Ice Woes

I write this having just come back inside from morning feed.  The first words to Rick, "Well, that was semi-hideous!"

All of us are now officially tired of the snow and ice.  Shouldn't come as a surprise; by late February we're always more than ready for some weather changes.  The problem lies in the transition.

This morning upon leaving the cozy (and may I add ice-free house) the thermometer said 41 degrees (F).  OK, that bodes well.  Confidently I strode out only to encounter smooth-as-silk ice leaving the garage and again when leaving the driveway to veer over to the donkey yard.  Pure, unadulterated ice.  No patches of crunchy snow to gain some footing.  Nope.  I had not worn my cleats -- the driveway looked like a dream.  Foolish me.

No traction whatsoever.  I was sliding down the very small incline down into the donkey yard.  Hanging on to the fence posts for support.  I made no attempt to bring the manure wheelbarrow in - can't do that while hanging on to fence posts!

So to sum up -- donkeys are sick of it and are longingly gazing at the pasture saying, "when will it be green again?"  Chickens are tired of the snow impeding their outside adventures.

I think the only one who doesn't seem fazed is Gunner, who can always find ways to root around without slippage.

Tools Of The Trade

Within the past eight days we have had ice, heavy snow, polar votex, then back to ice and mud.
All within Eight Days!
And yet, not many who have lived in Michigan find this unusual.

Eight days ago I was using my cleats

a walking stick with a sharp end to stab the ice

and a torch to get the gate latch open

A week ago the snow came.  Oh boy, did it come!

A muck rake is a fine snow shovel.to clear a path for the manure wheelbarrow.

If you peek through the bushes below, you can see Rick plowing the driveway.

And now after days with temperatures in the 40's, the snow has melted down to the ice hiding beneath.  Ergo the combo of ice and mud.  

Delightful.

I'd much prefer a winter of snow, just snow, please.

Saying Good-bye to Moose

It was time last Thursday to say goodbye to our little fluffball. 

We adopted him from a friend who thinks he was dumped in the field behind her house.  The vet guessed his age to be 5.  That was 14 years ago.  He would have been 20 this year.

We named his Dusty, but somehow that turned into Moose for me.

I'm missing that boy every day.

I miss him waiting in the kitchen for the bowl of crunchies (kibble) to be set down.
I miss having a small (but heavy) body rocket onto my stomach when I dared lie on the couch to read. 
I miss playing the "provoke you" game by quickly patting his paws as he sat next to me.
I miss the quite vocal demand for breakfast, which toward the end included as much tuna and pumpkin as he wished.
I miss his insistence on going out on the deck on the hottest of days to soak up the sun.
But most of all I miss the purr every time I picked him up the last week of his life. 

He had found a dark room in the basement to spend his last days.  I'd go down often, bring him up to the kitchen and set him before the water bowl to make sure he stayed hydrated.  And he purred each and every time.

Goodbye sweet little Moose

Blanketed Bundles of Donkey

The gang is all ready for the -5 degrees predicted for tonight. 

As with horse care, there are controversies for donkey care and for chicken care.  To blanket or not to blanket is one.  I use my "it's Damn Cold" meter to guide me. 

Many chicken owners do not think coop heaters are necessary or wise.  Well, tonight the girls will be in heated comfort for sure.

This evening I needed help getting blankets on Sugar and Spice.  They had to be convinced it was a good idea but I do believe they'll be thanking me tomorrow.

 
All you Michiganians out there, keep warm!

Christmas Over?

We do not follow the conventional holiday decorating timetable.  Our tree goes up mid-December and comes down mid-January.  That stems from our former tradition of cutting a fresh tree late enough to keep it kicking for a few weeks.  We haven't done that since our son moved out on his own and, although I miss that tradition still, it's not worth a battle with you-know-who.

Were it not for the flu bug I've had for the past four days, we'd most likely be taking down the tree and decorations this weekend.  But my energy has been down the tubes so it will have to wait just a few more days.

So for the time being, yes, it is still Christmas in our home.

Mornings On Our Teeny Tiny Farm

Feed the donks first to get them out of my hair

Emmy Lou 2 thinks she'll get an extra treat by hopping up 

Girls always love to scrabble in the straw during their morning walkabout

Nabbing some bird seed treat on the coop porch 

(usually everyone is huddled around the bowl)

Oh, that face

My little Luigi

Ah yes, a new hole for Rick to fix.

Thank you donks.

Our Christmas Miracle

Those who have been following along this year, will remember we adopted a greyhound in March.  Many of the qualities we had been told about the breed are simply not turning out to be true in our (limited) experience.

Faith is NOT lacking in brain power.  She may not be as smart as Dudley (our lab mix) was, but she's no slouch.

Faith is NOT a couch potato, any more than Gunner is.

In fact she has been getting into quite a bit of mischief the past couple of months that has been getting me pretty worked up.  She IS food obsessed.  Even more so than our foodaholic Dudley, which I didn't think was possible.  We are now hiding anything remotely deemed edible -- in the microwave, in the oven, behind closed doors.  In the recent past she helped herself to candy (yes, including chocolate), cake, soup, and most delicious of all, compost.  Those are just the edible items.  I can't keep yarn anywhere she can reach.  And now the Christmas tree ornaments are getting chewed.

This used to be round

Another wood car wasn't remotely salvageable

I consulted with her foster (the greyhound rescue organization we went through places dogs off the track into short-term foster homes until adopted) and she (brilliantly) suggested putting Faith's muzzle on after catching her in the act.  That has now become the new operating procedure.

Anyway, the biggest transgression (although I can't really call it that) came about last Monday.  I was up first as usual and let the two dogs out at 6:00 a.m.  Gunner returned, but Faith remained out.  At 7:00 I awoke Rick and said we had to go out and look for her.  The dogs have about an acre of fenced woods surrounding the house in which to noodle around.  Looking for her in the dark was not going to be easy...

I was panicked to find she had gotten out of the fenced in area.

I took the car, driving down our dirt road, stopping every couple of minutes to call.  Rick took off on foot looking in yards and calling.  I drove down the way-too-close busy road, looking for a dead dog.  Finally I returned home.  Rick took up the road patrol.

About 8:00, little miss princess came to the back door, as they've been taught, to come in.

  

Let me just say, others who know greyhounds better than we, say they never come home.  They take off like the wind, end up far away from home, and lost.  Her return was a godsend.

Within minutes she was cuddled up to me on the couch.