Feeding of the Lambs

Yesterday we visited a sheep farm. What a great experience for the kids and me. Seven enjoyed himself, too, but he's "been there and done that" before. I've never been within 10 feet of a real sheep before.

The farm belongs to Seven's cousin. There are about 180 sheep on the farm. Bestefar*, who is in town for a short visit, arranged the visit for us. It's lambing season. (Is that the correct terminology?) There were a lot of new calves, and the kids got the opportunity to bottle-feed some of them. Sheep may be docile animals, but when it comes to feeding, only the strong survive. Those that are weak and don't get enough milk are left behind to starve. That's where the bottle-feeding comes in. Seven's cousin and wife feed the weakest with special-made formula.

Before we left, I grabbed the camera. I thought briefly about whether or not I should take some extra batteries, just in case. I checked the camera, and it seemed fine, so I figured, "Nah. It'll be fine." Why? Why did I figure, nah, it'll be fine? It is NEVER fine, when I figure, nah, it'll be fine. You would think that 34 years of experience would have taught me this by now. . .

It reminds of the song lyrics by Pink, "Don't let me get me. I'm a hazard to myself." Know that song? I digress (again). See, having an extra set of batteries on hand, just in case, has never killed anyone. Having the camera die as you are trying to capture images of your children the first time they are feeding lambs (or doing anything really) is enough to bring on a sudden heart-attack. . .especially when you factor in that the cause of your own untimely demise is really your own fault. AAAAAAAAAAACK!

Deep breaths, Miki. Deep breaths. In the grand scheme of things, this is no big deal. It's all about perspective. Throughout most of human history, people have been content to live life and experience its beauty without feeling the need to capture every second for posterity. Sometimes people get so wrapped up in taking pictures, they forget to actually BE present in the moment. It's like they live their life when looking back through their photographs. We got to take in the full experience -- the sights, the sounds, the smells (ew!) -- because it wasn't all about taking photos.

Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever. The only thing that made me feel better was that digital camera's battery death didn't give me time to regret not having brought the video camera, which is what we really SHOULD have brought. The still images wouldn't have been able to catch Laney's enthusiastic little jaunt as she went to grab full bottles to replace the empty ones. They couldn't capture her desire to be near the animals, to touch them, to pet them, while being scared of them at the same time. They wouldn't have captured the way Nicky held onto his bottle, looking around for a hungry lamb to feed. He's quiet, my son, but I knew he was having a good time by the way he refused to let go of the half-full bottle. He wanted to feed a lamb until the bottle was empty.

SoI didn't catch most of the day's events on a recorded medium. I have those images only in my memory. That's why I have this blog. It'll help me remember.

This is the one picture we took before the camera died.

* Bestefar means grandfather and refers to Seven's father.