_________________
 Welcome
to Annie's Farm Journal!
Let me introduce myself. I live and work at Red Gate Farm, where I feed and care for our 9 Cheviot sheep. 6 goats, 5 ducks and 26 chickens. I also teach classes about the farm and the surrounding woods and fields. This journal is my way of bringing you to the farm, or the farm to you, over the Internet through stories and picture. I hope you enjoy it!
-- Annie
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In this last week of October, trees hold onto their gold, until a gusty wind blows through and sends leaves fluttering down like snow! Rose hips are softer now, and taste less tart. Milk weed pods are fully open, and their seeds disperse on the end of white fluff. The nights are chilly, but sunny days are still warm and perfect for any kind of outdoor activity. Somehow the air and temperature are absolutely ideal for leaf fights and jumping in leaf piles. Cider tastes superb and crisp like the air. We enjoy these Indian Summer days while they last! Dear friends and readers of Annie's Farm Journal, Nearly a year has passed since my first journal entry, and my internship with Red Gate Farm is coming to an end. For those of you who have read a year's worth of entries, I hope that they have brought you a taste of the joys and wonders I've experienced here at the farm. I encourage you to continue tuning in to our website, but most importantly to visit this farm. The stories and observations I've recorded will not stop occurring here. Soon the winds will blow colder, and once again white snow will glisten under winter sunsets, with coyote tracks dancing through the yard. And again spring will blossom wild flowers before the trees leaf out in grass green foliage. The hens will continue laying eggs, and the sheep will still be shy. This place, handed down from generations of farmers, is home to 60 chickens, 14 sheep, 6 goats and...as of next week...two oxen! The natural areas host diverse plants and animals at all times of year. And Red Gate Farm is also lucky to be loved and cherished by a growing number of children who make this place a second home. As I move on, I do so with a few tears. I will never forget this place. Farmer Annie |
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It is mid October in Apple Valley
Yet the rain feels good too
The other day I was out until the last golden drop
This is the time for Sweet Birch to shine!
Amid such color and contrast, blue skies and rain
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5 PM, 56 degrees Cooler air, chilly when the sun sets! Golden sunflowers with seeds ripening Exploding thistle pods Asters in Bloom- woodland and wetland, blue and white flowers Goldenrod a deep gold Ferns drying and browning Apples ripening Touch me not (or jewelweed) seed pods ripe and ready for popping- with deliciously nutty edible seeds Leaves crunch beneath our feet- colored leaves include Sugar Maple, Birch, Red Maple (in brilliant scarlet), Ash Pine cone dissected, and seeds extracted by a hungry red squirrel Sensitive fern with fronds dead and spores standing up alone Wild rose hips ripening (in time to fuel migrating birds for long journeys) The most fantastic feeling of a truly perfect day: the synergy of cool air, warm sun, ripening fruits and golden flowers Don't forget...the Autumn Equinox is on Sept 22nd
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Autumn is beginning to sign her name in Apple Valley, from cool nights and mornings to brown dried ferns and brilliant goldenrod blooms. Dragonflies still dart above the pond, but the pond is no longer coated with a film of tree pollen. Instead colored leaves race across the water's surface, their bodies curled upward and acting like sails in the breeze. Crickets still sing, and katydids rasp in the evenings, but the chill in the air suggests that breeding time is approaching its seasonal end. It is still weeks from the autumn equinox, however, and summer is with us for some precious time. In the garden, tomatoes are ripening by the dozen and basking in the late summer sunshine. Butternut squashes are huge and ripe, ready to be sampled. Brussels sprouts are tender and delicious, but can stay in the ground into the fall and through the first few frosts. Bush beans are delicious and very abundant, dangling fronds of pale yellow, rich purple and grass green. This is truly a ripe time of year, when the months of seed planting, plant raising, transplanting, weeding, mulching etc finally come to fruition. It is a time when we let no visitor leave without two handfuls of produce, and ask for nothing in return. And it is a time when we try to eat a year's worth of tomatoes in one month and work on storing whatever is left over! Ahh. Sitting on the dock beside the pond, watching the leaves drift by. Leaning back onto my folded arms and looking up into the deep blue sky of September. Watching the clouds change, pushed along swiftly by the wind. This is a wonderful time of year, and one full of changes. Baby birds are flying and feeding themselves, growing up quickly to prepare for a harsher season. Woodland berries are ripening in time to fuel migrating birds for their southern journey. Bears, squirrels and other wild animals are also on their way to being winter ready. Children are going back to school. To me this time of year has always been enlivening. Even as ferns turn brown and leaves begin to fall, there is excitement and crisp, clear intent in the late summer. As if all living things know just what to do. For us, it is a great time to work outside, hike in the woods and take long moments by a pond or stream. Savor the moments.
