The ice sparkled and glowed, adding extra cheer to Christmas this year. A white Christmas seems to be so much sweeter than does a brown. We often make do with brown over white, living in the Columbia Basin of Eastern Oregon, but have been blessed with two weeks of winter this year.
We had lows down as far as -10 and it snowed nearly every single day. Roads were closed, schools shut down as the drifts piled ever higher. The frantic pace of our everyday lives was suddenly interrupted. Mothers with young children played out in the snow instead of bundling babies off to
daycares. The snow angel population grew by leaps and bounds. The squeak of the snow underfoot tinkled like tiny enchanted bells. Gallons of rich, creamy hot
cholcolate were consumed, toasting tummies from the inside out. The
woodstove in our living room puffed and chugged along, warming many a backside and drying out snow pants and work boots.
Deer and antelope moved down from the higher country to eat alongside the cows.
While the new lambs stayed warm and snug inside their mamas, not quite ready to be born yet, flurries of calves arrived along with the snow squalls.
The goats enjoyed their daily snow walks, but enjoyed more returning to their deep straw beds in the barn!
KP and Roland found a little time to play in the snow. Roland is
KP's Unimog, easily plowing through the chest deep snow they ran into back up the canyon, with never a slip due to being born out on the range to a wild and free mama Mustang.
Roland and Jordan also got to help move cows down from the upper pasture a couple days after the canyon jaunt. I was unable to capture any photos as I rode Roland part of the way, then helped via 4-wheeler after I traded Jordan as riding bareback with the leg brace was proving to be a bit much. I have resigned myself to using the saddle next time as I can't get enough grip with the silly brace in the way. Pooh!
Elmer and Sebastian were content to much hay while Roland was off adventuring.
Roxy had snowballs all over her body after following KP and Roland. Adventuring is great, but I do
beleive she hears the call of the rug in front of the crackling
woodstove!
All of the wise
banty chickens moved into the barn to cozy up, but the silly Barred Rock roosters adamantly remained at their post, roosting on the fence rail in the front yard. For several days, we
dilligently moved them over under the shelter of the the huge Douglas Fir tree, but, realizing they would not get down during the day, pity was taken upon them and they were moved onto the front porch along with feed and water until the storms abated. They soon found a favorite chair, but every couple of days would wade through the snow and roost again upon the freezing fence rail. Their combs are damaged from the cold, and one of the boys has lost some weight, but they have survived this round. Now to wean them from roosting on the front porch . . .
We awoke Saturday morning to warm winds and dripping eaves as a Chinook blew in, bringing spring in the middle of winter.
By Monday morning, most of the snow had turned to mud on the ground, but had freshened the trees up nicely.
And the roosters were ecstatic to be freshening up with a good dirt bath. This guy kept turning around, throwing dirt up on himself, then would snuggle down into the good, brown earth as if he thought he may never see it again.
Hmmm . . should we let him in on the forecast? Possibility of snow showers again on Thursday. We'll just let him enjoy his bit of springtime for now!
Until next time, may all your seasons be blessed.
The inseperable brothers have been cut from each other. At about 3:30 this morning, I awoke to a loud squawk coming from the front yard fence and immediately jumped out of bed, flung open the door and knew some dirty dog was stealing one of my pets. I slipped on a robe and slippers as it was quite brisk out of doors, and went on a starlit hunt. One Barred Rock rooster came running toward me through the front yard, so I was a bit relieved to see him and sent our dog, Roxy, out on the trail of the other, heading up the hill behind the house. At one point she must have run into the fox as she let out a warning bark and set out on a chase. I was hopeful with all of the commotion, the fox might drop the rooster as his plump frame must have been quite the burden for a delicate fox, but alas, we followed for a bit and no such luck. It has been my experience that a fox will usually snatch a bird, carrying it off to kill in a safer location farther from the house and barn. Chickens struggle only briefly, then resign themselves to the inevitable and I have recovered chickens from foxes by scaring the fox into dropping the bird with the chicken having only minor wounds, recovering fully. I continued to call for a time, hoping to hear the answering cluck coming from under a sagebrush, but eventually returned to the house, half frozen. The remaining rooster was sitting in the middle of the yard, so I carried him to the porch, felt for any injuries, and finding none, perched him on the porch near my bedroom door. In the past, the brothers would sometimes be diligently scratching for bugs and tasty morsels throughout the yard and find themselves lost from one another's sight on opposite sides of the house. They would crow to each other until they were together again, happily scratching and preening side by side. All roosters fight each other at times, but I never saw these two get into a scuffle. They were together constantly. In the picture posted above, he had just crowed and was waiting and listening for an answer from his brother, but all he heard were crows from the barn banties. He must walk into the dawn of a new day alone, with only memories to sustain him. And with a chicken, that won't be long.
Happier times - cold weather, warm hearts.
