A Lamb Called Lucky

by Helen Peters

  She told Dad the whole story as she ate her pancakes.

  “Well done, Jas,” he said. “I knew I could rely on you to do the right thing. Shame about that ewe, though. She had a lovely pair of twins last year, no problems at all, and she seemed perfectly healthy yesterday.”

  “I’ll do a post-mortem later,” said Mum. “There might have been some internal bleeding.”

  Just then, Lucky took two shaky steps on his gangly front legs.

  “Look,” said Jasmine. “He’s walking.”

  Lucky took another couple of steps on his front legs. Jasmine frowned.

  “He’s not moving his back legs. They’re just dragging along the ground.”

  Mum watched Lucky as he took a few more wobbly steps with his front legs. His back legs dragged uselessly behind him.

  “There must be something wrong with them,” said Mum. “If he’s not walking properly in a couple of hours, you might have to teach him to move them, Jasmine.”

  “Maybe he just likes walking like that,” said Manu. “If I had four legs, I wouldn’t just plod along like a normal boring person. I’d move all my legs in different directions.”

  “How should I teach him?” asked Jasmine.

  “Try pedalling his back legs gently in cycles while he’s standing on his front legs. That should help get them moving properly. And you can bounce him gently up and down on his back legs as well, to strengthen them.”

  “I’ll do it,” said Manu. “I’ll teach him some tricks, too.”

  “You will not,” said Jasmine, glaring at him. “You’re not touching any of my animals ever again.”

  After an unfortunate incident at Christmas with a litter of kittens, Manu had been banned from handling any of Jasmine’s animals without permission.

  “That bloke at Foxdean said there’d been another case of sheep rustling,” Dad said, as he poured syrup over a pancake.

  “Near here?” asked Manu.

  “No, down in Cornwall this time. Poor devil woke up to find half his flock gone.”

  Ella appeared in the doorway, a book in her hand. “Ooh, pancakes,” she said. “Are there any more lemons?”

  “In the fridge,” said Mum.

  Ella was about to open the fridge when she spotted Lucky.

  “What a cute lamb! He’s so tiny!”

  “He’s mine,” said Jasmine, proudly. “He’s called Lucky.”

  Mum and Dad looked at each other. “Just to be clear, Jasmine,” said Dad, “you realise he’ll be going back out to the barn tomorrow, as soon as he’s had all his colostrum?”

  “But he’ll still be mine,” said Jasmine. “I’ll still be feeding him.”

  “We’ll foster him on to another ewe,” said Dad. “Much cheaper and less labour-intensive than bottle-feeding.”

  Jasmine stared at her father, outraged.

  “I just saved his life,” she said, “and you’re telling me I can’t keep him?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to keep him forever anyway,” said Dad.

  Jasmine knew only too well what Dad meant by that remark. Ewe lambs were kept in the flock for breeding, but ram lambs were sold at the market when they were old enough.

  “He’ll have to go out in the field with the flock in the long run,” said Dad, “so it would be better to find him a foster mother.”

  “You can’t send him out to the barn tomorrow,” said Jasmine. “He can’t even walk properly. And what if another ewe doesn’t want him?”

  “Well, we’ll try to find one who does,” said Dad. “And you can still spend time with him and do his leg exercises.”

  “But I want to keep him. I’ll look after him better than a ewe would.”

  “Jasmine, you promised you wouldn’t pester for any more animals, remember?” said Mum. “You’ve got quite enough to look after, especially now with Sky’s sheepdog training.”

  Well, thought Jasmine, that settled one thing, anyway. She definitely wasn’t going to tell Mum about the birds in her wardrobe.

  “But it’s the Easter holidays,” she said. “I’ve got plenty of time. And when I go back to school, he won’t need feeding so often.”

  “He’d still need at least three feeds a day,” said Dad, “and you know I don’t have the time to bottle-feed lambs while you’re at school.”

  Jasmine opened her mouth to argue, but Dad jumped in first. “You heard what Mum said. No pestering. We’ll match that lamb up with a foster mother tomorrow.”

  A Rat on the Loose

  Jasmine phoned Tom after breakfast. He arrived in time to watch Mum give Lucky his second dose of colostrum.