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This past week has been a pleasant one, with some chilly mornings and cool days. Even the clouds looked like autumn, drifting across a deep blue sky and shading out the warm sun. Although unseasonal, the weather was appreciated on our Harvest Day, when guests and staff worked together to harvest, clean and prepare some of summer's bounty. The menu included pesto, garden salad and delicious new potatoes in a potato salad with mint. Mmmm! The animals also appreciate cooler weather, and the upper field hosted happily grazing goats and sheep. On hotter days they collect under trees and flare their nostrils to release some heat from their bodies. Today it is more summer like again, and we all accept. If it were truly autumn... our tomatoes would stay green, our basil would succumb to frost, our young friends would be going back to school, and our task list would grow with each cold front. Don't let me scare you. It is still the first part of Autumn, with over
a month of summertime to enjoy. It is amazing, however, how our mindset
can be so affected by a change in the weather. How one day we almost start
looking for changing leaves until we remember the date. But take heart-
the grass is growing, tomatoes are turning red and swimming days are still
in full swing! Enjoy.
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Can it really be the middle of July? A walk down to the vegetable garden reminds me that the season is well upon us, and moving right along. Indeed broccoli is harvestable, tomatoes are growing (with one so far ripe red!), peas are delicious by the handful, basil plants are getting some size to them, potato plants are lush and green, garlic bulbs are getting plump, peppers are producing fruit and squash plants are stretching their arms far and wide. I find so much joy in a producing vegetable garden, and lately I have been lucky enough to share these delights with children. During our Summer Farm Fun sessions, one day is focused on gardening, and each day involves farm chores. Thus, there is a bit of weeding and other work that the kids help out with. But never do I feel more satisfied with a job well done than when I see kids picking, eating and enjoying the produce. Even the spicy radishes and nasturtium leaves appeal to some, and few children pass up a piece of fresh lettuce. Our flowers are also growing, with bright petals of countless shades and shapes. A trip to the flower garden is a treat, and I can loose myself easily to the free show of a blooming flower or an active insect. Pink, purple and white hollyhocks stand tall and great on four corners of the square garden, boxing in varied plants including a purple flowered bee balm plant and pure white bell flowers. I have also shared this garden with children who fill journal pages with colorful flower drawings. For people of any age, the garden offers abundant creative and observational opportunities along a cirular stone path. It is a ripe time of year, when the farm fills out and now longer carries
reminders of a recent winter. Summer holds its own with ripe raspberries,
tall timothy hay and young birds fledged and flying. It is a time of year
too of much mowing, weed pulling and other attempts at managing the growth.
Luckily, at the end of the work day, one can always lay back and look at
the sky, or harvest some fresh greens and broccoli for dinner. Summer is
a sweet time to be a farmer!
