There comes a time when the pet lambs have to be weaned at Struan Farm. I don't like it, they don't like it. At a certain point it means our relationship grows apart, not something I particularly want after everything we've been through. To quote Peter Pan, we don't want to grow up.
But I know they need to move on and get out with the mob. Rosie, Ruby, Pepper and Pip will most likely be mothers here at Struan Farm next year themselves. Spanky, well that's up to Farmer John.
So on Boxing Day we had the kids come up and feed the lambs their "last supper." We also took off Rosie and Pip's red collars, since they won't need those out in the paddocks, in fact they could get caught on something.
They have had the odd bottle since then with farmstay visitors, but the regular daily feeds in the morning and evening are over. At the moment they still barrel into the house paddock in the evenings, baaing to herald their arrival.
They're sad, I'm sad. Weaning is a mutual thing.
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