-Photo by Karen Schwaller
These seven lambs were born on the Schwaller farm, and are suspected to be a twin and quintuplet combination. Even though they aren't all hers, this ewe (center) took on caring for all seven.

You just never know what will be happening out in the sheep barn during lambing.

And it never fails — if you have somewhere to be, it will almost always guarantee there will be some kind of kafoozeldie in the barn that will need to be dealt with, which will be the catalyst for all kinds of reasons for tardiness.

This lambing season we had a funeral to be at two hours from home, so it was going to be an early morning as it was by the time we got chores done, cleaned up so we didn’t assault the senses of other people standing downwind from us at the cemetery, and leave in time to get there a little early to mingle with family.

Shortly after my husband got to the barn, he texted me a photo that said, “Look what I just found.”

Overnight, two ewes had seven babies between them.

My husband suspects a twin and quintuplet combination, based on their size and coloring — four males and three females. That many babies born with no birthing issues. Who knew it was even possible?

My husband didn’t know whose babies were whose — which is crucial among sheep flocks. Rare is it when a ewe will claim another ewe’s lamb(s); sometimes they don’t even claim their own babies.

Sometimes sheep can be a lot like people.

My husband grouped everyone together in a large pen in the name of leaving on time, and said we would come back to try to sort out the situation when we got back home.

When we returned, we found that one of the mothers had absolutely no interest in feeding or loving on any of the seven babies. She just walked away from the babies when they wanted to nurse; she didn’t bat at them like they do sometimes; she just walked away.

Someone mentioned that perhaps she had postpartum depression; is that a “thing” among animals? We didn’t know. But maybe so.

Regardless, the other mother’s heart had mimicked that of the spellbound Grinch and grown three sizes bigger. She decided to take it upon herself to care for all seven of the babies.

All. Seven. Babies.

We don’t know if she had the twins or the quintuplets, as best we can tell.

It’s absolutely unheard of among sheep flocks, and we were drunk with disbelief.

We’ve been helping this momma to care for her huge family by bottle feeding them a couple of times a day. But to our utter amazement, seven lambs together only drink about two bottles at each feeding. That mother is supplying the needs of seven babies on her own.

The lambs all seem happy and healthy, and jump around the pen like they feel good. The mother stands and lets them feed, and nudges them gently — showing them her love and care.

We simply cannot believe it every time we go to their pen to feed them or just to be astonished at the heart of this courageous mother — who will rush at us when she sees the corn pail coming at feeding time.

I understand that.

When I was visiting with my mom recently, I was telling her this story. I said to her, “You had seven kids and took good care of us — maybe we should name that momma after you.”

At 90, she sighed tiredly, put a hand on her forehead and dismissed that thought.

She is still a fan of a smooth complexion, a good hairstyle and carefully-applied lipstick.

She told me she remembered those very busy days when all seven of us kids were small, saying she knew there were days she didn’t get her hair combed or her teeth brushed.

She probably knew she looked (all those years ago) like that ewe momma in the barn — slinking along with a spotted face, wooly legs, breakfast in her teeth and eyes that looked tired.

Still, Mom said she would do it all over again in a heartbeat.

While seven babies of any species is enough, it takes a special mother to care for so many of someone else’s children, and to do it without all the fanfare they deserve.

That courageous sheep mom probably will not mind (for now) foregoing the precision lipstick application and hairstyling until her seven babies are grown.

Looking back, it’s hard to believe we miss those days.

Karen Schwaller writes from her grain and livestock farm near Milford, Iowa. She can be reached at kschwaller@evertek.net