She kept growing, as evidenced by her ever larger fantail:
And one day I found her on the floor. She continued to thrive because both parents continued to feed and protect her:
The two babies in the nest on the floor finally grew enough feathers for me to feel confident they could survive the cold:
I continued to put a new hay bale every two to four days, depending on the herd's consumption. Every time the snow melted, their hay consumption went down because they were finding grass to eat, though it looked like slim pickens to me. In this photo, I'd just put out a new bale. Jasmine, on the left, had a mouthful of hay and Remy, on the right, was using the bale feeder to scratch his butt:
And then it snowed again, leaving a rustic scene of wintry beauty:
We had a wild hail storm one morning, and I photographed the hailstones on the railing of my porch:
The cattle seemed immune to it all. I've been working to get them coming back into the barn for grain every morning, but sometimes I have to bring the food bowls out to them. Something must have spooked them about the barn a year ago, for they've been hesitant to go back in ever since:
Early winter, while there is just enough snow to look pretty and the temperatures are still relatively mild, is a wonderful time of year:
Millions of Canada Geese passed overhead for a week or more, and one day a flock of Snow Geese landed in the field across the road from me. The reapers had left big piles of kernel corn on the ground, so I'm sure the geese ate well:
Alas, the Snow Geese were more wary than the Canada Geese and I couldn't get close enough for better shot:
While I was standing in that corn field, though, I got a photo of the neighbors' farm. It's a picturesque place and they are wonderful people:
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