We’re selling our first lot of Wiltshire ram lambs. At the moment they’re being kept with their stocky dad, Gordon Ramsay, away from their sisters, whom are being ogled with incestuous eyes from across the paddock. Gordon also seems unable to differentiate his nubile daughters from his harem of last season’s mothers. Sicko.
Father and son, a handsome pair:
Half of our lambs this year were seven boys. And about half of them seem a decent size and have fully shed, like their pop.
A couple of the others haven’t shed nearly so well and are the runts of the group. Not surprising, since their mother had mastitis (udder infection), so we had to bottle feed them. It’s possible that the powdered colostrum milk we fed them didn’t have the same level of goodness as mumma’s tit.
Since then, those two woolly brothers have been a nuisance. Never-mind having to bottle-feed them three times a day, one of them could barely figure out how to latch onto the teat. He would bite it and deep-throat it like a real weirdo. We reckon that might have been what caused their mumma to get mastitis – they nibbled too hard. (I’ll do a post on this specifically another time.)
Yes, yes, I know he’s cute. You stop seeing them as adorable when you have to chase them through multiple gates over hundreds of metres when they insist on pushing their way their way through fences to what they think is greener grass on the other side. (Hint: It’s not, you’re just an asshole.)
Not only are those two woolly shits runty escapees, they are also really into their bigger brothers…
Runty, woolly, duds. Lamb stew, we think.
Hopefully the other big boys sell. They’re super healthy, docile, clean, and one hundred percent shed already.
Wiltshires get to keep their tails because they are self-shedding, which means there’s a lower incidence of fly-strike (eggs laid in poo around their bums which then burrow into their flesh, potentially killing them). It’s odd for a lot of people to see sheep with their tails, but now that we’re used to it, sheep without their tails look really odd to us.
One day these boys will be mating a harem each their own, with bollocks as big as their stocky dad’s. Well, the ones that sell anyway.
Look at the size of those cojones. My god.
