-30, and Dropping

I wrote this story well over 20 years ago, came across it while cleaning up (downsizing). It is a work of fiction but, having spent many years as a sheep rancher in our erratic northern Alberta climate, it is grounded in reality. Today we are experiencing our fourth less than -30C cold snap. It’s expected to jump to +4 tomorrow, only to drop back down the day after. 

-30, and Dropping

By ML Tipton

Shelly stood, splitting maul held high over her head, about to drop it on a stubborn piece of pine, when she heard a worried “maaa, maaa” coming from the sheep feeding area north of the barn. “My God,” she thought, “it can’t be, not now, it’s far too early! The lambs aren’t supposed to come for another month!” But again she heard the high pitched “maaa”, so distinctive from the deeper toned “baaa” of the older sheep. After years of lambing she was in tune with that tiny plaintive sound. Like the cry of a baby, it pierced her consciousness even while she slept. It was a lamb alright, a month early, -30, and dropping.

Shelly abandoned the wood pile and headed at a fast clip around the end of the barn. There he stood, mom nowhere in sight, crying for food, for comfort, for warmth. The moment she picked him up, however, mom showed herself, coming to claim and protect her baby. A speedy look around and she found the lamb’s twin, dead and frozen, in the hay nearby. Shelly quickly carried the live lamb to the barn with the ewe following, holding him near her hip, his hind end near the ewe’s nose so she could easily identify his smell. Leaving the ewe captive inside, she rushed the lamb to the house to inspect him more carefully and warm him up. But it was too late. His ears and both hind legs were frozen solid. A familiar sadness came over her. It was no use. She would have to let him die or shoot him. After choosing the second alternative, she went back to her wood splitting task. “At least someone can be warm in this Godawful weather,” she mused.

January had ushered in the heaviest snowfall on record, over 80cm, and now February was breaking records for extreme cold. The farm calendar said lambs were coming in mid March. “What happened,” she thought, “I don’t remember the ram ever getting out!” But tossing theories around did not alter the fact that the ewe had lambed, whether she was supposed to or not. Since the lambs appeared to be full term, an immediate adjustment to management needed to be made if the next lambs were to live. Shelly set to work trying to find panels to make 4’ X 4’ claiming pens for the ewes and their lambs. Finding only two Shelly thought, “Well, Roland will be home tomorrow. Maybe he can slap a few together.”

Shelly’s husband, Roland, worked off farm, canting at a sawmill in the bush. A camp job, he only came home on weekends. They’d hoped to avoid working out this year but unexpected breakdowns and repairs took a toll on their small earnings. The dollars just wouldn’t stretch the distance. When Roland returned to the farm from the bush he was tired and grumpy. He only wanted to rest, enjoy the warmth of the fire, watch TV. Coming home to catastrophes, unexpected work or unforeseen expenses quickly pushed him into a dark mood. The simplest statement could spark a futile argument.

The weekend passed with no new lambs coming. Roland found the time to make four more claiming pens. Shelly went to town for veterinary supplies. Tempers were short fused, the cold weather continued to sit heavily on the land, and Shelly and Roland hardly said good-bye when he headed back to the bush. Shelly checked the flock frequently. At night the ewes burrowed deep into the straw in the barn, their breath rising like smoke from a chimney in the frigid air. She moved the beam of her flashlight slowly through the flock but saw no sign of new life. The ewes’ eyes glowed green as they turned their heads towards the bobbing light, but they were no longer startled into motion by its nightly intrusion.

At dawn on the 12th day after the arrival of the first lambs, Shelly spied a shivering wet lamb standing in the midst of the ewes, its mother not apparent. Moving closer to the lamb her worst fears were realized - against the west barn wall were two dead lambs. “Triplets, what a terrible loss!” she thought. “But at least this one seems okay.” She wove her way through the sheep to the live lamb and its mother came instantly to his side. Armed with livestock marking spray, she quickly applied a big green stripe on the ewe’s back. Now to get the lamb warm, quick.

She submerged the lamb in warm water in the kitchen sink, towel dried him and lay him by the kitchen fire. His ears were frozen but his legs were good. She went back outside to put the green striped ewe in a pen, and when her baby was dry they were happily reunited. The remainder of the day was uneventful, but on her 10:00 pm rounds worry set in. Doing her usual check for hypothermia, she discovered that the new lamb’s mouth was cooler than it should be. Should she take it in? Echoes of the past rang in her ears, taking lambs in and out of the cold can cause problems, the temperature difference is stressful for them. Their moms sometimes rejected them. Still… “I’ll take it in,” she decided, popping the lamb outside the pen. But the lamb appeared strong, his mother called and he called back. “No,” she thought, “he’ll probably be okay,” and back in with mom he went. The next morning at 6:00 am Shelly moved cautiously through the dozing sheep to the lamb pens. The new lamb was a hidden deeply within the straw. “Good,” she thought, “what a smart mom to cover him like that.” But he was awfully still and when she climbed into the pen to check him out she found he was dead. A string of expletives exploded in her brain. “Damn, damn, damn!” Shelly muttered to herself. “Another one! When will this weather break? This is impossible! What am I to do?….Sleep out here?”

