What a beautiful morning here in Michigan. Big fluffy flakes were floating down slowly and the glare off of the new fallen snow was almost blinding. I love days like this. Being from Northern Wisconsin originally, I cherish bright mid-winter days. They break up the dismalness of an otherwise seemingly endless season. If the sun is bright enough, the heartlift it gives can raise the temperature outdoors by 30 degrees. Unfortunately this morning, we were running a little shy on wood for the stove, and the temperature inside was in need of a boost. The kids were busying themselves with the schoolwork and Brett was finishing up in the barn, so I suited up and headed out the door and off the porch to gather logs from the woodpile. The first two trips to the pile and back were most fruitful...one more would do it. As I stepped off of the last step, I stopped and smiled to myself as the dogs bounded through the snowdrifts scooping up snow in their mouths as they chased each other across the side yard. I don't quite know how the aussies manage that full bouncy run with their tongues dangling long out the sides of their mouths. They don't slow down a bit to gobble the snow either. They never break stride. I watched and enjoyed their romp while I made my way back out to the pile. I tossed up the last log on my opposite arm and clenched them tight in front of me, took a deep breath, and began walking slowly back to the house...daydreaming all the way about the toastiness that wood would bring. All of a sudden I hear a strange noise to my left, as I simultaneously felt my left foot rise and my right leg twist and shoot out from under me. It took me a split second to realize that I had fallen victim to a stampede. Yes ..a stampede...It seems as my dogs were playing and enjoying their time together, our young male Ziggy became distracted by our flock of heritage turkeys, and decided herding them to the barn would be a good time. Unfortunately for me, I was precisely between the barn door and the turkeys, and the 30 lb. Spanish black tom took out my right leg. Leaving me twisted and trampled by his remaining flockmates (12 much smaller Royal Palm hens). Oh well, I guess stampedes and snow happen in Michigan, and I will just have to take it in stride. Although admittedly my stride will be a bit shorter for the next few weeks while my ankle recovers. I will however have a bit more down time to enjoy that woodstove.
Antaya Acres Heritage Farm