  “I’ve been thinking,” Mum said, as she withdrew the stomach tube. “I’ve got the afternoon off on Monday. I could take you both to the swimming pool in Maybury. You know, the one with the wave machine and the water slides.”

  Jasmine’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! I’ve been wanting to go there ever since it opened.”

  But then she saw Tom looking at her, and she tailed off. Of course they couldn’t go swimming, when Peanut and Popcorn had to be fed every half hour.

  “What about Lucky?” she said, stroking the tiny lamb snuggled in her lap. He was so warm now that he felt like a little hot water bottle. “We can’t leave him on his own.”

  “He’ll be with a foster mother by then.”

  “But he might not be strong enough.”

  “Well, let’s wait and see, shall we? If he still needs looking after, we could leave it until next weekend.”

  “Yes, maybe,” said Jasmine. But she knew they wouldn’t be able to go next weekend either. The chicks would still need feeding every forty-five minutes.

  Mum looked at her questioningly. “You’ve been asking me to take you to that pool for ages, and now you sound as though you don’t want to go at all.”

  “I do,” said Jasmine. “I really do. I just think we should wait and see how Lucky’s getting on.”

  “You’re behaving very oddly at the moment, Jasmine,” said Mum.

  A piercing scream came from upstairs, followed by the sound of running footsteps.

  “A rat!” gasped Ella, bursting into the kitchen. “There’s a rat upstairs! Do something! I’m leaving! I can’t stay in this house while there’s a rat on the loose.”

  Manu and Ben rushed in from the scullery, where they had been making a potion from dead leaves and shower gel. They were grinning with excitement.

  “We’ll catch it,” said Manu. He ran back into the scullery and reappeared with a rounders bat, which he handed to Ben, and a cricket bat for himself. “Where is it?” he asked eagerly.

  “In Jasmine’s room,” said Ella. She shuddered. “I heard it squeaking. It was so horrible.”

  Manu and Ben rushed out of the room, waving their weapons above their heads.

  “I think it was in the wardrobe,” Ella called after them.

  Tom and Jasmine shot each other horrified looks.

  Then Jasmine handed Lucky to Mum and they sprinted from the room.

  “Manu, stop!” yelled Jasmine. “Don’t go in my room! Stop!”

  “Kill the rat! Kill the rat! Kill the rat!” chanted Manu and Ben, as they stomped up the stairs.

  Jasmine and Tom raced after them, bursting into Jasmine’s room just as Manu, brandishing the cricket bat, yanked the wardrobe door open.

  Jasmine leapt across the room and tugged the bat out of Manu’s hand. Tom grabbed the rounders bat from Ben.

  Manu rounded furiously on Jasmine. “Hey! What are you doing? We’re trying to catch a rat!”

  “We’ll do that,” said Jasmine, shutting the wardrobe and spreading her arms in front of the doors. “Get out of my room, you two.”

  “No,” said Manu. “We want to see the rat.”

  “It will have run away by now anyway,” said Tom.

  “No, it hasn’t,” said Ben. “I can hear it squeaking.”

  Manu listened. He frowned. “That doesn’t sound like a rat.”

  “It’s not a ra
t,” said Jasmine.

  “What is it, then?”

  Jasmine thought quickly. “It’s my cheeping bird toy. I must have left the sound on.”

  Manu looked at her suspiciously. Then he looked across to her bookcase.

  “There’s your bird toy.”

  “Oh,” said Jasmine.

  Seeing her confusion, Ben and Manu ducked under her arms and, before she could stop them, they pulled the wardrobe doors open. There were the baby birds, their necks stretched high and their beaks gaping open as they cheeped frantically in their nest.

  “Whoa, what are they?” asked Ben.

  “They’re so cool,” said Manu.

  Jasmine glanced at Tom in despair, just as Dad and Mum appeared in the doorway.

  “So, did you catch the terrifying rodent?” Dad asked.

  “There isn’t a rodent,” said Jasmine flatly.

  “I’m not surprised. With the racket those boys made, I should think every rat within a fifty-mile radius has gone into hiding.”

