Reading the weather report my mind goes to the things that will be frozen and immobile: the truck, the paddock water hydrant, possibly the apartment pipes. However so far I’ve brought all the animals safely through this cold. Knock wood.
Every morning I heat a bottle of milk replacer and put it in my pocket. As my records have run out, I have no idea when (or even if) any more lambs will be born. With the sheep still in full fleece, their udders are invisible. Nothing will be clear until shearing. I saw more breedings, but I saw Georgie bred to be due two weeks ago, and that was a bust. So at this point I simply try to be prepared for anything when I get to the barn.
After I check everyone and find no new developments, I still have the bottle under my jacket. I bring it out and offer it to the newest babies. These youngest lambs remember the red-nippled bottle and they rush for a warm snack.
Powdered lamb milk replacer tastes terrible — nothing like real milk. (Yes, of course I’ve tasted it. If a nipple becomes plugged and a newborn is nursing to no avail, without a thought I pop the teat in my mouth and suck to clear it, then pop it back in the mouth of the lamb. There are a lot of things I worry about in life, but not lamb germs.) The lambs love the replacer just as back in the 1970s I loved TAB. Who cares what it tastes like!
There is a lot of jostling and sucking on my fingers. All I have to do is rotate the bottle among the greedy mouths.
Everyone gets a couple of ounces and then treats are over for another day.