Sorrows of a Shepherd- Lamb Death

"A man who carries a cat by the tail learns something he can learn in no other way."

Mark Twain 

There are experiences you gain living on a farm that would be hard to learn in their entirety any other way. The above quote from Mark Twain I used to describe how I felt after a lesson learned in the fall about eye care with sheep (which I will post here another day).
Let me take you back to last fall....
We put our ram in with our ewes in October and so we separated out the yearlings and put them in a different pen with a shared fence line. Well, of course, they got in with the ram. We thought perhaps we caught them in time before all the frisky business commenced. Thought....
I don't preg test our sheep. It didn't even cross my mind after the fence crawling escapade.

Last night at about 4 am I got woken up by a sheep bleating and bleating. Our little lambs sometimes wander. I laid in bed and contemplated getting up but it seemed to subside and I chalked it up to either a wandering lamb or Buttons (she is a very noisy ewe).  I went back to sleep.

This morning I sent our 5 year old to check to make sure all the lambs were in. She came back and reported that all was fine. She said that Jackie (a yearling) was "baaing" lots. I thought it was odd since she's typically quiet. I continued to cook breakfast. After breakfast and girls got off to school I decided to run out quick. Our baby is teething and he bumped himself so I spent a good amount of time rocking him until he settled enough for me to put him in his crib for a morning sleep.

Finally at 1030am I made it out to water everything and that's when I saw a little black lamb. Jackie was laying down beside him. I walked over- knowing before I even got close- that this little guy didn't make it. I didn't miss it by much. His little body was cool to the touch but he was still soft and hadn't even been fully cleaned. I looked for Jackie- who was a little perturbed but had gone down to eat. I scooped up the lamb and took him out thinking she had figured out that he was dead.

Do you want to know what one of the worst sounds on the planet is?

A mother who has lost her baby. Any mother of any baby.

My afternoon has consisted of the echoing bleats from the field and my own guilt/self-reflection (if we want to give guilt a positive spin)

It is inevitable that there is loss of life on a farm. I know that. Anyone who raises and takes care of any animal knows that. I feel so honored and humbled to watch (and help sometimes) a little life come into this world. I also feel the pain and humility when dealing with a loss.

I should of gone to check at 4am. I should of gone to check at 630. I should of just taken the baby out and gone to check at 830. It looks like it was still born but part of the sorrow of the shepherd is that I don't know 100%. I don't know if I could of helped. Will I lose sleep over this? Most likely. Will I go out and check at 4 am next time? Most likely. This changes me. This is an experience that I wish I didn't have but because of it I will be better for next time because there will be a next time.