In the dark middle of a night, Farmer Amy woke up with a feeling of, “Go outside! It’s time!” So she dressed in warm clothes and made of a flask of hot tea and took a headlamp and went outside to the sheep pen to see what was happening.
Bella the ewe was restless. She was very pregnant. She looked enormous in the beam of the headlamp.
Bella’s ancestors came from Iceland and from l’Isle de Ouessant, in France. These are cold, wet, stormy places but Bella lived in California. It was midspring that night, dry and not too cold, and the stars were shining bright.
She was resting on the ground, lying down, and every so often her whole body would move with a labor contraction.
Sometimes she would stretch her neck and tilt her head upward, straining. This meant that her baby was getting ready to come up into the world, and Bella was helping the baby to come.
Bella grunted and ground her teeth in pain. Farmer Amy encouraged her. “Good job, Bella! Your baby is coming!”
Bella appreciated the farmer’s company and her voice. At times like this, mothers-to-be need some comfort.
Bella got up; Bella laid down.
Farmer Amy drank some tea. The stars moved overhead. The Earth turned. The sky began to turn light.
Bella got up; Bella laid down. Bella ground her teeth and grunted. Bella was laboring hard, focused inside on her baby.
Then, Farmer Amy saw something peeking out from Bella—the tips of little hooves. It was happening! Bella pushed and grunted. With every push, the tips showed themselves more, then slid back inwards.
Then came a face!
“Your baby is here Bella! Your baby is here!” cried Farmer Amy.
Bella pushed and out came a glistening sack with a black lamb inside.
He was solid and strong and radiantly healthy. Farmer Amy pulled the sack away from his nose and lips and he started breathing air.
Bella nickered. He heard her voice and leaned toward her, his eyes still closed, the sack still around his shoulders and his body.
This lamb was not Miss Winifred Stout.
Farmer Amy wondered why Bella was not getting up to lick this lamb when suddenly, plop, in a little wave of wetness, out came a second lamb!
This lamb was bony, thin, and covered in baby poop. She was not in her sack (it must have broken during labor). Her face looked exhausted and haggard. “Help me!” her eyes begged.
Farmer Amy cried, “Bella! You have two babies! Two beautiful babies!” But Bella was not listening. She was licking the first lamb dry, nickering to him. Bella was in love with her little boy.
Farmer Amy waited and waited, then dried off the girl lamb with towels. She ran to the barn and fetched some dried colustrum, mixed it in a bottle with warm water, and fed the girl lamb. She could drink only a few drops; she shivered; she could not stand up.
Farmer Amy stayed with Bella and the new lambs. Farmer Peter set up a heat lamp; the babies loved the warmth.
The girl lamb’s eyes were running sticky goo. Once she managed to stand up she was unable to walk properly, dragging her front feet.
All day, Farmer Amy tried to get the girl lamb some of Bella’s milk. The girl lamb would limp over to her momma and start to eat at Bella’s teat, and Bella would walk away. Farmer Amy was angry at Bella, but Bella did not care.
The boy lamb butted and slammed the girl lamb against the wall. She cried out and tried to run away, but could not move and collapsed to the ground as he beat her. Bella watched and did nothing to stop it.
Farmer Amy said loudly, “That’s enough!” She put Bella and the boy lamb into another pen. She called the veterinarian.
He came to visit and gave the girl lamb a shot. He told the farmer to keep feeding her with the bottle.
Farmer Amy cared for and fed the girl lamb six times a day, gradually increasing the amount of milk. Aunty Zadie Doula sheep moved in with Winnifred, so that she was not alone.
Sometimes the girl lamb opened her mouth but no sound came out; she did not have enough strength to speak. Farmer Amy named the girl lamb Winnifred, which means “white wave.”
The veterinarian came back and gave the girl lamb another shot. This time, he looked closely at her eyes. He said that while she was inside Bella, she had suffered because of where she was located, all the way at the tip of the horn of the uterus. There were not many blood vessels in that tiny spot to feed her growing body; her twin brother had taken up almost all the space. She had been weak and ill inside her mother. Her eyes had rolled back in her head, and the little hairs on her eyelids had scratched her eyeballs, so she was having trouble seeing now. The veterinarian said this vitamin shot would help her eyes to heal.
About her legs, he couldn’t say much. Would they heal? “Time will tell. We will see.“
With every bottle, the farmer talked with Winnifred, who wagged her tail and listened carefully. Farmer Amy told her, “Winnifred! Your legs are straight and strong! Your eyes are bright and clear!”
Farmer Amy named the boy lamb Ethan, which means “strong.” He is frisky and healthy and full of delight. He has a white patch on the top of his head and is a deep black color all over.
Winnifred is white, with a rust colored patch on the back of her neck, just like her momma and her daddy, Hercules.
She loves to eat and to be petted and rubbed, and is not bony any more. Her fleece is soft and glossy; her body is strong and rounded. One day Farmer Amy said, “Your name is Miss Winnifred Stout!”
Now if the bottle is late, Miss Winnifred Stout cries out loudly, “Mama Amy! Come feed me my milk!” She eats alfalfa hay and lamb pellets and drinks her milk morning and night. She runs up and down the hillside, moving perfectly, playing with her half-sister Beth and her aunties Zadie Doula and Tabitha, watched over by Pearl, a Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog.
They visit across the fence with Ethan, Bella, and the rest of the sheep.
They visit across the other fence with the chickens.
When Miss Winnifred Stout is older she and her little flock will rejoin the larger flock. She will visit paddocks of grass and broad-leaved forbs and shade trees. She will help in the work of the flock bringing life back to the land. People will make warm clothes and hats and beautiful art from her lustrous fleece, and just like human hair, her fleece will grow back again after being cut. Her whole life lies ahead of her now; she’s arrived.
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