little lamb

on the first night of the last time i visited the farm it was so cold that a couple of the newborn lambs didn’t make it to the morning. j brought one that was barely holding on into the bathroom next to the garage. when he let n know, she said, exasperated ‘again?’ he grunted. ‘do you want me to take a look?’ j grunted again and headed to the living room.

i had never seen a baby lamb before. i poked my head in and saw the little thing laying on the bath mat, its eyes barely open. i gathered its knobbly limbs into my arms, and tucked its cold snout into my vest. it let out a bleating cry so sharp and loud i almost dropped it. when i asked what needed to be done, n said something about needing a heat lamp and colostrum, a type of milk supplement.

meanwhile, the family was making breakfast crepes in the kitchen. n scrambled eggs. fried sausages and made mimosas. j didn’t have any — he sat in front of the television lengthwise on the couch watching fox news and eating cheese puffs. meanwhile i sat in the bathroom holding the lamb ignoring my hunger pangs, both wondering why no one was coming with a heat lamp and thinking they know something i didn’t.

when i finally lay the lamb down and came in for some breakfast, asking casually about how to find a heat lamp, m laid a hand on my arm. ‘you’re -there- right now,’ she said, eyes full of sympathy. ‘we’ve all been there.’ i reassured her i would be perfectly fine if the lamb didn’t make it, but insisted that i wanted to try.

so n finished her crepe, downed her mimosa, and went across the road to look for the heat lamp. the dogs had been whining the whole time in their crates, so when i finally lay the little lamb in a box with the heat lamp, i let them out and took them on a little loop. by the time i returned, the lamb was dead.

this lamb was not the first to be claimed by winter. but the ground was frozen over, and none of the lambs who had been lost this season could be buried until the soil melted. i didn’t inquire further about where the dead lambs were kept, or how they would eventually be buried. but now that the snow has melted, even as it continues to fall — now that the plastic cups and used diapers formerly hidden are showing the white bits of themselves amidst soggy dirt and leftover strands of brown grass — i wonder if it’s time to put the lambs into the ground.