Mice, rats, skunks, caterpillars, chickens, pigs, and yellow-jackets – my week was all tangled up with animals, some of it good, some not so good. But let me take things as they came. I'll start with Monday, an appropriate place to begin the week.
I love bright mornings. As much as I miss the leafy green of the trees around the house, these leafless mornings, if the sky is clear, are very bright. Light floods in through the windows on the southeast side of the house making things look warm even if they aren't. Monday morning was bright. Golden sunlight filled the house. And it revealed just how dirty the windows were. I had to do something about it. I took the Windex and a washcloth and began to clean windows, inside first and then outside. But the cloth left lint and streaks, so I went another round but this time with wadded up newspaper. That was better. But the windows still did not look so good. They still don't. And they won't. Most of the windows on our house are double thermal panes. Between the two glass panes, to create an insulating barrier, there is argon gas. Or there should be. Unfortunately, the seals on most of our windows have leaked and the gas has escaped and moisture has condensed inside. The windows are always foggy and streaky and there's no way to remedy it except to replace the entire window. With just one window costing around $200 and ten or more windows needing to be replaced throughout the house, that option is out of the question. So we live with perpetually streaked and foggy windows.
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| Streaky, foggy windows. |
It might have been bright Monday morning, but it was cold. There was a heavy frost. By the time the frost was gone and I was ready to go out and work, the weather had changed. A cold wind blew clouds in and my bright sunshine was gone. I added another layer of clothes and went out anyway. My first task was to plant bulbs. Last year, I designated the flowerbed at the head of the driveway as my spring bulb showcase garden and planted it with tulips and daffodils. On Monday I planted fifty more tulip bulbs there. Then I selected one of my raised beds to be a spring bulb cut flower bed and planted it with hyacinths, daffodils, and more tulips. As I was doing all of this, the wind picked up and was so strong, it almost knocked me over. I kept on going, planting some containers with Dutch iris and Siberian crocus. Planting bulbs on such a cold and windy day was therapeutic. It was like shaking a fist of defiance at the approaching winter, showing it that, no matter how long and bleak it seems, I know it will not last. Spring will come again and there will be flowers.
I was chilled through after that and came into the house to warm up. I sat down by the furnace to read – just for ten or fifteen minutes – and woke up an hour later. I love an afternoon nap, but not that long. It threw my plans for the day off. For the rest of the afternoon I felt like I had to hurry. I went back out into the cold and cleaned up the woodpile. I threw the jack-o'-lanterns to the pigs and swept the front porch. I did the chores. Rushing the whole time. The wind made me feel anxious.
I was still having trouble down at the barn. When this present round of trouble began and I found dead chickens, I suspected a skunk was the culprit. I could tell by the smell that a skunk was hanging around. Then there was a skunk killed on the road and I thought that solved the problem. But then something killed more chickens. So I set the live trap and caught that big possum. Problem solved? No. Another dead chicken and the scent of skunk again. So I set the trap again on Monday. On Tuesday morning when I went down to check, the trap was sprung, the bait was gone, but the trap was empty. The trap had malfunctioned and the trap door hadn't locked in place, so the culprit was able to push its way out. And there was a strong stink of skunk. The battle was not won.
Tuesday was another very windy day. The sunshine looked nice, but the wind carried away any warmth it generated. I worked all day at cleaning up the orchard and the big garden. I mowed the orchard one last time, very short, and ground up all the fallen leaves and the few apples still left on the ground. The deer have pretty much eaten them all. Out in the big garden, the wind had blown all the plastic plant covers and unsecured fencing into twisted knots. I gathered it all up and stowed it away in the pavilion. I also gathered up all the hoses. We won't be watering anything anymore.
This was the pigs last week with us. All week long they feasted on old food storage items from the Shilligs. Twice a day, sometimes three times, they ate luxuriously – rolled oats, rice, chocolate pudding, canned corn and new potatoes, canned pears and mandarin orange slices. They had macaroni, beans, and chili. Random items mixed together into slop that they devoured with piggish delight.
Tuesday was election day. We voted at our township building in the evening after everyone was home from work. The outcome for Pennsylvania was, as always, dominated by the urban voters and not representative of the rest of the state, especially the more rural counties like Potter. It seems the more urban population wants the government to take care of them while the more rural population wants the government to leave us alone. Now that the election is over, I hope all the signs cluttering up the roadsides will disappear. So far, most of them are still there.
