While I've been Inside...

After snow blanketed the farm a few weeks ago, my outside time has consisted mainly of hauling hay and fresh water to chickens, sheep and horses, skiing the 17-acre pasture with the dogs and walking the quarter-mile to the mailbox.

I needed a change of scenery. 

When the winds died down Sunday morning and temperatures hit 17 degrees, I clipped into my skis. I planned o explore other parts of the farm, the crop fields and woods, and possibly see some wildlife.

My first stop was a farm field planted in a radish cover crop, that apparently doubles as a winter food plot.

The deer unearthed and ate forages. Judging by the number of radishes unearthed, I'm pretty deer don't like radishes. Rabbits, though, love radishes. I found lots of radishes with rabbit tooth marks.

I also found coyote tracks, which didn't surprise me, as I've heard them singing in the pre-dawn hours.

After skiing around a couple of fields, I made my way down the farm lane to the woods, a place I skied the past weekend. I was surprised to see my tracks still there, and so few other tracks.

The woods was proof that wildlife don't spend the winter months binging on Netflix. 

As I skied around the corn field, I marveled at the deer's ability to locate corn cobs under the blanket of snow.

A deer interrupted those thoughts and almost made me lose balance on the skis. She jumped out of the fencerow and into the field about 40 yards from me. Skinny, she was not. Had she been the deer eating corn through the winter?

What I found near the pond, though, really made me scratch my head.

Some critter had dug up and broken apart hedge apples. I'm unsure whether the hedge apples were on the picnic table before the dismembering, or if a critter wanted to have a picnic in style. Upon getting home, I did a little research and concluded this was most likely the work of squirrels who love to eat the seeds, and are apparently okay with leaving a mess behind.

Finally, I skied around the pond. Temperatures haven't been above freezing for two weeks, so I'm sure a thick layer of ice covers the pond. While there are animal tracks around the edges, only one set of deer tracks goes across the pond. Possibly a deer in a hurry?

As I made my way back home, my coat unzipped and my hat off, I thought of something I'd read earlier in the week. If you wait until the weather is perfect, you're going to spend a big chunk of your life waiting. I'm so glad I turned Sunday into a perfect day.

The Coyote and the Border Collie

As I looked over the farm fields, patchy with melting snow, and took in the sky, tinted pink in the sunrise, I saw the coyote hunting in the corn field to my left. To my right, I saw the border collie, hunting in the  alfalfa field.

The coyote's gray-brown coat blended in with the patchy ground and decaying corn stalks. The Border collie's black and white coat allowed me to easily track her movements.

Both dog and coyote hunted with their noses to the ground. They zigged and zagged and paid me no mind as they searched for field mice scurrying beneath the snow. Occasionally, they'd pause and pounce.

The coyote had to hunt for her breakfast. With a full tummy after her morning kibble, the Border collie hunted because some instinct, some drive, told her to hunt.

When I called, "Hey, Coyote," the coyote, never looking up, continued her hunt.

When I called, "Caeli, that'll do," the Border collie looked up and loped toward me.

Disturbing the Hunters

The three adult Border collies and I left on our walk at daybreak, when the wind was calm, the sky clear, and frost covering the ground.

We encountered the coyote hunting in the recently harvested soybean.

He looked surprised to see us.

Had he not noticed the time? The lightening sky? Or, did he know in his bones that snow was coming and he needed to eat well?

He trotted toward the woods, then turned and looked at us, deciding whether he wanted to leave his prime hunting spot.

Because we'd just crossed a road, my dogs were on leashes and anxiously awaiting me to release them so that they could hunt the fields for mice.

"Go on, coyote," I said.

Reluctantly he retreated to the woods.

And my three dogs happily ran and chased and hunted until they encountered the raccoon who wisely climbed a tree.

Caeli jumped and whined and jumped some more at the base of the tree.

"That'll do," I said, summoning the dogs to begin walking toward home.

As we walked down the lane, we eyed a pair of red-tailed hawks, circling the hay fields, hunting for mice, perturbed to be giving up their hunting grounds to dogs.

Unlike the night creatures, they'd continue to hunt and screech throughout the day.

Catching the Coyotes' Calls

Over the weekend, the coyotes' nighttime yips and howls woke me numerous times.

Sometimes they sounded so close, I wondered if I should go out and check on the sheep. I didn't, but the sheep were fine.

The coyotes carried on so much that dogs across the countryside -- and even one or two of my own -- responded their barks that were no match for full-throttle coyote call.

On the third night, I decided that if the coyotes were going to keep me awake, I'd record them. I left my iPad underneath the open bedroom window.

On the third night, the only coyote sound was so distant, I was sure the cricket chirp would drown it out.

On the fourth night, the coyotes yipped and howled, but it was so short-lived that by the time I got out of bed and to the window, it had stopped.

I will keep trying.

But I know that my nights are numbered. Soon, we will be entering the time when we close the windows at night, and I no longer will fall asleep to crickets and the coyotes.

I wonder if they know that too and will wait me out.