They both died last night. The little ewe lamb died around 9:30, the ram lamb after 12:30. This morning it took us a bit to get ourselves together to deal with them. I put them in my wagon, cradled in towels and pulled the wagon in the sheep lot. Sheepalicious sniffed her babies, baa-baaing softly, urging them to get up. We lost it. Both of us cried out our grief for the lambs that never got to live, the ewe in her confusion and grief. We both kept apologizing to her, she would look at us expectantly like she wanted us to do something. The others crowded around sniffing the lambs carefully, walked away, but stayed in the lot. Surprisingly, Prince, the ram stayed by the wagon and Sheepalicious. He stood next to me while I sat on a milk crate and cried. We stayed with the sheep for over an hour while they grieved. Finally they all left the lot. Sheepalicious walked away, coming back several times baa-baaing to her lambs, sniffing them again and again. She finally left the lot and went to the round hay bale with the others.
My husband had gone ahead and dug the hole to bury them. We wrapped them up, lowered them in the hole and covered them up, both of us sniffling. We wiped a lot of tears and our runny noses on our jacket sleeves. I need to wash them now.
The dogs had their moments with the lambs. Paris was in the lot through the grieving process, she was more about comforting us. Last night while I held them Parker kept coming up and licking them, trying to help. Trip stayed next to the lot fence from the moment we moved mom and babies in it and he stayed next to the fence last night.
For all the hurt, for all the pain of loss, for all the grief and sadness, it is well worth it. The joy of birth and life far overshadows the sadness of death.