Tuesday

The next ten days surely will test our love for living in the Upper Midwest. Cold. Snow showers. Icy ground cover. Arctic blast. Cold.

We turn our attention away from the weather. But I think our winter weariness has its effect even when we're inside: yesterday, I turned up the thermostat a whole degree over and beyond where we usually set it. Both of us wanted the extra warmth. How luxurious to be able to do this! How tough it must be for all the animals who must manage all weather extremes.

My morning walk to the garage, barn and writers shed is brisk.





And again, I am met with surprises. And I think -- how many permutations and possibilities can these farmette animals offer us?? Haven't we run through all of them by now?

There are no cats, anywhere. Well, that's not surprising. We know they've been running away at night. We just don't (yet) know why.

As I rumble around the garage, I find one possible answer: in the back, where there are the sad traces of Cupcake (it's hard to clean these things in the dead of winter), I find what is surely coyote scat.

Somehow, I'd never really given much though to the coyote problem. Hawks -- I see them very often. Daily, in fact. But coyotes -- they're so elusive. We never see them here. Ever. I know they roam at night and every blue moon, I'll find scat on the ground during the summer, but it's very rare.

Do coyotes eat kittens? You'll have read, I'm sure, horror stories about coyotes and wolves snatching pets and little children. The former (not the latter) has a little truth to it -- coyotes are omnivores. And in February, they intensify their search for mates and food.

People tend to think of these animals as living in forests and hiding in the great wilderness, but of course, coyotes, foxes and raccoons are very much part of the urban landscape. There is a UW project that seeks to record and track the movement of these animals in Madison (read about it here) and as I look at the map of recent sightings, I'm stunned at how frequent they are. It is a certainty that the farmette, too, is going to be in the path of one such animal pack.

We can take steps to try to keep them away. No more laziness about picking up all traces of cat food. (We've improved on this already!) Hide the compost. (We generate a lot of fruit and veggie trimmings, to say nothing of wilted flower waste, and we tend to be lackadaisical in the winter, thinking that no one but the groundhog cares what we dump in this temporary makeshift compost pile.) Put up a sensor light. (Ed has one at the sheep shed. It's not too hard to flash one by the garage.) Be prepared to make loud noises at night. And hope that spring will come soon.

In the meantime, I do have an animal worry. Of course I do! Late in the morning, Stop Sign comes back with Dance.






So where is Jacket? Yes, he has been missing in the past, but only once was he separated from his sister for a long time -- right after the Great Massacre, when everyone scattered and stayed away for many days. I watch mom and Dance together and I think positive thoughts -- Jacket is fine, Jacket is fine. But then, why is Dance meowing a lot all of a sudden? It doesn't sound right.

Though of course, I cannot read cat minds, nor can I interpret their behaviors very well.

Breakfast. (His eyes are closed on purpose. Why? Because he is Ed.)






And then I go out to get a haircut. You can tell I have travel within a few weeks -- I only think of haircuts before a trip.

I return to the farmette and see Jacket running toward the garage. He hits the food right away and refuses to tell me why he stayed away all morning.







In the afternoon, Snowdrop is here.

(It's so slippery! Sooo slippery!)






(Studying carefully the books that she does not want to read.)






(Spirited play!)






(Followed by a pretend nap time. She makes up fake beds. I think she plays the "sleeping child" role very, very well! )






Later, much later, we go out to the car so that I can drive her home. I glance over toward the garage. This is what I love seeing -- the three of them, in a row, feeding off of each other's physical warmth and love.





I haven't seen Whiskers today, but Ed tells me he comes around in the hour I'm away with Snowdrop.

I return to the farmhouse when it's already dark. And so cold outside! I turn on the kitchen lights and set in on dinner prep: a lentil soup to warm your bones. I ask Ed -- shouldn't we throw some more food into the kittie dish in the garage? He says no, we should taper off these late day feedings.

I start in on my veggie chopping.  Stop Sign must have seen me in the kitchen: the lights are on, I move from one place to the next, and as always, I keep an eye on what is going on outside.

Hey, it's a romp of the kitties!
Ed, I think they're heading out... No, wait! They're coming here!

It just melts my heart: Stop Sign has done this repeatedly in the past -- come to the farmhouse door to let me know that she needs (they need?) more food. Today, she teaches the young ones that this is what they must do. Their reward? Yummy can of mixed grill.






We wait a few minutes and then Ed goes out to do the evening rounds: all cat dishes are removed, all lairs are inspected, some lights are turned on. He tells me later that he found no sign of the cats anywhere. Perhaps they left again. Maybe over time, it will be safe for them to stay.