The aftermath

The day dawned bright and cold, with only a little wind.  Yesterday’s gales had packed the powdered snow into swirls and eddies,, drifts here and bare spots there.

Enlarge to see the beautiful swirls and patterns from the wind close up

The wind blows lovely patterns.

 I dug my way to the barn last night and finished the job this morning.  A high drift sits just in front of the side door of the barn, 

while the wind completely cleared the area in front of the big doors, so that when I opened them, the horses were able to go out onto dry ground.  
 I should have put out the hay in the barn before I opened the doors, though, because Magic immediately headed for the gates and the space under the barn, Angel following slowly behind her.  The goats, too, were happy to be out.  I put out some hay and returned to the house.

Later, after the driveway had been plowed, I went out again to clear the pathways, check on the poultry, and see if the horses had returned for their hay.  They hadn't, and the goats had followed.  The only response when I called was nickers from under the barn.  Oh well.  Out I tromped through the snow, hoping they'd made a good enough path that I wouldn't sink in.  Wishful thinking!  I struggled through the deep snow until I got to the rise above, Zoë ahead of me, struggling through .  

Under the barn.  They had to break through the drift to get there.

A huge drift blocked the barn area, but all was clear before it.  Why they plowed through that drift to get underneath is a mystery to me, but there they all were, goats completely underneath, and horses on the outside edge. I called again and Angel pushed past Magic, eager to follow me and return to the barn.  I scooped up Zoë so she wouldn't get trampled, for now Magic bounded up, scattering snow everywhere.  She danced back to the barn, shaking her head in high spirits.  

Magic waiting for me.

I left them there and came in.  The goats turned up eventually.  They had to brace themselves for the trek back, and hugged the clear area by the barn.

The herd

 

Snow is rumbling off the roof in small avalanches.  This week's forecast is for warmer weather and rain.  Everything will turn to ice at night and make it impossible to walk or drive.  I can hardly wait!

The Big Storm

I awoke at 4:00 this morning, remembering that I hadn't stashed any emergency water rations.  Down I came and checked the situation.  In the basement were 2 filled 5-gallon containers, and 3 empties.  Upstairs they came, and I spent the next 45 minutes cleaning and filling.  But first, Zoë had to go out.  Well...she thought she did. I flicked on the light and opened the door to find the outside hallway filled with snow. 

That's the door to the outside on the right

Zoë looked at it a moment and headed out the second door to the outside.  It was comical to watch:  she trotted about 3 feet and, without missing a beat, trotted back in the door.

After filling the water containers, it was 5:00, almost time to get up anyway, and hallelujah of all hallelujahs, we still had power!  Okay, with the wind howling outside, rattling windows and blowing snow, that might not last.  I turned on the coffeepot so my mother wouldn't have to do without if we lost electricity, and engaged my brain.  It was cold outside.  Thinking about that, I decided to bake some bread and some eggplant Parmesan that I'd been planning for tonight.  Keep the oven going, and at least the kitchen would stay warm.  I mixed together whole wheat bread and put it aside to rise, and then mixed up pita bread dough.  I love fresh pita bread stuffed with salad, and kept that vision in my mind as I rolled out the pita circles.

The risen pita dough

Rolled out and ready to bake

Two done, 6 to go.

 Around 7:00 Zoë asked to go out again.  Same scene, but this time she sniffed the air before she quickly turned and scooted back through the door.  It wasn't until 10:00 that she gave up the fight and stayed out long enough to relieve herself.  Poor mizzable dog!  She was not a happy camper, and neither was I, for I couldn't put off going out to the barn any longer.  I put on two pair of socks, two pair of sweat pants, heavy boots, a  heavy jacket, gloves, hat, and earmuffs, and ventured forth.  All the snow that should've been outside the door was actually inside the door, so the first few steps were clear; then I descended into ever deeper snow drifts, until I was knee deep and struggling to get to the side door of the barn.  No drift against the door, though!  The wind had blown it all away about 6 inches from the door.

My footprints were quickly filled in.

Oh, the shock when I got to the horses!  They were covered with snow, and there was a 2 foot drift against the door of the hay stall!  Slush covered the top of the stock tank, and snow had even blown into the milking area.  Worse, three of the goats were running around.  I thought I'd locked them in their stall, but either they know how to open a slide latch, or I completely missed that one.  I filled their feeder with hay, dumped some Chaffhaye into the round feeders, and secured them.

Magic, bless her cotton-pickin' little heart, had dumped the horses' feeder on the ground and pushed it around the floor.  She's such a darling that way.  Once all the snow was out of the way, I filled their feeder,, made sure the other goat stall was copacetic, and headed back to the house.

The drift against the door--and Magic's handiwork.

