The snow has drifted thigh deep in some places of the yard and heading out to feed, water and collect eggs from the hens is an event. The suiting up – foul weather pants (hey, they're water proof and the girls get the budget for snow pants), heavy coat, scarf, hat, mittens, egg basket and flashlight – takes as long as it does to actually walk to the hen house in the summer. Then there is the track hurdling event that takes place from the front door to the hen house door as I balance one step at a time, bringing one leg up out of the snow and around to push through up to my thighs again. So far I've not lost a boot!
The hens were so adverse to venturing out of the hen house that the ramp was as far as they would go. Even Marshmellow, our piggiest Rhode Island Red, wouldn't step in the snow (although she stretched her neck as far as it could go) to reach a coveted piece of bread.
And the little plastic green houses were almost completely covered.
Love on your family and delight in their uniqueness
© 2008 Anne Mahle