Mountain Musings on a Hard Winter, the Death of a Deer, and the Dropping of Hay to Save Cattle: A Guest Column by Dottie Simmons

A guest column by Dottie Simmons who lives in eastern Humboldt County describes yesterday at her rural homestead:

Musing on this mountain life….

I love our life. A life of our choosing. We didn’t choose an easy one, but we chose the one that spoke to our souls. Close to the Earth, close to Nature, full of hard work and the need to compromise with what the universe throws at us.

Today was a good example of that, with all it’s ups and downs.

We are well set to hunker down and roll with a big storm. We have seen them before and pay attention to what must be done and are aware of what we also must not try to do, especially as we seem to have grown older over the years (fancy that!). We try to always have food and firewood on hand as if the winter will be a hard one – and, as this year shows, sometimes it is. We try to have a back up of animal feed and fuel for the generator in case we need back up for our power system, which we have.

So today we awakened to a beautiful day, a break day in the weather, with plans to do some catch up before the next incoming weather, and ready for helping with the plowing of the driveway as is planned. So far no plow… we know we are not the only ones on the list, and others are far more desperate than us to be able to get out, so wait we will.

We did our morning chores and headed out, happy to have the tools we needed, to try and get the hydro started up again – we had to turn it off as incoming water had been frozen solid until now – and clear the snow from the solar panels. Also to get into the greenhouses and check on things.

Water to the hydro is on, but isn’t doing anything… but as yet we are unable to get down to the other end to see if there is an issue there.
Lower greenhouse was so compressed out of shape by the snowpack that there was no opening the door to get in, even after the snow was cleared from around it. Still, everything inside was doing fine.

Then we headed to clear our solar PV array, which we accomplished, but our pleasure at that exhausting job (this wet snow is HEAVY) was deeply dampened by finding a perfect yearling deer curled as if sleeping, likely frozen to death, beneath our panels, where deer often take shelter in storms. I am heartbroken. This has cast a pall over the day. My heart is heavy for I know that this one deer is likely only one of many hunkered down, frozen and starved, under trees on the mountain. This happened back in 1989 as well. This is my most difficult day of this entire winter. ?

It’s easy to help the humans who are in trouble, we know where they are and move resources as we can to come to their aid. But we humans are not the only ones suffering. So we do what we can helping people connect to resources (since we cannot get out to help) and for the wild birds we put grain in places they can get to it, but we have nothing here available to put out for the deer this time, and it breaks my heart.

So I headed up to the upper greenhouse and was able to dig it out while Dennis moved the deer to a place where the Turkey Vultures, also suffering in this storm, can find it.

Back in the house warming up, Dennis walking up to meet the mail carrier to get the mail, and we see one of the CalFire helos low and searching for cattle on the ranch across the river from us. Watched them drop bales of hay for the cattle… and likely some will be shared by the wildlife as well. This is wonderful to see. And an example of people and organizations and government working together in difficult times to help one another in the best of ways.

Listen to Dottie almost reverently describing Cal Fire feeding the starving cattle and the gratitude she has for their work. She told us. “[B]efore I speak in the video, you can see bales actually dropping if you look carefully!”

The good news is that this cold storm sequence is ending. The snow will ultimately melt, and there will be an abundance of food for all the survivors.
The iffy news is that much of this water will head downstream, and if it does it too fast there will be other hardships for those who live there, human and animal alike.

Still, we love this life. We love the hard work, and are used to making do. We are blessed. But in times like these it can tear at the heartstrings to see the natural flow of things in all it’s harsh reality. And one carries that forward knowing it is, in the broader picture, ok. And a lesson. To be sure we do what we can to be ready for what comes and to do what we can to make the future easier for all beings.