Skip to Content Skip to Navigation

Zoe Mulford: Postcards (Blog)

Lambs (Click Header for Full Entry)

Posted on February 24, 2010 with 0 comments


It is lambing season. City-dwellers can be reminded of this by tuning in to The Archers, where even during Phil Archer’s funeral, someone needed to be on duty in the lambing shed.

Anytime I leave the city, I see sheep. Out the windows of trains or buses, up close and personal on country hikes, sheep are a feature of the landscape and always a pleasure to watch (except for the occasional dead one encountered while walking, decomposing into wooly wreckage on the hillside) The lambs, however, are the stars of the show.

They run around in packs, bounce with all four feet off the ground, and overturn water troughs just so they can jump over them. When they are tired, they collapse together in little fuzzy piles or climb on their mothers’ backs and lounge across them like sofas.

Like deer, they initiate suckling by nosing vigorously upward under their mothers’ udders. As they nurse, their little tails - long and fluffy until they are docked - waggle in ecstasy.