A rescue centre for lambs - 'where there's a heartbeat, there's hope'

There's a nursery, a kindy, high school and university at the far end of a gravel road east of Carterton.

The students here are dressed in cosy white coats, the youngest curled up under heat lamps, the oldest bounding around in the sun.

Their carer is Jacqui Friedrichs and she's hooked on rescuing lambs.

Friedrichs and her husband Terry have converted an old tack shed and stables and built a new barn to house and feed more than a hundred lambs this season on their small Wairarapa farm.

She said it's a round-the-clock, four month job and is done for the pure joy of saving and raising animals which might have been the runt of a set of triplets, orphaned or abandoned by their mothers.

"Where there's a heartbeat, there's hope."

When Country Life visits, a newborn called Andrew has arrived and Friedrichs pops a numbered wool coat on him and closes the gate on a straw-padded pen under a heat lamp.

The coats not only keep the lambs warm, she explained, but they also allow her to keep tabs on any sick lambs and "when you have to pick up two or three at a time, they make a perfect handbag."

Friedrichs is feeding more lambs than normal this season with an automated on-demand system of bottles, teats and warming machines.

At last count they had 117 lambs, with still more expected, after a particularly difficult winter.

"Farmers have a lot to worry about at the moment and looking after these little guys, which is a 24/7 job, they just don't have the time.

"There's no grass, there's too much water, there's no food. Lambs are dying so quickly."

It takes, a phone call or a text from a farmer and they're off to pick up the next new recruit.

"I do pray for a day not to have a delivery just to have a break and to catch up."

She started off seven seasons ago with an orphaned lamb of her own and the orphanage grew from there.

Every year the couple learn something new "very quickly", from the amount of colostrum needed in the first few days to designing headguards to stop the lambs fighting for the same teat.

Hand feeding was abandoned pretty early on.

Some of the lambs come in very undersized and sick and try as she can with warm baths, cuddles, colostrum, a strict cleanliness routine and the standard vaccinations, not all of the lambs make it through.

Friedrichs is realistic about when their time is up.

"You have to draw the line. I know where the line is. I push the line as much as I possibly can and I have a whole lot of hope but sometimes you have to say enough is enough."

Terry's support extends to the building work and installations that keep the orphanage ticking over.

"She's stark raving mad. She's nuts, but hey, she does the job," Terry joked about his wife's expensive hobby.

It's definitely not a business, she said, and they'll be lucky if they recoup a third of their costs this year with lower lamb prices.

They will keep the few Wiltshires that come in for their own flock of the self-shedding breed.

The rest may be rehomed or go off to the saleyards when they're weaned.

Jacqui said she regards the orphanage as her community service, besides she loves giving them a cuddle. 

"I just love them. I don't know why. I mean when they run and jump and skip and have to kick their back legs out and show they're all excited? 

"Come on, what's better than that."