Newborns

During my weekend at the monastery, I spent hours just hanging out in the barn, standing near the makeshift sheep pens that Brother Tractor sets up every year during lambing season. The barn smells of hay and sheep, and every once in a while, a newborn will begin bleating, which sets off other lambs. Sixteen ewes gave birth on Saturday, most to twins, and Brother Tractor was busy, shifting the mothers and babies out to the pasture to make room for the pregnant sheep that were still patiently waiting in the farmyard. Mostly, the sheep give me curious looks as I walk through, but occasionally, one will stamp her foot in warning. The newborns are wet and coated with yellow when they are born, but within hours, their wool dries off, and they begin looking like the lambs in children's books, wobbling about on all four legs and butting each other in their eagerness to nurse.