A Type of Farmer Sadness

Part of being a farmer, I guess. Birthing animals, and loosing them.  I do raise the lambs for meat, but it is still hard when you loose one as a newborn. The cute little premature black sheep didn't make it through the night.  We have had quite a few warm days here in Sonoma County for February, then last night's temperature got down below freezing.  Guess it was all too much for him.
His mama, Bess, is the oldest of the ewes, and was not showing signs of being a good mother. She would often kick him when he tried to nurse. (Not all the time.) When he called for her, she didn't bleat back.  (Her barn mate Sheila did, just as she does for her lambs.) Several times, I had to guide him to her nipple.  I have never milked a sheep before, but I have a goat when I was younger.  The udders look the same. So, I grab the nipple pulled on it until it squirted a bit, and stuck it in his mouth. He sucked happily, but then had trouble finding the nipple again. He seemed to be getting liquid. If he didn't look better by today, I thought I might have to bottle feed him.  (Which I have no idea how to accomplish.) Well, I didn't have to do that. As sad as I am, I am seeing this is a blessing.  It is probably quite a bit of work hand feeding a lamb; keeping up with its needs, plus my other responsibilities and schedule.

Maybe a more experienced farmer would have seen something right away that I didn't know was abnormal, and know what to do in order to save the little black one. All the books I have read didn't prepare me for this, I feel.  I have to learn it by living it.  I ask questions of other farmers as well as continue to look at written resources, but experiencing farm life is how I am learning. 
Hopefully, I won't loose any more lambs.  But, we'll see. There are 4 more pregnant sheep on The Derby farm.