A Snowy Day

I awoke this morning to a 4 inch thick snow blanket standing stately on every branch and frosting every boulder. The still quietness and beauty of it all took my breath away. The snow clouds were thick. Just 100 feet up, the mountain was shrouded in their thickness. Small flakes silently drifted through the air. I donned my coat and boots and set out to feed the chickens. Hershey was excited to take a run in it, dragging her nose as she ran along gobbling up snow now and then and tossing her head in the air as she looked back at me, begging me to play along. I charged at her a few times and she ran in circles around me occasionally changing her direction to run directly at me, becoming more excited as I screamed in apprehension. At the last possible second she swerved off to just avoid a collision and gain speed for another round.

As she circled around to make another run at me we were both abruptly halted by a howling cry. It sounded as if it were coming from the draw further up the meadow, like a coyote or perhaps an injured dog. The sound had been swallowed by the quietness too quickly to determine exactly what it was. Then a second time it pierced out, then a third. Hershey silently pointed, ears perked as she waited again to hear the howl. Fully focused, she stood like a statue; tail straight out. Snowflakes silently wafted, landing on her head and back as we waited to hear it cry out again.

With the last cry I determined it was coming from the chicken coop. My heart sunk as I questioned the safety of my flock. I ran, snow flying off my boots and grains airborne as I quickly carved a trail to their house; thoughts of horror filled my mind. As I got closer I laughed as I recognized the cry. It was that of a young rooster attempting to crow for the first time. It was pathetic. If I was a rooster, I’d practice in private till I had it down; no hen could be too impressed by that ruckus. He seemed pretty proud to be the first to call out his roo-hood, even if it was just something like “ar-aaaaaa.” I wondered when they were going to start crowing, seems they were plenty old. Steve will be glad to hear it; he has been asking me when they are going to start.

I fed them and headed back to the house, Hershey was no longer interested in playing. She was more interested in the eggs I was holding, hoping maybe I had one for her; no such luck. When the hens were sick last fall, I had them on antibiotic and fed Hershey the eggs every day, she still holds out hope after all this time.

I brought in an armful of firewood and started up the wood burner. It was a chilly 58 in the house when I awoke. I had gone to bed early last night with instructions to Josh to load up the fire box before he retired. The chill in the air revealed that detail had been neglected. I raked the coals to expose the glowing embers and tossed on some kindling which quickly ignited. Within in an hour or two the temperature will be much more comfortable.

Looks like a great day to stay inside with a fire. As I pause from my typing and glance outside, the C-9s on the Christmas tree reflect off the front window and the fire is dancing in the wood burner. A rabbit is foraging for a morsel under the snow and birds flit back and forth in front of my window, gracefully lighting on snow covered twigs. I have to ask myself, does it get much better than this? I think I’ll go pop some cookies in the oven and turn on some Christmas music.