Cold Weather Planning
It turned cold again this past week.
Not the oh-I-have-lots-of-padding-so-I-will-be-fine cold.
This is the lose-your-fingers-if-you-are-not-smart cold.
But unlike the last couple of cold spells, this one hit while the days are longer.
For some reason, it’s easier to survive -12 in daylight.
Cold weather at the ranch requires planning.
I have to remember to plug in the truck an hour before I want to check water troughs.
I need to wind my extension cords up each time.
“Winding” is a relative term. My piles of extension cords look less like a cobra coiled in a basket and more like a mass of writhing rattlesnakes in a pit.
I know I need to break ice on water troughs twice a day.
I spend an hour or so dripping hot water on the horizontal water line while the calves crowd around impatiently.
As I drizzle water on the tube, I pretend I’m a cow whisperer, but I know deep in my soul that the calves are just thirsty.
Still, I lie to myself just for the fun.
The cows and sheep need more hay to stay warm when the temperature drops.
This means I better plan my outside activities according to my hand warmers. They are rated for 8 hours, but the cold tractor steering wheel doesn’t know this.
I plan my coffee consumption, too. God and everyone else knows I don’t want to have to pull my coveralls off while I’m out feeding.
I wear my son’s old snow boots, ranked for -40.
Sorel doesn’t lie. These boots work. They weigh about 10 pounds each, but my feet are cozy. I get a lot of cardio minutes when I wear these boots.
I wear them to walk out to bring the sheep to the barn each evening.
The well-insulated sheep don’t notice the cold, but I want my guard dogs to sleep in the barn, out of the wind. If the sheep are in the pasture, the dogs will be, too, curled with their noses tucked under their tails and the hair on their backs taking the brunt of the cold.
When I feed the dogs, I pour a tablespoon or two of vegetable oil on their food. When they see the oil bottle, they wiggle and yip with joy, as if it’s Christmas.
This means I need to remember to bring the vegetable oil from the house to the barn every time I do chores.
At these temperatures, vegetable oil solidifies in about 10 minutes.
I give the chickens straw and a barn to protect them from the wind, but I know a few of them will lose a toe.
One time, the cold wind blew in quickly, catching a couple of the chickens unprotected up on the hill. Even I could catch them as they huddled in fluffy balls.
Over my wool hat and face mask, I toss my husband’s military surplus parka with a coyote fur that he stitched around the edge.
I might not be able to see anything except the ground, but my head stays warm.
And it’s a good payback for all of the chickens that the coyote ate as they huddled in fluffy balls on the hill.
The sheep don’t seem to mind my coyote head. They casually gather into a tight flock and walk to the safety of the barn.
The calves in the corral, on the other hand, spot that gaping toothless mouth and stampede to the farthest corner.
I laugh out loud.
They mill around, panicked at the laughing coyote.
Fortunately, this cold won’t last long. Soon, I’ll change into my regular boots, drink more coffee again and the coyote will quit laughing.