Megavan

One of the most frequently asked questions I get is, “How do you transport so many dogs!?” And in my years of mushing, I’ve tried just about every method and wasn’t super pleased with any of them. I decided it was time to upgrade the dog-hauler. Well, I decided this last year, but it took exactly that long to come to fruition.

When I only had a small team, a regular SUV did the trick. I briefly tried a camper van conversion, but the van itself was old and unreliable. My next choice was the Ford Transit Connect—a little van with a big amount of space inside. I crammed eight crates into it and for a long time, it was ideal. I liked having the dogs inside with me while we made long trips (across the country and back!) and I could carry my Arctis cart on the hitch or my sled on the roof rack.

Then I moved to the north country, where AWD or 4WD is somewhat a necessity in the winter months. The team also grew and suddenly I had gear to tow. My little FTC wasn’t cut out for all this, so I (very quickly) purchased an F-150 and stuck a used wooden dog box on the back of it. In the United States, this is the standard method of dog transport for larger teams. I felt like a “real” musher, finally!

Except, if I’m honest, I didn’t love it. I felt disconnected from the dogs when we made long trips. The dogs themselves were apprehensive. Most of them never learned to jump out of the boxes into my arms—or onto ramps or step stools. I don’t blame them—pick-up trucks are freakin’ HUGE these days and with the box up on the bed rails, it was a heck of a leap. So, I solved the problem (and saved myself some backaches) by hauling around above-ground pool steps everywhere we went. Silly, yea, but it worked.

So I had the FTC for warm weather trips and the truck for mushing season travel. It worked OK, for a time, but then the dog box started to rot. Atlas also refused to be boxed. I had seven usable boxes, which left three dogs riding in the cab with me. At one point, Sagan pulled the wire grating off her box’s window and stuck her head out (thankfully while we were parked in my driveway). A lot of winter races would require the dogs to sleep unattended in parking lots. I didn’t trust my setup and it held me back from making trips to snow races last season.

After considering all my options, I took a hint from Euro mushers and started searching for full-sized, AWD vans. Spoiler alert, there aren’t many on the market. America is full of truck nuts, literally and figuratively. COVID also lead to global supply chain shortages, yada yada yada, and it was apparently cheaper to order a custom model directly from Ford than to buy a used one that didn’t quite fit my requirements. Game plan: build myself the mother of all dog-haulers that had all the things I liked about my FTC with the capabilities of the F-150.

A year later, the dealership who routed my order to Ford told me, “better luck next year” and I said fuck that. A van that nearly fit my specs, for roughly what I was expecting to pay, hit the market in Ohio. I sprung on it. It was finally happening.

Once the Megavan arrived, I yoinked out the second row seats (with some local help) and put down sound-dampening insulation. The ten Ruff Land crates that had been sitting in my barn finally found their permanent home, leaving plenty of space for gear and for a human to snooze. While it sat in my driveway awaiting registration paperwork, I found window covers, a bluetooth temperature gauge, all sorts of magnetic hooks, crate fans, and other little conveniences to make the van our home away from home.

I’m sure there will be more optimizations to come (I’m already thinking about a rear AC unit and a ladder) but for now, the Megavan is ready to roll. We took our first journey down to New Jersey earlier this month and I’m pretty damn pleased with my decision.

Another Season in the Books

It feels like I was just writing last season’s wrap up post, probably because this season flew by without much snow and few steps towards our big goals. Looking on the bright side, there were some things we improved upon.

1. We attended two training campouts this season. I returned to New Hampshire to run dogs with the North Country Mushers and we also camped here in NY with the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club. Both events were great opportunities for the dogs to practice getting back into the swing of things: traveling in the truck, hanging out on the drop line, camping in the dog boxes, and most importantly, sharing the trails with other teams of dogs. Faye got acclimated to the experiences and she fit right in.

2. We attended three races! After two seasons off from racing (COVID, lack of snow, and other complications), I was finally back in a bib behind the team. Our first race was a dryland fun run (Paws of Thunder) in western NY with the Siberian Husky Club of the Niagara Frontier. Next, we returned to the NJ Pine Barrens, where I first learned to mush, for the PSDC’s Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge. January and February rolled by with a disappointing lack of snow and an abundance of feeling crappy (I caught mono)—so we didn’t get any snow races in. We did return to NJ for the spring edition of the Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge and even managed a podium spot: 2nd place in the six dog pro class (and overall)! While it wasn’t the season I was hoping for, I’m proud of these dogs.

