Under other circumstances, I’d have been over to shut up the chickens in their pen in the later afternoon, and back again to shut the doors to their house not much later.
But yesterday, it just was not worth the effort to ride herd on the pup over to the barn and back, carrying her wiggly self down across the creek, in the terrible winds and occasional flurries. I waited for her to nap. She refused.
Then the weather turned for the worse, with blowing snow as it got dark and Ann would soon need road-coaching to decide about routes impacted by snow and accidents. So I hung pretty close to the phone until she finally got here about 8:00.
Finally, when she had settled in and could watch the dog, I went over in the snow with the flashlight to take care of the chickens. But the coyotes already had.
I suppose the fact that there has been no fresh dog scent for the past few weeks since Tsuga died might have encouraged the pack of them to come this close to the house. They hardly ever do. Last night they did. And they only left feathers. Thankfully, I’d not made friends with these three hens like I had with the batch that were torn apart by dogs fall before last.
So more death comes to Goose Creek. And life, literally, underfoot, even this moment, nips at my heels to get up and get on with another new day. Ann doesn’t have to venture out in this mess, thankfully, so we’ll get out and see what Gandy thinks of her first-ever snowfall.