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Volume 7 No.4 Fall 2003
Editor, Laurie Ball-Gisch
Pasture Lambing in Extreme Weather - An Early April Journal
Jimmie Londagin
Because I am a farmer I look at the dirt and the sky. All the time. Lambing was almost
upon us - and it was nice below and nice above. It was cold, but a manageable cold, what I
would call brisk, about 25 to 40 degrees. But no rain or snow, and best of all, not too
windy.
I have been weaving this week. My last winter project. I have a goal to have it
finished before the first lambs are born. Something to mark the end of one year and the
beginning of the next, and to keep my mind and hands busy while I wait.
I'm not calm right before lambing starts. I have friends who tell me they are. Okay,
more power to them. For me it feels - well - like two things at once: trying to go to
sleep on Christmas Eve when you're six years old and also sitting in your boss's office
with him staring at you, and you know you're going to be fired, but it just hasn't started
happening quite yet. I wouldn't call it serene. Or the weather.
Lambs should start dropping about - hmmm, yeah that would be Saturday. "Don't
listen to the weather report because what are you going to do about it?" So I
turn it on immediately and the man says: ICE - SLEET - SNOW - COLDER
and WINDY!
So what? They're always wrong? I mean, if they tell you you're going to have nice dry
weather for shearing day, they're always wrong, it is bound to rain. So shouldn't they be
wrong when they talk about bad weather for lambing?
Okay, you remember all those people telling you, when you first thought about Icelandic
sheep, that they're good pasture lambers - you know, no jugs and cozy barns for these
tough gals? I took that seriously, and our system is entirely pasture lambing. There is no
barn or shelter for me to run the ewes into. There is a small stand of pines and cedars in
the lambing field, and a heavy tree line to the east and to the west to act as a
windbreak.
Yep, we took those folks seriously who said you didn't need a barn.
Friday Afternoon, 28 degrees
I’ve just finished my last winter project. It is off of the loom, washed and
blocked. I am ready for the lambs. Well, at least symbolically.
In the afternoon we have our first lambs. Nice! A set of 7-pound Horvi triplets. The
lambs do well. (Here, farmer sighs.)
It's like a fever breaking when the lambs start coming, like a great pressure inside my
head suddenly disappearing. I get crazy beforehand. I make everyone around me crazy. Then
the first lambs come. Then I'm okay. I can begin the years work. I slept good that night.
Saturday 5 am, 19 degrees
Oh, what a beautiful morning! See, the inch thick ice on absolutely everything!
Ordinarily I would revel in the beauty of this late winter spectacle. Instead, I’ve
got butterflies in my stomach and a sense of doom. The ice is still coming down pretty
heavily. Tree branches are breaking, making sounds like bombs going off. I try to stay
calm - make my coffee and eat a bowl of oatmeal.
I go out to the field and at 6 am discover Gherka (TNY-42K) just finishing up an easy
delivery of a handsome Bessi daughter. The lamb is on her feet in about 5 minutes, steam
rising from her little body as ice falls on her.
The rush begins. Three other ewes are in active labor with delivery imminent. I can see
several more in an early stage of labor.
An hour later 7 more lambs are on the ground. The mothers ARE NOT UP UNDER THE TREES
WITH THE OTHER EWES! They are in the middle of the field opting for privacy rather than
shelter. I haven’t mentioned that this field is on a hill, and that the hill is
covered in ice so that the ewes are slipping and sliding all over the place.
I fight off a sense of helplessness and decide to drop a big round bale in the field
and unroll it. At least the lambs might be able to find a dry spot to snuggle down into.
The ice stops. I am thankful. Then the wind picks up.
My farm family comes out to string up some tarps under the trees to try and create some
dry spots, and the more frenzied they seem to be the more I display my calm Buddha-nature
and Mother Earth Peace Centered Heart Love Being to them. They are not fooled.
I put up some snow fencing from tree to tree to try and make a bit of a wind break. I
tag and weigh the lambs and record their births. Some of the lambs are covered in little
icicles. I decide to check temps. None are chilled - yet. I go in to thaw out and have
lunch.
I go out again in the evening. Several ewes are in active labor. I wander about and
check the lambs that were already born. All seem well despite the cold and the wind. About
an hour after dark another set of twins are born followed quickly by 6 more lambs. It has
gotten quite windy and the temperature has dropped. By 10 pm I have them all tagged and am
pretty sure that they are all nursing and that they are relatively dry. I call it a night.
