Mama, the mother ewe, has had a bad few days..

And has miscarried.

She had slowed down in the last few days.  And I was cycling through the usual Mama remedies.  But then her condition began to really worry me so I separated her from the others. Though she had been standing alone anyway. 

She was coerced into the barn then lay down on her side apparently in labour and stayed there. She expelled one small fetus about 4pm.  Her ears were cold by 5 pm, and she was very low even though I could feel no more babies in there. I fed her honey and warm water with a syringe every hour or so, with aspirin as well, trying to keep her strength up so she could heal herself. There is a possibility that I brought her in at the end of her episode and she had already slipped the other fetus’s in the field. It was very, very small.  I do hope there are no more in there otherwise her prognosis is grave.

I gave her a shot of antibiotics. You may think it strange to fight so hard for the life of a sheep.  But Mama and I have an unusual connection. She did not much like people,  having been locked in a horse stall for most of her life before I found her. It took her a whole year before I was allowed to even scratch her head.  One time when I was helping her give birth and clean her babies (she always had four at a time) she went from cleaning a lambs head to cleaning my head as I bent to dry another. It was a most curious feeling of contentment being totally accepted into her wooly circle. I have told you that story before but it made a deep impression on me.  Both of us working together through the night to keep her babies alive (she had way too many too fast to do it  by herself).  She has never had any trouble with a pregnancy before.

Even last night I could hold Mamas head under my arm and feed her her fluids. Mama was not a pet, she worked hard for her rights as the top sheep on the farm. The thought of her dying just as I decided to move Hairy MacLairy to a bigger farm is a cruel irony.  They were quite the pair for four good years.

Here are a couple of  old shots of her with one of her lambs. She was like The Big Dog, she never much liked the eye of the camera being pointed at her.

My first reaction was to give her a big bucket of warm water with a cup of molasses dissolved through it.  She drank about half it. Then the honey and aspirin. In case  her condition was caused by toxemia, or hypocalcemia – a calcium deficiency  (though I cannot imagine how, as that is diet related and the sheep are on the good alfalfa hay.) I  gave her  Tums, the pills for upset stomachs, they  have 500 mg of calcium in each tablet, so I gave her two, once she realised they were cherry flavoured she just chewed them right up. She got these and the honey and water (squirted straight into her mouth) through the evening  and the night, until she had taken eight Tums.  Then just fluids all night, with her mineral salt close by. She began to stand back up by 9pm.

By 1am. she was resting in a normal way and there was evidence of some eating.

In the early hours of this morning I checked every few hours and gave her her drinks, she had shifted each time,  but was in a comfortable position but with her head up and no longer flat out and crying.

However we must remember that if she has failed to expel the last of the muddle in her womb – though she is looking better this morning, she will sicken.

We will see how today progresses.  If she is still doing alright Monday I will call the vet first thing to get an injection just to make sure she really has cleaned.

Poor old Mama.

Your friend on the farmy

celi