Bitter cold

Those of you who aren’t from around here may have seen news of our winter storm and wondered, “Is it really that bad?” Unless you are in North Dakota, my answer is yes, it’s really that bad. If our weather station had more emojis than happy and sad, today’s would have a frozen tear, dripping nose, and chattering teeth. Yes, that does say MINUS 11 degrees. It doesn’t show the 35 mph west wind and blowing snow, which is why the few cars that are out today are driving slowly.

The weather station is REALLY sad today

I’ve gotten in the habit of delaying the chicken chores until it warms up a little on these cold mornings. Not today. I bundled up at first light to go out and unplug the automatic chicken door before it opened. The hens are unlikely to venture out in wind chills of -40°F anyway, so I might as well do what I can to keep heat in the coop. I don’t want any frostbitten combs.

Nothing is ever easy. When I got to the coop, I saw that the door I use to get into the coop had a drift in front of it. Why wouldn’t it? It faces east, and of course the snow accumulated in the eddy. Yet I had not thought to bring the snow shovel. I trudged back to the garage, got the shovel, and cleared the door. The cold, wind-packed snow came out in two chunks.

Drift against the coop door--not huge, but more snow than I wanted in the coop.

Most of the chickens were still on the perch. Blackbeard kept her feet warm by sitting on them. Two others stood on one leg with the other pulled up next to their bodies. I changed the water and filled the feeder. Even with the outside door shut, wind and snow were coming in the coop. I shut the inside door, which I usually use only to keep the hens out while I’m cleaning, for more protection.

Hens still perched trying to keep their feet warm.

There were no eggs in the coop, and I’m not expecting any today. The girls will likely use all of their energy to stay warm.

Before I took off my coat, I looked out to see if the paper was in the driveway. It wasn’t. There was a rectangular object with an orange end on the other side of the road. Through the binoculars, I could see that it was the paper in an orange bag. The paper had not only blown across the road, but over the snow-packed ditch, and about 20 feet into the corn field. It had stopped when it hit the thin stem of a dead weed. Not wanting it to blow the rest of the way to Chicago, I hastily put my boots back on and went after it.

Walking east to get the paper wasn’t bad. Coming back reminded me of my winter in North Dakota. The metal frames of my glasses funneled the cold to the nosepieces. Ouch. The road was a mess. The water that melted out of the salted snow yesterday had combined with today’s blowing snow and frozen into largely invisible and irregularly spaced patches of ice. Not a good day to be driving.

I am now in for the day. Maybe for the winter, I don’t know. To be honest, I considered not getting out of bed this morning. It is SO COLD. The wind is supposed to stop howling tomorrow morning. I hope the weatherpersons are right about that.