We raised sheep for just that purpose. One fall I purchased three Shetland sheep from the petting zoo at the fair, a silver-backed whether, black ewe, and a red ram with fully curled horns. The next spring, Sunday, Easter morning, right before we left for church, Allen ran in from the barn exclaiming, “Come see the twin lambs!” WE pulled on our muck boots and sprang out the door to the barn in our church skirts and suits. I was not expecting twins. I had read that Shetland sheep don’t generally bear twins. There they were a pair of tiny black kinky-haired, slimy lambs. I was thinking, “I sure hope she feeds both of them or it will be like having my own, like my own children, more night feedings.” They both boldly tried to stand as we watched this miracle. Their long tails were rapidly spinning and wagging with excitement. They were so tiny that I felt sorry for them. Being a city slicker myself, I was not equipped for helping, but Allen was, if they should need anything. I hoped the mother would take care of them. Well, she did thank goodness!
They grew up that sinner and turned red-brown. The red lambs had thick gorgeous fleeces. They each bore black lambs the next spring. I had a sheep shearer come shear the ewes and the buck. He brought his fancy-dancy telescope arm and electric cutters he had rigged up himself with bailing wire and all. I coaxed all the children to come watch this sheep-shearing session, since I was selling the sheep soon. It was something they might not see again. I saw that the silver-black sheep was silver underneath clear down to the skin. In contrast, the red-brown fleece was nearly black underneath. The fleece waited in the barn to be turned into a textile. (Did I use that word correctly?