April 2013

As I write, all our ewes have lambed apart from one ‘maiden’ ewe (her first lambing) who apparently has decided that being in a nice clean dry shed getting two decent meals a day is a bit of a doddle, and the longer she can delay lambing puts off the day she will have to return to the field and start earning her keep!
Lambing has been a bit of a mixed bag this year, with some unexplained losses that we will need to investigate.

All started well early in the morning on 12 April, just 2 days after we brought the ewes in, with a lovely fit pair of lambs – both females, one weighing 4.2kgs, the other 4.6kgs – good weights for our Hampshire Downs and born without any assistance. The same evening, a single ram lamb – at 5.9kgs requiring a little help to hit the straw! Two days later, a nice ewe lamb at 5.7kgs to one of my favourite ewes (you’re allowed favourites in a small pedigree flock!), again with no help from me.

Another quiet two days, and then our first anomaly – a ewe scanned for triplets delivered just two lambs, but good sized at 5kgs for the ram lamb and 4.2kgs for the ewe lamb. Oh well, anyone can make a mistake, even our scanner! That same evening brought a cracking ewe lamb at 6kgs – so all in all, lambing was going pretty well – good weights and vigorous lambs. The rest of the week was quiet (ignoring the incessant ‘baas’ and answering ‘bleats’) until early morning of the 20^th, which delivered a lovely 5.4kgs ram lamb to another of our homebred maiden ewes.

Then, early on the morning of the 22^nd on my early morning rounds, I found one of our older ewes with two recently delivered, stillborn lambs – each still in the bag of amniotic fluid, indicating that they had neither struggled nor breathed. There was no sign of life. The ewe had scanned for triplets, and shortly she delivered the third, a small lamb, but just alive. I quickly cleared its airways, pumping air into its lungs. It really was a small lamb. Having got the ewe and her lamb into a pen, I took a closer look at the lamb: externally, it was perfect, but small. I put my finger in its mouth, which usually elicits a suck response, no response. I tried to stand it up, but it was like a rag-doll. I decided to tube it with its dam’s colostrum – I couldn’t bear to simply abandon it – and it perked up a bit, but was never going to be a viable lamb. It died later that night. The poor ewe was bereft.

These losses are not just ‘bad luck’, there’s always a reason. Possibly Schmallenberg? Perhaps Toxoplasmosis, which is caused by a protozoan organism similar to that which causes coccidiosis in lambs? We’ve never had ‘Toxo’ in our flock, but as it’s spread by cats that have eaten an infected rodent, it can appear in a previously uninfected flock without any warning. I thought it unlikely to be Enzootic abortion (EAE) as the signs of this are apparent in the placenta, and I always inspect the placenta of a newly lambed ewe – unless the ewe manages to eat it first; yucky but not uncommon!
The following day we had two deliveries: the first a very straightforward birth of a lovely ewe lamb who weighed in at a good strong 5.3kgs to one of our older ewes. Next, late in the evening (why are so many lambs born late at night or in the early hours of the morning – don’t they know we have ‘day jobs’ too!?) I spotted a ewe struggling to give birth. She was an experienced ewe, so I quickly scrubbed up, applied plenty of lubricant and had a quick look to see how she was doing – two front feet were just visible when she strained, but no sign of a nose (she’d scanned for a single lamb), so I thought best to leave her for 20 minutes to see if she could manage by herself. No progress. I investigated further: the head was far back and try as I might, I couldn’t position it forward of the pelvic bone. At this stage I ought to have employed the lambing ‘snare’ (or simple ropes) to secure the head … but it was late, I was tired and the ewe was getting increasingly restless. The lamb felt unusually ‘dry’, which can be a sign of a dead lamb, so I decided to follow my golden rule: if I can’t lamb a ewe within 10 minutes of trying, get expert help. The vet arrived shortly and, with ropes and a bit of a struggle, pulled a large 6.1kgs ram lamb – alive! The ewe was worn out and quite sore, so the vet gave her a painkiller and antibiotic. She needed a bit of ‘TLC’ for the next few days.

On day 10 into lambing the lark greeted the arrival of lamb number 15, a lovely healthy ewe lamb at 6.2kgs with no help from me. Then triplets the next day, to a ewe who had scanned for twins … and a stupid, spur of the moment decision from me. As the third, unexpected lamb arrived I thought of the ewe that had lost her lambs … why not foster this ‘bonus’ lamb onto her! The birth mother was so preoccupied with her first two lambs she barely noticed me slip the third away. I rubbed the sloppy, wet lamb on the adoptive ewe’s nose, and she immediately took to it – I checked her milk, and watched her loving her new lamb – success! It was only the following morning that I realised just how small this lamb was. The golden rule of fostering is to take the largest of the litter for adoption, it’s more likely to survive the stress, and the smaller lamb stands a better chance with its birth mother. I won’t go into the details of the intensive care this lamb received, but sad to say, it died quietly four days later.

Our last April lamb arrived on the 26^th, a beautiful set of triplets to a very attentive mother. At a combined weight of 11.7kgs, evenly distributed between the three, they were strong, healthy lambs.
We’re still waiting for our final ewe to deliver her twins, but, with a nice airy lambing shed, two feeds a day and ad lib hay, she seems in no hurry to take on the responsibilities of motherhood!



www.smallholderseries.co.uk