19 lambs , no losses, I am slightly encouraged.
Sunday 6 am, 28 degrees
I go out the next morning at 6 am. Sleet is coming down pretty heavily. The ground is
covered with about an inch and a half of wet ice crystals. I find no new lambs, but
several ewes are in labor. The hay I had rolled out the day before is soaking wet with icy
slush and several lambs are curled up in it. After warning Harry that I will be bringing
in chilled lambs I go out with my thermometer to save them. I don’t find any chilled
lambs! So, off I go to do my chores and run some errands. By lunchtime I have six lively
lambs tagged and I go in for the afternoon taking with me a tiny bit of loudly squawking
lamb. One of the ewes had delivered triplets, two 8 pounders and one 3 pounder. The 3 lb
lamb became our first and only bottle baby of the season. She became known as Lil’
Bit, and she is now (in early September) 65 lbs of sassy trouble. In the evening I find
four new lambs and four ewes in labor. One ewe is in pain, she comes up to me whimpering
and she is trembling. She has a lamb whose back is wedged up against the birth canal
preventing any progress. I straighten things out pulling both vigorous lambs; the ewe is
exhausted. The only good thing about having to do that assist was that my hand had a
chance to thaw out. After dinner and dry clothes I find another 6 lambs have been born.
Everyone seemed pretty settled in for the night so I do too.
Monday 3 am, 18 degrees
I wake up about 3am to feed Lil’ Bit and can’t go back to sleep. So
I wander out to check on the ewes. Miss Pickles (STS-619F) has a fresh lamb jumping around
and is working on the second, the third follows quickly. She doesn’t want me around
so I take off and check on the rest of the ewes. It is pitch black and a very windy 18
degrees. On the other side of the field I find a ewe with a fresh lamb nursing and a dead
one beside her. Our first loss. I warned these gals about delivering before dawn. Another
ewe is in labor. I go in for an early breakfast. By noon there are 7 new lambs to tag.
I go out again around 9 pm. The wind has shifted, it is coming from the north. The ewes
are in a wind tunnel. It is bearing down at 40 or 50 mph. I am trying not to freak out. It
is painful to be out in this icy wind even though I am aptly bundled up. Most of the ewes
are sheltering amongst the trees. One ewe is out in the middle of the field by herself
straining. She quickly delivers a tiny lamb, but he can’t stand up in the wind. I try
to dry him off as the ewe goes down for number 2 and then 3. She is pretty quick about it,
she has all three lambs on the ground in about half an hour. This is an elderly ewe who
has always had big twins. These are small triplets. By the time the last is born the first
was severely chilled, so I put him under my sweater, right next to my skin. Then I moved
mom and the other two up to a semi-sheltered nook under the trees. I then go in the house
and wake up Gretchen to help me warm these lambs. One by one we slowly warm and feed these
lambs and return them to their mom and the windy hell where I had found them. In the
mean time three other ewes have delivered. I send my friend Dorothy out with a thermometer
to find the frozen lambs. She reports after two hours of this that the only one frozen was
her.
Sometime in the middle of the night, the wind dies down and the temperature goes up a
bit and snow starts to fall.
Tuesday, 6 am, 24 degrees
I go out the next morning around 6 am. There is 4 inches of snow on the ground and it
is still coming down. Bobbie has just delivered beautiful Prestur twins. Another ewe is in
labor. Some of the lambs have found a warm dry bed on top of their moms; others are
nestled under their chins and hot breath. But where are the rest of them? Then I see - and
all over the place are little humps in the snow. Now we would find chilled lambs. I hope
none are dead. I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I get out my thermometer and
start to check. I reach down to pick up the stiff and frozen body from the snow and as my
hand reaches around it’s belly it jumps and darts away. I jump back as startled as
the lamb as if I had just inadvertently grabbed hold of a rattlesnake. I laugh at my
reaction, seeing the dead come to life. I can’t find any chilled lambs, mostly I
can’t even catch them.
By Tuesday evening we have 60 live lambs. We have lost only two. I go back to my loom
and start a new project. I’ve got about 5 days until the next rush of lambs begin.
Weaving and waiting.
So how have these lambs done in the long run? Of the 60 live lambs we have lost only ONE
this summer! We have had plenty of other lamb losses this summer, but not from those early
born snow lambs. In the future, I definitely won’t be daunted by a little late winter
weather.
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