There comes a time every summer when we separate the lambs from their mothers. That time was yesterday.
We do this because the lambs get huge and yet are still nursing, which is draining for the mothers. The lambs have all been grazing for some time now, but as long as they're still with mom, they're going to suck her dry whenever they get the chance. So, we have to physically separate the lambs.
As you might imagine, this does not go over well with either the lambs or the mothers.
I didn't know A. was going to do this yesterday until I came downstairs in the morning to the melodic sound of 13 sheep yelling their fool heads off. The lambs were all in the paddock right next to the house, the ewes in a farther pasture. And just to add to the fun, the ram has also been separated from the rest of the flock so he doesn't do his, um, duty too early, resulting in lambing in January. This meant three separate pastures of sheep, none of them happy.
The lambs were secure in the paddock, but the ewes . . . well, the ewes are a force to be reckoned with when they don't want to be kept in. They broke out of their pasture no less than four times yesterday morning, breaking gates and knocking down fences to get to their lambs. For all the effort they expended, however, they were easily lured away from their babies with a bucket of corn. So much for motherly love.
A. had been trying to keep the ewes in a pasture with lesser fencing, in the hopes they would eat down some of the overgrowth in there. But the fences were not up to the battering they sustained by some really pissed off moms, two of whom weigh at least 200 pounds. We spent about an hour in the morning moving sheep, A. leading the way with a bucket of corn while I followed behind with a stick, prodding them along and opening and closing gates. There was another jailbreak later in the afternoon, when A. was off-property, leaving me to wrangle sheep by myself. The two biggest ewes actually squirmed under the fence into another pasture, then broke that gate open to get out. They are nothing if not determined.
Then, when we finally got all the sheep secured in their separate pastures, we had to endure the piteous, and yet teeth-gratingly loud, maaing back and forth for the rest of the day. Which started up again this morning at 4:30.
I think I may need to run away.
I totally understand that noise! Cows/calves do the same thing. Supposedly weaning them under the "right" moon phase helps. I can never remember which one it is so sometimes we hit it and all is quiet in 3 days and sometimes we don't and it's bedlam for 7-10 days (& longer) with hoarse calves in the end.
ReplyDeleteHold onto that sanity!
How long will they continue the maaing? Days? Weeks?
ReplyDeleteIf it goes on too long, you may have to plan some day trips to get away.
Are you going to knock the fence down or wiggle under it to run away?
ReplyDeleteWell, this made me cry because I'm at work today, and the plight of the lambs is all metaphor-y with me being separated from the baby and waaaah.
ReplyDelete(Am hoping my child never chooses a bucket of corn over me, but I hear those teen years are a bitch.)
Yah, and am sure the neighbors REALLY enjoy the serenade !
ReplyDeleteI feel so bad for the mothers. I know I would do anything to get to my kid. Well, almost anything. And I would need to be in a good mood and so would he. In fact, now that I think about it, separation isn't such a bad idea. I be sending you a 13 year old male who is starting to think he is a man. Good luck.
ReplyDeleteI thought sheep jumped OVER fences.
ReplyDeleteFreaks.
Get some earplugs.
Kay, I was also going to say that this happens every year on my dad's farm with the cows and calves, and they end up so hoarse that they lose their voices. I think this is funny, because I'm mean that way.
ReplyDelete