In Like a Lion

Today is the first day of March, which is perhaps the longest month of the year in a one-step-forward, two-steps-back kind of way. Yesterday was surprisingly Aprilish (warmer and sunny, the snow mostly melted and the maple sap beginning to run), and today we were back to February (cold and gray with plenty of snow on the way).

"March comes in like a lion, and goes out like a lamb."

I keep repeating this line in my head, the promise of spring just around the corner if we can simply manage our way through a few more snowy-frozen-muddy-slushy weeks. The lamb metaphor is especially easy to picture at the moment after our grand adventures at a local sheep farm yesterday.

We were hanging out at Katie and Aaron's house when Katie and I, being our most brave mama selves, boldly chose to bundle all of our five small and somewhat wild children and take them for a walk in the woods while our partners stayed behind to nap (Lena) and go shopping for dinner (Aaron). We wound our way along an icy path and eventually ended up at a nearby open-air barn. Inside we found dozens of brand new baby lambs, along with mama sheep, chickens, and pigs. The barn space is rented by local farmers who don't actually live on the property, but need a nice, dry place to keep their livestock for some portion of the year. The sheep farmers use it specifically for the lambing season which is now upon us.

We crossed paths with the farmers who were on their way out (having just fed their sheep) as we made our way in. We visited with all of the different types of animals, and were just deciding to head back for home (the sunset as our only reference to time) when we noticed an ewe in the very back of the barn who appeared to be in labor. I recognized the copious amounts of mucous hanging between her back legs from the early labors of my goats (I kept goats for three years in my late teens). Upon closer inspection, we realized that the head of the lamb had already been born! How wonderful to get to be present for such an event. The kids all stood with us as we waited and waited, and then began to worry. The mama sheep was not making any progress, and it was clear that the baby lamb was stuck.

I pictured the diagrams of "difficult presentations" from my goat birthing books and figured that one of the lamb's legs was tucked underneath it, so that only one little hoof was emerging simultaneously with the head (ideally both hooves and the head would all be born together). We looked around for any sort of farmer who might be able to help, but we were completely alone. At least 30 minutes had passed since we'd first come upon the laboring ewe, and still no progress had been made. Every so often the lamb would wiggle a little, reassuring us that it was still alive, but besides that it remained totally and completely stuck.

Katie and I looked at each other and decided that we had to do something. We jumped the fence, secured the sheep and helped to free the stuck baby lamb, who was born into my hands moments later while our five wide-eyed children stood quietly cheering us on. The lamb was fine. The mama seemed much relieved, and began right away to lick her baby clean.

I cleaned myself with some nearby snow (and somehow managed to lose my wedding ring in the process), and then it was really time to go. Katie and I carried as many of our hungry, freezing children as we could, and headed back to the house, where dinner was waiting (along with our worried partners--it was 6:00!).

Unfortunately, at the last minute I had decided not to bring my camera with me on our walk (deciding that it would be a "live it" rather than a "document it" adventure, and having no idea of exactly what kind of adventure it would end up being), but we stopped by the farm again today to take some photos of the happy little lamb.


We suspected that the mama ewe would birth another lamb (sheep usually have twins or triplets), and indeed she did. Here is a picture of "stuck lamb" (on the right) with its twin, "smaller lamb" (on the left) touching noses. So sweet.

Mama nursing the smaller, second-born twin.

Just as we were leaving today, we were witness to another lambing! Thankfully this one happened quickly and without consequence. The mama got right to work cleaning her babe (while a chicken stood by, seemingly oblivious).


Last night I felt so full of life and was high from the experience of being so close to birth. This morning I was in a state of panic, second-guessing myself for having intervened with someone else's sheep, for not having worn sterile gloves, for potentially exposing my wife to sheep bodily fluids (which can, in rare circumstances be harmful to pregnant women). I felt sick to my stomach with worry and doubt. One step forward, two steps back. But by this afternoon I had finally managed to calm myself down (after talking to our midwife and visiting the sheep and seeing how well they were doing), and am back to trusting life again.

I am hoping that the metaphorical lamb of March's ending comes quickly and easily, no shoulder dystocia or stalled labor. And that the lion of a snowstorm we're expecting this evening is the last of its kind for the season.

Thank you all so much for your comments at the end of my last post. I thoroughly enjoyed getting to peek into your lives and my heart was certainly warmed by the outpouring of appreciation. Positive feedback is hard to come by in my line of work, which makes it all the more special and wonderful when it happens.