Snow...

 It's been a brownish winter so far, but yesterday, we had lovely flurries all day and into the night. This morning, our corner of the world was frosted with two inches of soft, fluffy snow. The sun was bright, and sparkles were everywhere I looked. 

I opened the doors on the chicken coops so the birds would have the option of staying in or wandering in the white. To my surprise, most of them came out to explore. A little while later, I noticed that the wild bird feeders did not have a single visitor. Usually, the whole area is aflutter with birds zooming in and out to feast on the treats I put out. It occurred to me that a bird of prey might be nearby, so I craned my neck to look at the sky and likely perches. And then, I laughed. 

Three of our tiny Olandsk Dwarf chickens had wandered out to see if there was any spilled birdseed upon which to feast. Apparently, they didn't like the feel of the snow, so they flew high up into the branches of our birch tree. The wild birds didn't know what to make of them up there, so they stayed away for about an hour. Finally, they decided the lofty chickens were no threat and returned to dine. The wee chickens soon gave up the cold and headed back home.

The goats, who loathe rain, don't mind the snow. 

The tracks in the snow show that they traveled all over the pasture, looking for things to nibble on. Their coats are thick, and they are all a little chubby, so the cold weather doesn't bother them. 

It was so pretty outside I decided to clean the big chicken coop. Most of the hens were out scratching around, but three had chosen to stay cooped up. They were not amused as I shoveled and swept out the dirty shavings but refused to budge off their roost. Then, one of them had enough of the disruption, and with much vocal protest and loud flapping of wings, she launched past me out the door. The snow was not to her liking, so she awkwardly flapped up and perched on the narrow wire fence. She stayed there, glowering at me while I dragged off the old bedding and hauled in a new bale of fragrant pine shavings. She waited while I carried the tall feeder to the garage and filled it. She teetered unhappily while I scrubbed their water pan and refilled it. Once I was done and the coop was all set to rights, I asked Bravo to encourage the hen to leave her precarious perch and head back inside. He obediently obliged. 

He booped her fluffy behind firmly with his nose and she launched, squawking in displeasure, back to her tidy house. 

Clack cat has been asking to come inside since his brother's untimely demise. Of course, I let him in and give him cuddles and treats. I know where to look if I can't find him in front of the woodstove or a heating vent. He has claimed his own shelf in the cabinet at the top of the upstairs landing. I have to say, he adds a certain something to the scene. 

It has been an utterly peaceful and relaxing weekend, and I have enjoyed every leisurely, snow-frosted second of it.