The coldest days

It is a beautiful sunny day. At least it appears that way looking out the window. We've already warmed up from our bitter cold last night and right now as I type, it's a lovely -22F outside. Don't ask me what the windchill is, I don't even want to know.

I think I should have titled my blog, "Eggs in My Pocket". If you have followed me from the beginning, you know this has been an ongoing issue.

It happened again.

I just went out to the barn, but first I had to peel my frozen boots off the entryway floor. Then, I found an egg in my coat pocket. I put it there last night when I put the chickens to bed. This one was actually cracked, but the good news is it was NOT fully smashed, so my pocket is fine.

Chances are good that I have not learned my lesson. Only time will tell.

The other good news is the barn was still there, so Fritzy did indeed manage to keep his gorgeous tail feathers out of the heat lamp.


But look at his poor freezer burned frostbit comb.


Last night was only the second time (other than when the birds were babies) that I have put heat on in the coop. It was a balmy -12 in there, and the birds were happy and singing in the red glow of the heat lamp.




Several of the hens are still wearing their fleece jackets. If you missed that story, you really missed out! Read about it by clicking here.


One of the hens was sitting on four eggs (which I put in my pocket, of course), and another was getting settled into the nest, so I expect it will be another five-egg-day. Five eggs a day from ten hens is really very good, especially when it's this dang cold.

I'll thank them with some warm oatmeal when I go back out.

I have to go back out, to (hopefully) gather that last freshly laid egg before it freezes; and because the heated dog bowl was frozen. Frozen solid. I kicked it hard just to be sure, and it hurt my foot. Yes, it was still plugged in.

Wondering what the problem was?

There is such a good power line running to the barn, if I plug heat in for the birds, there simply isn't enough juice left to keep the dog bowl thawed when it is this cold. Nice.

Marshall did not appreciate me pulling the ice out of his sensitive cat whiskers. The dog, on the other hand, did not care.

What an odd couple they are.

Right now, the dog and cat are warm enough, snuggled together deep in some hay, the moisture in their breath freezing to their whiskers again.

The chickens, I am sure, are still singing.


(The pictures in this post are grainy and out of focus because I wanted to capture that red glow the heat lamp was casting in the coop)