The water tank is right next to the outside doors.

Happy horses.  Their feeder is full.

The wind is supposed to let up sometime tonight.  It's still snowing, still drifting.

So far, we haven't been plowed out, so maybe we'll be farm bound for another day or two.  At 3:30 in the afternoon, we still have power, so it looks like all that preparation worked.  I still need to bake the whole wheat bread but I'll do that soon.  I have some other things I want to do first, like write this blog and then kick back for a bit.  I don't mind snowy weather one bit if I don't have to be out in it.

The ghost of winters past

With all the brouhaha over the impending storm, I''ve been trying to find out just how much we might get here.  While looking on various websites, I found this reference to the infamous Blizzard of '78. Hoo boy! Do I remember that one! I lived with my 8 year old son in Canton, Massachusetts, a mile from Route 128.

Route 128, Blizzard of '78, from www.weather.com

Sometime during the storm, I heard a knock on my door and opened it to find Scott, our church home teacher, and one of his employees, who'd gotten stranded on 128 and walked to my house. Scott managed to call his wife before the phone went out, but they were camped out on the floor until the storm blew over and the streets were somewhat cleared. 

The next morning, my dog Jody needed to go out.  I opened the back door--which, thankfully, opened inward, for we found a drift across the door leaving scant inches of daylight at the top.  Poor Jody! She was practically standing with her legs crossed by the time we got the doorway dug out.  Finally, out she went--a white dog, all that showed were her eyes, two black dots bounding across the snow.

Scott and his friend dug out my front and back and, as I recall, they set out for home, by foot, as soon as the road was plowed enough to allow foot travel.  It took a week for 128 to be cleared and traffic to be allowed even on the local roads.

As I look back on it, it was a cozy time.  Neighbors got to know neighbors, and we walked everywhere.  The snow was piled high, but so were our spirits.  

My first winter in Colorado brought with it another blizzard.  I was snowed in for days, loving every minute.  I dug my way out to the barn, fed and watered the horses, and gloried in the beauty of the snow.  Everyone who had a tractor pitched in to dig out everyone else.  My little Ford 9N was busy, busy, busy as I drove it here and there, the brisk air brushing my skin, my cheeks flushed and rosy.  Snowmobiles were everywhere, collecting people who couldn't get home, bringing supplies to those who needed them, everyone helping everyone else.  Afterwards I set up my watercolor easle and painted, the sunlight streaming into my living room.  It was a glorious time!

I'm older now and the thought of a blizzard both warms and chills my heart.  Since we don't have a wood stove here, if the electricity goes out, it will become mighty cold.  the storm is supposed to start sometime tomorrow night, so I'll lock the horses in the barn, the goats in their stalls, make sure there's plenty of hay and water available, and put my truck out of the way of the plowing.  If we lose electricity, it shouldn't take too long to set up the generator--once I get a path dug.  Then I think I might just dig out my sketch pad.  Blizzards bring out the best in me.

 

Of trees and trucks and puppy dogs

Yesterday, after returning Bella to the herd, I took my remaining vehicle, my Dodge diesel pickup truck, and ran a few errands, figuring I'd be back in less than an hour.  My truck is, uh...quirky, to say the least.  I have to disconnect the negative battery terminals on the dual batteries when I park it for any length of time and plug in an engine block heater during the cold winter months, or it just won't start.  There's a short somewhere, but we sure haven't been able to find it.  My radio has always had a mind of its own, working well in the summer, and usually being pretty much non-functional during the winter.  I suspect they're related, but have you ever tried to track down an electrical short in a vehicle?  I threw my hands in the air a long time ago.

First stop, pick up a discarded, unsprayed, untreated Christmas tree in Belfast. The goats love fir and pine and they are wonderful vermifuges, allowing me to forego any other wormer while they have a steady supply.  I  turned off the truck, hopped out and loaded the tree, hopped back into the truck, turned the key..and the truck wouldn't start.  Stunned, I popped the hood, opened it, and made sure the negative cables were secure, wiggling them as I did so.  Back in the truck and turn the key.  RrrrRrrrRrrr.  It made a valiant attempt to start but just couldn't make it.  I repeated my actions.  Still nothing.  I called Shawn, hoping he was still in Belfast.  He was, and would be along in a bit.

My truck doesn't have a great heater at the best of times, and definitely not on a bitter cold day.  Did I mention it was only about 10°?  Aaargh! It was too darn cold to sit in that truck!  After a few more minutes, I got out again, played with the cables one more time, and God answered my prayer.  The truck started right up.  After closing the hood and calling my son once again to let him know all was well,

I went to my next stop, wondering if I should just head home instead.  I found myself rushing, as if being quick could prevent problems with the truck.  Uh uh, that wasn't going to help, so I took a deep breath and continued getting the few items I needed, but at a more leisurely pace.  Of course, the truck started up fine, proving to me that it was, after all, just a loose connection and I didn't have to fret myself about it.  So at my next and last stop, I left the truck running while I ran in and out in under four minutes, proving that I don't listen to myself. 

