How an abandoned lamb turned into Beltane Ranch’s house pet

Farmers are not typically sentimental by type. They see livestock as the sum of the services they provide. But when a newborn lamb is rejected by its mother, even seasoned wranglers can get misty.

When Alex Benward and his sister Lauren decided to use sheep to control weeds at Beltane Ranch in Glen Ellen a few years ago, they started small, with just two ewes. But two became eight in fairly short order, and soon enough there were 17 Southdown Babydoll sheep making quick work of the estate’s grasses and weeds.

Last month, with a cold winter moon hanging low in the sky, an ewe called EmmyLou went into labor, and the flock was poised to grow once again.

The first lamb came quickly and the ewe’s instincts kicked in. She groomed it, and nursed it, and nosed it to standing. But when the second lamb was pulled into the world some four hours later, its mother had by then lost interest completely. The poor thing mewled helplessly in the the winter cold as its mother and favored sibling ignored it.

“It’s not uncommon, with multiple births, for the mother to reject one of the babies,” Alex Benward explained.

That first night, the ewe made a few halfhearted attempts at tending her second little lamb, but by morning it was clear that she was unwilling to feed it.

So the human stewards of Beltane Ranch stepped in. “We realized pretty quickly that the lamb wasn’t going to be fed by its mother. So we took over,” Alex’s girlfriend, Kelly Koeberer, said.

They got milk into a bottle and put the little lamb in a lap, and just like that, Wally the Wooly Weeder became family.

Now, in addition to the working herd grazing on spring greens, Beltane Ranch has a little lamb for a pet. Because this is the kind of story fairy tales are made of, the lamb’s fleece is, of course, white as snow, and — at least on the day the Index-Tribune stopped by — everywhere its carers went, the lamb would surely go.

It trotted inside the century-old main house at Beltane, little hooves clattering against the old wood floors. It clambered into the cabs of ranch vehicles at work, surveying its environs from a warm, welcoming lap. It followed old Duke, Beltane’s canine mascot, like a woolly shadow, and pranced like a puppet on strings when Lauren’s young sons arrived after school.

The lamb is impossibly, quintessentially cute, the platonic ideal of adorability. It falls instantly asleep like a real baby when cradled, and wails like a banshee when left.

Alex and Kelly are chronicling Wally’s adventures on Instagram, where he can be found cavorting photogenically through fields of clover, reaching peak cuteness from every new angle.

And while they may have softer hearts than your average ranch hands, even the Benward clan must draw a line somewhere. Wally, cute as he is, sleeps outside in the barn, with his mother and brother on the other side of a fence. He’s learning Lamb 101 from their reluctant example, but at heart is a card-carrying member of the sweet human family who loved him completely when no one else would.

It’s all in a day’s work at the Shangri-La that is Beltane. “Wally has not only brought the family an endless amount of love,” Kelly said, “his sweet, tenacious personality symbolizes the renewed chapter of regenerative practices at the ranch, and hope for a better future for all.”

Contact Kate Williams @ kate.williams@sonomanews.com