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Squawker, the Hen who would be a Mother Late June means summertime, though in Apple Valley we still have our cool, refreshing springlike days. I savor them, fully aware that there are hot days in store as well. But right now thew farm is absolutely beautiful, with warm sun, fresh breezes and an occasional downpour of rain (we had buckets of rain yesterday morning). In response, the garden plants are deep green and growing healthily. A few insect pests and tenacious "crab grass" weeds keep me pretty busy among the garden crops. The sheep and goats are loving abundant pasture grass, and the young lambs are blowing up like balloons in size. The chicks are also quite large, looking more and more like hens and roosters. Our hens are gorgeous, wearing a diverse array of colors and patterns from the mottled orange aracanas to the wild "hair do" of George, our exotic White Crested Black Polish. One fascinating experience over the past few weeks has been the maternal attempts of Squawker, our bantam (miniature) hen (see journal entry from 3-10-04). Squawker is her own hen, and chooses not to live with the other birds, but rather to roost up on a ladder that hangs horizontally from the ceiling of the horse barn. In the evenings, we usually peak in to find her roosting and cooing gently in her private abode, but one evening she was not in her usual place. Where was she sleeping and spending her days? We feared she'd been eaten by a woodland predator. A few days later she came running in to the barnyard with the loudest of squawks, looking for food. She ate hungrily, and then ran off up the hill, her neck and legs extended like a road runner! For a week or so, visits like this occurred every three days or so, and the mystery of where she was living continued. One day, Farmer Ben found her secret. Tucked behind a door in the horse barn, our sleek black hen sat on a nest of ten tiny white eggs! Each egg was warm, and her underside was also toasty. This discovery delighted us all. Yet, while Squawker's dedication to
her eggs was admirable and amazing, the eggs were not fertile and would
never hatch. (We have no adult roosters on the farm and therefore no mate
for Squawker). So here was our independent little hen, giving all her time
and energy in this instinctual ritual of raising young! What were we to
do with her? She ate and drank little, aside from when we removed her from
her nest to feed her a daily meal, and so we knew that her nesting couldn't
continue. Finally, we removed the precious eggs, and the mother was forced
to let go. She has since returned to roosting on the ladder, and once again
graces us with her presence around the farm. But a big part of me wishes
we had a nice sleek black bantam rooster....and young Squawkers waddling
around behind their doting mother.
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Red Gate Farm’s Springtime Guests Spring is really here, and at times it seems as if we’ve leaped right into summer! We’ve had some hot days, and even a summer thunderstorm. The pace at the farm has also taken quite a leap, with many new visitors both of the human and feathered type… Migrating birds have been arriving for the past few weeks, and now fill our trees and fields with song. A migrating bird spends summers in northern breeding grounds (such as northeastern US and Canada), and winters in the warmer climes (such as Georgia, Mexico, South America) where food is available. And in between, in the spring and fall, thousands of migratory birds are passing overhead in the night sky or stopping in our woods for food and rest. At Red Gate Farm, migrating birds not only stop en route to breeding grounds, but many of them call this place home for the summer. Many birds migrate, includes hawks and other birds of prey, but it is the tiny warblers that really help to liven the woods with song. After a winter of chickadees’ familiar calls, the human ear welcomes these new arrivals. It seemed to begin with the phoebe, a flycatcher, waking me up in late March or early April. Around the same time, the Red-Winged Blackbirds came on site and reclaimed their pond. The tree swallows were also here early, darting around our bluebird nest boxes and claiming territories. This past week they have been especially active in their wispy flight, as their favorite mosquitoes are now out in numbers. About two weeks ago, we heard the first male Oriole, a bright orange Neotropical Migrant with a bubbly song. (A Neotropical Migrant spends winters in the Tropics and summers north of the Tropics). There is now a female Oriole with him, and their songs can be heard all about the farm. The female Oriole, unlike many other birds, sings along with the male. This week I hear warblers all over the place, including the Common Yellowthroat, a tiny yellow bird with a rich little voice. Robins are singing a more bubbly and melodic song than usual. Yesterday evening, I spotted four Cedar Waxwings, a sleek bird with a royal looking crown, and I could hear their faint but high whistle. The farm is hopping with these birds, and so too are parks and backyards all over. It is very rewarding to watch and identify new birds at this active time of year…it just takes a little patience and quiet stalking, a pair of binoculars and a field guide…
