Phoebe is only a yearling. She just had her first birthday this past December. Yesterday as we were taking a walk around looking at things, Lance noticed that Phoebe was in labor. I had wanted to witness a lamb birth for quite some time. Up until this point though it had always somehow happened when we were either sleeping or gone from the house altogether, as though the stork had just delivered them out of thin air and they appeared like beautiful little presents in the field, received lovingly by the expectant mothers. This time though we were fortunate and privileged to witness a miracle.
We checked the time again as she rested between contractions. Sheep aren't supposed to need to labor for much more than an hour. I remember reading James Herriot's stories of having to help laboring sheep in distress and was suddenly very grateful that katahdins are known to be one of easiest sheep breeds for lambing, having much less difficulty overall compared to the Suffolk that this beloved vet and author was so familiar with. I loved reading his stories but I did not want to have to call for help to untangle any little legs on the inside of my distressed ewe. We were just over 30 minutes right here though and since I could clearly see two front feet and a little nose just barely peeking out (this is the correct way for a lamb to be born) I decided not to freak out just yet.
I'm Debbie. I love listening to chickens cackle and sing. I love Lindt chocolate truffles, a good cup of coffee, and a good book.