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Whiteout

Time to feed and water the chickens.
This was no easy task on the Manitoba prairie in the dead of winter.
Feed, of course, was no real problem. Last spring James had plowed up the 3 acres west of the willow windbreak. He planted 100 spruce and 200 white pine seedlings in two rows on the west side of the plowed land and kept the soil free of weeds by several plowings during the summer. In the autumn, he had seeded that land in rye and grass seed. This spring, the rye had come up, fresh and green, sheltering the more tender grass until it could claim the land. The rye grew tall, surrounded by his neighbor’s winter wheat which matched it in growth, but not in vigor! The Agr. Service had told him to mow the rye down before it had a head of grain showing, but James had decided to harvest the grain using all hand methods. He had spent three evenings cutting, shocking, and pounding rye grass, and had cut a 6 by 6 piece into the field. He had about 4 cups of black oily rye grains to show for his effort. The children had somehow escaped him for this little task.
Steve, the Slovak farmer who lived south of him and being only a mile away was his closest neighbor, was taking his winter wheat off. He was using his new combine, which cost more than James had paid for his farm. The huge machine rumbled out of his field, across the road, and stopped by James.
“I will take off now?”
(Steve spoke English rather poorly, in fact spoke little of anything, so James replie😛 )
“Ja, thanks Steve.”
With a few easy passes, Steve cleared the field, leaving the new grass ready to welcome summer. He
unloaded about 40 bushels of rye in the barn and went home.
James had listened to Steve when he had told him how to keep chickens. The barn was without electricity, so a heavy duty, 500 foot extension cord ran from the garage to the barn, and two heat lamps pointed down from the loft onto the buckets of water carried to the chickens during the winter. During the summer the flock of Rhode Island Reds grew fat and happy, running freely on the farm, and laying wonderful brown eggs. They defied reason, however, by seeming to be perfectly happy within the barn, stuffed with straw. Outside the temperature, in a mostly dark world, fell to 30 below. When the wind blew some snow in through cracks, they accepted this as extra water to be drunk. Still…they waited for their daily bucket of water, delivered to replace the one that had, by now, frozen quite solid.
Time to suit up!
A down parka covered two layers of clothing, and the bucket filled with warm water.
It had snowed about 2 feet of light snow yesterday, which had laid and sparkled with a life that filled one with joy. Today, the sky was blue and could be seen from the upstairs window, but a strong bitter wind had turned the beautiful scene to a ground blizzard. The snow never falling, only moving, turning it into what Steve called a “whiteout”.
Stepping out, James found that he could only see about three feet ahead, and no blue to the sky at all. The hidden sun gave no warmth, but produced a blinding light within the fast moving snow.
The path to the farm was covered and lost. The extension cord gave direction. The red light from the heat lamps was not to be seen until James got about 6 feet from the barn.
Inside, the chickens seemed completely unaware of problems, and went directly to the new bucket as James pulled the frozen old one from the straw.
He turned and started back to the house. He was thinking about what the original Jungle Fowl, would think of their cousins in such a place, when he realized that he had lost the extension cord and his way.
Now, almost everyone in Manitoba had horror stories to tell about “lost in a whiteout”, and these all came to mind in a rush. James had no sense of direction now and he panicked. There were places on his property that were open to the surrounding wheat fields , and into which he could wander!
Wait a minute!
“I walked into the wind to get here, so all I need to do is put the wind behind me to get back!”
and so it was.
Hot coffee tasted very good.