Romp in the Woods

The snow is perfect, with a fresh skiff. Ice crystals hang suspended like giant diamonds in the trees. And the sun is shining with a brilliancy I haven’t seen since before the holidays—perfect weather for our second annual Snowshoe and Treats event at the farm!

A partnership with naturalist and education coordinator Emily Stone of the Cable Natural History Museum, the Saturday morning trek began at Farmstead Creamery with colorfully bundled, eager guests arriving with anticipation. In the parking lot, we strapped on our snowshoes (and a few pairs of skis) and posed for a quick picture before heading off down the snow-packed road towards the barnyard.

Summer farm tours head in the same direction but don’t pass beyond the barnyard into the field and forests beyond. Of the nearly 250 acres on the farm, though, only 100 is cleared land, so woodlands and swamps comprise most of the landscape. The snowshoe hike is a special excursion into areas of the farm not normally open to the public.

Emily’s focus is on sharing the stories of what’s happening in the magical woods of wintertime—the traits of the animals whose tracks we encounter, how different kinds of trees have adapted to surviving the winter, and how life continues through the dark season (from hearty lichens to the steaming compost pile we pass along the trail).

Last year, everyone was anticipating seeing wolf tracks, though our results were inconclusive and likely coyote. But this year wolf activity has been very present on the farm, with tracks passing right behind the Red Barn where the rabbit warrens are. Just the day before the hike, two fellows stopped in at Farmstead to ask permission to cross our land to retrieve their hunting hounds, who were “being chased by timber wolves.” They looked pretty concerned and returned hours later to report that the dogs were now safe and they had arrived “just in time” to call them from the woods to the safety of their trucks. The chance of seeing tracks on this trek was pretty high.

As we tromped though the barnyard, Lexi the donkey announced our arrival. This was a great opportunity to talk about our farm’s use of guard donkeys and how they keep the sheep safe through a natural adversity between donkeys and canines. While sheep are easy prey, donkeys will stomp, bite, kick, and throw unwanted canines, often killing them. Having a guard donkey bond with the sheep as her children, she instinctually wants to watch out for their welfare and protect them.

Our guard donkeys have often alerted us to the presence of predators, giving us time to lock everyone safely up in the barn. While they’ve never had to actually attack a wolf or coyote, just having their strong presence on the farm has created a bubble around the barnyard that has redirected wolf and coyote “paw traffic” to stay a further distance away. Our goal is to make it psychologically much easier for the predators to go hunt those cottontails than try to catch lamb chops for dinner.

The turkeys gobble and the ducks quack as we pass by. I share some of the history of our century farm as we admire the barn and wave at the new cows. They’re still pretty shy and certainly not used to a crowd, backing into the corner of their pen warily. Belle (the older guard donkey) calls from the Red Barn, and the sheep stare curiously from their playpen outside the barn as we clatter past. Someone remarked how their wooliness looks so cozy this time of year.

All through the hike, talking points present themselves. The old crab apple tree behind the Red Barn that’s all intertwined with a pine at least 30 feet up starts a discussion about how apple seeds do not grow trees true to the parent and the art of grafting to preserve apple genetics. Pointing out the stout birch clusters growing out of the old white pine stumps pulled from the field during the farm’s homesteading links the tree’s distinctive color to being able to stay frozen throughout the winter, causing less freezing and thawing damage to the trunk (why we hear popping sounds in the woods when temperatures plummet).

We meet up with large tracks right behind the Red Barn, as expected, though they’re a bit obscured by the recent skiff of snow. Our sheep dog Lena has been on a leash lately since she is expecting to have puppies next week, so they certainly couldn’t have been hers. Besides, these feet were far too big, so we determine to keep our eyes open for fresher tracks for a proper identification.

Along the field, the hopping prints of a mouse cross our path before disappearing in a divot beside a fence pole. Deer trot by past a section of saplings nipped and trimmed by years of browsing either by deer or rabbits, and even a grouse left its miniature chicken-foot prints in the snow as it passed from tree to tree in the undergrowth.

But there are also more large prints in the snow—walking, trotting, running. They follow our trail, intersect, weave in and out of the woods. There’s been quite a lot of activity back here! Some fresher prints show the distinctive canine toe pads and claws, with marks as big as the palm of our hands. Wolves have certainly been here.

We weave around branches, some bending over the path, weighted with snow and ice. Emily and I shake them off to lighten their load. The supple saplings and branches spring upward upon release, relieved of the pressure of their load. A couple of trees had fallen over across the trail, so we broke off the branches and clambered over. The woods looked like a magical fairyland, frosted in snow. It was so quiet—even the birds were still.

As we emerged from the forest into the south field, the wolf tracks changed from trotting to bounding and running, possibly in play or chasing deer. Knowing how Lena would bound through the snow in a similar manner, I was astounded by how far apart these bounding tracks appeared.

“How fast can a wolf run?” I asked, thinking how good of an investment those guard donkeys have been.

Emily thought a moment. “Without looking it up, I’d say about 35 miles an hour.”

After the tour, I did look it up, and she was right, with 37 miles an hour having been clocked for Gray Wolves, which is the type for our region. The poor deer who were under pursuit! Well, that’s how the circle of life goes in nature.

Upon our return, Kara had plated up an assortment of delicious cookies she made, and we busied with steaming mugs of hot cider, frothy hot cocoa with marshmallows, French Press coffee, and hot tea. Emily shared pelts from some of the animals we’d discussed as everyone munched on cookies and warmed their hands on their steamy mugs. It really was a great day to celebrate a new year on the farm and enjoy the beauty that nature offers in the snowy depths of winter.

Have you strapped on your snowshoes or skis yet this year? See you down on the farm sometime.