Life in the Lambing Shed: A LightHearted Dispatch From the Front Lines

Lambing season is well underway at Oakford Farm.

Lambing season has a certain… energy about it. Some call it magical. Some call it

chaotic. Most farmers call it “powered by coffee (or tea) and blind optimism.” Here’s a little

window into what life actually looks like during those long spring weeks.

Lambs are expert climbers, clambering over everything in sight.

Give them five minutes and they’ll be:

- On top of the straw bales

- On top of the hurdles

- On top of their mother

- Somehow on top of you if you crouch down long enough

You can see the lambs climbing over their mothers, and looking for attention while mum tries to get some well needed rest. Every ewe has her own personality, but lambing season brings out the divas.

You’ve got:

- The Shouty One, who announces labour to the entire parish

- The Escapee, who always thinks the grass is greener in the next pen

- The Helicopter Mum, who thinks every human within ten metres is a security threat

- The Surprisingly Chill One, who behaves like she’s in a spa and lets you get on with it

And then there’s the ewe who pretends she absolutely does not care about her lamb… until you try to pick it up. Then suddenly she is very invested. Opinions:

strong. Boundaries: inconsistent.

Sleep deprivation hits its peak around week two. By then, farmers are held upright

largely by muscle memory and stubbornness.

Side effects may include:

- Putting your foot in the water bucket

- Forgetting what day it is (or your own name)

- Having entire conversations with a ewe before realising she has walked away

- Drinking cold tea and calling it “fine, actually”

- Laughing far too hard at things that aren’t funny

But ask any farmer why they do it, and they’ll point at a newborn lamb wobbling to its feet for the first time. Or a ewe quietly talking to her twins. Or the sun rising over the yard after a long night.

Those tiny moments make the tiredness worth it.

(…Mostly.)