Aside from the fact that she was enormous and her udders were firmer, Peach gave no sign that she would quit being pregnant anytime soon. This waiting made Briana increasingly nervous. She carried the baby monitor everywhere, checking in on Peach as she did the dishes, folded laundry, or taught the daily homeschool lessons. A week had passed since the birth of Liberty and Independence, and Peach was still happily pregnant.
Watching Peach Wait
Over the weekend, Briana reached out to a friend with years of experience in lambing. After examining Peach through photos we sent along, our friend told us not to worry. Peach would lamb when she was ready. This didn’t ease our impatience, but it was comforting to know that Peach was exactly where she was supposed to be.
“They should change the phrase to ‘a watched sheep never pops,’” Briana said grumpily one morning before she had had her coffee.
We had been approaching two weeks since the birth of our first lambs, Libby and Penny, and Briana was increasingly on edge concerning Peach. This was not without good reason. The longer she remained pregnant, the greater the chance that the lambs could grow too large for Peach to birth successfully. If this were the case, our vet would need to be called in to perform a cesarean section.
This thought wasn’t far from my mind when I entered the barn on a hot Tuesday in early May. Briana was on an errand to the feed store, and I went to check on the sheep during a break from writing. The barn was sweltering, and Peach was breathing heavier than the other sheep. Thinking this was finally it, I moved her into a lambing stall and called Briana. I told her to hurry home because Peach was finally going to lamb. But this was hasty.
Peach was certainly less vivacious than she had been over the past week, but she still wasn’t showing signs of active labor. This didn’t stop us from being glued to the baby monitor, which the kids now called “Sheep TV.” We went to bed with the monitor tuned to the birthing channel.
Wednesday dawned. Briana and my stepdaughter set off early for rehearsal with our homeschool Shakespeare group, and I was in the middle of making breakfast for the younger kids when my parents arrived for their weekly visit.
“How’s Peach?” my mom asked.
I reached for the monitor.
“Still no lamb—nope!” I said.
As the screen illuminated, I saw Peach bending over a small shape.
When the Barn Finally Erupted With Lambs
I rang Briana immediately and ran for the barn. The other sheep had gathered along the fence and were bleating loudly at my dad, who had been standing there watching.
“I think they’re trying to tell me something,” he said as I ran past.
A shout of “lambs!” was all that escaped my mouth as I vaulted the fence and dove into the barn. The kids were hot on my heels. A truly beautiful sight greeted us. Peach had given birth to two lambs: a stunning ewe with mottled black and white markings and a brilliant white ram.
When I finally got through to Briana on the phone, she was simultaneously thrilled and furious with Peach. The irony was not lost on us. We had been helicoptering this sheep for nearly two weeks, and she had waited to lamb until our backs were turned. And for all our fussing, Peach had given birth with no complications. It was an amazing lesson in trusting our ewe’s no-nonsense instincts over our freshman impatience.
So over the course of two weeks, our flock doubled, and the baby monitor got more exercise than it had in years. Keeping with our America’s 250th anniversary theme, we named our new ewe Betsy and our ram Knox. I’ll leave it to you, history buffs, to figure out who they’re named after. We’ll be over here watching these adorable babies bop around the homestead.
Notes from Owl Hill is a homesteading column written by longtime Epoch Times lifestyle and features writer Ryan Cashman. Follow along as he and his family tap maple trees, plant gardens, tends to a growing flock of sheep, fix up their historic farmhouse, and ruminate on the challenges and rewards of homesteading on a small, rocky hillside in rural New Hampshire.
