Circle M Farm

Yesterday morning when I went to the front pasture to sprinkle some grain on the snow, I was greeted with the familiar stampede of sheep running toward me, the crush of warm fluffy bodies around my knees and the low baaaing of their impatient search for the sweet treat being trampled underfoot. But the normal hullabaloo was followed by a darling surprise – the two tiny voices of two tiny lambs frantically straggling after the herd and bleating like crazy for their suddenly absent mama. Hooray and welcome to the first Circle M babies of 2010!

As soon as I heard their cries, I immediately ran to scoop the little ones up before they barreled into the melee of 30 large bodies atop sharp indiscriminate hooves. I only feed my sheep grain in the winter, and then only a little. They love the taste and will become tame as kittens for the time I’ve got them in their winter paddock, which makes them easier to handle come spring lambing and shearing time. But they are positively wild about getting their daily nibble, and whichever sheep happened to be their mom was certainly going to do nothing to shield them while she was grabbing her portion. The fluffy all-white twins continued to call and squirm in my arms while I up-ended and checked them out: two little ewes, perfectly formed and apparently healthy, nicely cleaned off by whatever ewe birthed them, and possessed of nicely-nibbled-off, still damp and bloody umbilical cords. I judged them to be about an hour old.

The grain disappeared within minutes, and I held the lambs bawling near the ground to see who’d come for them. Giant fluffy Petunia, a first-time mom, nickered a gentle answer to their high-pitched cries and separated herself from the group. When I set the twins down, they ran to her voice and promptly tucked their heads under her tummy, searching for her swelling udder. Still loosely bonded, the babies were distracted by every other sheep that walked by and kept toddling off on their impossibly long, skinny legs to follow new footsteps. Patient Petunia called them back each time they strayed, and soon the group will be absolutely inseparable. She seems to be a very good mother.

Nevertheless, this is a bit of a dangerous stage for little confused lambs among a herd, so I’ve corralled the young family into a pen of their own for now. Taking the new babies as hopeful harbingers of the spring to come, I named them for early flowers: Violet and Sweet Pea. But later that afternoon, my daughter Maggie was babysitting and offered her young charge the opportunity to name them. I certainly couldn’t deny our eager visitor, so I kept my lips sealed while she dubbed them Lacy and Macy. Wonderful!