The Slowcook at Spydog Farm The Slowcook at Spydog Farm

Our First Big Snow

December 16th, 2013 · No Comments · Posted in farming, rural life, Weather

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The big nor’easter that passed through over the weekend left about six inches of snow on our farm. Here’s the good news: that was only about half as much as neighboring areas woke up to Sunday morning. Still, I got my cardio and then some trying to keep all our animals fed and watered. Collecting eggs from the coop parked out in the orchard is a walk of about 300 yards on a good day. It becomes a challenge when each step is 10 times heavier.

Never was I so glad we spent the money to have electricity and frost-free hydrants installed in strategic locations on the farm. Hauling water would have broken me pretty quickly. Instead, a small electric element at the bottom of the water tub keeps H2O clear and ice free for sheep and heifer even in the coldest temperatures. Likewise, a heated base for the galvanized waterer in the chicken coop saves me having to switch out the waterer each morning.

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Perhaps the best news of the day concerned our pickup truck. It performed like a champ, get us up and down our steep and long driveway even without plowing. Four-wheel drive saved us, and certainly was good news for our boy goat, who continues to reside at a nearby vacant house after escaping some weeks ago. I was able to deliver grain. And when it became clear he didn’t know how to get to the grass under the snow, I delivered some hay for him as well.

Later in the afternoon, our excavator friend Howard arrived with his plow and cleared the driveway.. What joy! Meanwhile, sheep and cow seemed to have little interest in leaving their quarters in the permanent paddock. They ventured out after I dropped a bale of hay in the adjacent field. Likewise, our momma goat Dolly had nothing good to say all day. She bleated loudly and repeatedly to let us know how much she dislikes the snow cover.

Well, I’m doing my best, Dolly. Please remember you’re a goat and evolved to cope with the elements. The best I can do is keep you fed and watered and provide a shed and straw where you can get out of the weather and bed down for the night.

When not trudging through the snow to perform my chores, I watched movies with daughter and maintained the fire in the wood stove. I baked a big pound cake; daughter made cookies. I fried catfish from the local food co-op for dinner, while fish-averse daughter chowed on a pork chop.

That night, I donned my head lamp to deliver Emily, the heifer, her evening bucket of grain. The sky had cleared and a full moon was out, casting a dreamy glow over the entire, snow-covered landscape. While the heifer ate, I took it all in–the trees, stark and lonely, standing in bare relief against the night sky; the far-away hills in silhouette; animal tracks crossing in the ghost-blue snow; our house, windows glow, snug, warm–and drifted off on my thoughts.

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