Our ram spends most of his year in a paddock away from the sheep. That way we control the timing of our lambs. We've gradually moved to mid-September, to avoid the ghastly August blizzard that seems to come each year.

Its not a great paddock….pretty stony, with basic fog grass, not much clover. When this place was mined they laid a road through this space, crushed river rock. In winter you can kid yourself its not that bad, but once the summer sun hits that road all growth dies on it and it becomes visible again.

But for one ram, and a wether for company, it’s a pretty good spot. They are both visibly well-fed. I call past every morning and give them a minuscule amount of commercial feed, in a futile attempt to keep the ram onside. I know though, first chance he gets, he'll head-butt me again. He even head-butts the stream of feed as I pour it over the fence.

It’s a busy time for us, with lambs arriving most days for a couple of weeks.

And so far this year its been hard going. Two dead lambs, died during birth. I had to deliver them dead. One sheep with ruptured organs that I had to kill. And one beautiful lamb that was rejected by its mother, which we brought in and were bottle feeding. Once they are a couple of days old we let them outside to acclimatize, then start mixing them with the sheep so they return to the flock easily.

But this time the lamb ran over to the cows, who panicked at the small critter dodging around their ankles, and one stamped down, crushing the lamb. Awful.

It was clear the lamb had either a dislocated shoulder, or it was completely crushed, or both. I had to put it down too. Very depressing.

So next day, I was warily checking the sheep in the morning, and looked over to the ram's paddock. I blinked. What I was seeing was the wether, bloated, on his back with four legs in the air kicking feebly.

We've had a consistent failure with salvaging bloated sheep, everyone that developed bloat has died. But a few months back we salvaged a steer with bloat, so I geared up for another round.

I raced back to the house and got oil and a syringe. The steer was saved by squirting oil down his throat. I improvised on the day with a small sauce bottle filled with olive oil. The syringe was an improvement, but nothing wrong with our olive oil!

I got back to the wether and gave him a poke. Tight as a drum. He'd be dead in minutes, suffocated or heart crushed. He'd been there a while, by the look of it…there was a large pile of sheep droppings next to him…which was a bad sign. I sat him on his bum and held him upright, massaged his belly to see if I could get some air out. He's a big boy, maybe 70kg. Normally I might have trouble wrestling a chap like that, but he was very subdued. While he was sitting I pumped 100 mls of oil down his throat.

Then I rolled him forward and got him on his feet. He staggered off with me following. He stood and faced me, then gradually faded, head drooping, staggering a bit, then slowly falling to the ground. I jumped on him again, and repeated the exercise…belly massage, oil down the throat. On the spur of the moment I thought "Oil…enema" and jammed the syringe up his bum and gave that a squirt too.

I went back to my car and turned back to look at him. Amazing. He was on his feet, already slightly deflated. And then he moved off. Later in the day he was looking normal.

So we have finally saved a bloated sheep. I am still chuffed when I think about it. Just have to remember with the oil…mouth first, then bumhole.

But to top it off, that afternoon we had another difficult birth. Our lambs are too big, it seems. The mother was flighty, and had dashed off each time I approached her, but late in the afternoon two of us cornered her and I dragged her down.

The birth has stopped after just starting. Feet were out and the tip of the nose, with a swollen black tongue gruesomely sticking out. Depressed, I eased the feet out then the rest slid out gracefully. A shame, a handsome male lamb, spitting image of his father with a classic Dorper black head.

Then he coughed. I grabbed him, rubbed and squeezed him to get his chest moving, and was amazed as he started spluttering into life. His dazed mother lay there, and I parked him under her nose. As she recovered she started attending to the lamb, and we got up and walked away.

I was worried he might not be able to suckle with his swollen tongue, and now, a couple of days later, I think it might be a small problem, as he hasn't yet filled out as quickly as the other lambs. But he's sprightly and his mother is attentive, so I am happy with his progress.

We are about halfway through the lambing …..