The last two ewes lambed on 10 May and between them just about managed to produce two living lambs (and several dead ones).

That brings the curtain down on this year’s performance, and it’s probably fair to say it was a good show, with a notable lack of heart-stopping dramatic moments.

I’ll remember the whole season as pretty successful, with a good crop of lambs and reasonably low mortality.

Part of the relative calmness associated with the lambing is undoubtedly due to what my wife Susan calls a “well-managed pet regime”, which is her tongue-in-cheek description of selling 34 extra newborn lambs for a tenner apiece.

This may or may not be the best way to deal with an intense burst of triplet births (which coincided with the worst weather of course), but it has certainly reduced the amount of wrecked udders, purchased milk powder, creep feed and general angst.

Numbers

The main flock (about 240 ewes) scanned 194%, but the actual numbers being carried was 200%, with a sizeable number of ‘‘doubles’’ producing three apiece. Fifty-two ewes had three lambs in them, and 45 of them lambed a living triplet each.

The combination of limited housing, a short spell of wet and windy weather, and a neighbour who needed lambs was a temptation too far: Susan and I took the executive decision to let them go. We have no regrets.

Availability

Apart from assisting with some of the decision-making, Susan’s availability for the busiest fortnight again proved worth its weight in gold.

The obvious benefit was someone to shoulder part of the workload, but a raft of more-subtle advantages occurs too.

Lambing pens magically become cleaned out, re-bedded, and awaiting the next patient. Clean towels are strategically placed here and there around the yard, leading to what she refers to as my disgusting habits being greatly curtailed.

And when two of you are there all day long, there is a definite lift in the general mood at this intense time of year.

Repeated

Last autumn’s use of ram harnesses for the first time was a huge bonus, and will definitely be repeated. We still had too much of a peak, with 70 ewes lambing during the first three days of March, but that was my fault, and next year I will shuffle the numbers a bit better, with a view to removing this spike.

It could have worked out OK, but too many of them had triplets (23) and Friday 3 March was one of those days that makes you wonder why you chose to be a farmer.

Strong winds and heavy, driving rain meant that the outdoor lambers had to be taken to the sheltered side of a hedge as they lambed, and walking away from a pair of newborn lambs in these conditions is not a nice experience.

As I crawled into bed later that night, the rain was still rattling against the windows, and it’s hard to get the thought of those wee lambs out of your head.

Excavation

The better spread of lambing dates may have contributed to a drop in one other vital lambing statistic: the excavation. This is the term we use when a ewe has long-dead, or even rotten lambs in her, and this year there were none of these aromatic experiences.

Nor were there any prolapsed lambing beds, so I’m wondering if the bit of extra help, or the slight elongation of lambing dates resulted in an improvement in overall sheep wellbeing.

I suppose if I was part of modern society, and like so many people nowadays, conducted my life through social media, then I would announce to all the world that this year’s lambing left me ‘‘feeling blessed’’, and that it was all due to this thing called ‘mindfulness’. And I have one other query: Is a hashtag different from an ear tag?