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A walk in the woods today revealed a world in bloom and greenery, with wildflowers as the stars of the show! They are all growing in a deep ravine which holds moisture and rich soil. The site hosts a collection of flowers that require moist and rich woods. Those of you who have wildflower guides, get ready to page through them as I list the flowers I saw. Those of you who don’t, you’ll have to use your imagine with my descriptions. Here we go: Purple Trillium satiny maroon petals, opening like a star, drooping slightly from a base of three large, spade shapes leaves. The inside of the flower smells like old garbage, and this scent is the flowers’ adaptation to attracting flies as pollinators! Despite the odor, the flower is precious and rather rare, found usually in rich woods. Trilliums do not produce flowers for the first six years as plants, and so the wildflowers are very sensitive to disturbance. To me, the sight of a trillium is a wonderful sign of an established and healthy woods. Our beech knoll and surrounding ravine host quite afew blossoming trilliums. Dutchman’s Breeches This woodland wildflower wears pale yellow, very complex flowers on a single stem that rises out from feathery leaves. The part of the flowers that holds nectar does resemble the breeches of a rather squat man, or perhaps a jockey. The shape is such that pollination is mostly limited to bees with long tongues that can reach up into the “breeches”. Like Trillium, this is a flower of rich woods. Trout Lilly Another lover of the moist woods, this lilly has waxy, spear shaped leaves covered with distinctive yellow specks. The leaf feels almost succulent to the touch. The flower is mustard yellow and droops downward on its stalk. Trout lilly is an early beauty and a delight to behold. Spring Beauty Small and pink-white, popping up between the other flowers, the delicate Spring Beauty is a wonderful and ephemeral sight. The tiny 5 petaled flower is a brief bloomer, and spends all but early spring as a bulb below the ground. Wild Ginger Distinct with two heart shaped leaves and maroon flowers shaped like triangles with stringy appendages. The flower is the same meat-like maroon color as the red trillium, and helps the flower, which grows low to the ground, to attract spring gnats and flies. The roots have a gingery smell and taste and are edible. Interestingly, Native Americans used the root for indigestion and other ailments, not unlike the usage of the unrelated tropical ginger. This wildflower also likes damp and rich sites, making it right at home in the ravine. Wild Leek Not yet in bloom, the long, lilly like leaves of this wildflower cover the tall ravine slopes from top to bottom with emerald green. The flower will actually not appear until the leaves have withered and died, and apparently now is the time to harvest a bulb for soup or salad. Th Wild Leek is in the onion family, and tastes and smells like it. At present, it is a beautiful ground cover in our wildflower wonderland. These "spring ephemerals" are only out for a short season, so be sure
to get out there and look for your own local wildlfowers soon!
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Farm Babies It’s been a while since the last farm journal, much too long, and so much has happened on the farm. So much that it has been difficult to find time to write! The highlights include spring babies of all shapes sizes and textures. We have new chicks, new lambs and breeding amphibians. In addition, the greenhouse is filling up with young lettuce, pepper, tomato, eggplant, squash, beet, carrot and other plants. Some of these are growing in the greenhouse beds, while others are in pots and waiting for the moment when they will sink their roots into outdoor garden beds. The chicks
The lambs
The new mother and her twins were finally carried into the enclosed lambing jug, a pen which would keep the three close and bonding for the first week or so of their lives together. As soon as they were settled and nursing in the pen, and Pat and I felt relieved and content, we looked over to notice that the “midwife” was herself going into labor! And so we braced ourselves for another birth. This one was not nearly as swift as the first, with over an hour of strained pushing by the ewe. Finally, concerned that the lamb might be in a difficult position, Farmer Ben pulled up his sleeves and reached into the exhausted mother. He found both hooves pointing in the correct position, a good sign, and began pulling the legs through the birth canal. As I held the ewe steady, I felt a release and a contraction with Ben’s pulls. The ewe was so tired, and it seemed as if our help was the most perfect thing to her at the moment. I can only imagine that she felt a tremendous ease as the baby was finally extracted, and her long push was over. The youngster was long and large, and we guessed that it was his size that made the birth so difficult. The first few hours were also challenging, as the mother refused her large male lamb. She would not allow him to nurse, and would spin away each time he tried. We made sure he nursed by holding his mother against a wall and allowing the youngster to receive the vital first meals of his life. The Salamanders
In sum, the world has been springing all over the place at Red Gate Farm. Tiger lilies are growing in the woods, fern fiddle heads are popping up along water, spring peepers are calling, the chickens have moved into their outdoor pasture and Maple and Cherry trees are leafing out. All of the baby lambs are cared for by their mothers are growing by the day. On pleasant days, we let them all out to romp in the pasture together. Till next time….
