Snow foxes

I only wish I had a picture.

There are only two things I like about snow.

1) A snow covered ground makes it easy to see where I'm walking at night and 2) a snow covered ground makes it easy to see where others have been walking as well.

We've had very few days or nights of true snow cover this year. In general I'm happy about that, since with the snow usually comes bitter cold and lots of other unpleasantness.

But I have missed the snowlit nights.

That's why I was pleased when, on my way back to the house from feeding the ponies tonight, I realized I could see all the way back to the sheep barn behind the house. Behind the pony barn I could see all three of the old farmstead barns and all the yards around them. The dark shapes of the barns loomed out against the white snow. The distances were all foreshortened and a low ceiling of clouds made everything glow. It felt like being inside a lightbox.

And that's why I couldn't resist sneaking back to the sheep barn just to peek in the barnyard and see if anybody was still up and about. I could see one dark lump standing in the feeder. It turned out to be Brianna, bless her hungry little half-Lincoln heart. She was out in the yard all by herself cleaning up scraps from dinner. I hovered around for a while trying to get a picture of her in the dark with my phone, but she didn't much appreciate my intrusion and after a few minutes declared she didn't really want an audience and hopped down and away.

I turned to go, not quickly mind you, but fast compared to hovering I guess. My movement startled something out by the old barns. Something that started to run. I caught the movement in the corner of my eye, just in time to look up and catch the sight of not one, but two foxes racing back to the big barn.

Not one, but two foxes.

I'd suspected the fox I'd been hearing had moved into the old barn. I've seen tracks. Lots of tracks. Even tracks into and out of the sheep yard. The other morning, I saw the actual fox, not just her tracks, dart around the corner of the old barn and disappear inside it while I was feeding. And I've seen her trotting across the back field at dusk and dawn. Coming and going from hunts I assume. But, I hadn't realized there were two of them. I suppose there will be even more in a few weeks.

If we are lucky, and very careful and watchful, maybe we will see the kits.

And if we are very lucky, and very careful, and very watchful, maybe they will leave the sheep and the lambs that are coming, very much alone. I pray so.

And I need to get a picture.

A night to be born

Ewe lamb number three, Sally's daughter, 

arrived late last night during the great snow melt-off. 

A chorus of coyotes greeted her across the fence line. 

The mist and howls swirled alike. 

From the barn door.

Turn your volume up.

A new toy

Back before Christmas, back before snow, back before frozen water buckets and constant stall cleaning, I bought myself a new camera. I was so impressed by the photos that folks were posting on their blogs, I thought, "I wanna do that!"   So, I read up on what people were saying about good digital cameras for beginners and bought a Canon (oops) Nikon 5100. (I thought about the Canon, but actually bought the Nikon.) Today, I took it out of the box.

I found myself with some free time (what's that?) after I turned all the ponies out this morning, so I dug out the camera and opened it up. Mountains of cords and plugs and batteries and lenses later, I glanced up to discover snow swirling around outside. "Eureka!" I dumped the instruction manual and raced outside. Well, race is a relative term right? I still had to put on 3 layers, top and bottom, my heavy muck boots, my gloves, etc.. Compared to the astronauts preparing for lift off, I was fast and I had my new camera in hand. I only had time for a few shots though, on auto focus, before commonsense kicked in and I realized how wet the snow was. I stopped then to bring the poor ponies in. In any case, here are the first few shots from my fancy camera! I'm super excited.

Meet Annie.

Tundra chickens...not

The jungle chickens looked out their coop door this morning and gave one big collective thumbs down. I kicked the snow away from their doorway, so they'd have a clear place to land. They said, "No. Thank you, but no."  I scraped a path for them from their coop clear over to their jungle tree. They said, "Don't bother. We're not coming." All day. Not so much as a cluck or a cackle or a crow outside. I think the jungle chickens are done with winter.

I'm done too. Bring on the spring please.

Winter Olympics

I hate really dislike the cold.

Probably because I grew up in the South.

A few years ago, I was offered a job in Ontario. It was a lovely job, with lovely colleagues, but all I could think of was the weather.

I visited in the heart of winter. I remember watching saucer-sized snowflakes dust the evergreens in the late afternoon twilight. I remember the deep, narrow paths chiseled out of the snow between front doors and driveways, sidewalks and storefronts. Paths exactly one pencil-thin, snow-shovel width across. It was beautiful, but all I could think about was avoiding the knee-deep walls of snow.

Bom Bom

This is BomBom.

A day or two ago, he stopped eating his hay.

I think he may have broken a tooth.

The first clue should have been the blood on one of his hind legs Saturday. I checked the leg out and couldn't figure out where the blood came from. The leg seemed fine.

Meanwhile, he's leaving all his hay on the ground, but acting hungry and gobbling up his handful of grain.

This morning there was a smear of blood on his front leg. Not a lot of blood, just a smear. Ah ha. He must have scratched an itchy leg with his teeth and left the blood behind.

I'm trying to figure out what the options are. He hasn't let me get a good look in his mouth yet. I may have to call the vet back out. This is the same pony who gashed himself on a sharp fence corner last month. Oy. Ponies.

The most immediate goal is to get some hay in him.  I put a half a flake in a pan to soak this morning.

At lunchtime he said,

"Finally."

Sucked down the soggy hay.

Stamped and pawed the pan.

"Now give me more."

Poor little guy was so hungry. Gotta fix his teeth.

Snow

We've gotten about 12 inches of snow in the past week.  

It's picturesque. From a distance.

It did a number on the chicken's run. See their outdoor shelter? It's the half-buried tarp in the foreground.

Not that the chickens seem to mind.

How many chickens can squeeze under a collapsed tarp? 

At least eight. That's Ham, the rooster, with his seven hens. 

The tarp is a complete loss. I ripped holes in it trying to get the snow off. I'll have to rig a new one. Fortunately, they also have a cozy, and solid, coop.  

It's supposed to snow again tomorrow.