I lay awake last night, watching the flashing lightning and listening to the rumbling thunder. The house shook with each deafening crescendo, and even the quieter moments were filled with the splatter of big raindrops whipping against the siding and windows. I am sure that many in our area worried whether their homes would survive the onslaught, but my worries were different. I lay there, worrying about our lambs.

You see, earlier in the day, I had struggled with a decision I faced: should I bring the lambs in from the Fire Circle Pasture to one that had barn access, or should I leave them out where they have been for only a couple of days? My original plan had been to bring them in for the storms, but - well, there were pros and cons.

There was still plenty of pasture where they were - no need to move them immediately for food. The pasture they were in has nice big trees for shade in our current hot temperatures, and the grass is lush with many small wildflowers - perfect for growing lambs. The open air environment has dramatically reduced the pneumonia we were dealing with only one week ago, and the lambs are growing and looking well.

Plus, we will be shearing our boys soon (June 1), so it would be very convenient if we could work things out to have the lambs and rams near the barn at that time - and these next couple of moves will put them there. It would be nice if we could delay their movement back to our shelters for a few days to simplify shearing.

On the other hand, the pasture where the lambs now reside is the very same pasture where, in 2009, I lost a lamb when a tree fell and broke his back in a storm. I can't imagine that being in an open pasture during hail and high winds would be any fun at all - especially for scared little lambs. The pneumonia we treated last week is not so distant that I no longer worry - thinking about recently sick lambs lying in potentially torrential rains had me worrying.

In the end, I decided to leave them where they were - and in the wee hours of this morning, I lay in bed listening to the lashing storm and again rethinking my decision. What had I done? How would my lambs survive the night? Why hadn't I moved them in? Who cared about simplicity for shearing! I should have moved them! The terrible thoughts and questions swirled through my mind as sleep eluded me. It was all I could do to wait for morning to see the result of the previous day's decision and the night's storms.

This morning, as soon as I could get the dogs taken care of, I got on my four-wheeler and made my way out to the Fire Circle Pasture to check on the lambs, armed with all the medical equipment I could possibly need. I was expecting the worst.

When I arrived, I was pleasantly surprised! I was greeted at the gate by the lamb flock, none the worse for wear. As I made my way into the pasture, the lambs surrounded my vehicle to the point that I had to turn it off - I didn't want to accidentally injure one of the little ones! Their curiosity was too much for them - they made their way into the smallest of openings, and climbed over anything that gave them a foothold. After a bit, even the ewes came to inspect my ATV (see Loralei and lambs swarming in the attached photos).

Obviously, my previous night's worries were unfounded - our lambs had survived the storm just fine! My nightmares were just that - nightmares, that had no grounding in the realities of what I could obviously see was turning out to be a glorious day!

We are scheduled to have storms again later today - I only hope that we survive them as well!

Within about two or three weeks of their birth, our lambs have access to the outside world - but it is limited access. Throughout the spring months, we slowly give them more and more freedom, introducing them to larger and larger pastures, farther and farther from the barn. Eventually, the break must be made. Once they are old enough that they no longer need the shelter of the barn, we send them off into the bigger pastures that lie more distant on our acreage. Eventually, they have to grow up - but like a worried mother, I keep trying to delay the inevitable.

Every year, as the time draws near for them to make their move into these more distant areas, I put it off. They still seem so small - so easily injured. My mind conjures up all sorts of dangerous possibilities: coyotes and foxes who roam our area, people looking to steal a tasty lamb, kids motoring the countryside with BB guns. Few of these things have ever happened to our lambs, but my mind is filled with strange and dangerous images, leaving me feeling much like my young children's first day of school, when they first left my side for an extended time. I worry.

But like children, lambs grow up and they must learn to face the world on their own. Yesterday was that day, and although they were as excited as can be to enter new territories, I walked to the pasture with a bit of trepidation. I walked through the groups of lambs, calling and calling, knowing that these lambs had no idea what that this calling meant, but I also knew that within a very short time, if I always called when they were on their way to new pasture, they would learn to follow. The draw to fresh eating is incredibly strong.

Since the ewes in the group knew very well that my calling meant fresh grass and wildflowers, they led the way, running to join me at the gate. About half the lambs followed the first time, running and gamboling ahead with the two llamas. They didn't know where they were going, but they knew the ewes were excited, so it must be fun! The remainder of the lambs waited too long to join us and found themselves caught in a corner of the old pasture, not knowing how to make their way to us. After dropping off the first group and closing the gate so that they wouldn't follow me back, I went to "save" the second - and was treated to another exuberant display of new-grass excitement when they, too, realized that they were off to a new home.