Two live, healthy lambs and one disaster later, Roland returned home for the weekend. On Sunday the sun finally began to eat away at the cold, the icy north winds at last subsided, and the thermometer registered a balmy -5. Both Roland’s and Shelly’s mood mellowed with the weather. Leaning against the fence, soaking up rays of delicious warmth, they shared the joy of the birth of healthy twins, casting aside the gloom of past weeks.  “Sure hope this was the last cold snap,” said Roland as they stood watching the lambs seek their mother’s milk supply. “I don’t think I could stand another one this winter, do you?”

To Shelly’s pleasure, the thermometer continued to hover 5 degrees above or below freezing. It was as if the full moon joined hands with the cold, taking it away as it waned. The lambs came more frequently now and losses were few. The earth and its inhabitants breathed a sigh of relief. Break-up was in the air, water dropped from the eaves, and, as always, winter at last gave way to spring.

Time for Change

I’ve come to realize that the “Me Too” movement is just the tip of the iceberg. “Me Too” speaks of sexual harassment, actual rape, unwanted touches, threats of consequences “if you don’t comply”, and inappropriate sexually tainted language. But I’m thinking if we included uncomfortable social situations in which women feel pressured to look the other way, pretend they don’t hear or understand innuendoes, quickly remove themselves before things get out of control… well there’d be an even louder cacophony of sound arising around the world. Then, lets just add those times in which men exercise “male privilege”, not just in the work place but in the home as well, those times when women are simply told to hold their tongues, when they are told their opinions are stupid, unwanted, un-needed. Those times when the cornered man, even though he may recognize that he’s in a weak position, simply “puts his foot down” and gets away with it. Well, it is time for an attitude change.

In thousands of little ways, women unknowingly perpetuate the privilege that men have become accustomed to expect. We love them. They work hard. We make our homes a sanctuary from the world, a cozy, comfy place to be at ease. We do everything we can to make their lives a little less difficult. We willingly become their unpaid servants showering them with countless, largely unnoticed, entitlements.

This subservient role may be more prevalent in women of older generations. Economic and educational levels may also effect male/female relationships. Nevertheless our society is patriarchal. Our social organization is marked by the supremacy of the father in the family, the legal dependence of wives and children, and the reckoning of descent and inheritance in the male line. It is controlled by men who have a disproportionately large share of power. Nearly every society on earth falls under this category! For centuries women have struggled to get an equal piece of the pie, but those in power, especially when threatened, cling to their status like an apple to its peel.

Most of the women I know would be happy if their contributions, along with those of men, were simply recognized and respected. They’d be happy if their ideas and observations were considered to be as valuable as those of men, providing a different, not worthless, perspective. It would be genuinely wonderful if our society did not equate worth with the ability to earn money, leaving women who do not earn (and for the most part cannot earn equally) in a subservient role. Can we not have respect for one another, respect our differences, our accomplishments, our strengths? Is there any reason, beyond the application of power, protection of status, for men to immediately disparage ideas, thoughts, or plans that are brought forward by a woman?  And, if a woman happens to have more to contribute, shouldn’t she be able to do so, without being told she is acting like a man? 

In many respects, men do not have it all that good. “Me Too” has almost become a witch hunt. They are being called on the carpet for words, not just actions, some of which may simply be flirtations, ground testing a woman's interest. And it needs to be said, women can make it very difficult for men to ignore their sexual attributes. I can't help but notice the half bare breasts and plunging “necklines” of some of the Hollywood women crying “Me Too”. Nevertheless, the “behavioral norms” of the past are no longer acceptable. It is definitely time for change.

Winter Wonderland

Burning Wood

There’s nothing quite so homey as a wood burning stove.  Unlike the on/off cycle of a forced air furnace, wood heat radiates continuously. When you’re cold stand near, if you’re hot move away - something pleasantly simple in that idea. They don’t require electricity to run. Fuel can be stored in your yard. It doesn't have to be buried in underground pipes, delivered by a large tank truck, or run through electrical lines. It works in a power outage. 