Chowing down on a new tree.

This area is becoming a tree cemetery.

The goats were happy to see the trees I threw out to them, and I was happy to be home.

Today, Saturday, dawned bright and snowy, fine stuff that dusts everything to remind us that it's winter, but it was warmer, in the high 20's, and Zoë happily romped out to the barn with me.  I left the goats in their stalls while I filled the under-barn feeders.  Slowly it dawned on my that Zoë was nowhere to be seen.  I called her.  No Zoë.  I hastily opened the stall doors to release the goats, and headed out the big barn doors.  Where could she have gone?  No tracks.

She must have flown over the snow, because her tracks didn't begin for a good 50 feet.  As I suspect, they headed out across the pasture, through the far gate into the far pasture...and disappeared again.

View from the paddock.  Zoë was in the woods waaay across the pasture.

Frantically I called her, and finally, FINALLY, I saw her running toward me from the woods across the way.  I wanted to throttle her but instead kept calling and encouraging her to come, "Good girl! What a good dog! Come on, puppy!  What a good puppy dog!"  I scooped her up into my arms, petted and praised her some more while she wriggled with delight, and started back to the house.

There's nothing like hunting dog genes to make a dog disobedient.  Zoë must have sniffed out 14 different scents on the way back, and every one of them served to distract her attention from me.

Around the gate

 

And off to the other side

Wait! I smell something over here!

Huh?  You calling me?

There's something down there...

Did you ever see such a beautiful terrier hole?

So many delicious smells!

Almost home, but Zoë's still looking across the far field.

Maybe we don't need that half mile walk to the mailbox today. I think we're good already.

Nobella the noble and lovely

The nice thing about winter is that I have time to do things that just aren't in the schedule during the summer, like write this blog. Winter brings with it its own joys and challenges.

Wednesday it snowed, and it snowed all day.  Wednesday was the first day of "heat watch" for Bella.  I looked at the snow, prayed that I would see no tail wagging, and as the day progressed and the snow kept falling, I decided if she came into heat, I'd wait for the next cycle, if there is one.  February, after all, is a bit late in the season.  She was pretty loud that day, but no other signs of heat, and when I put them all to bed, I was thankful that Bella hadn't shown any physical signs yet.

Thursday dawned cloudy but warm--warm for January, anyway--and the snow started melted a bit.  I checked on Bella in the morning, at noon, and around 3:00, at which time I gave the backup crew the news that, no, today was not the day.  At 7:00 I went out to the barn to fill the hay feeders and give the goats their grain.  In came Bella, tail just a-flaggin'.  She was cozying up to Leah, who swung her head in aggrieved irritation; forgetting or ignoring the fact that Violet and Beatrice butted her every time she came close.  Oh! the joys of goat heats!  Their personalities change, and the only thing on their mind is getting rid of the itch. 

I called the backup crew again and told them we were on for the morning.  Now, I'm always a little concerned about waiting, because a doe stays in heat only 12-48 hours, and I know of a few that were even harder to catch, for their heats lasted only 6 hours, sometimes less.  The there's always the possibility that the transport itself can end the cycle.

Today dawned clear, cold, and bright.  Bella exited the stall with her tail flagging almost constantly.  When Charles got there with his Goatmobile, we packed her in, left the care of my mother to my son, and off we went.  Could the timing be more perfect?  It was very cold, true, but the sun was shining, the roads were clear, and the doe was in a standing heat.

We separated Ike from the herd, brought him into a separate area, and introduced him to Bella.  It was love at first sight, and when we left a half hour later, they called to each other plaintively.  She's bred, covered twice, and I can only hope that timing being so perfect on all other accounts, she'll present me with Sable kids in June.

Bella in the herd

Bella was integrated more quickly than any other goat I’ve ever brought into my herd.  I usually wait a week or two to let them get to know the others through the gate, and to quarantine them in case they have parasites that could be passed on.  In this case, I saw where she lived, saw the health of the herd, knew when she'd last been wormed, and I transported her myself so I know she didn’t get chilled.

She was alone the first and second day, but was so upset and lonely that on the third afternoon I introduced her to Cassie, she being the youngest, friendliest, and probably the lowest on the totem pole.  It was so funny to watch!  Cassie reared up on  her hind legs, came back down, stretched forth her neck and touched noses with Bella.  Then she did it again, several times, as if to say, “Back off, you!  I’ll wipe up the floor with you if you try to hurt me.  Uh…are you friendly?” 