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Although the snow drops (flowers) are hanging their heads and the nights are still freezing in Apple Valley, we have some very exciting spring news at Red Gate Farm…Our first farm baby! Rosey the lamb was born before daylight on Wednesday, April 7th. Staff member Patrick went to do morning chores, and he was the first person to lay eyes on the tiny, but long – legged little lamb. She was up and walking and fairly dry, suggesting she’d been born sometime early in the morning, and her coat had a pinkish cast to it. The pink, for which Rosey was named, was actually her mother’s blood stained from the birth. Rosey is now two days old, and she is strong and healthy. She is living in a small stall, called a lambing jug, with her mother so that the two form a bond. She spends her time curled beneath a heat lamp or suckling milk from “Mamma”. The first-time mother is very calm and maternal, and is more approachable than ever. Her instincts are fine, and we are very proud of the care she is giving to the lamb. Rosey weighs 8 1/2 pounds, has tiny white curls, a tail that flicks while she nurses and hooves that are soft and gummy like a marshmallow. She is a joy to all who behold her and a very welcome new member of Red Gate Farm! More babies are on their way, with two expectant ewes and baby chicks to arrive next week!
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Since my last journal entry, springtime has really sprung, and the list
of signs of spring can no longer fit onto a short list! The list now includes
Snow Drops- small bulbs with white flowers that droop like an inside out
hat, insects buzzing and humming all over the place, a few days of warm
sun and now a few days of steady rain. I was hoping to get myself into
the garden beds a little, but they are becoming more and more like wet
brownie mix as the days go by. This time of year is beautiful on the farm-
filled with delights like the first flowers and free roaming chickens and
ducks. But it is also a mucky time, when our goats and sheep looks like
dirty mops and the garden looks like it was abandoned. All that was left
before winter, when we started settling in for the cold, has since been
buried in snow and reemerged wet and brown. The list of things to do on
the farm grows exponentially with the warmer weather and longer days, and
our pace of activity has a sense of charged newness. Days like today and
yesterday, days of persistent rain, keep us inside like the winter did.
We are left impatient for the dry sunny days that will offer us free reign
over the various outside tasks, and that will make the farm glow with fresh
life, overshadowing winter’s messy signature.
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First Day of Spring Mud Season? Not yet! Two weeks ago mud season was here on the farm, and wooden planks were erected to making walking easier. But March is still winter in Apple Valley, and we just received a week of snow! Most of the snowfall occurred over just two days, but gentle flurries continued for several days afterwards, creating a winter wonderland. I don’t mind winter’s extended appearance, knowing that this week may be the last time for months that the evergreens on our hills will be coated in white. And snow is surely preferable to mud in many ways. Yet springtime does persist in some unshakable trends. The days continue
to grow longer, the ducks lay at least on egg each day, the garden seedlings
have been started indoors and the Red-winged blackbirds have been around
for a week. I hear the blackbirds calling their distinct “chik or ree”
down by their favored pond habitat. The males have returned from the south,
before the females, and are probably setting up breeding territories to
share with females once they arrive. Barred owls have been calling in the
woods, and perhaps they are hooting about the approaching breeding season.
