In an entry last week, I mentioned that my husband Bill was a bit woebegone after we moved our three bottle-fed lambs from his studio into the barn with the rest of the flock.
Some of you may recall our Christmas Eve rescue of Togo, who we almost gave up for dead when he was born outside in the cold and damp. He was joined in the little pen we set up in Bill’s studio first by Wendy, who was a triplet with bent-back hooves rejected by her mother, and then by Ice T (born in an ice storm but now called Norm because he had no disabilities) who was also rejected by his mother.
I took these photos yesterday to show you how far along the three have come (note: thanks to Bill for tuning up these photos for publication):
The three lambs come running whenever one of us shows up at the pasture gate or inside the barn. We’re still bottle-feeding them electrolytes a few times a day, but they love their second-cut hay, too.
Okay, I’m going to try to control myself from sharing lamb photos for at least another six months or y’all will be accusing me of being worse than a grandmother with a wallet full of grandchildren photos.