We are officially in orbit. It was a beautiful spring day, and after considering it all afternoon, Holly decided that it was time to start having her lambs around 7:30 pm. We had just gotten back from the Easter Vigil service, and we rushed into our barn clothes.
First one out—a ram lamb, of course. Holly's pasture mates, two of whom haven't been mothers yet, were quite interested, from a respectful distance. It is fascinating how they always give each other space in these moments. One of our key clues that a ewe is in labor is her solitary presence in a shed.
Though at one point they just had to get a little closer to check out the new arrival.
We waited and waited. It got darker, and we pulled out the lanterns my parents had just given the boys. Talk about a timely gift! She was outside in the shed, and we didn't want to interrupt her labor by taking her into the well-lit barn.
After some intense labor contractions, it became clear that things weren't progressing as they should and we realized we had to take action. And by we I mean the one person in our family with medical training: my poor husband.
It was a very difficult presentation. We still aren't quite sure just how mis-presented they were, but it took quite a bit of manipulation and plain-old-fashioned pulling to get them out. Poor Holly! Though I think in the end she was just grateful to be done with it. Look how deflated she looks!
Three in all. Two black rams and one white ewe, currently known as Larry, Moe and Shirley. In addition to being a great sheep OB, my husband is also a great one with the names.
After getting everyone settled, we staggered back into the house for a pizza dinner at 9:30 pm, only to find this most unwelcome sight:
The cake for tomorrow, which I had started earlier in the day when things were much calmer. I managed to pull together the boys' Easter baskets, but this cake will have to wait. I am thinking that cubes of unfrosted cake with toothpicks in them may be the way to go?