Dear Curiosity Journal,
I awoke from a light sleep before the 5 o’clock hour. Since the lambs were born yesterday, Balio has been hypervigilant about guarding the barnyard. His booming bark pierces my consciousness with a sense of protection and assurance that he’s keeping the local predators at bay. Behind closed eyes, some section of my mind runs background calculations on the bark patterns and assesses if he is issuing far flung warnings to the familiar coyote voices in the valley or a more urgent alarm indicating an intruder entering our inner circle. The barking sounds pretty routine, but I rise to check the sheep, shrouded in my own renewed sense of hypervigilance and hope for the twin lambs’ survival. From what I understand, the first 48 hours are the most critical. I cringe at the sheer vulnerability of it all. In the early morning light, I’m relieved to see the happily wiggling tails of nursing babies. Since everyone is doing well, we co-mingle them on pasture. I spend the day tending the flock, keeping a close eye on the lambs, intervening at the crossroads of danger, giving Betty extra grain, vitamins, probiotics, and plenty of fresh water, and watching in total fascination as the new family forms the instinctual bond which holds the animal kingdom together. It’s an absolute honor to witness the magic of new motherly love.