Christmas is over and life is getting back to normal - although I haven't had Christmas for the animals at the farm yet, Mother was ill for too long to think about much else - she's much better now and had a wonderful time with her nieces and nephews and one of her grandchildren yesterday. I may wait to have Christmas for the animals when she's feeling well enough to start going to the farm again. In the meantime, I'm going to gather a whole pile of walking stick length sticks for Gibby - his old ones are buried underneath the snow.
The snow has been so deep that a very kind neighbor plowed out the farm driveway for me, and now the driveway and parking lot has turned to ice, and I have a lovely skating rink. The cats must have tried out the rink because yesterday there were little paw tracks skidding down the snow mounds around the edges - I hope the cats weren't in a hurry, it looks like they were having trouble getting to secure ground.
I'm a bit leery of the ice myself, and Gibby's dogpen has also turned to ice. I've had to give up getting to him that way. Now, instead of dancing around anxiously and licking my fingers while I try to remove the chain that weaves between the gate and the fence, Gibby charges out through the kitchen door. I have to be really fast with my hands and good with my balance to grab his collar as he tries to bolt through the porch door. Once I get the cable clipped to his collar, he seems to be the happiest dog in the world - he fairly flies out into the snow, and snow flies everywhere.
The snow is so heavy the tarp over the chicken yard has ripped and caved in. I haven't found a way to cover it over again, maybe I'll just spread another tarp over the opening. In the meantime, I won't be too unhappy if the rooster finds his way through the opening. He's been pleasant and peaceful for a while but suddenly has started attacking me again. Yesterday, I was so fed up with him, I opened the gate wide and tried to talk him into moving out into the great wide world - but he just glared at me and stayed put. When he attacks me, I have to fend him off with whatever is in my hand, usually the plastic feed containers. He attacks, I hit him, he attacks again, and I hit him again. Over and over. I know roosters have little brains, but he is really dumb, charging right into my swing - it puts me in a pretty poor mood to be beating up a little animal. I wonder what would happen if I let him move in with Gibby... maybe feathers flying instead of snow...