Raking Snow

     I have a new farm chore.  When it snows, my chickens refuse to step out of the hen house.  That's sixty chickens dropping their business on a floor that it's my job to keep clean. I want them outside, but when I open the door and they see this they don't think, "Oh what a spectacularly beautiful snowfall."  

They think, "Nope. Not. Going. Outside. Today."
     Sixty chickens hanging out all day in a hen house leads quickly to an excess of fertilizer  Luke thinks of the chickens as Pez dispensers.  He's delighted with every deposit they make.  More food for him. I'm not so happy.  Poo builds up quickly and sticks to my shoes when I gather eggs.  I must either clean the chicken house pronto, or throw another layer of hay on top.
     I am currently throwing another layer of hay on top, delaying the torture of cleaning until warmer weather or Scott comes home.  We are almost 8 inches deep in hay and compost now and I'm hoping it will start to heat as it decomposes. Then at least the chickens will stay warmer.

     But for now, I want the girls to go outside. That's where my rake comes in. I have discovered that if they can see just the tiniest bit of a path then they will step out.

     So I grab my rake and start making paths.  One path leads down to the creek so they'll go there for water.  That's a five gallon bucket less for me to tote.  Another path leads to the back side of the shed, which will often heat up enough to melt off a little bare spot.  I call it the Rooster Riviera.

The chickens like to sunbathe there, and the rooster struts about picking up chicks. Lacking a tiny bathing suit he substitutes a deft display of neck feathers.

The rest of the hens head over to the bare spot under the truck.  They can scratch a little, make dust baths and stay out of the view of the hawk who patrols the sky.

Satisfied that I've avoided adding another deposit of hay to the coop, I head back to my house. The hens hang outside for another fifteen minutes and then make their way back to the hen house.  It's warmer in there.Their deposits are decomposing.  Time to go make some more.

In spite of my efforts to avoid it, I guess I'll be making a fresh deposit of my own tomorrow. 

A Trip to the Woodshed

     My husband had a conversation with a newcomer to the mountains the other day.  The newcomer was commenting on the beauty of the place and how his wife loved her view.  Since they were looking at chainsaws, the talk soon turned to cutting wood for the winter.  The newcomer shared the enormous amount of wood he'd already cut and then said, "but my wife gave me specific directions about where the pile could be.  She didn't want it to block her view, so I've put it behind an outbuilding."  Joe then said to him, "Yes, my wife felt the same way when she first moved here.  Two winters of hauling wood cured her of that notion."  He's right.  Here's my woodshed.

It's pretty far from my house, but in good weather I don't mind rolling the wheelbarrow out there to bring in a load.  It's good exercise and the driveway makes it an easy trip.   But in snow, the wheelbarrow doesn't roll as well.  That's when I'm grateful for this stack.

As you can see, it's right beside the house; an easy distance to tote. 

I'm fairly certain the newcomer's wife will one day appreciate a stack by the door, too.  

Neither Rain nor Sleet nor Misery....

     Farmers are superheros.  Illness doesn’t stop them.  There are no sick days when the cattle are standing out in the weather and the only thing that keeps them warm is a constant meal of hay.  There is no one to call when a farmer feels just like the piles of crap dotting the fields where he must, with a fever of a hundred and one, go out and throw hay off the truck in the cold rain.

     This is a short post because I just wanted to give a shout out to my husband and sons, who do what needs to be done even when the doing is pure misery.  I am proud to be a farmer’s wife and the mother of two more.  My men have the kind of grit it took to settle the wilds of America.  They have the kind of determination and stubbornness that gets the job done, personal discomfort be damned. 

I hope the animals appreciate them as much as I do.