Tuesday night I set the trap down at the barn again. On Monday I used cheese as bait, this time I used a peanut butter sandwich. I made sure the trap door was set properly. I went down first thing Wednesday morning to check it. The bright full moon had set and it was still dark, so I wore a headlamp. I took the .22, hoping and yet dreading that I'd have to use it. If there was a skunk in the trap, I'd kill it, but the chances of it spraying were high and I'd have to dispose of it while dealing with the stench. As I approached the barn, the smell of skunk was strong. I came around the front cautiously. The trap was still open, but the bait was gone. There were bread crumbs trailing across the grass leading to the little viaduct that runs under the road. Rats, foiled again.
Speaking of rats, I looked in on the coop that morning before I came back up to the house. In the light of my headlamp, at least six or seven pairs of glowing rodent eyes blinked up at me before they dashed into holes in the floor. I made note of their location so I could put rat poison down the holes. I wish Kurt was here. He loves to sit in the dark and shoot rats. I'm not as good at it, but decided I would go down one of these nights and try. What a way to begin the day.
Wednesday was another heavy work day. I worked as fast as I could because the forecast said rain was coming in the afternoon, possibly mixed with snow. My first job was weed control. I took the hedge trimmer and cut down the stalks of the tall weeds growing around the lily pond and in the woodland garden. It was backbreaking work. I had to bend low to get the trimmer down close to the ground. While cutting weeds along the edge of the lily pond, I stepped into a yellow-jacket nest and got stung on the hand and neck. They came swarming up out of the ground. I had to run away. I ran as far as the woodshed where I picked up a box of matches and came out and lit the weeds on fire. The nest was underground so the fire didn't destroy it. It just made the yellow-jackets angrier. I couldn't work in that part of the yard for the rest of the day.
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| Trying to burn out the yellow-jacket nest. |
I came in at noon for a short rest, then went back out to work. Next, I hooked the wagon to the mower and hauled straw bales to the asparagus patch and covered the rows. With that, I declared the vegetable garden done and closed for the winter. By then, it was time to do the afternoon chores. After chores the weather began to turn, so I came in for the rest of the day.
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| Asparagus covered, garden done for the winter. |
The gutter guys finally came on Wednesday. They replaced the gutter on the back porch and put a leaf guard on the front porch gutter. No more digging soggy leaves out of the gutter!
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| The new rain gutter on the back porch. |
According to folklore, wooly bear caterpillars can predict what sort of winter you have in store. They say the wider the orange band, the milder the winter, the more black, the harsher the winter. Well, on Wednesday as I was coming up the back porch stairs, I saw a wooly bear and it was solid black. That's not a good sign. If you believe that sort of thing. Which I don't. Especially when it's a bad sign.
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| Solid black wooly bear. |
After a stormy Wednesday night, Thursday's sunrise was lovely. I had already gone down in the dark before dawn to check my live trap. This time I'd baited it with a rice and peanut butter ball. The trap was unsprung and the bait untouched. Either the bait didn't appeal to the varmint, or the stormy weather kept it away.
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| Sunrise on Thursday. |
Thursday morning felt odd. I moved through the morning following my regular routine. Everything in order, that's how I like things to run. Miriam was at school that day. After Stacey and Hannah left for work and I was alone in the house, I sat down to look at the news. Having just been through an election, the headlines were full of gloating and groaning, predictions of things to come, some of it hopeful, most of it not. I look at the news every day in a feeble effort to try and understand what's going on in the world. The Lord instructed us that we should be "instructed more perfectly in theory, in principle, in doctrine… in all things…that are expedient for you to understand; Of things both in heaven and in the earth, and under the earth; things which have been, things which are, things which must shortly come to pass; things which are at home, things which are abroad; the wars and perplexities of nations, and the judgments which are on the land; and a knowledge also of countries and kingdoms – that ye may be prepared in all things…" (Doctrine and Covenants 88:78-80) That covers a lot of knowledge – different sciences, history, current events, political science, domestic and international affairs. But trying to keep abreast of it all is difficult. The world is complicated. My reasoning faculties are limited. I get a bit anxious and overwhelmed as I sift through it all, trying, but only able to grasp at the edges of it all. That's how I felt Thursday morning, anxious, overwhelmed, grasping for any shred of hope for good things to come, for righteousness to prevail. As Stacey and I read the scriptures together earlier that morning, we covered 2 Nephi chapter 22, which is Nephi quoting Isaiah chapter 12. It's a beautiful chapter full of Isaiah's glorious language. When I read it I didn't think anymore about it until later. Then I went back and read it again.