Our Saanen goat, Snowy, appeared to be in heat last week as she was suddenly
popular with the two male Angoras. Our pregnant Cheviot ewes are approaching
birthing time. Red Gate Farm is indeed springing out of the long winter,
and the fresh snow is more of a good - bye than an embracing of wintertime!
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Squawker the Bantam Hen
Chores this morning were pleasant, as I was greeted by warm sun, crisp air and singing starlings. When I let the hens out into their yard for breakfast, I was surprised to hear flapping wings and receive a hen on my shoulder! Occasionally one of our Black Australorps “lights” upon my shoulder, by usually not from the ground to my full standing posture. I continued spreading feed around the yard, and I felt a little bit special- and a little bit goofy if anyone was watching- to be the selected perch for this hen. After I was done feeding, and the other hens gobbled hastily, I knelt down to my knees and turned my shoulder towards the snowy ground, but the hen didn’t budge. I reached behind my head and pulled her from my shoulders, and I was delighted to discover that she was Squawker, our bantam (or dwarf sized) hen. Squawker is an especially people friendly little hen who, being so small, often requires a little special attention such as her own private handful of feed. She often follows me around squawking for that attention. Her notable voice, which is quite powerful for a small bird, is her namesake. Another interesting thing about Squawker is that, despite her size, she does not seemed to get pecked by the larger hens. Perhaps her strategy of eating alone keeps competition with the others to a minimum, or maybe she is actually an esteemed member of the hen community. She does have an apparent confidence in her gait. This morning I held Squawker for a few moments and scratched her black
neck feathers before setting her down to a fresh pile of breakfast that
had not yet been claimed. Hens generally do not seem to value us humans
for anything more than food, and they travel together as a pack wherever
the red scoop goes. A few however, including Squawker, posses some character
that is just a little different than the others and very endearing.
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From winter to spring...and back again!
An interesting weather week! It started out with spring like warmth and sun, followed by a few days of warm rain. Last night the rain seemed to bring a new wave of warmth and it almost felt like spring peepers and salamanders might wake up from hibernation and begin courting. This morning at 7 am it was balmy, but by 9 am there was a chilly breeze and darkening skies. By 11, in the midst of a hike, my toes were cold and I had to pile on a layer. Now at 5 pm the sky is mostly blue with some clouds and feels wintry again. Well, it is March! And there are certainly signs of spring at Red Gate Farm. Here are a few signs to date: Great Horned Owls calling in January
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mid 30’s, very sunny
This morning we had an animal tracking class in Red Gate Farm’s woods,
and it was well attended by eager people of all ages. We were delighted
to discover together the tracks of coyote, fox, fisher cat (actually in
the weasel family), raccoon, grouse and domestic dog
A pile of feathers, gray and rusty colored, were spread across the snow. As we investigated the scene, we guessed by the colors of the feathers that they belonged to a robin. It was the white tip on a flight feather that confirmed our thoughts. We weren’t sure how the robin was killed, but the feathers did’t seem to have any teeth marks or tearing that would suggest that a mammal had plucked the bird’s feathers. Instead, we guessed that a hawk or owl had feasted on the robin and dropped feathers in the process. Quite close to the feather spray, we also discovered a nice pile of wood shavings. The shavings lay directly beneath three deep holes carved into a large pine branch. One carving was rectangular in shape, quite possibly the work of a Pileated Woodpecker. Woodpeckers are winter residents in the northeast, unlike many other insect eating birds who migrate south. They use their massive beaks to carve for wintering insects inside trees. In the pile of wood shavings, we discovered some sizable bird droppings. Curiously, we dissected a dropping to find it totally filled with the body parts of black ants! It was amazing to see such a cornucopia of woodpecker food that had been extracted from the inside of a tree. The morning was a treat for any curious naturalist!
