Archibald

During the lambing season, it wasn't uncommon for some of the ewes to reject their lambs.  If we happened to be home for the holidays when this happened, we were called upon to step into the breach and become susitute mothers, by looking after them.

There was a stone walled enclosure or kraal as it was known, next to the stables, which housed these precious little ones.  A large heap of soft hay was placed in one corner for the babies to lie down on.  They would have to be bottle fed a number of times a day, until they grew big enough to start eating grass.  As we were only able to feed them two at a time, and there were sometime four or five to look after, we would lie down on the hay and allow them to nibble our ears and toes, just to keep them happy and occupied.

One often thinks of lambs as being all soft and cuddly, but in actual fact, their coats feel more like Brillo pads than cotton balls.  All crinkled and rough in texture.  Still, they are wonderfully cute in the way they wiggle their tails when they are drinking, as well as their high pitched bleats.

At one point we did have three lambs living with us at the old house.  Fiona, Ramona and Gavin, but once they grew into sheep, we reluctantly had to integrate them back into the flock.

Long before we were born, my mother had a very special lamb called Archibald.  My mother looked after him from birth and doted on him like a child.  He used to follow her around everywhere like a pet dog, and when she called his name, would come running at full speed.  My mother adored him, and he obviously adored her. 

He did however, become a little too familar with his surroundings, when one day my mother found him firmly ensconced on her bed, but not before first having deposited a large pile of black beans in the middle of her bedspread!  I think it was then that my father decided to put his foot down and banish him forever from the inside of the house.  Poor old Archie!