Sadness

About 5:30 this evening I went out to feed the sheep. One of them had afterbirth stringing out behind her. Since she was with the flock, and not sequestered with her lambs, that wasn't a good omen.

I scanned the pasture and saw the white blob. With a bit of optimism, based on my happy experience with Monday's white blob, I hurried out to rescue it.

I arrived. And there were two perfect, but dead lambs . . . a male and a female. Absolutely beautiful . . .absolutely dead. I shook them. I swung them around as a sheep farmer told me to do. I felt them trying to find a heartbeat. They were very cold even though they couldn't have been more than 45 minutes old based on the progression of the afterbirth.

Then I surprised myself and picked them up, held them to my chest and carried them into the house. With the previous dead lambs I made the Husband come out and get them so I wouldn't have to look at them; but I guess I'm getting hard-hearted.

The husband heeded my call, tore himself away from his work, and was a bit taken aback to see me standing in the foyer clutching the two dead lambs. He retreived a garbage bag. I put them in. The Husband said, "did that one just move?'" My hopes revived. The Husband manipulated the lambs. Tried to feel for a heartbeat. "No, they're dead," he confirmed.

"Maybe I should soak them in hot water. I read somewhere that that can sometimes revive them," I said.

"Not unless you want soup," the Husband replied as he tied up the garbage bag.

As the sun went down, the bereaved mother wandered away from the flock to the birth site and stood there yelling.

I feel sick.