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5:45 pm. Gray sky, wet and gentle snow
Just in from a walk in Red Gate Farm’s woods, the shorter loop that
travels from the pond to the goat barn. I approached our wooded hills through
snow. The flakes were large and very soft, and drifted slowly. Evergreen
needles were frosted pure white all the way from the base of the hill to
the horizon. I entered the woods at a slow pace, like the snow. Sometimes
snow makes noise in the forest, as it hits the ground. Tonight it was perfectly
silent. If I closed my eyes, the only indication of snowfall was the occasional
large flake that hit my face and melted into a wet spot on my skin. This
kind of snow makes me want to stand still, or walk very slowly. And so
that is what I did. I walked slow enough to notice a dead tree stump adorned
with woodpecker holes and black fungus. I noticed a smooth beech tree standing
about 25 ft from the trail. I stopped to look at two skinny beech trees,
one of which wears last summer’s leaves in their frail, papery state. Beech
trees hold onto their leaves through the winter and, unless the wind takes
care of them first, wait for spring growth to push the dead leaves away.
The leaves highlight a winter forest beautifully, painting soft beige that
complements beech’s silver gray bark and hemlock green. I noticed a grape
vine that climbed up from the ground, wrapped around the beech trees and
out to two neighboring sweet birch trees. I’d admired these beech leaves
before, but hadn’t before taken time to study the growth of this grapevine.
I decided to sit, and looked up to see the sky filled thick with snow.
All around me the woods was silent. No chickadees calling. No fresh animal
tracks. The sky was heavy, and discouraging to wildlife. Infact, the only
sound I could hear at all was the quacking of our Indian Runner ducks announcing
“bed time” in their noisy way! Eventually I made my way back to the farm
through the peaceful snowfall, and tucked the ducks in. Now the sky is
black, and I look forward to fresh animal tracks tomorrow!
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9 am. Gray, wet, 36 degrees
Last night was a full moon, but our monthly full moon hike was cancelled
due to the weather. The morning gave us several inches of fairly wet snow,
and in the afternoon the precipitation turned over to more of an icy mix.
There were periods of sleet and freezing rain off and on. As farm staff,
we took our own afternoon snowshoe hike in the wet woods. We passed through
a light mist rising up from the forest floor and sitting in the distance
on hilltops. As dusk approached, the temperature cooled a bit and the mist
seemed to disappear as the contrast between the white of snow and the dark
of trees and sky increased. There were no sounds of wildlife on our walk,
as sensible critters must have been hiding out the storm. I did turn my
head at least a half a dozen times at the sudden sound of snowdrifts cracking.
The sound was so similar to that of a grouse taking flight and flapping
its wings that I turned my head every time just to see a long crack running
parallel to the ground. Once our walk ended, and dark took over, the ice
increased and a slick surface coated everything. This morning I appreciate
the crystallized branches on all the trees and even on hay that was sitting
in the goat pasture. I am reminded of a quote by Albert Sweitzer, a great
humanitarian and animal lover, “ The man [or woman or child] who is truly
ethical shatters no ice crystal and tears no leaf from its tree”. That
quote comes to mind often when I encounter fresh ice crystals, and I revere
them for all that they are.
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Spring is on its way??? It’s been windy in gusts lately, and perpetually cold. The winds may
take us right out of January and into February. Will February be any different?
One thing that’s clear is that, despite the cold, it is no longer the “dead
of winter”. Why do I say this? Night doesn’t fall at 5 PM any more, but
rather some light hangs in the sky till 6. The days are getting longer,
which means that we are approaching springtime. It may not feel like it,
but it is the day length that identifies a season more so than the temperature.
I’ve heard calls of Great Horned Owls for a few weeks now, resonating in
the woods. The calls may be males signaling their breeding territories,
calling back and forth from tree tops. These large and magnificent owls
court in January and February, claim old squirrel and hawk nests in late
January and breed from late January on into July. Why do they start this
process while many other birds are off in the sunny south or more focused
on simple survival in our cold woods? The causes for this seasonal behavior
are complex. Each species in an ecosystem seems to have worked out how
they can best survive, and that is what they do generation upon generation.
