9:18am Tuesday 31st March 2009
By Country Girl
It’s lambing time across the nation and nowhere is this more true than in south Oxfordshire.
Spring has definitely sprung and so have the lambs; this season’s greatest celebrities.
Where do I start. . . their cuteness levels are definitely on par with Labrador puppies (but perhaps slightly below ducklings, but who cares.)
And there’s nothing woolly about the lambing yard either. From humble barn to full-on maternity unit, if you’re a pregnant sheep, rest assured, giving birth is a slick, well-oiled operation. Before you can say roast lamb you’re out the door and in the field. Job done. I hope the NHS is reading.
Did you know lambs can literally walk around within about five minutes of being born? Not bad for one of nature’s more stupid species. It took me about a year.
In our neck of the woods, some of the little loves have already graduated to the field. However, the constant bleating in unison for more than ten minutes at a time can be a touch grating. Roll on market day. Oh what the hell, I can’t moan. Look at their little faces. In our house roast lamb is off the menu till summer. Mother was once overheard saying there was something wrong opening up the mint sauce when she could see them hopping about in the field.
I did point out we live on a pig farm and eat bacon weekly.
I think she might be a closet vegetarian.
I feel sorry for the farmers though. Imagine dealing with several hundred heavily pregnant women all at once. It doesn’t bare thinking about.
Midwifery aside, spring is a beautiful time of year. I might even go as far to declare it my favourite season. No more mud up my work trousers on the way to the car in the morning. What more could an office chick want.
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