I am struggling to write this post, and have started it twice now, I know that when we choose to write and share parts or glimpe’s into our lives in this way, its just that.. moments in time written up and shared.
Lets face it, its alot easier to share the good parts, the interesting parts, even the thought filled parts and we all love the funny parts but what about the painful or sad parts.. to share or not.. that is the rub..
I have been writing about the joy’s of my new lambs, and so I guess its only fair to write about the risk’s an sorrow that can come as well. This morning I went to the barn as normal, and was greeted with baa’s , baby bleats, grunting piggy and a moo’in calf.. only one issue, there was no second baby bleating from its jug.. at first this was not much of a worry,they can be sleeping well and not wake up right away, last check at ten pm, showed me a up and nursing little one snug in the jug with a attached mom.
However the mother didn’t come to the front of the pen to greet me and the fresh hay, grain and warm water, now that is odd, and she is standing over her baby all protective, who is still.. after I went in and checked, sadly he had passed away sometime between last night check and morning chores, and I feel the sting of tears in my eyes that I have somehow failed this little one, even as my head tells me, I have not, he has a safe warm draft free jug, a attached mom with milk, and two feet thick of warm clean bedding.. somehow that does not stop the flow of angry that comes at the loss of the beginning of a new life that has been cut way to short.. I will never see this little one bop or come running to see what I am bringing.
I walk away for a bit, I need time to get my head around it, I check everyone else, I feed, I watered, I patted and rubbed and milk my ewe, and I haul my sled down and do all the rest of the chores, in and out, hauling more water.. check all the critters one by one.
Finally, I put it off no longer, I need to do something with this little one, and I am saying right now, Do not read the rest if butchering bother’s you.. stop now..
I skin and butcher the lamb, the meat an bones will go to the hounds, the hide comes into the house, I clean it, salt it, roll it and freeze it for tanning at a later point.
Do I own up to the fact that I felt that sting of tears again while I did that hide, well I did. Did it stop me from making the choice to follow my rule of waste NOTHING, no it didn’t but sometimes that choice hurts to follow though on.
Just another Day on the Farm 
You can tell this post was very hard for you. I am sorry to hear you lost one of your new lambs. You are in my thoughts.
I am so sorry for the pain you are feeling. Life & death on the farm are never to be taken for granted. Life is a miracle to be sure, and death is a natural part of life. A family member once said concerning death, “no matter how long we never, it’s always too short.” You are in my thoughts and prayers today. You did the right thing….don’t try to out guess yourself today. Rest in knowing that you are a good shepherd and your sheep know you and trust you.
There are worse ways to go then next to an attached mama in a nice warm barn, so it sounds to me like you provided everything possible for the little one. I do NOT mean that to dismiss the shock and loss, but when a baby is destined to die, I think it should do so next to its mama. I do think that that must have been an awful thing to get up to, and I’m sorry.
As I was reading, I was wondering what you did with the lamb. I’m happy that you chose to respect the animal in the way that you did. I’m sure you’ll treasure whatever you make.
There is no where else that life and death is so clearly defined as on the farm and especially birthing time.In just a blink the decision is made and there is usually not much we can do about it.I remember watching Grandma babying all the runts and I still think they meant more to her than the healthy because she had put some of herself into each of them,you are so much like your grandparents that I am sometimes amazed. That is a GOOD THING, love mom
my friend, I share tears with you. He was a cute little bugger that was not meant to be here for long. Every life on earth comes into our lives for a reason and serves a purpose. You did the right thing.
Hello Ladies
thank you so much for your kind and thoughtful words, It meant a lot to me to be able to read them, and I am glad that I decided to share what had happened.
That’s tough. I admire that you were able to do that. I’m not tough enough for lambs…
Some years its perfect, not a single lost lamb, everyone is good, some years its not so good.. but you try hard to roll with the punches.
I know. Every year this time, I start to worry. I try to expect the best, but it’s like the lottery. You never know when, but eventually everybody gets their turn…