3. Faye joined the team. Just as we welcomed Atlas last season, this season we had little Faye start running with us. She even ran in the short fun run class with Denali at the last race of our season. Although she’s the smallest member of the team, she’s very confident and smart, so I expect great things from her.

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Photos by Andrew Comoletti

Where's Winter Woes

If you're friends with me on any social media (or any mushers in general), you've probably heard how terrible this winter has been going, especially in the Northeast US. A week before Christmas, we did get over two feet of heavy, dense snow. Exciting, yes, but problematic. Grooming my home trail requires a bit of finesse, and with snow over two feet, the snowmobile kept tipping or getting stuck if I didn't go fast enough. So I mostly broke trail with dog power, which meant slow, exhausting runs. I also spent hours clearing snow from gates, garage doors, and the trailer. We only got a few sled runs in before our trip south (for Christmas) and a massive rain storm, which wrecked our snow anyway.

When I returned home, the trail was no longer safe to sled on. There were (and still are) trees and branches down all over. I've managed a few short runs with the ATV, but the ground is so saturated from snow melt and the near constant rain, every trip out deepens the already gnarly ruts.

The state forest received a bit more snow than we did, but after grooming, melt, freeze, and frequent use by snowmobilers, the base has gone down to only a few inches. A snow hook wouldn't hold a team by sled. I've been avoiding taking the ATV or rig there, fearing I would mess up what little base remained. It's also rough conditions for dogs' feet and joints during the early morning freezes.

Things aren't looking promising for our upcoming snow races. There's been little if any snow anywhere in this corner of the country. We did hit my target of 10 miles last month, but only once before the snow, the holidays, and the meltdown. I'm hopeful the state forest trail will be runnable with the ATV soon, so I can at least get us back to our pre-holiday mileage. There's no big snow in the long range forecast, only more rain and days in the 40s.

I wonder if the sled will see anymore action before spring. If this is the way things will be every winter, or if it’s just La Niña making things particularly bad. If I should move somewhere that’s strictly dryland, so I won’t have these frozen inbetween periods where I can’t run at all.

False Starts and Setting Expectations

I've been mushing for over a decade now (whoa), and it feels like each season starts a little bit later and ends a little bit earlier. Moving five hours north from where I started seemed like a safe bet for a longer season, but even the North Country is seeing milder weather in the few short years I've been here.

The past two months have been a rollercoaster of high and low temperatures (on top of surgeries, illness, and other things that delayed our training). It's been really hard to find a consistent groove when it's regularly above 60 degrees, even first thing in the morning.

The thing is, climate change isn't going away, so we'll have to adapt. It's also hunting season, so I'm sticking pretty close to home with the team and avoiding the trails on weekends. And on days it’s too warm, we spend lots of time free running in the play yard.

Luckily, there have been a few events to keep us busy while hunters are out taking care of the love-drunk deer. I managed to attend both the Pennsylvania Sled Dog Club and North Country Mushers' training campouts. These are great opportunities to get the dogs back into the swing of things: sleeping in the dog boxes, hanging out on the picket line, eating on the road, and passing other teams on the trail. Thus, "Campout Octobers" will henceforth be our thing.

Usually, by November, temperatures are well below freezing in the morning and stay cold enough to run throughout the day. Not true so far this year, but I have a plan. Several new (or re-branded) dryland races have popped up, so November through early December will be our dryland race circuit. In previous years, I'd be trying to build our mileage this time of year, but the temperatures haven't been conducive to it. Instead, we'll work on consistency and maintaining decent speeds for shorter distances, with a very conservative goal of only five miles by the first weekend of December.

All our dryland races (Inverhuron—which I scratched due to temps, Paws of Thunder, North East Dryland Challenge, and Jersey Devil Dryland Challenge) fall under the five mile distance mark. The main goal is to have smooth runs and happy experiences, especially since so many of my dogs are new to racing this year.

After the Jersey Devil race in early December, we've got a few weeks off from events. Serendipitously, hunting season ends that same weekend, so we'll regain access to trails any time of day. And hopefully, by then, it will be cold enough to run any time of day. This is when we'll start building miles.

My overall season goal is still modest because shit happens and I’m going in with padded expectations. Ideally, I can get the team running 15 miles. If the snow gods cooperate, we'll ease into sled races with the six mile Frost Mountain race in Maine, followed by Lamoille's 11 mile open class in Vermont. Our snow season should wrap up with the wonderful Tug Hill Challenge, which is expected to have an ~11 mile open class as well. Both Lamoille and Tug Hill have the option for a shorter, 6-dog class, so we should be covered either way.

The wind is blowing fiercely outside and a cold front is coming in. Let’s hope it lasts.