This is the first pasture this year in which our lambs have no shelter; they will use a hastily constructed creep-house (in photo) to eat their daily ration of grain, and will have to huddle near a tree if we get a storm. Thankfully for me, they will not be there long, though - we usually move our sheep every few days and I want them back near the barn for this Sunday's predicted severe storms. I can put them out there on their own if the weather is good, but I worry about those lambs being treated for pneumonia if things take a turn for the worse. Yes, I once again feel like I am overmothering, but I'd rather be safe than sorry.

Eventually, these lambs too will grow up and look just like the sheep in the rest of the flock - but for now, each and every one is like one of my children, under my attentive care and protection. They will have three days out there on their own - and then I will bring them back in for a bit, mainly to convince myself that they are all just fine and that it truly is time to move them out!

One of the big jobs that awaits us each spring is the trimming of each of the four hooves of each and every adult sheep on our farm. This year that means two hundred and forty-eight hooves that need trimming. Honestly, the number is daunting, even for me.

Recently, we've waited until after the lambs are weaned and the weather begins to warm. It only makes sense that if we have to do this difficult and dirty task, we shouldn't have to freeze while we do it, sitting in dirty bedding as the lambs climb all over us! We also try to avoid the heat of the summer, so that means this is prime hoof-trimming time. Right now.

This morning our team assembled. I had convinced Rick to take a day off from work at his office to help with our project. Our new helper, Mckayla, also came out to help - although I will admit that she had no idea what she was getting into. That might have been the only reason she agreed, actually. We'll see if she's willing to come back for next time - but at least she came this morning!

We also had our former apprentice, Julie, who moved to California last year. Since she was back in town through today, she e-mailed me last week to see if she could come out to see the sheep and help with whatever was at hand. I had mentioned hoof trimming, and she agreed. She has an obvious love for our sheep that even a morning of trimming can't dim!

So the four of us set out to the South Pasture this morning with Coda, my main sheepdog, leading the way. The plan was simple: Coda would hold the girls in one corner while we would work in pairs. Each pair would choose a ewe, flip her gently to the ground, and one person would hold her there while the other trimmed the four hooves. When the job was done, the ewe's number was added to the "done list" (handily written on my left arm!) and another ewe would be flipped and the process continued.

With two teams working, the trimming proceded at double-time. Rick worked with Julie (see them in the accompanying photo trimming Lilac's hooves) and Mckayla worked with me. After two hours, we had trimmed half of the ewes' hooves. We plan to trim the ram hooves when we shear in a couple of weeks, and we'll have to find another day to finish the girls. Honestly, after two hours we were hot, sore, dirty, and literally beaten up.

You see, trimming hooves is probably the most dangerous thing we do with the sheep. To trim hooves, one person holds the ewe down, and the other sits between her front and rear legs and trims the excess horn from each hoof. When the ewes decide that they don't care for our technique, they begin to kick and try to stand up - with the trimmer right between all those slashing hooves. By the time we came back to the house, we had all gotten more than our fair share of hoof slashes. Ouch!

So, we are halfway done with the girls' hooves at this point. We will have to find another day to finish them in the coming weeks, a day that isn't too cold or too hot and when the ewes are in a fresh pasture without too much manure (for when we have to sit on the ground). I have no idea when it will be - but I won't be able to really relax and shift into those easy, breezy days of summer until it's done, so I hope it happens soon!

Despite drizzly skies yesterday, I decided it was time to release the lambs. They had been locked into the new barn since Monday for weaning, with their mothers up at the old barn. The calling back and forth had stopped and each group seemed to have moved on. They had been separated for three days, and the lambs were becoming bored. Like children, little lambs need to play, and there just isn't much to do inside the barn. It was getting old.

So although the weather could have been better, I decided it was time to open things up and let the lambs out. First, I reinforced the fencing between the West Pasture where they would be released and the barn where their mothers were housed. The last thing I wanted was to have a lamb find its mother and have to start the quarantine over again!

After my "safety measures" were in place, I entered the barn where the lambs were waiting and pulled open the garage door on the north, letting the lambs spill out into the afternoon rain. The weather did not faze them though - they came pouring out of the barn with the few adults who are still nursing their late lambs, hardly able to believe their good fortune. Not only could they now access a lot of great grazing, but there was space to run! Lots of it!

Within seconds of their release, the lambs began a game of chase, up and down the hillsides and across the pasture! They moved and flowed as one entity, somtimes dividing, but then reuniting again as they went around and around the pasture. Not even the heat of the day - a muggy high-seventies - slowed them down! They were free of the barn and they had excess energy to run off. I watched for quite some time, relishing their freedom almost as much as they did before I continued on my way to other chores.

When I returned several hours later, the barn was filled with sleeping lambs, exhausted from their energetic play. The only sound in the barn was that of the few ewes, cudding as they contentedly lay watching their babies sleep, surrounded by the rest of the flock's sleeping babies. It was a fitting end to a great day of celebration.