A new day, a new dawn, and another attempt at starting the tractor.
The tractor doesn’t like the cold. Not the whole tractor, just the battery apparently. And while it is able to cough its way to life on most other occasions, it’s a pitiful, sometimes nonexistent, attempt when it’s baltic.
A good hour clearing snow had meant I had warmed up. And it didn’t feel quite so cold. A better sign of the battery being in less of a grump? An illusion really, as I eyed up the tractor now covered in a layer of snow. The gentle fall of snowflakes from overnight had had some merry dance and were now strewn everywhere. Yes, even inside the hay shed. Och well, the charger which had been hooked up like a ventilator giving the tractor some intensive care was showing green. A wee blast with a hairdryer cleared away the snow and the suspense grew. Now was the dreaded ‘turn-the-key-and-hope-for-the-best’ moment (and if the attempt was unsuccessful, the backbreaking attempt of rolling a bale in was now about ten times worse with a thick layer of snow to battle, and they needed a bale of hay as well).
The wee fairy light button (what ever that warm up indicator is supposed to be but it looks like a string of fairy lights) finally turned off to signify it was ready. And instantly it burst into life. No half attempt, or questioning today. No sign that it had been refusing it move yesterday.
So with the noise, the cows knew what was coming. The straw and hay was delivered and the tractor was parked back up with the audience of contented cows. And sheep. I got out of the tractor to find five sheep looking at me. They had polished off their remaining hay while I had sorted the cows. At least their hay can be done on foot.
Birchwood Croft, Inverness-shire 