"And in that day thou shalt say: O Lord, I will praise thee; though thou wast angry with me, thine anger is turned away, and thou comfortedst me. Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid; the Lord JEHOVAH is my strength and my song; he also has become my salvation. Therefore, with joy shall ye draw water out of the wells of salvation. And in that day shall ye say: Praise the Lord, call upon his name, declare his doings among the people, make mention that his name is exalted. Sing unto the Lord; for he hath done excellent things; This is known in all the earth. Cry out and shout, thou inhabitant of Zion; for great is the Holy One of Israel in the midst of thee." (2 Nephi 22, Isaiah 12)
And then I remembered a hymn. Our new hymnal won't be published for quite some time, but the Church has been sharing some of the new hymns online, a few at a time, so we can become familiar with them. This new hymn came into my head and stayed there the rest of the day. It describes the coming of the Lord as a baby, during his ministry, and his coming again in glory.
Come, Lord Jesus, to the manger.
May we see Thy tender face–
Great Creator, here a stranger,
Infant in this humble place.
Darkness scatter; morning swell.
Come, dear Lord Immanuel.
Come, Lord Jesus, to the manger.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Come, Lord Jesus, to the wounded–
Broken heart and bended knee.
Worthy Lamb, Thy love unbounded,
Bid our souls to rest in Thee.
Grant us mercy, Savior, King;
Come with healing in Thy wings.
Come, Lord Jesus, to the wounded.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
Come, Lord Jesus, great Redeemer,
Light of Morning, Prince of Peace.
We will be Thy children ever.
Dry our tears; may weeping cease.
Come in glory; come again.
Come to us to rule and reign.
Ready us to kneel and greet Thee.
Come, Lord Jesus, come!
My day felt brighter with that song in my heart. I went out to work in the chilly sunshine and the world, at least this little part of it, seemed at peace. The sunshine didn't last very long. By 10:00 it had turned cloudy and colder, but I kept on working. I trimmed down all the raspberries and hauled the trimmings to the compost. I stacked empty wire tomato cages. The peaceful nature of the morning also didn't last. As I was walking along the edge of the orchard, I was dive bombed by a couple of yellow-jackets. Even in the cold they were out and I think they remembered me from the day before and were seeking revenge. My hand and neck were still smarting from their stings the day before. So I went round two with their nest. I bundled up so I had barely any exposed flesh and poured gasoline down the nest hole. Then for good measure, I crammed a couple of firecrackers in too. When I lit it, it didn't explode like I wanted. It just went "whoosh" and then "pop, pop, pop." No yellow-jackets flew out of the hole. When I checked an hour later, I saw no sign of activity. Battle won and peace restored – I hope.
As I was working that morning I saw the first snow of the season. It was just a few hard flakes. They were more like little balls, not flakes. There were only a few and they only fell for five minutes and melted as soon as they hit the ground. It was an unwelcome sight nonetheless. Seeing them made me hasten my work. I accomplished much, but much remains to be done.
The moon was very bright when I went down on Friday morning to check my trap. Even with that brightness, I wore a headlamp. The shadows were deep and I didn't want to be surprised by anything that might be lurking in them. It was 26° and there was a heavy frost that sparkled like the world was drenched in glitter as I walked down the yard. I smelled skunk before I reached the bottom of the yard. Coming around the corner of the barn, I could see that the trap was sprung. I made a wide path and approached cautiously. There was a skunk trying to dig its way through the bottom of the cage. It saw me and went into its defense pose. I took aim with my .22 and killed it with one shot to the head. I was told once that if you get a good shot to the head, the skunk won't spray. That isn't true. They do. This one did. I was upwind of it and the reek didn't hit me until I walked back toward the house. I left it as it was until later when it was daylight.
I went down to dispose of it at 8:00. The smell made me retch a bit, but there was nothing I could do but bear it. I opened the trap and dumped the carcass out, scooped it up with a shovel and threw it into the tall weeds across the highway. We will smell it for days to come as it decomposes, the skunks revenge I suppose. I think after two skunks and a possum, my flock will be safe again. But to be sure, I will set the trap again this week.
We'd planned to go down to the Thayn's house for the weekend so I spent Friday running errands in preparation. I did a trash run. I did some shopping at the Amish bulk food store. I went to the dairy. It turned out that we didn't go after all. As we were discussing our plans over Friday dinner – pizza with the Fosters – we came to the conclusion that it wouldn't work because of the pigs. Saturday we were taking the pigs to the butcher and we didn't know how long it would take. If it took up too much of the day, driving down to Thayn's wasn't feasible. We decided to stay home.