Our wood stove is the center of our home. I hang my bread rising bowl in a net bag on a beam above the stove for its first rising. I heat tortillas on its surface. I dry mittens and boots behind it. I make pot roasts, stews, curries, and dog food on it all winter. It’s like having a non-electric slow-cooker going all the time. And, it keeps us toasty warm!

Having lived with a wood burning stove for 45 years I would not like to be without one. I’m never really warm in a house that relies solely on a forced air furnace. And in the north a wood stove back-up (or an efficient fireplace) is not just a pleasant luxury, it’s a matter of safety. Propane jells at -40 and can stop flowing to your house. Furnaces require electricity to run and power outages do happen. Shivering while indoors with your winter boots and coat on, freezing water pipes…not my idea of fun.

A wood stove is like an old friend. You have to get to know all sides of its character. Each has its own personality, its own quirks that must be recognized and respected if you want a good steady fire. Stove manufacturers must follow safety and emission regulations. You can get older ones with no rating but, if you value your life, the environment, and/or want home insurance, you need to buy an approved stove and have it properly installed. For 12 years we lived with no electricity or running water and a variety of wood stoves. I had an old Empire cook stove with a water jacket on the side which was invaluable to me. Always having hot water on hand was great as was its large oven that baked everything at 400F. For heat we had tin air-tights and a beefed up version of the same with a thermostat and cast iron top called an Ashley. We eventually purchased a propane space heater for the living room and a small cooking stove for the kitchen called a Baker’s Oven. This stove, developed in Australia, makes the kitchen toasty warm but I wouldn’t want to rely on this size and style of stove as my only source of heat. The fire box is short (10”) and none too tall either so keeping it going overnight can be a challenge, especially in really cold weather. Wood burns faster in cold weather, even with the damper and air intake shut - something about the atmospheric pressure???

The oven is on the bottom. I use it seldom because it’s hard to regulate the heat and is small, holding only 2 loaves of bread at a time. But it’s there and can be used in an emergency (no gas, no electricity, no money?), so in my mind it’s well worth having.

If it’s cold and I want to keep the fire burning overnight I try to put one or two large diameter logs on a good bed of coals and fill all the remaining space in the fire box with smaller pieces. If it’s really cold (remember, wood burns faster when it’s cold) it needs stoking in the middle of the night. A healthy glass of water before bed generally ensures a visit to the bathroom and a fire stoking opportunity. There are woods that burn hotter and slower too. It’s nice to have a bit of local birch or tamarack on hand for colder than -30C nights. If it’s warmer I just stoke the fire before bed and let it go out.

Ours is a northern home. Everything that could be damaged by freezing is by intention on the kitchen side. Water lines are located in interior walls. The spare bedroom is above the kitchen. If the world fell apart we would not have to depend on propane delivery to survive. We could close off the living room/bedroom side of our house and live on the kitchen side. Or we could install a wood heater in the living room. For me this is comforting. I guess I am a bit of a survivalist. I also seem to find a stash of jarred, dried, and canned food comforting, along with a fair amount of dried beans, rice, flour, and sugar, and a cellar stocked with plenty of root vegetables.

We currently have12 dogs! The growing guardian pups are consuming unbelievable amounts of food. At 10 weeks they weigh about 10kg and each are eating more than 4 cups of dog food daily. We have good friends who provide us with butchering scraps from their deer hunting so I supplement commercial dog food with doggy stew. There’s a big pot of it bubbling away on my wood stove right now. And I am nice and warm as I tap the keys on my iPad.

Magnetic Slime

         I’m not much of an on-line shopper. But this Christmas season I succumbed to some of FaceBook’s ads as they streamed through my brain and captured my interest. FaceBook (thinks it) knows me. It has been watching me for years now. When people put ads on FB they choose their target audience. I know this because I have occasionally placed ads to promote my blog. As far as their “accurate” profile of me, well FB has slotted me into a few pretty strange categories, but many of the products I’ve seen on my page are right down my alley. 

     My youngest granddaughter loves to make and play with “slime”. If you find her you find slime. So who could blame me when there it was - the perfect Christmas gift - MAGNETIC SLIME!

        And, as November wore on, a few more products looked pretty good, especially since I didn’t have to brave my way through crowds and malls to find them. The trouble is I’m still waiting for that slime to arrive. An e-mail says it’s on the way - from Laos. Maybe the magnetic ingredient triggered a customs panic. Or maybe it’s so small it got lost in the dark corner of a shipping container, never to appear at all. Tracking says it’s coming - maybe it’ll be a May birthday gift instead.

Of the five things I ordered in early November only one arrived before Christmas. One came on Wednesday after Christmas, another in the first week of January. Two are yet to arrive. The companies hooking you with their ads never tell you their product is being shipped on a slow boat from VietNam, or Laos, or China, or……… 

I think there’s an old song about a slow boat to China. Yep, Googled it - Bing Crosby, Peggy Lee…. But it was about love…. I’m wandering…. Traveling brain syndrome …..

