In Finland I start each and every day with breakfast for me followed by breakfast for seven hungry lambs.
My typical breakfast consists of coffee, oats, yogurt, milk, banana, toast, peanut butter or some variation thereof. For the lambs, two warm liters of vitamin rich formula prepared with love and funneled into bottles which they will drink as though nectar from the sheep gods.
I slip on borrowed rubber boots, walk through the dew covered fields, step over the electric fence, yell MEHHHHH (err, that's a lamb noise), and await the echoed response. Soon follows the tiny stampede of little hooves running towards; always little Pepina in the lead, smallest, loudest, and hungriest. I hoist each one up and into a small pen to be fed in groups of two. There are four black, two white, and a little brown one we call Stinky. While they wait to be chosen they rub up against me and climb up on two legs much like cats. They drink the milk frantically and always beg for more. When I lift them back over the pen they'll maybe lamb-burp in my face, toddle around somewhat deliriously, then happily frolic back to the flock. Sometimes Speedy, the mother of about half of them, will wander over slowly while her kids are being fed. I pet her bony head and she presses her warm, wooly body up against me, almost knocking me over (I've since been told this is the most tender compliment a ewe could pay). We'll sit together for several minutes like this. She nuzzles under my chin or rubs her head gently on my shoulders. Often a lamb or two will join in on the love fest; climbing over eachother, climbing over me. Every single time, it almost puts me over the edge.
We feed them twice a day, and the Austrian couple volunteering here with me tend to join in the evenings, which is great company and a huge help. But the mornings are still my favorite. No matter how little sleep I have gotten, current state of health or disposition, this heaping dose of lamb love is the perfect start to my days.