I Fought a Blizzard to Save Animals
My friends, around the world, I remembered a snow story that tested my determination.
My Friends,
I love what you share about your cultures and celebrations.
It seems I’m welcome to tea in your villages and cities. Snow stories are a small way I thank you for the gifts of beauty from your country.
Today my little spot of the world warmed from the below-zero temperatures. As I write it is 2 degrees (-16 C), that’s still cold. The blizzard is over, and the wind died down.
Nights like this bring back images of sitting around a wood stove. I’d put my gloves, wet from shoveling a path, on the edge to dry, and rest my cold feet on the warming rail.
Nothing like a crackling fire and the woodsy smell of smoke to put you in the mood for telling stories.
Have I told you about taking a lantern to walk the path to the outhouse in the dead of winter?
No. I suppose not.
How about the time that challenged my determination, maybe the most ever?
It was over twenty-four years ago, before Tom, my husband, died. He and I met when I came to Iowa from Arizona. We were twelve — do you believe in love at first sight? I’ll share that story sometime, but first, you asked about snow.
It was one of those cold winters that never seemed to end. Temperatures were 20 below zero (minus 29 C) as a blizzard raged through the countryside.
I lived on the farm I had purchased for my birthday. Some suspect I bought it for Tom. He’d had liver and kidney transplants that had not gone well. I’d indeed hoped the farm would bring him healing.
“Katie, can you do the chores by yourself? I’m feeling weak.” Tom asked.
Chili simmered on the stove. “Sure can, but you’ll have to finish dinner.” He made better chili than I did, anyway. His secret? Five different types of hot peppers so the heat hits all around the mouth.
A large, dilapidated red barn sprawled between three pastures at the bottom of the hill.
Stepping from the back door of our humble home was a little bridge traversing the land between the house and a sacred oak tree. Beyond the tree, a path wound across the yard, driveway, and down the hill.
We had pounded stakes from the road to the bottom of the hill and strung rope to provide some safety along the walkway. Tom had foot-drop from his lengthy time in a coma. This rope railing made it possible for him to walk down the slope.
Despite the blizzard, it was a winter wonderland. Deep pillows of snow mounded like sand dunes leading to an icy oasis. Tree branches were bending low, weighted down by snow and icicles.
The sun had melted the top layer of snow, creating a layer of ice over everything — including the path down to the barn. A pail of sand in hand, I started out dusting sand on my way down to the barn. Harsh winds blew much of the sand in my face.
It was slick — far worse than I expected.
The animals had to be checked on and chores done, but I was worried about getting back up the hill.
I was worried about getting down the hill!
No time to fuss. I’d learned early in life that if there was a task to be done; I had to do it. If there was a rock in the field — dig it out!
Slowly inching my way to the bottom, I reached the gate and made my way to the barn. The chickens were deep in a hollow in the hay. The wind was not reaching them.
Donkeys like to be petted while they eat. Mine liked me to sing, but I had grit in my mouth from the sand, and my face hurt in the cold. “I love you. A bushel and a peck. A bushel and a peck, and I hug around the neck…” I sang while cuddling with them in the corner.
Bales of hay needed to be rearranged as I tossed some to the cows. I purchased small bales that weighed 75 pounds each. It was exhilarating.
The donkeys and cows had separate areas to hang out but shared a water supply from a well. An automatic watering system ensured the animals never went without water, even if I had to work a long day and couldn’t get to them.
There was a problem!
The heater in the automatic watering pump was not working.
Ice!
Yes, ice. That winter was an icy one, and the hill up to my tiny home was iced over. That was bad, but the freezing temperatures caused the watering system for the critters to freeze!
They had to have water.
I’d have to go up to my house and carry water down to them. With high winds and the temperature being 20 below zero…
Sigh.
I was sure that whatever I had to do would necessitate numerous trips up and down my charming herbal path. Did I mention, there was an herb garden under that ice? Well, that’s what it was ……not at that moment.
I had no clue what to do.
Oh well, I had to do something.
My way up the path to the warmth of my tiny home bolstered my determination.
I would get water for the animals.
I told Tom to keep Jessie, our dog, in the house with him. I hammered a nail in the bottom of my walking stick and clipped off the head. This would give me a stick to grab into the ice.
I grabbed a K-bar knife and my hatchet. Do you want to know how a woman carries all that?
I stuck my knives in my bra. Don’t worry, my knives have covers. A rope around my neck had a clip where I attached my hatchet.
With two five-gallon buckets of hot water, I made my way down the hill.
I thought about feeling sorry for myself but decided to enjoy the adventure instead. After all, it had to be done. I just hoped I’d be strong enough to keep the cows and donkeys alive.
Poor dears. I had them take turns getting a drink. It was difficult. They were pushy, but I understood.
I hacked at the ice in the automatic waterer with my hatchet, and you know what? I got nowhere.
It was a very long night — carrying buckets of water and moving hay bales around all night and into the next day.
Because of the 20 below-zero temperature, the water froze quickly. Animals can’t be left without water. After each trip to refill the buckets, I’d make sure they drank and petted the cows.
How many rounds of “I love you, a bushel and a peck” did I sing? I don’t know. My donkeys were rescue animals who loved my scratchy, out-of-tune singing.
I grabbed my hatchet and started hacking at the ice around the waterer again. My face burned from the cold and wind, and my ears hurt.
I dropped down on the haystack and cried.
The Blizzard winds died down the next afternoon.
Tom got ahold of some neighbors to repair the watering system.
The tank heater was repaired. I purchased a spare tank heater, and put a second handrail down along the path.
Wow, that was an experience. I’m exhausted from remembering it. I fought a battle with that blizzard and won because my determination was focused: focused on saving the animals.
The animals lived, and I lived.
Thank you for stopping by and sitting with me while the fire crackles. I appreciate your time.
Want some hot cocoa while you share a story?
If there was a rock in the field — dig it out! — James Hearst
I’ve been blessed with many hardships and with people who inspired me. From a very young age I learned that when I felt weighted down with sadness and pain, I need only open my eyes to see two things.
- That others suffered, perhaps more than me
- That my gift was that I could be of use in helping others
The Poet James Hearst was a frequent guest of my foster mother. I would not have had the courage to attend the university, if not for him.
Read his story and be humbled.
And blessed.
Some of his poems.