It all looks so different in winter. Cold, withdrawn, asleep. Even on a near 50 degree day, yesterday, which has suddenly turned into snow, sleet and ice today. Only a few short months to go and I can pry myself from the woodstove more often. How I love that woodstove.
The dogs could care less about woodstoves.
The cat on the other hand only ventures out on 50 degree days and stays plastered to the woodstove on others. She's 14 1/2. We'll allow it.
She and everything else seems to wish for the sun's return, even the chickens who are easily tricked by a light into laying.
I'm making plans to increase the flock,
the girls are almost two which I hear is nearing the tail end of their prime laying years. I suppose that could be good, or bad, depending on how you look at it. At any rate, some youngsters are in the works.
And since I can't bring myself to kill anyone (it's a bit early yet), you may just see them aging gracefully and dying the old fashioned way, as the new brood takes over laying. I expect some ruffled feathers. The henhouse can be a rough place.