  “It’s baby pterodactyls,” said Manu. “Look.”

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “If Jasmine’s been breeding dinosaurs in her wardrobe, we definitely need to take a look.”

  Jasmine looked at Tom, defeated. He shrugged his shoulders. The game was well and truly up.

  She lifted the nest out of the wardrobe.

  “They’re baby birds,” she said. “They’re called Popcorn and Peanut. We found them on the barn floor yesterday, when we were checking the sheep.”

  Mum and Dad came closer to get a better look.

  “Did you keep them in the wardrobe all night?” asked Mum.

  “Yes.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “You were TB testing.”

  “Not in the evening. You could have told us then.” Her eyes widened. “So that’s why you didn’t want to go out for pizza. And why you didn’t want to go to the swimming pool.”

  “We knew you’d make us take them to a rehabilitator,” said Jasmine. “We wanted to prove we could look after them ourselves.”

  “How did you know what to do?” asked Dad.

  “We looked it up online,” said Tom. “There was loads of stuff.”

  “We did everything they said,” said Jasmine. “And they look healthy, don’t they? They’re just hungry. That’s why they’re cheeping.”

  “I’ll get their food,” said Tom, looking relieved to have an excuse to leave the room.

  “Please don’t take them away, Mum,” said Jasmine. “Me and Tom can look after them just as well as a rehabilitator could. And it would be so amazing to see them grow.”

  “I thought you didn’t like birds in cages,” said Mum.

  “I don’t. We want to release them into the wild when they’re ready. Please, Mum? Please, Dad? It would be such good experience for when we have our rescue centre.”

  Mum and Dad looked at each other. “Well,” said Mum, “I’m impressed you’ve kept them alive, to be honest. Orphaned birds this young don’t often survive.”

  Tom came back with the food.

  “Can I feed them?” asked Manu.

  “No,” said Jasmine. “You have to do it properly or they can choke. You can watch Tom feed them.”

  Tom took the nest over to Jasmine’s bed. Ben and Manu followed him.

  “So,” said Jasmine to her parents, “can we keep them? Please say yes.”

  “What do you think?” Mum asked Dad.

  “It’s all right by me if it’s OK with you,” he said.

  Mum smiled. “Well, you’ve both shown a lot of commitment, I have to say. I can’t believe you turned down a pizza and a swimming trip. And by the looks of it, you’re doing a great job. So you can keep the birds until they’re old enough to be released, if you promise that you will release them.”

  “Oh, thank you!” said Jasmine. “Thank you so much.”

  Tom beamed in delight. “Thank you so much.”

  Jasmine sensed an opportunity. “Since we’re going to release the birds,” she said, “can I keep Lucky, instead of giving him to a foster mother?”

  Dad smiled. “Good try. But no.”

  “I’m already going to be doing his leg exercises,” said Jasmine. “It would hardly take any more time to feed him. And Tom’s going to come up every day, so there’ll be two of us.”

  “If you’re going to run a rescue centre,” said Dad, “you’ll be releasing the animals or finding new homes for them when they’re ready, won’t you? So I’m afraid you’re just going to have to get used to letting them go.”

  That Should Fool the Ewe

  “That’s right, Lucky,” said Tom, as he bounced the lamb’s back legs gently up and down. “You’re definitely getting stronger.”

  It was Sunday afternoon, and Tom was doing Lucky’s exercises in the kitchen while Jasmine prepared his first bottle of formula milk. Mum had given him all his colostrum from the tube, and now Dad had asked Jasmine to give him a bottle.

  “He needs to know how to suck before we put him on a foster mother,” Dad had said. “But we don’t want to get him used to the bottle, or it might be harder to foster him.”

  Jasmine hoped it would be impossible to foster Lucky, and not only for her own sake. The most successful fostering usually happened when a lamb was matched with a ewe whose lamb had just died, and Jasmine certainly didn’t want that to happen.

  However, another method that sometimes worked was to trick the mother of a single lamb into thinking she had had twins. Sheep use their sense of smell to identify their own lambs, so you could rub the birth fluids on an orphan lamb and hope the ewe would think it was hers. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it didn’t. If the ewe discovered the lamb wasn’t hers, she might reject it violently. Jasmine dreaded this happening to Lucky, who was so small and defenceless. What if his back legs got even more damaged?

