As we near the end of May, we’re finally approaching the end of lambing time here on the ranch. It’s a relief to have the end in sight – the last few weeks are the hardest time of the year and we’re looking forward to a little break in the action. Our lambs are born out on the range, day or night, rain or shine. As the flock moves on, the ewe stays behind with her little ones, so each morning and afternoon we go out to gather up the new mothers with their lambs and bring them in to the nursery pastures where our shepherd and guard dogs can keep watch over them.
One of the most remarkable things about lambs is their ability to get up and go. They look so tiny and helpless when they’re first born – and they are – with spindly, uncoordinated little legs that look as though they might not work at all. But give them a few minutes and they’ll be up wobbling about, trying to nurse. And in an hour they’ll be walking alongside their mothers, keeping up as best they can.
Those tiny lambs are born to move with the herd and they become strong and fast rapidly! Although they occasionally get hung up in taller grasses or high-centered on a sagebrush, lambs are nothing if not resilient and manage to make their own way, following their mama, over any terrain – even up steep rocky hills!
But those intrepid little legs do get tired and then any comfy place will do – a sunny spot out in the field or a grassy depression along the fence. Sometimes mama’s quest for the tastiest bits of grass leads her away from her little one’s napping place. But the anxious bleating from her lamb on waking will draw her back, answering the call with her own unique voice. A tender reunion, the chance to get a little milk in the belly, and they’ll be off, walking together again under the big wide New Mexico summer skies.
