On the last day of March and on the way back from buying buttons in the market town up the road, we noticed some new arrivals in the field near home. Luckily, the public footpath goes through the middle of the farm so, after parking up and enduring a noisy greeting from a couple of sheepdogs, we walked past the drift of daffs, through the mud ('I'm glad we're in your car', someone was heard to mutter) and had a gander at the expectant mothers before cooing over the lambs which, predictably, were either fast asleep or camera shy. I managed to snap one and then, as no-one was looking, I picked him up, popped him in the car and named him Gerald.
Don't worry. That last bit only happened in my head.