the morning comes awfully early...

In previous posts, I've mentioned the "marking system" to know when a ram has bred a ewe.  It's a simple mixture of crisco and chalk.  It helps in creating a calendar for timing when 150 days will mark the due date of the ewe.  The deed is completed, and you have a greasy colored chalk spot on her back side.  Every woman's dream for true romance I'm sure. 

However, there are a few variables that can occur; such is the case this year.  Clearly marked (and witnessed I must admit), the due date was set for this past Saturday, March 5th.  I began "lamb watch" on Thursday night, looking for the signs of an early labor from my three suspected ewes.  This led on into Friday night, which was a much more realistic chance of delivery, which created the need for a 2 am barn watch.

Two am rolls around and my cell phone lights up the room, with it's ever cheesy alarm call.  It's whatever the standard ding-a-ling ring is when you first buy the thing; I never was motivated enough to change it.   However, after four nights of this ringing, the jingle is now deeply embedded into my head.  I can't seem to shake it, and the annoying call is giving me anxiety.  Every bell, tone, noise seems to match some element of this tune, and I instantly sigh for another 5 minutes of snooze.  I find myself laying there in bed thinking... how long till the next barn check?  Thinking about it so much, I can't seem to fall asleep. 

Friday, Saturday and Sunday all came and went.  The girls continued to eat and eat and eat some more.  Entitled to? Of course they are, but it just means that labor isn't starting any time soon.  The entire household is growing tired of this now nightly routine.  The early morning wake up which used to have a vibe of a vacation no longer feels that way (remember the excitement of getting up early to leave for a trip?  I somehow have forgotten what it is like).  The dogs don't even bother to get up, they just lay there and gamble that I can stumble around them and out the door without stepping on a limb or tail. 

Then the fun really begins.  Without any neighbor's porches or city lights to light up the clear winter night, I am dependent on keen eyesight and cat like reflexes to overcome the pitch black darkness combined with the obstacles of ice patches on the driveway.   I have to walk downhill to the barn door, slide it open, flip on the switch, and listen.

All the ewe's have their own sounds. I can tell a Mary Jo from an Artemesia any time of day.  The light switch to them means eating time, so its no surprise the light is often followed by bellowing of hungry sheep.  However, at two in the morning during lambing season, its no ordinary call I'm listening for.

And there it was.  A few days late, and a few annoying alarm calls later, I hear the unfamiliar yet recognizeable fait "bah" of a new born lamb.  Like coming down the stairs at Christmas, I run to the gate and peer over the stall to see Lisa had given birth to a lamb.  She was vigilintly cleaning and pawing at it.  No enabling here, these sheep mean business and get their little one's up and nursing in no time.  In fact, I stood and watched in awe as Lisa, our veteran ewe, worked to clean her little one with another set of hoofs exiting her rear.  Her second lamb was already underway.  Labor, while cleaning and feeding. That's how we roll at Windy Knob.

Not exactly.  I stood there for a half an hour with my lambing equipment (stethoscope, Iodine, Cotton Balls, Scissors, Scale) ready to help out at a moment's notice.  Lisa just looked at me.  "I got this," she seemed to say to me with her eyes.  It's a miracle.  Life in any form is spectacular, and I get to watch it unfold through the seasons; time and time again.   And just like that, with these two born, the 2011 lambing season is underway. 

Their ear tags will read #1101 and #1102 (2011, order of birth), but their names will be more fitting.  The theme this year you ask?  After the highly anticipated inaugural year of Presidents and First ladies, I am proud to annouce the 2011 theme.  Something local, something to acknowledge the beautiful area I am lucky enough to call home.  In my opinion, it's one of the best counties in the country; with long winding roads, private little bays around every corner, and endless views of water and islands.  This years theme we connect to our roots here on the farm with all names refrencing places in Leelanau County.  Look for an "Omena" and a "Leelanau," perhaps an "M22," or "Manitou."  The lambs this year will donn names of some of my favorite county roads, bays, islands and landmarks of the county Windy Knob calls home.