I should have been suspicious I guess. Memories can be flighty but I remember some jewelry I ordered a few years back, again for Christmas. I had a choice for fast (on time for Christmas, $60) or regular ($6) shipping - from VietNam. But at least I knew. 

Shipping time is one part of the story, but a person also needs to be aware that shipping costs and exchange rates can nearly double the cost of your purchase. So, if you’re willing to pay double the price for some cool trinket for your grandchild (and what grandparent isn’t willing?) - go for it!

The other difficulty I’ve encountered with on-line shopping is that product representation may be a bit beyond reality. More quality can shine through on a product photo where less actually exists. So far, and I’m feeling a little lucky in this regard, I am more or less satisfied with the “stuff” I’ve received.  

There are sites where on-line shopping holds no surprises. I’m just not all that sure FaceBook ads are the best place to find them. I think I’ll stick with sites that state clearly where the product is being shipped from, can give an approximate arrival date, and clearly show shipping costs, taxes, etc. in Canadian dollars. Many people love on-line shopping, are even able to return goods successfully when the something is off, but there does seem to be another one of those learning curves involved in the process. 

“Never stop learning, Never stop learning! Never stop learning!”

Downward Dog

I have invented a new exercise routine, requiring no equipment purchase and guaranteed to improve balance and reach. I call it “downward dog” but it has no relationship to the yoga position of the same name. You need:

               1) a very large, quite old and arthritic Akbash dog,  

               2) and 3) two medium sized Border Collies, and

               4) one small but weighty, deaf Lhasa Apso, Jack Russell cross**.

These four pieces of household equipment simply need to remain in places of their own choosing, a position which seems to suit them quite well and requires no encouragement.

In my case dog number one will move but prefers not to, makes quite a show of creaking up to a standing position and lumbering out of the way. He stays in my kitchen (his size and copious quantities of shedding hair have made this a necessity), usually on one of the stress relief mats in front of the sink or stove or on the door mat, and he willingly accommodates my exercise program by always being exactly where I want to work. 

Dogs 2 and 3 are excellent contributors to the program. Anyone who has ever met a Border Collie knows that when focused on anything they sit very still, stare, sometimes tremble, and are absolutely oblivious to anything other than the subject of their focus.They are also affectionate, jealous of one another, and tend to vie for attention via soft frisbee, ear scratches, or jumping on chairs and laps.

The fourth dog - well he’s privileged. He knows it’s his right to sleep like a stone on the bed right where I’d like to move my legs, take his rightful position next to me when sitting, or reside under the footrest of my recliner.

The secret to this exercise routine is simple. Work around and/or over these immobile pieces of equipment. Stretch to reach household items without causing a disturbance, avoid tails and paws by delicately stepping between them in a ballet-like position, gently push bodies aside when absolutely necessary, and acquire a sort of sliding gait at night to avoid collision. This exercise routine can easily be practiced daily (and nightly) with no special set up on your part, no expensive exercise clothing or shoes, and is a spontaneous activity which has, at times, the ability to get your adrenaline pumping.

• Caution, this routine is not recommended for everyone. Extreme caution must be taken to avoid falls and/or strain from twisting into peculiar positions. And, as is always suggested before beginning any exercise routine, be sure to consult your doctor.
• ** Note: Other dog breeds may be substituted - perhaps an old Bullmastiff, a Cocker Spaniel and a couple of toy Poodles…

A Rant

            So I'm a "Trekkie" from way back, have watched every single Startrek episode over and over again. So I was excited to check out Startrek Discovery. Yuk! They turned it into just another war show, killing, more war. Clingons are the enemy, weaponizing  sentient beings... It stinks.      

            One of the major aspects of Startrek has always been that a moral dilemma is presented and a moral solution is sought. Not so on Startrek Discovery.

    An unfortunate new pattern has surfaced in American films. The "good guys" are also bad, just not as bad as the bad guys, or bad for a good reason. Heroes these days are killers, destroyers. You have to watch an Australian, British or Canadian film to see an actual good guy deal with a bad or difficult situation.

    Along with accepting bad for good reasons surfaces a "My country can do no wrong" mind set. If they appear to do wrong it's because they can not achieve their goal any other way, which somehow makes wrong right. This attitude justifies torture, assassinations, drones, support of drug cartels, election interference, weapons of mass destruction...

    Films reflect our society. They also influence society. In many ways the US has melded with Hollywood and neither of them is taking responsibility for their effect upon their own citizens or the rest of the world.