It's been a busy January and is shaping up to be a busy February (really, we'll need to come up with a better means of opening these statements, since on the farm, all months are busy with very few exceptions). January brought some severe weather patterns in the form of lots of snow - snow deep enough that even the sheep found moving in it troublesome. February has involved cleanup from the resulting mess, and more preparations for the coming seasons.
Our miracle kitty is fully recovered, without any lasting damage from his trip in the dryer. He is full of beans and mischief, and has endless appetite for treats, strokes and games. All five of the younger cats have been glad for the recent (sadly, now ended) spate of good weather, as they'd gotten to go out and follow us around during the performance of our chores. Tink had adorable adventures involving a water trough, and then with curious ewes wanting to know: 'What kind of a sheep are YOU?'
(Please note the restraint in not making the obvious pun in the last sentence of the above paragraph.) Here, Hercules is taking in the sun; throughout the snowfall, he was the lone trekker to and from shelter and the fenceline separating his enclosure from that of the ewes'. None of the other rams were as hopeful, as ardent, as tireless and just plain darn horny as he was. It availed him naught - not during the snow, anyway.
However, AFTER the snow, one of the ewes (#228) took advantage of the massively compacted rotting old straw and hay where it's built up along the fenceline and JUMPED the fence into their pasture. We know she was not in there longer than 12 hours, as she hadn't been there at the evening feeding, but at the morning feeding, the ram headcount went '...eight, nine, ten ... TEN?!' Fortunately, that morning's feeding involved alfalfa, and a farmer was able to sneak up on her from downwind, grab her, and dump her (kicking and screaming) back to her own side of the fence.
A couple of hours of work with a manure fork managed to clear a trench and render it difficult to impossible for a repetition of that performance. However, eventually (once we shift flocks around to various enclosures later in the season) we'll need to clear it completely. We have some sketched plans for a compost chimney with which to turn our rotting hay into lushly enriched soil over the course of time and with the addition of plenty of red wrigglers.
The snow itself was truly impressive. We were fortunate enough to get our hay delivered before there was quite a foot of snow on the ground; by the time the snow was done, there was no likelihood of either deliveries or of departures. Added to which, the snow was followed by an ice storm, so that trees and fences were glisteningly lovely under a solid quarter to half an inch encasement of clear, cold, deadly ice.
The sheep were all smart enough to stay under wraps in this. The bird netting and trees were heavily bowed under the weight of this, and in many places, limbs broke and netting snapped; we took steps to clear a small space for the chickens and one morning before the ice arrived even had to go into the chicken enclosure and lift the snow-laden netting off of several mercifully still-living chickens. They were too foolish to get down and go into cover, and ended up pinned to the roof of one of their shelters.
During this period, of course, no mechanical aids could be used for feedings; hay was dragged as far as was needed for the sheep to be able to reach it, and ultimately we found it necessary to tramp a path for the sheep in one of the enclosures, so that they could move from the treeline down to a more convenient feeding point. Their shelter under the trees was at the top of the property, and the footing - always treacherous - being buried so deeply made for difficult going indeed.
It was still very lovely, and with a bit of hard work and a lot of ingenuity, the farm as a whole pulled through just fine, thanks to ample provisions (both animal and human) and steady effort. We did run low on poultry feed at one point, resulting in cooking up an enormous stockpot of rice and baking several loaves of 'junk' bread for them; we lost power three or four or so times, which confused the oven into thinking that the lower oven should remain locked. Ultimately we solved this by putting it in clean cycle, then canceling the cycle; poof, unlocked!
While we got relatively few eggs during this time, we did get enough eggs out of the chickens that we were never in any serious danger of running out. Since the nicer weather's arrived, and since the hens are laying but not gone broody, we're beginning to have trouble keeping up with consumption, causing us to consider changes in our dietary habits. Oh well. Eggs are a good substitute for red meat proteins, anyway!
Countless loaves of bread, batches of french toast, cookies, brownies, puddings and tarts later, the snow gradually (and only very gradually) melted away, leaving us with the memory of it, and grateful that such snow (and at such depths) is a very rare occurrence for us in this part of the world. Mobility was restored in more ways than one, allowing us to enjoy the luxury not only of driving into town for more poultry feed, but the simpler pleasure of being able to walk unencumbered.
Indeed, the snow was THIS deep. And now we are moving forward into February, having ordered plenty of garden seeds and expecting lambs as soon as March and at least one ewe which might lamb as late as July - thanks to #228!