Saturday morning I watched the sunrise with hope in my heart. It wasn't raining, and that was good. It was chilly, but not freezing. The pigpen was a muddy quagmire from all the rain we'd had during the week, but there was nothing we could do about that. I didn't feed the pigs on Friday evening hoping they would be so hungry on Saturday morning that we could lure them into the trailer with a bucket of food. I prepared a delectable bucket of slop for them – rotini pasta, various jellies and jams, stale tortilla chips, canned diced tomatoes, canned corn, barbeque sauce – a gourmet porcine feast.
Our adventure began at 9:00 a.m. First I backed the truck up and Stacey and I hooked it to the trailer that had been sitting by the pigpen for several weeks. We put it there hoping the pigs would get used to seeing it and not be afraid when it came time to put them in it. Stacey and Kale then helped me unhook one of the fence panels of the pigpen and slide it over to make an opening for the trailer ramp. We lowered the ramp. The pigs were hungry and curious about what we were doing. I put their trough in the front of the trailer and dumped in the slop. Miriam and Hannah joined us and together we coaxed the pigs into the trailer. The ramp was slick, so we had laid down a piece of old carpet to give them traction. They clambered up and began to eat. By then Sarah and Tosh had arrived. We closed the trailer and wrapped it in ground cloth to block the pig's view and keep them calm. We offered a prayer that transporting them would go smoothly and safely. Tosh drove the truck and I rode along with him. Stacey followed in our car. We drove out to the meat processors half an hour away in Tioga County. Tosh backed the trailer into a receiving pen and with some coaxing, we got the pigs out. Then Tosh drove home and Stacey and I made out our order for the cuts of meat we wanted and came home again. It all went pretty smoothly, although we all ended up pretty mucky.
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| Hooking up the trailer. |
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| Pigs loaded and ready to roll. |
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| Unloading the pigs at the butcher. |
When we got back, we disassembled the pigpen, took down the fence panels, pulled up the posts, and knocked down the shelter. Everyone kept saying how they missed the pigs. I did not say that. I was relieved that they were gone. I don't have to worry about feeding them anymore. We offered another prayer that all had gone well and expressed our gratitude for the pigs and their sacrifice to give us food.
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| Where the pigpen used to be. |
After we finished with the pigpen, we went on to work at cleaning the barn at the farmhouse. Sarah and Tosh want to move their chickens there soon so we had to clean out the left side of the barn that will become their coop. That meant that all the things stored on the left side had to be moved to the right side, so there was a lot of rearranging, throwing things away, and burning things. With that done, we took down the Shillig's trampoline and stowed it away for the winter. We were done with the mower for the year, so I parked it in the Shillig's shed. We finally finished all that work as the sun was going down. We were dirty, cold, and tired. I came in and stripped off all my stinky, mucky clothes and took a very long, hot shower. The rest of the evening was taken up with dinner and relaxing. It was a good day. We got so much done. And just in time. There's a cold front moving in and the forecast says we have a chance for snow every day for the rest of the week.
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| End of the work day bonfire. |
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| The forecast for the coming week. |
It's cold and rainy today. When I went down to the barn this morning, no one was outside. There was a lot of grousing when I went into the coop. Chickens don't like foul weather. I gave them their morning scratch, which made them a little happier. I found a large, almost dead rat, the victim of the poison I put down its hole. I dispatched it and removed it. By the time I got back to the house, it was raining harder and I was pretty wet. I got ready for church and sat in the gloom and read my Elders Quorum lesson. It was the talk given by Elder Uchtdorf at October Conference, "Do Your Part with All Your Heart," a great talk.
The reason we were planning to go down to the Thayn's this weekend was to see their Primary Children's Program. Rachel is the Primary chorister and June, Mabel, Florence, and Russell had parts in the program, speaking, singing, or both. So we didn't go and we didn't get to watch them live, but they zoom their sacrament meetings, so we will watch the recording of it later. It was a great program and the children, and Rachel, did a good job. We don't have a Primary Children's Program in our branch. We only have one Primary child and she is only two years old. Our services today were good. Attendance was light, but those of us who gathered were edified I think.
I don't know what I'll be able to accomplish this week. The weather looks discouraging for getting anything done outdoors. There are still a few things yet that I need to do before the cold settles in. I do know that we are definitely going down to the Thayn's this weekend. Hazel, June, and Mabel are in a production of Shrek the Musical on Friday and Saturday and we must see it. They've been rehearsing for a long time and their productions are always so good. We will leave on Friday and come home on Sunday night. Between now and then, who knows what may come.