  “I think that’s enough exercise for now,” said Tom. “I don’t want to tire him out. Shall we try him with the bottle?”

  Jasmine settled Lucky on her lap, tucking his long skinny legs underneath his tiny body. She stroked his soft ears. They had fluffy edges, as though they were trimmed with fur.

  Tom handed her the bottle. She prised Lucky’s mouth open and slipped the teat in. Lucky jerked his head away and the teat slipped out.

  “Come on, Lucky,” said Jasmine. “You need to learn to suck.”

  She pulled his jaws apart and positioned the teat in his mouth. Lucky jerked his head away again.

  “How about if I hold his head?” said Tom. So this time, when Jasmine slipped the teat into Lucky’s mouth, Tom gently held his head in place. But Lucky still didn’t suck.

  “Try moving his jaw up and down,” said Jasmine, “to teach him what to do.”

  Tom did so. After a few seconds, Lucky wiggled his tail.

  “He must be tasting the milk,” said Jasmine. “He likes it.”

  Slurpy sucking noises came from the lamb. Slowly, Tom moved his hands away from Lucky’s head, until he was just gently cupping his chin. Lucky sucked the milk noisily and vigorously.

  “That’s great,” said Jasmine, a big smile on her face. “Well done, Lucky.”

  When Lucky had finished, Jasmine set him on the floor. He stood unsteadily on his wobbly legs and gave a high-pitched bleat. Then he shook himself and wiggled his tail.

  “Let’s see if he can walk better,” said Tom. He went to the other side of the kitchen and crouched down. Jasmine joined him.

  “Lucky!” called Tom. “Come here, Lucky!”

  Lucky gave another little bleat. Then, with his front legs, he took a couple of tottering steps. His back legs still dragged along the ground.

  “I guess it will take a bit longer,” said Jasmine. “At least he’s drinking, though.”

  Tom glanced at the clock. “Time to feed Popcorn and Peanut.”

  The back door rattled open and Dad appeared in the kitchen doorway.

  “Ah, good, you’re here. There’s a ewe
out there just had a single lamb. Bring this one out and we’ll put him with her.”

  Jasmine hugged Lucky to her. “Do we have to? I don’t think he’s strong enough. What if she hurts him?”

  “Come on, Jasmine. You know it’s easier and cheaper to put him on a ewe. And it will be better for him in the long run. He’s got to go out with the other sheep at some point, so he might as well go now.”

  Jasmine gave a big sigh. Silently, she stood Lucky on the floor while she tugged on her wellies and shrugged her arms into her coat.

  “I’ll go and feed Popcorn and Peanut,” said Tom.

  Jasmine blinked back the tears that were pricking at the corners of her eyelids. “Thanks, Tom,” she said. Then she picked Lucky up, followed Dad out of the back door and trudged across the farmyard.

  In the barn, Dad had put the new mother and her lamb in a small pen on their own.

  He took the new lamb out of the pen. Then he took Lucky and rubbed his head, tail and back end against the newborn lamb’s wet coat.

  “That should fool the ewe into thinking he’s hers,” he said.

  He put the ewe’s own lamb back in the pen, next to the mother. She turned and sniffed his head as he began to suck from her udder.

  “OK,” said Dad softly. “Now put the other one in.”

  Full of sadness, Jasmine lowered Lucky into the pen. The ewe turned her head and sniffed him. Then, with a movement so swift that it took Dad and Jasmine completely by surprise, she lowered her broad head and butted him away. Lucky flew across the pen and landed in the straw, sprawled out and winded.

  “You see!” cried Jasmine, as she gathered him up. “You can’t do this. She hates him.”

  “It can take a while,” said Dad. “They don’t usually accept a new lamb straightaway.”

  Jasmine laid her cheek against Lucky’s face. “You poor little thing. Are you all right?”

  Lucky bleated and nibbled her ear.

  “She’ll soon get used to him,” said Dad. “We’ll tie her up so she can’t headbutt him.”