fig.1. Whiffin' it.

fig.1. Whiffin' it.

We’ve got enough sheep already, but they insist we need more. Last spring, we banded all the male lambs. Banding consists of slipping a four jawed plier that stretches a thing that looks like a dense gutta-percha Cheerio over the scrotum, snapping it into place above the testicles, then sliding the plier from beneath the band. Sounds easy, and it would be, if the animal were dead.

But the living ones resist.

A lot of farmers prefer surgical castration. We’ve used both methods here, and I believe the banding method poses fewer risks of sepsis.  For people concerned about pain, I’d have to say I only screamed a couple of times before the whiskey kicked in;  but as for the lambs, if you band them right after the testicles drop, they only appear to experience mild pain for a few minutes, then resume nursing or sleeping .

One area where surgical castration is radically better, is determining that both testicles are out of play. With banding sometimes a testicle will occasionally creep back beneath the band, or you’ll miss one while dealing with a struggling animal. We’ve got a few instances of that mishap currently fenced away from the rest of the flock,  raining buckets of jizz on their fellow sufferers and themselves. It’s simply amazing what one nut can produce.

Poor Eva Braun.

When the ewes are in oestrus (love that British spelling. If we’d had a male child, I’d have considered it for a name) they walk up to the fence and wiggle it for the inmates. This particular set of unwethered males has hit on the gymnastic strategy of trying to snake it through the fence (see fig.2, below)

 Fig.2. Stiffin' it.

Fig.2. Stiffin' it

As you can see, it’s hell on a fence. Can’t be too easy on that ram’s penis either. I can’t think of a time in my life  (well, maybe in my teens) when I’d have tried to get it through woven wire fencing. Alright, then, So I’m prone to exaggeration. But this looks painful to me.

Ultimately the ewes cycle out, and lose interest in lap dancing for these unfortunate fraternity pledges. But until the vet comes to finish the grisly job we started, the boys are left with erections that may exceed four hours in duration.

Fig.3. Don't leave me, mama!

Fig.3. Don't leave me, mama!

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