04/15/2026
During the lambing window, this shepherd HATES leaving the farm. Events, however, occur that make it necessary. Before heading out, I do a full walk-around—checking the ewes and giving strict instructions that nothing is to happen for the next four hours.
Thankfully, everyone was obedient. When I returned, however, Long Rifle Farm Cinna gave me that look—it was time.
We settled in the pasture by the pond, listening to the frogs. She stretched while I replayed conversations from the outing. Suddenly, Cinna over-rotated and got stuck on her back with that big baby belly. Sheep can die from this. I jumped up and gave her a solid push. She rolled back over—crisis averted.
With all the excitement, I figured the birthing process would take a bit, so I left to clean the lambing pens. About 90 minutes later, I checked back. Yep—she needed help. One foot and a nose were present. I began to assist and quickly concluded the lamb’s head looked large, so I assumed a ram lamb. Nope—just a big girl. A little assistance and a lot of tissue stretching, and out she came.
After wiping down the lamb a bit and saw that mom had everything under control, I went back to prepping the pen so I could bring them in for the night. After an hour with no more contractions, I assumed Cinna had a single—common for a first-timer, though not typical for my farm. I picked up the lamb and slowly coerced mom into the shed to get them out of the wind and rain.
I noticed Cinna’s udder was GINORMOUS. With only one lamb, I tried grafting an unwanted lamb. Not a chance—she wasn’t having it, despite a couple tricks up my sleeve.
So I got her some power punch tea, hay, and went to feed the rest of the animals.
Two hours later, I checked again—and there mom was, cleaning up a newborn ram lamb. An unassisted second birth.
Wow. I did a happy dance… then left her alone to enjoy motherhood.