Lambsquarters Read Online Free PDF Page B

gives a pound, then he takes a pull. But as long as App is sucking in front, the ewe co-operates and allows Ben the hind teat. This isn’t a quick suck and a calculated getaway. Ben is there for the duration. When lambs are young, their mothers stand still for minutes at a time to give them a continuous feed. Ben’s mother stands politely, nosing App, talking to her, nudging her into the teat while Ben drinks from the rear. Usually twin lambs will settle on one side of their dam and not cross over. At this point, just a week after their birth, App and Ben are unsure of their territory. Sometimes App will reach through to the opposite side while Ben takes over, tail wagging, to finish what she’s left.
    A few days later and Ben strengthens. He is not as clean as the other lambs, since he must concentrate onthe back end of his mother, but he is vigorous and growing. When he connects with the teat, he’s a limpet—barnacle Ben.
    Anything but stupid, sheep learn by example. A buddy has been watching Ben’s antics and today I saw her imitate him. Ben was behind one side of his mother, and the unrelated lamb zipped in on the other. App, standing at the front, where a good lamb really belongs, was baffled to find no dinners left. She must have been connected first, for her mother would not feed only Ben. And the ewe clearly thought App was still on. She was nosing and nudging App, who was wagging her tail in anticipation and excitement (and frustration) while Ben and his friend were getting all the milk.
    MANY MOTHERS are less than perfect. Our culture values only the vague concept of motherhood and offers little instruction in parenting. Sheep culture doesn’t provide alternatives. If a ewe refuses to breastfeed, she doesn’t have access to formula. Not by herself. An unfed lamb in the wild or in a hill flock would die. Attentive shepherds are like the Children’s Aid: they round up lost souls and foster and protect them. But why is one mother kinder than another? Why favour one offspring more than the next?
    It has been proven that a human baby recognizes its mother’s scent, and will move toward it in arudimentary way. If given an hour to lie naked against the mother’s thigh, a newborn will slowly begin to move its legs. It will crawl to its mother’s breast and attach itself, if we give it the chance, much as a lamb will find the teat. New lambs are awkward, splay-legged creatures, easily confused between front and back mother-legs, but their determination is boundless. Sheep mothers are there to help. They rise immediately after birth, offer the teats, lick off their newborns.
    Bonding between human mothers and babies is sometimes more difficult. Women in labour have a history of being tied up, strapped down, rendered unconscious. We don’t sniff; we gaze into eyes, we touch, we count body parts. We listen, we feel, we think about our connections. When human babies slither up their mothers’ naked bellies with the cords still attached, and latch on to newly secreting breasts, the secrets of motherlove are released with the let-down of milk. But only babies can hear and taste them. The cord is cut, but the bond remains.
    Or does it? Some mothers of twins manage football-holds on their babies, tucking one under each arm. The infants suck away in tandem. These mothers perfect a skill, nurse in record time, plop the full feedlings on their depleted chests, cross arms and burp one over each shoulder, lay them down in matching cribs, never needing to check the nail polish on the discreet toenail to tell them apart.
    But for other mothers even one baby is a burden. They growl after the birth, turn to the wall. They prop the bottle and walk away. They shake, scream, hit, burn. We punish these mothers, having never supported them. We just expect them to know how to nurture. To have the mothering instinct. Collective unconscious. Primal knowledge.
    YEARLING EWES make fragile mothers. They are teenagers, slight, sprightly,