Within minutes they were fine together, and I left Cassie with her the rest of the afternoon and all night long.  Next day, since they had done so well, I introduced Leah, who is next on the pecking order.   

Leah tends to be a bit skittish, and I’m sure she was happy to be the established herd member, and therefore had a chance to be one up on this Newcomer, this Invader.  She and Bella went at it a bit more than Cassie’s introduction, but all in all it was all for show.  Occasionally Leah remembered that Bella was an intruder, but there was nothing serious about the head tossing and half-rears and head pushings that occurred. Mostly the three just ate hay and hung out, complaining loudly that they had to stay in. They stayed together for the next two days; then, the serious introductions began. 

Violet often stays apart from the rest of the herd.  Even so, I would call her Second in Command.  She’s more aggressive than Leah, and bullies her when she takes it into her head.  I removed Leah and Cassie, and brought Violet into the stall.  YeeHah!  The head butting was serious this time, and went on for at least 15 minutes, but since Bella had room to avoid her, I wasn’t concerned about leaving Violet.   Once things had settled down a bit, I brought Cassie back in.  Cassie is the peacemaker.  She’s so young and eager to get along with everyone, that she has a calming influence.  Violet was her companion when she was tiny, so they get along well.

Two days later, when all seemed to be settled, I let everyone out.  Now Beatrice was the only one left, and I wanted Bella to have plenty of room.  She surprised me.  Beatrice walked over stiffly…and Leah immediately gave way.  Not one rear, not one head butt.  Beatrice is boss and Bella knew it.  Bea didn’t immediately accept her, of course, and swung her head at her now and then, but for the most part, Bella was ignored, deigned too little of a threat to consider.

The three Sables.  It's hard to see Bella behind Violet, but she's there.

Time to scratch.

I won’t say that Bella is fully integrated into the herd.  She’s still a newcomer, and still lowest on goat hierarchy.  However, she comes and goes with the others during the day, and she and Cassie are stalled separately at night.  For now, I think that’s the best way to give her a break and still let her find her place in the herd.  That safe time will be especially important after she’s bred next week.

Beatrice, Bella, Cassie, and Leah.  Violet's at the hay.

The coming of Nobella

 The day had arrived where I would be free to drive to New Hampshire and pick up my new doe, a Sable doe with new bloodlines for my herd.  Flick’s-Acres BH Nobella was the raffle doe at the ADGA convention in 2011, won by a teenaged girl whose family raises Toggenbergs.  They wanted her in a Sable herd, where her kids would not be grades.  Because I had posted some messages about Sables on the ADGA District 1 News forum, they knew I was a Sable breeder, and asked if I wanted her.  Of course!  What a wonderful opportunity, and in the greatness of their hearts, the family gave me the doe, now a long yearling.

The back of my car was bedded down with hay, laid over a tarp that covered the flat area in the back of my Goatmobile—a 1995 Toyota Camry wagon.  I left my house at 6:45  and met my friend Maria at 7:00.  Maria was my navigator and copilot, and my relief driver if needed.  I was sure I’d need a second driver after having gotten to bed way too late, and getting up earlier than usual.  Have you ever noticed that the one sure way to get a short night’s sleep is to need and plan on a long night’s sleep?  It always takes longer than anticipated to make everything ready for the morning. 

After a prayer for safekeeping, we filled the tires with air—they were all low!—and made our journey southward.  It was a long drive, but there’s something about having a friend along, conversing and laughing and catching up on old news, that makes the miles fly by.  I blessed Maria’s presence many times during that journey.  It’s so much easier to have a second person looking at maps and directions than trying to drive and navigate at the same time.

We arrived in Westchester around 1:00 and picked up my new doe.  She’s a skittish little thing and an escape artist, they told me.  They were right!  We pulled over a short time after we left their farm to shorten Bella’s lead, as she was very close to climbing into the back seat.  As I opened the hatch to my car, quick as a wink she was out.  If I hadn’t tied her to the hand rest, she’d have been gone.  Whew!  Needless to say, I didn’t make that mistake again.

A few hours later, only 45 minutes from home, my car died.  Aaargh!  But you know, the location was perfect:  10 minutes from my sister’s house, and after towing the car to his garage, my brother-in-law packed us all into his pickup, goat and all, and drove us home.  I was in the back seat with Bella, and every time she tried to stand up, I soothed her and kept her down.  When we got to the farm, Bella jumped out…..and relieved herself.  Ah!  Timing! It’s everything.

Bella got the big stall with the 2 round bales in it.  She was a bit lonely, but settled in very well.  In the morning, she’ll go into the stall where she can have contact with the others.  I hope she has a restful night.