And Then There Were Ten (Again)

On July 13, 2022, I lost my boy, Knox to cancer. It was sudden and aggressive and terrible.

On July 13, 2022, Fate was born.

I had already been in touch with Lisa of Glacial Lake Kennel about potentially getting a puppy from one of her 2023 litters. It was mostly just putting feelers out—nothing set in stone. She already had a 2022 litter in the works with Bekka of Team Untamed, but they were all spoken for—at least, seven were.

And then eight puppies were born.

The theme was “The End is Ny” (mother’s name is Nymeria). Lisa and Bekka gave the pups apocalyptic names: Doom, Hellfire, Heathen, Brimstone, Prophecy, Inferno, Rapture, and… Fate. Unlike most breeders, Lisa doesn’t have folks pick their pups based on any order. Instead, she takes down details about the person and their goals for the pup, and she chooses who she thinks will be the best fit.

At around 8-weeks-old, Lisa and Bekka chose Fate to be my girl. Enter, Glacial Lake’s Untamed Fate: our newest team member. I will be calling her “Faye” for short and to stick with my science/space theme (Faye was a French astronomer and a crater on the moon is named for him).

I don’t particularly believe in fate, but I do think this girl is something special. Knox left a huge hole in my heart and this little black void might be able to help fill it.

Knoxville

Owning sled dogs has taught me a lot, as owning any pet does, but I'd make the argument that sled dogs teach a little more. There's a different bond when you rely on these animals to carry you through the woods, to listen to your commands, and to safely bring you home. You are teammates. You see miles of trails together. In my case, you see almost the whole country together.

That was the way of Knoxville's life, as he was part of this mushing journey from the start. He and Denali were the start, really. For awhile, it was just us (and Dexter), figuring out this thing called dog sledding.

Knox wasn't a "real" sled dog. Back in the beginning, I thought that I would alternate between buying from mushing kennels and adopting rescues to build my little team. It quickly became evident that random rescue pooches don't make the best sled dogs (duh), but I'll never regret choosing Knox.

As a tiny puppy, Knox was absurdly cute. He was, in fact, the cutest thing I have ever seen. And it's a good thing, because he was an absolute terror. He peed with reckless abandon and screamed every night in his crate. I still think the rescue group messed up his age and he was likely closer to six weeks when I got him, so I'll excuse his chaotic puppyhood. And again, he was really, ridiculously cute.

Knox was an asset to my ramshackle team, kind of. I needed more power. He was never too great at passing other teams, he had terrible feet, and his woolly coat always balled up with snow and ice. But we made it work for almost a decade.

Despite being pure mayhem as a puppy, Knox grew into a stoic and (mostly) chill adult. He acquired a literal fan club (#knoxappreciationsociety on Twitter) devoted to his majestic floofiness and a moderately viral video where he eats a pea from a fork. He was an aloof guy, who would happily greet company but then preferred to hangout under a table or away from commotion. He was the softest dog I've ever touched but mostly avoided cuddling. He had the most fur to shed but hated being brushed. So it goes.

My heart is heavy because I wanted more time. He was oldish, not old old. He was a few months shy of 11 when cancer quickly took him. But I have no regrets. From his first day with me until his last, he lived the best life I could give him. 

Knox saw the tallest mountain in California and the multi-foot snowstorms in New York. We camped all over the Northeast. He waded in New Jersey lakes and hiked in the Catskills. He hung out in a bungalow in Venice Beach. He got loose in the Hudson Valley and ended up on a duck farm. He ate countless pizza crusts and cleaned peanut butter from infinite Kongs. His best friend was Willow, but he was happy to playfully terrorize every new puppy that joined the pack.

I don't know his exact date of birth, but I've always celebrated it on September 5th. When that date comes around, have a slice of pizza or a peanut butter sandwich, if you can. Go outside and sniff the air. It probably won't be chilly yet, but enjoy the onset of Autumn, since he won't be here to appreciate the cold. If you want to donate to your local animal shelter or rescue org, I'd appreciate that, too.

The last thing Knox taught me was how to say goodbye. He was a good boy. I'll miss him always.

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That's a Wrap

The 2021 to 2022 season has been sort of a bust. We had warm temperatures into November, we didn't get much snow, we didn't get to any races, we didn't meet any big mileage accomplishments. Much of it was out of my control, but it's still frustrating, especially after a disappointing 2020-2021 season (covid cancellations and overcoming anxiety after Blitz's seizure). I know I'm not the only one who has had an anticlimactic winter.

