Ram Lamb

Phil came in this morning with greater concern about the ram lamb. He hadn’t stood up since the first day; he lay, curled up, shivering, under the heat lamp, with dull eyes and lack of interest.

When I went out to see him, I had little hope for his survival. I was sure that the title for today’s events would be: “Ram Lamb: December 18 to 22, 2009.”

But instead, today became “diagnose the ram lamb” day. First guess: selenium and Vitamin E deficiency (it fit the dull eyes and the shivering). I had both the mineral and the vitamin for human consumption: how to deliver it to the lamb?

Well, I had purchased a drench, which looks like a syringe with a rounded metal tip. It is meant to deliver dewormers or other chemicals into the sheep’s mouth, but I hadn’t purchased anything to use with it. In fact, when I unpacked the box, my first thought was, “Why on earth did I order this?” But the drench was the perfect tool for delivering the vitamin and mineral to the lamb.

A bit later, we used the drench again. This time, we gave the baby all the colostrum I had milked out of Ashley that first day. Perhaps he was simply unable to nurse for a time and became dehydrated. And after he had eaten all of it (about two drenches worth), he stood up for, perhaps, the first time in a couple days. So that was good, but not great.

The book said that dehydrated lambs need an enema, in order to clear out their meconium, the tarry poop from their time in utero. What an adventure! From lambing to enemas in just a few days. Or, as my sister said, “It’s amazing the things you can learn from books!” I got my soapy water all ready, but, I’m embarrassed to admit, was unable to locate the small anus. In fact, I am even more embarrassed to admit, I worried about an extra hole that should be there. It looked like a slit, that was maybe peeing? But shouldn’t pee come from the penis?

I had Phil come and look, and he was clueless, too. At this point, the ram has two fuzzy fingers dangling from his underbelly, identical in size and shape. Our guess is that one is his penis and the other his not-quite-all descended testicles.

All I can say is, it’s a good thing we didn’t try to castrate yet. (!) And I cannot report the results of the lamb enema, because that didn’t happen either. Probably just as well.

The next round of save-the-ram-lamb required the other thing I had no idea why I ordered: a sheep halter. We put it on Ashley and Phil held her while I milked her. A few more drenches of fresh milk went to the baby, and by now, he was standing up regularly. He still refused to nurse, and he still shook, but his back was not so hunched.

An hour or so later, we gave him another drench of mother’s milk. I figured, though, that this was the end. His sister was out frolicking in the snow with the larger sheep. He lay under the heat lamp with chickens crawling all over him (I’m assuming they were ecstatic to have found their missing heat lamp, because they did not want to leave). I went out to pick up his carcass a bit later, and found him walking around the jug with a babydoll.

Is the ram lamb in the clear? I have no idea.

What went wrong? I’m not sure. Shock from the early and incorrect tail docking. Then he got stuck at some point overnight in the pallet. It could be that that second night he was stuck for hours, unable to nurse, and oozing blood from his tail. That was also the night that the heat lamp—and all our electricity—went out. So the next morning, Phil and I were focused on our children, and getting us all to safe and warm quarters. When Phil checked on the lamb, he didn’t know about the hunched back symptom of shock or hypothermia, and I didn’t pay enough attention to look.

So although the lamb may yet die, I no longer feel like I would be a tail-docking murderess. I can see that the ram had a lot of strikes against him, from horrible weather during birth to inexperienced shepherds every step of the way, and that he’s made it this far is the grace of God.

This afternoon, Phil made Isaiah a lofted bed above my dresser. My old pastor’s wife Alona once said, “For spatial management, think UP,” and we have just about perfected that advice. Tonight it will be just Phil and I, Jonadab, the dog and the cat in our full size bed. What luxury!