I have been busy feeding Comet, four, sometimes five times a day.I make my way to the barn with the old coke bottle filled with special formula, capped off with the special nipple, and make sure my little guy makes it to the next stage of life – the strictly hay, water, and maybe a little grain stage.
That’s me in my beloved vintage Obermeyer ski suit at the 6 o’clock feeding. I am now the center of one little lamb’s universe. A small universe, but then again he is a small being. I will tell you straight up, I am not pleased about any of this. I am actually quite angry at his mom. She just out and out rejected him. The first few days I forced her to nurse him. It was like the WWF. Me, wrestling her into a position where she would be still enough so Comet could nurse long enough to sort of fill his little belly. A couple days of this and I was done. Bottle feeding at all hours was a much more attractive option.
Why do these sheep reject their babies? It makes me crazy. The only answer I have, is that in an undomesticated state these bad mamas would have never made it to the finish line. They most likely would have been the offspring of another bad mama, and somewhere along the line a weeding out process would have occured. Nature would have, without emotion, put a stop to the whole business.
Alas, we are domesticated, all of us, sheep and humans. The rules are different, not so clear cut. We don’t have the luxury of supreme being clarity. So it’s midnight, I pull on my old ski suit, shuffle out to the barn, and feed Comet humbled and annoyed to be the center of his universe.