Dodging Isaiah

Winter Storm Isaiah was predicted to be a terrible storm including, but not limited to several inches of rain and a foot or more of snow by Sunday morning. As the weekend approached, the predicted precipitation diminished—perhaps only and inch or two of rain and 3 to 6” of snow. The big question was how much would be water and how much ice. If the temperature dropped while it was raining, rain would turn to slush, and slush would freeze into a glacier that would be slow to thaw.

We were lucky. We got 0.9” of rain between Friday night and Saturday morning. When I went out to feed the chickens, there was only a thin, but nevertheless treacherous, layer of ice on the ground. The wind still carried freezing drizzle.  I had to put my shoulder to the coop door repeatedly to get it open. When I got back in the house, I told Hilda she was grounded, explaining that it was “as slippery as snot on a doorknob.” I would take care of getting the eggs in the afternoon and putting the girls to bed.

At 10:00, I went out to get pictures. I underestimated the wind, even though I could see the mist blowing horizontally over the field. I was only out a few minutes, but I should have worn a hat. As soon as I stepped out the door, I could hear the delicate clatter of ice-covered branches knocking against each other.

Only a little rain had been cold enough to freeze. I took pictures of pine needles…

Ice-covered white pine needles

Spruce needles…

Spruce

And goldenrod.

Goldenrod

I shut the coop at 2:00 when I went out for the eggs. The girls were all in anyway and not likely to venture out in the terrible wind. I saw something furry in one of the nest boxes. My first thought is that it must be something that came out of a chicken, and whatever that thing was, was NOT normal. I tentatively reached for it. It flew to the floor of the coop and turned into a sparrow. It had been downy, not furry. My bad.

Ten hens and one sparrow. What to do? I made one unsuccessful grab for the sparrow and decided it would just have to stay with the girls overnight. I wondered if the girls would kill it. I’ve read reports of them taking out mice.

We waited for the snow. Terry was prepared to fire up the snowblower. We were lucky again. First, there was a dry period while the temperature fell below freezing. The snow, when it came, fell on frozen ground. No slush! Furthermore, we only got an inch of snow, and it blew off the driveway in front of the house. Terry was practically giddy! He could shovel the rest of the driveway quickly and without having a heart attack.

A mere inch of snow from Isaiah

The step outside the side door of the garage had much less ice on it. Terry had put down sand and safe salt Saturday. The ice had melted and blown dry in the cold air. I was able to get to the coop easily. Alas, the sparrow did not make it through the night. I couldn’t tell if it had died at the beaks of chickens or had simply been too cold without compatriot cuddle buddies. It looked like it had been pecked at some point, but the lack of blood suggested that it was post mortem.  I tossed it on the lawn. At least it was a non-native English sparrow and not some cool rare native bird.

I ungrounded Hilda, who was delighted that she could resume her usual duties. It is supposed to be in the 40’s by Tuesday. Terry thinks the driveway will be clear by tomorrow, especially if the sun comes out.

In other news, Skippy has come for his annual visit while Jane is in Florida. He is, at this very moment, staring at me from his cage, begging to be let out. If he would just settle into his cat bed on the futon, he could stay out while I’m working, but he always wants to be on my lap, preferably between me and my laptop. This is how we look most of the time he’s out. He’s very cute, but difficult to type around.

Selfie with Skippy

Soon it will be time to watch football, and Skippy can sit on me and purr. He’ll like that.