It may be convenient for young owls to learn to fly and hunt at a time
when there are fewer predators around. And, as I mentioned earlier,
seasonal behavior is affected by weather but directed by day length, a
constant indicator of just what time of year it is. Here on the farm our
ducks have begun laying eggs, telling us that they too believe that the
later sunset is shouting out “Spring is on its way”. But the water still
freezes and we aren’t ready to turn in our gloves and hats any time too
soon!
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high around 30 degrees, sunny We had some a chilly few days here in Apple Valley, a shot of polar
air that generally goes into Siberia or Canada headed straight for us.
Other portions of the East Coast were hit, but I can personally report
only of conditions here on the farm. We actually fared quite well, but
visits to the outdoors were brief ones. The duration of morning and evening
chores (20-30 minutes) was all that anyone was interested in experiencing.
Our frozen water spigot was neglected until things would warm up and we
had to fill up water for the animals in the bathtub. There were a few shivering
animals in the goat barn, but nothing that couldn't be fixed with a generous
handful of grain and extra hay for the night. Temperatures inside
the greenhouse did drop into the negative digits, even with our newly installed
insulation. I can't give you an exact low because our thermometer just
went blank when I asked it for the recorded low. But cars ran, friends
visited, life went on. The highlight for me was the extreme freshness in
the air that felt smooth and good entering my mouth and my lungs. Today
it felt like spring, though scattered cold breezes were a reminder, and
our hill is a sheet of ice covered with snow drifts and suggestive of an
arctic tundra.
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4:50 PM Cold days, peaceful woods
It's been cold! Our thermometer recorded -20.9 as last night's low!
Today's high was 5 or 6 degrees. The cold attacks my finger tips first
and my toes second, while my body feels quite content as I go about daily
chores. Luckily the fingers can be warmed quickly when curled up inside
my glove. All the animals were especially hungry, of course, and everyone
received a little extra. If I can give myself extra chocolate in my heated
home, then they certainly deserve an extra flake of hay or handful of grain
for the cold night ahead. After feeding time this evening, I seized some
of the afternoon sun and headed down towards our forest. The edge of the
woods was peaceful and I admired the scene: white birches grace a backdrop
of deep green hemlock trees. Dried brown fronds of sensitive fern rise
up from white snow and identify a wetland area now frozen over. There was
a soft pink in the west and the air was still. The cold crusty snow had
a layer of soft snow on top, and this was marked by canine tracks moving
out of the woods, towards our workshop and back into the woods. I followed
the tracks around a bit and guessed that these animals are quite hungry
these days. I measured the size of the tracks with my pinky finger, about
the right size and shape to be identified as coyote. I see these tracks
in our woods often. Exhilarated by the recent presence of these animals
so close by, and by the biting cold, I jogged through clean tasting air,
entered our office and thawed my fingers above the wood stove. The joys
of winter!
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Jan 5th, morning chores, mild and sunny I was kneeling in the pen and breaking apart hay flakes for Max the Ram (a male sheep) and his three lady friends (ewes). I am trying to make the three very shy ewes less shy of me by showing them that I really mean only good for them. Rather than tossing the hay in from outside of the pen, I sit calmly to spread the hay and sometimes offer a handful to them. But they just look at me with tense and pensive eys and ears on sideways. This morning as we went through this ritual, a starling landed on one of the barn windows that sits on level with the sheep. The bird looked in at us and made some chortle sounds, and each one of us tuned in. The three ladies turned their heads in perfect unison as usual, and Max looked up from the hay pile that I was working on. We all just sat and watched for a few moments before the black bird flew off. Afterwards I felt a peace in the pen as I continued spreading the hay flakes. I did not even notice at first when all three ladies mosed over and began munching on the pile of breakfast I'd been working on for them! |
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November 23, 2003
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