It wasn't our intent to become farmers. It just happen "accidentally". For the last six years my husband, Joe, and I have been Red Deer farmers. Prior to this we had worked at pretty typical urban jobs, post office for him and food service for me. Then one day we woke up and longed for the type of living that we knew as children. Local farm stands, working dairies, fresh farm eggs and open space. After a long search, to be storied later, we found our destiny.
Our story from Corn Hill Farm starts in 2003 but rather than go there, I want to share with you our daily life now, 2009. Within each new story, I will include some flashback memories that will bring you up to day on the past journey as we go into the future. I'm not too big on talking about and remembering my past. I feel that there is so much ahead that looking back should be brief and with purpose.
So, today, the first day of my story, Matty, our nine year old lab/chow mix, and I went for our walk. After the farm animals are all fed and watered, we walk through the property for at least for a mile, camera in hand.
The winter was hard on the forest this year. There is lots of damage from the ice storm and the heavy snow. As the last of that snow melts, the damage becomes all too evident. My favorite weeping willow lost two of its largest limbs, many of the pines lost large limbs now scattered on the forest floor and many seemingly healthy trees are uprooted or snapped in two.
One extremely large pine fell the day of the ice storm on the deer fence, and the deer took full advantage of making an adventure of the whole thing. Nine or ten of them chose to escape into the woods. I was first aware of trouble when Matty and I came upon deer tracks. Too many for the wild deer, and too confusing. Large tracks, small ones, and scattered every which way. "What's going on?" ran though my head. And then we saw them. Running and excited.
After putting Matty in the house, to avoid even more excitement, I hiked up to the back of the deer pen and found the tree down. The deer who were a little too timid to leave the safety of the pen were still inside but happily munching on the pine needles that were obvious a gift from heaven. Pine needles have Vitamen C and are a treat to the deer. Everyone else was gone, except for #213 the oldest of the females and she came right up to me in greeting. She started to make me nervous because she kept nudging me and following me close when I walked away. I couldn't figure out what she wanted. Finally, she gave up on me and ran after the missing. I later learned that one of the escapees was her fawn and she wanted me to help find it. But she had to go alone because I didn't understand.
Eventually, after chasing deer all day, through the neighborhood, through the woods, through the sleet, snow and mud, we gave up and came home to get a bite to eat and warm up. And there they were, waiting at the back of the barn trying to find a way in. As there isn't a gate there, we cut a hole in the wire fencing and threw out some old acorns from a neighbor and they came back. All but two. #213 and her fawn were still missing. She had found the fawn and was bringing her back but was on the wrong side of the fencing. So, Joe walked around the pen, and when he got to her, he patted her nose and she and the fawn followed him around to the make-shift gate and came home.
Back to today's walk. Funny how you can find things as the snow melts. Oh, there's that camera cover I lost in the ice storm. Matty found a lost squeeky toy and an old bone. Squiggly mole trails where they burrowed between earth and snow are now exposed. We found some scat with bits of bone and fur in it. Must be coy dogs. Wild deer at Coyote Hill are eating the fall acorns that are now full and bursting as they sprout in the layers of damp fall leaves.
We stopped to talk to several chickadees that must have been regulars at the winter feeder because even in the forest, they flew close and chattered for food as they usually do when I fill up the bird feeders. A flock of Junco and a trio of titmouses (or is it titmice?) also joined in the chorus. Now that I'm back in our yard there is one other thing I notice as the snow melts. I need to get the scooper and do "poopie patrol". Matty doesn't get far to do his business when the snow is blowing and the air is cold.
I love the snow but I am happy to see it melt. Now the land is no longer white, but it is not yet green. We are somewhere in between. But the damp earth, the swollen streams, and warming sun, holds the promise of new life. I love New Hampshire.