The lambing continued, as did the appalling weather. The river rose to a minor flood level, roaring through two metres higher than normal. Two metres higher…but twenty metres wide. That's a lot of water….!

The consequence of the biting wind and ceaseless rain was four rescued lambs, and another four who died of exposure. Of the four we are now feeding, one is doing poorly. He doesn't have a good eating technique, tending to squeeze the teat rather than suck, so while the other three are thriving he's looking poorly. He gets a lot of attention, but each day I look at him and wonder if he's going to pick up.

Out in the paddock they look good. The grass is getting thin now in the secure paddock where they are locked up each night. I spend an hour pruning olive trees and carting the prunings to the paddock for the nightly olive leaf party. We also feed them a mix of grain and silage. Its interesting to see the paddock lambs know that the silage is worth pushing for, and they throw themselves into the hurly-burly of scoffing from the tubs. Whereas the inside lambs don't have anyone to learn from, so still tend to walk all over the dry feed, rather than eat it.

When I ushered the flock out of the paddock this morning, I did a walk-around to check there were no distressed lambs left behind. It didn't rain last night, but it got down to minus 3. All ok, except there was one birthing sheep by herself. She looked like she was struggling, but she didn't want me nearby so I came in for an hour then went back to check.

No progress. I could see the feet of her lamb sticking out, which is a good thing in that the lamb was properly positioned, but it was too big, and she couldn't push it out.

She needed help, and that involved catching her, restraining her and physically helping the lamb come out.

Depressingly, as I did this, and as the lamb's head became exposed, I saw its tongue protruding and it looked dead, like the earlier one that was too big. Tough on the mother, but I sat astride her and slowly tugged on the legs then the head to get the lamb moving. Once the head moved through it slid out quickly. The exhausted mother lay there, eyes open but pretty much out to it.

To my amazement the lamb coughed, and I grabbed him and cleared his face and mouth. We were sitting on frosty ground, so I covered him with a jacket to stop him chilling, then sat by and waiting. After about 5 minutes the mother came too and staggered to her feet. She took one look at me and lurched off, looking back once to bleat a "Come with me" call to her lamb who still hadn't stood up.

Depressed, I came back inside again. Because he was covered I figured he would be ok for a little while.

I went back out half an hour later, and was thrilled to see him all cleaned up, tail wagging as he suckled from his bruised and still ragged mum. She faced up to me, lowered her head and gave me her best "Back off, buddy" look, and I kept my distance. He should be fine!