Friday, November 29, 2019
Yesterday our heavy snows stopped. After dumping horse hay on the white stuff, I transitioned to the house and through a window kept an eye on them. In 22-degree temperature their extra hay will help their “furnaces” keep working efficiently. In the coldest weather, human fingers buried deep into a fuzzy coat finds a warmth that winter gloves can’t match. In frigid weather my too-cold fingers often need normalizing. Unless there’s nearby a fuzzy horse, I enter the barn and rub my hands under an ultraviolet light that thaws and renews flexing.
After finishing with the horses, I entered the goat pen. The twins although eager to eat weren’t about to step away from their shelter and into snow. Nor were the chickens. There wasn’t a footprint of any kind in the snow.
I kicked a path toward the shelter and filled the goats’ feed bucket. Without mama goat’s presence the balance of power has shifted, and now, I saw Breeze successfully butting Poppy from the feed bowl.
Luckily, I found another feed bucket so they could eat separately–a first.
Once the goats got the hang of a second dish, they kept changing bowls to make sure neither had anything better. And still they butted heads, but Poppy got a fair share.
The biggest winner in the deal was Potash. She rouses herself earlier than the other hens and dashing from bowl to bowl dined with each goat.
Ah creatures, so lovely!
Dear Friends: Hoping you had a lovely holiday, and now, are shopping wisely. Diana