Ahh, Winter

We have a nice layer of ice over everything, and more ice is coming this weekend.

A coating of ice on the snow and trees is lovely. It sparkles in the sun. A coating of ice on the ground where one walks is not so lovely. I did chores this afternoon, so over my boots I pulled on the clever footwear that helps you stand upright on ice. (Can't remember the name...YakTrak? BakTrak? YakBak?) They are made of rubber strips covered with coils of metal, and work okay.

Somewhere in this house I have something better, but I'm not sure where they are: a pair of serious spikes. They're awkward to attach beause you have to sit down and strap them on, but those things have 1/2" spikes. When you step onto the ice, you know you aren't going anywhere. (I'd gotten them for a winter photography class on the North Shore of Lake Superior years ago, where we were walking on icy rocks paying more attention to the camera than to the ice. One fall and you were a quick five foot slide into the icy water.)

These yakky things, though, provide less confidence. So I walked from building to building with my arms out for balance, gaze locked on the ground in search of less shiny spots in which to step. shuffling along like a 95-year-old (no disrespect intended to those who are 95---you should walk carefully.)

It took me twice as long to walk the 700 feet to the mailbox, and I lost all sense of time as I entered this Zen Zone of step, look, shuffle, step. I didn't have my cell phone with me, and Melissa was inside recovering from a neck procedure she had this morning. (More on that later when we know how it worked---we're aiming for headache relief.) So if I landed on my keister and broke something, it was either crawl back to the house, or crawl to the road and flag down a passing motorist, of which there are about 3 per day. Luckily the Yak things worked well enough, or perhaps it was walking like I was 95.

The dogs are always surprised by ice. Open the back door and all three go blasting out to do their thing. Two seconds later they've spread their feet wide in alarm, and the look on their faces says, "Whoa!" They, too, begin walking as if they're 95 (which is 13 in dog years, and 2 of them are 13! What synchronicity...) When I let the dogs back outside two hours later, they do the same thing. "Whoa!" And the third time? "Whoa!"

Gotta love dogs---they are the best optimists in the world. "This time the world won't be slippery."

The sheep do fine in the ice because they walk the same path. It gets worn down, and the droppings of round sheep poop add lots of traction. The only animal I'm worried about is Chachi, our aging llama. He doesn't like going up and down the hill to the hay anyway, and when it's icy, he won't do it. When he does venture out, he walks like he's, well, 95.

So he's locked in a pen in the barn with his own water and own hay. That way I don't have to worry about any broken llama legs.

I'm all ready to do chores all weekend, and make sure the animals don't have to negotiate a skating rink to get to their hay. But I think I'm going to brave the front hall closet and search for those spike attachments.

I may need them.

Snow, Bad Sheep, and the Loch Ness Llama

This winter we set up a long row of six big round bales, surrounded them with feeder panels, and let the sheep and llamas have at it. It's close enough to the house that I can look out the dining room window and see everything, which I enjoy.

The llamas liked to eat on the far side. Zipper, the dark brown llama, would appear and disappear, looking a great deal like the Loch Ness Monster.

Now you see him...



Now you don't...




And here he is again, coming up for air...





Here's a ewe sitting on the hillside, contemplating life, or snow.





After we got all that heavy snow during the holidays, it took me awhile to notice that the llamas were no longer eating on the far side. They were eating on the closer side. Neither of us paid too much attention until it was TOO LATE.

Here's how sheep are supposed to eat their hay:




Here's how they were eating the hay today:




No, your eyes aren't deceiving you. There are bad, bad sheep standing IN the hay, freely peeing and pooping on perfectly good food. And how much of this peed-on or pooped-on hay do sheep and llamas like to eat? None of it. Can't really blame them.

The snow blew up against the back of the feeder and became hard-packed and ice-coated. It basically formed a convenient ramp leading right up to the feeders, leaving only two feet between snow and the top of the panels. Two feet is nothing for a sheep to hop.

This snow build-up is probably why the llamas stopped eating from that side---they were standing too high above the hay to reach down comfortably and eat.

So today Melissa and I suited up. It was 5 above, so we were comfortable. We marched down to the feeder armed with a shovel and some seriously sharp and dangerous gouging and chipping tools. For an hour we hacked and shoveled and hacked and shoveled, occasionally using inappropriate language as the gouging tool bent back or the ice wouldn't yield. Finally we lowered the snow pack to 3 and 1/2 feet below the top of the panel.

One hour later I looked out the window. All was well. Good. All our hard work paid off.



Two hours later I looked out the window to see this:




Heavy, heavy, sigh.

I really don't know what to say that wouldn't require me to censor the entire sentence....

Tomorrow we will suit up again, and hack and shovel until we get the snow level low enough to foil the leaping beasts.


(On the happy side, though, YARN sale is still going on...scroll to earlier post.)