It had been one of those lovely January thaw days. A welcome relief
after a spate of single digit weather. By early afternoon the sun
actually felt warm on my face. I had put the ewes out on the big
pasture to stretch their legs. The neighboring tree farm had just
dropped off their unsold Christmas trees. The girls were having a
wonderful time munching on the green needles and were taking
particular interest in stripping off the bark from the trunks and
branches. When it came time to prepare the barn for the night, I
closed the pasture gate, so that I could concentrate on the work at
hand without distractions. They particularly like to help out by
clustering around and standing on the section that I am trying to
work on, then they insist on rummaging around in the muck tub to make
sure that I am not about to throw out a particularly tasty bit of
hay.
After having prepared the ewes’ stall, I happened to glance over
to the house and noticed that smoke was no longer coming from the
chimney. Since the forecast had called for overnight temperatures to
fall back to more seasonal lows, I thought it best to attend to the
furnace sooner than later. I brought over two sled loads of wood
from the garage to the basement and got the fire going again. By the
time I finished, the temperature had already dropped significantly,
so I went upstairs to put on another layer of insulation and headed
back to the barn.
The girls were all standing together about 50 feet from the gate
that closed the pasture off from the barn. I opened the gate.
Instead of rushing down through the gate and into the barn, as I had
expected, they continued to stay just where they were. “Come on
girls”, I coaxed, “Dinner is served.” They huddled together
and looked at me. A few called out to me. I started to walk toward
them. I had only taken a few steps, when my feet flew out from under
me! Luckily I was still close enough to the fence to grab on to a
post. I wasn’t about to try a second step!
I studied the situation. The moon had risen above the maple wood to
the east. The pasture was clearly visible; a panorama of snowy
white, except for the area between me and the sheep which had a
bluish sheen. This part of the pasture slopes gently down to the
south. It is a gentle slope, but apparently enough to catch more of
the heat of the afternoon sun, melting the top layer of snow which
had now frozen into a sheet of ice.
The girls were getting impatient. They started calling out and
stamping their feet. I explained to them that whereas I had two flat
feet that were not well suited to navigating slippery surfaces, they
each had four sets of handy sharp hooves that could dig into snow and
ice. Furthermore, four feet give them more stability than two. They
did not buy it. There was more calling and stomping of feet.
 |
| Briar Rose & Heather Rose |
I retreated to the barn and came out with a couple of flakes of
second cutting hay. I held it up, “Come on girls, you can do it.”
The little Rosie twins, Heather Rose and Briar Rose, started out
with a few tentative dainty steps. Emboldened they took a few more.
Swish! Their feet flew out from under them, and they whirled away
splay-legged like a couple of drunken sugarplum fairies. A mad
scramble got them back to Terra-firma. The girls huddled closer
together and looked at me reproachfully.
 |
| Rosie Twins |
By now it was getting late, and I still had to make dinner and
various other indoor chores. I was hoping that given a little time,
they would figure this out for themselves. I went back into the barn
and turned on the Coleman lantern so that it’s warm light shone
out the door in an inviting way and proceeded to the house.
Over dinner I discussed my dilemma with my husband, Meredith. He
remarked that it was too bad we only had one bucket of sawdust on the
front porch; enough to sprinkle on the front steps when they get icy,
but hardly enough to create a path across a pasture. We considered
collecting more sawdust from the old wood pile, but since it was
buried under a snowdrift, it just didn’t seem feasible. “Well,”
he concluded, “Perhaps by now Sky has brought them in. She always
proved herself to be very clever and resourceful.”
By the time I had finished my evening chores and headed back to the
barn, it was almost midnight. The pasture was on the other side of
the barn, so I could not see it as I approached. They must have
heard me coming, as I made my way through the crunchy snow. First
Miss Marple’s deep bass voice rang out followed by Natasha’s
more plaintive call, then a cacophony imploring demands. I
proceeded through the barn, and out the
ewes’
dutch doors.
The
January full moon was now high overhead bathing the pasture and
surrounding
woods in resplendent
light. The ice sheet glittered silvery-blue in contrast to the
expansive snow fields. The moon reflected in it like a glowing
lantern. The ewes were all gathered together at the edge of the ice.
They reminded me of a group of travelers at the rivers edge waiting
for the ferry in an old western movie. I considered serenading them
with a rendition
of “Moon River”, but then thought the better of it – besides I
could only remember the first few lines. They
were getting impatient. There was more calling and foot stamping
I
had an idea. I was pretty sure that it could work. I
went back through the barn and got one of the muck tubs that was
still full of the barn litter from when I cleaned out the stalls
earlier. I brought it out to the edge of the ice sheet. I
set it down in front of me and took a handful of the used bedding and
sprinkled it underfoot. I leaned over and placed my hands on each
side of the rim of the tub, then using the tub like a walker, I took
a small step forward. I sprinkled another handful of old bedding and
took another cautious step. Slowly and carefully, step by step, I
made my way toward my stranded supplicants, leaving a trail of old
bedding behind me. I was within mere yards from my destination when
my tub ran out of bedding. “Never fear, girls,” I reassured them
“I’ll get more. I’ll be right back.”
I
turned and took a few careful steps on my newly laid carpet. As
I had hoped, the used bedding was sticky enough to provide the
needed traction. I carefully made my way back toward the barn. I
had gotten about halfway there, when I felt a gentle nudge behind my
knee. I looked down to see The Lady Alea looking up at me with the
customary twinkle in her eye. In my mind’s eye (or I should say
ear) I could hear her say ‘Thanks Mom. We knew you could do it.’
Behind her, in a stately single file, the rest of the ewes were
carefully picking their way along. I
slowly led a
solemn
procession of 20 ewes through the gate, across the enclosed courtyard
and into the barn. By
the time I had turned off the lanterns and secured the doors, the
barn was filled with the quiet sounds of happy munching.
 |
| The Lady Alea |
As
I walked back to the house by the light of a dazzling moon, I thought
to myself, ‘Another beautiful end to a day on the farm!’
No comments:
Post a Comment