The moon is full, the stars are bright, the air is bitter cold. The geese are honking with alarm and the yard is full of scuttling shadows. Sammy charges out of the house, tail flagging her eagerness to work.
I don’t see the alpacas, but the geese are loud, by the door of the barn, demanding I open it up for them.
Is that coyote song, trembling on the bitter breeze?
The cold nips my nose. It’s too cold for the little dogs. I left them in their blanket nests. Black coated Sammy trots happily to the barn door and waits. The threshold is coated in crunchy ice, I have to shove the door with my shoulder.
The geese are making wheezing noises and I’m positive I hear coyotes in the distance.
Where are the alpacas? How far must I chase them tonight? Sammy sticks her noise between the back doors and sneezes. Maybe I’ll get lucky tonight?
I heave the big door open, and look around. There’s Star, a shadow on the snow with a shadow of his own. Oh the snow sparkles under the full moon! The alpacas are there, I get a bleated question as I shove the door open and go back for grain.
But they hesitate at the door, not liking the confinement and even the rattle of grain isn’t enough to settle them. They tiptoe in, wheel and leap for the door, once, twice, three times, accusing Sammy of coyote affiliation as they bolt for the top of the hill.
I rattle the grain bucket and call for Ivan, who knows his name means food. He dips his nose in the bucket for a mouthful, bribed he goes in the stall, and Sammy chargers the stragglers. Stalls closed, the barn door next, and the animals are safe for the night. I feed them all, the alpacas whine and spit at each other a moment before they settle in.
All closed up behind me, I heave the last door closed as the maniacal yipping of coyote slaying songs carries on the crystal cold air. My boots squeak on the snow as I hurry to the house and warmth, Sammy beside me.