Loss on the farm

 “It is a fearful thing to love what death can touch.” - Anonymous

Being surrounded by 50+ animals when I'm at the farm is a dream come true for a person like me. What more could an animal lover want? I get to play with sheep and lambs for a living! But then that little voice in my head speaks and and reminds me that no, my living is raising lambs for food. I'm raising these precious, intelligent little babies to be killed when they're only a few months old. That hits me hard and is something I have a very difficult time coping with.

Me with Ean

Over time, I've tried to ignore my discomfort and anxiety but I can't help to feel guilty about it. My husband I'm sure has seen it all. He has to load the lambs on the trailer for their overnight journey to the slaughterhouse, he's the one that has to see the fear in their eyes. He's had to drag the bodies of ewes and lambs up into our hill ground to bury them away from the rest of our livestock. He deals with the death aspect. I however have made it my job to deal with the suffering aspect, no matter how difficult is on me. I try my hardest to do everything in my ability to make sure I'm either nursing the sick ones back to life, or comforting them in their death. They don't have anyone else.

This year on the farm we have been quite lucky so far. In regards to lambing, this is the time of year where we have the most losses for the obvious reason that birth is a risky thing! We had 32 pregnant ewes this year, 28 one year old ewes (the lambs from last year who are too young for babies), and so far we have had 46 lambs born. Out of those numbers we've had one stillborn lamb, one lamb die of sickness 2 days after birth, and sadly one of our year old ewes has probably died up in the hill ground as she was one of our favorites and we have been unable to find her these past few days... cross your fingers for us that she's just been hiding!

One of his neck wounds

I've been a nurse to two adorable lambs so far this year, one of them I have named Ean (pronounced "Ian" but with an "A" sound for the "I") which is Irish for bird. He also has the nickname of Birdman and Scar-face. This poor little guy was attacked by a vicious Irish Gray Crow. The crows prey on the poor helpless lambs because they know they're not fast enough to get away. The crows are big enough to hold them down. It has to be a terrible death as the crows usually attack the eyes first so they can get into the brain. This little guy was very lucky though. I noticed him lying in the middle of the field one morning and I ran over to him thinking he was dead. The first thing I saw was blood on his head and neck and I knew he wasn't alive. I went to pick him up and I heard the saddest, softest little bleat. He wasn't strong enough to stand on his own, he had gashes in his neck, cheek, ear and shoulder, so deep that you could see muscle. We did everything we could for him. I washed out his wounds and put a thick medicinal tar all over his cuts. I milked his mom and fed him with a syringe. I also mixed some brandy into a bit of the milk as he was only a day old and was too young for pain killers. Brandy not only helps with the pain but it also warms them up. Then I made him a bed out of a cardboard box and loaded it with clean hay. I took him with me into our little stone shed and pet him while he slept. I didn't think he had much of a chance as he was unable to stand, let alone walk, and as the day went on his breathing became noticeably raspy. I couldn't leave his side though because I couldn't let him die alone. Somehow my little man made it though the night and the next day he was able to stand a take a few steps. You could tell he was in pain because he hung his head very low and was unable to stretch his head up to drink from his mom (he also wasn't able to walk enough to keep up with her and his sister). So the second day I still had to syringe feed him. He also got a shot of antibiotics. In the following days Birdman gained a lot of strength back, he was able to follow after his mom and sister for pretty good distances, he didn't seem to be in as much pain as he could stretch his neck a bit higher, and he definitely seemed happier! Today, we don't have to feed him anymore because he can now drink from his mom. We still keep an eye on his wounds and continue to cover them in tar to keep infection out, but he is doing so well and is a happy, bouncy lamb! He's very friendly with me as well since he was so used to me taking care of him. He'll come over to me and let me hold him for as long as I want and he'll just lay in my arms and sleep. Birdman is very cute as well as he has a bit of a unique look due to his past injuries... his ear is very floppy and he still holds his head a bit sideways!

I'm all better now! I'm also pretty cute!

The little one I delivered, just a day old

The one lamb death we had this year was difficult for me. This was a lamb that I delivered completely on my own. My husband was on the complete opposite side of the farm and I was the only one around during the birth. Once I saw the two feet and the tip of the lamb's nose were out, I helped her along and pulled the lamb out during her mom's contractions. As many times I see it, birth on the farm will never get old. It amazes me every single time. This birth in particular however was very special to me as I was quite proud of myself for handling it all on my own! After her mom gave birth however (to twins), we discovered that her udder was dry on one side. We started milking another ewe who only had a single lamb to get extra milk for this little one, but unfortunately the lamb I delivered passed away rather unexpectedly two days later. We suspect it is because she just didn't get enough of her mom's first milk. Like humans, the first bit of milk called colostrum or beesting milk is the most important for the newborns to drink as it contains antibodies that help to protect the babies against disease. "Colostrum is crucial for newborn farm animals. They receive no passive transfer of immunity via the placenta before birth, so any antibodies that they need have to be ingested...The newborn animal must receive colostrum within 6 hours of being born for maximal transfer of antibodies to occur" (Wikipedia). Sadly though even through our efforts of feeding her extra milk, she just wasn't strong enough. Her death really got to me. I luckily wasn't at the farm on the day she died as she passed away during the night and was found already dead that morning. If I would have been there I probably would have been the one to discover her and I'm sure that would have made it even more difficult.

Right after delivery!

Everyone says that as time goes on I will learn to dissociate myself from what I am seeing, doing, and experiencing on the farm. I however don't believe that's true, and as painful as it is, I don't want to be someone who dissociates those feelings. That's just not who I am. I will continue to be the "farm nurse" if you will. And if I can save a few lives or even just comfort those whom I can't save, then I hope I am doing some good in the world. I still refuse to take part in sending the lambs off to the butcher and I try my hardest to not get attached to any of the male lambs because I know they'll be gone in a few short months. That is the only way I know how to shield myself from the pain of losing them. So I will continue to be a sheep farmer's wife, a farm nurse, and a huge animal lover, despite the heartache involved. I nurse them, my farmer husband is a vegetarian, and I never have and never will eat lamb. It's the little things...