"The baby is stuck! The head is just hanging there! You have to save them Mama!" was the shout as my breathless son banged into the house. My crutches were shoved into my hands.
"We'll drive you into the field. I already have hot water and the first aid kit" FarmerBuckaroo said as I hopped out the backdoor. It's six weeks since I injured my foot but I'm always midwife to the animals on the homestead. Should the need arise. Off we went.
"The lamb's head is already swollen. Do you think it is dead?" One of the children asked tearfully. We didn't have problems during the drought. There was scant food for the sheep but since the return of the rains the complications associated with wet also returned. Our fat sheep sometimes struggle to birth their huge lambs. A couple times every lambing season I have had to turn and pull out babies. I love doing it. Unless we're too late and the lamb doesn't make it. As I crouched beside the exhausted ewe I saw a slight movement of the lamb's tongue. Just maybe.....
To spare the non-midwifery inclined readers any gagging reflex I will skip to the fact that we successfully delivered triplets! It is a thrilling experience and honour. The children checked on all the older lambs who were frolicking merrily in the chilly winter afternoon breeze.
We slowly made our way across the field to the bakkie. The end of the flowering aloes is a picture across our beautiful home sweet homestead. They're covered with bees and the hastily feeding sunbirds.
The horses, of course, barricaded my route. I haven't ridden them in nearly two months. Worse than that; I barely even come out to groom them and give them cuddles. Understandably they were unwilling to let me go without sufficient attention. And then; just like the newborn lambs, they kicked up their heels and thundered around and around, tossing their magnificent heads deliriously.