So, for now, I'm going to celebrate what we did achieve these past few months:

1. Atlas joined the team. Raising a new puppy and seeing their first few steps in harness might be my favorite thing about mushing. Atlas has gone from slightly hesitant 10-month-old (only on his first hook-up) to a loud, boisterous yearling.

2. We attended a training campout. While we didn't make it to any races, we at least got to share the trail with other North Country Mushers for a weekend in New Hampshire.

3. New snowmobile is a blast! And possibly what cursed me to have a low snow year. That said, I spent this season learning how to ride, groom trails, and run the team with the new (to me) Polaris Switchback. It's a LOT of fun and offers a safe way to train the team when trails are a little dicey and I need more control. It will also help with pacing and setting a steady speed as we train for longer distances.

4. Meat soup is a go! After Blitz had his seizure, I knew I had to start getting food into these dogs before our runs. Many mushers will feed meat soup (meatorade!) to help with hydration along with getting calories in before they get to work. My dogs have never, ever wanted to eat soupy food. This season, I somehow found the right combination of beef, supplements, and water over kibble—at just the right temperature—to get them to clean bowls. I am really hopeful this trend continues when we're on the road. Getting them to eat well when we travel is another big hurdle to overcome for future races.

5. Scouted new trails. A little late, but I've found more trails directly from the house that I intend to maintain throughout the summer and use next season. I did run one of these trails before, but it had been blocked by fallen trees and flooding. I only recently realized it's runnable again (with the sled, at least). I'm also hopeful I can find a trail that connects to the state forest a few miles behind my house. Summer may be full of bushwhacking and trail work, but I'm ready for it.

6. Nothing bad happened? Knock on wood... we still have spring training left. The mushing community has been hit by a tremendous number of accidents, mishaps, and straight up tragedies this season. It hasn't helped my pre-existing anxiety to know all the different ways things have gone wrong for other mushers. The silver-lining has been seeing the community come together to offer support (both with words and finances) to get through these disasters.

As the seasons change and the snow melts, we'll be transitioning back to short ATV runs until things get too hot. There may be a spring training campout to attend; not sure just yet, but it would be nice to end the season with one more event. I have high hopes for next season and maybe, finally, hitting some mid-distance races. Cross your fingers for big snow .

It's Been a Minute

A new year is upon us, so it’s about time for another entry. I don’t have a lot to report between our last post and now—November and December were muddy months spent on the ATV. Temperatures were above normal and we didn’t really see much snow at all. At least, nothing we could safely sled on.

Around the holidays, I took the dogs to New Jersey where we accidentally entered into a COVID quarantine bubble with my parents. Only my dad ended up testing positive and, thankfully, his symptoms were very mild. (We’re all very grateful for our vaccines and boosters.) Since we had to avoid other humans, I took my parents out to the pine barrens for some dryland rides. It was a lot of work to bring the dog truck and cart all the way down there, but it was worth it. It felt nice to be back where this whole adventure began.

Similar to last season, the first half of January was a waiting game for snow. We finally got some good storms and after a few shaky runs, we’re getting into the swing of things again.

Training on the ATV means I have complete control over the dogs’ speed. This helps keep them at a conservative pace while we increase the miles. Our first few sled runs were the complete opposite—fast as heck and short. There wasn’t a good base yet, so the drag mat and claw brake were merely suggestions. 225 pounds of dog food, gear, and me are no match for seven hyped sled dogs. We hit around 20 miles per hour, which is exhilarating, but not something my gang can maintain for very long. And since our ultimate goal is to run mid-distance, I don’t want them burning out early.

Luckily, we now have the base needed to slow the team down and even hold a snow hook, should I need to get off the sled. This is in part due to my wonderful, new (to me) snowmobile that I’ve been using to groom trails this season. Compared to my old Arctic Cat, this Polaris ‘beel is an absolute game changer. It starts up easy, runs smooth, and even has reverse—what a luxury! I have some ideas for additional trail loops I can add in, now that I’m not afraid of getting stuck out in the woods.

Today we ran six miles, which isn’t much, but we’re at least back to our ATV distance. We’ll continue to up our miles as the dogs get steadier at pacing themselves with less resistance behind them.

As for races, I can say for sure I’m ready for the Tug Hill Challenge in late February. There are a few other races I’ve been eyeing, but still waiting on details. In the meantime, we’re savoring every moment of North Country winter.

New Hampshire

After a long summer and a season without races, the dogs and I made it out to our first mushing event since, well, last year's campout. It's a fairly long trip east, through the entirety of New York and Vermont into New Hampshire. From the amount of gear I packed, you'd think we were about spend months on the road, but we were only gone for the weekend. That's just how it goes when you're camping with ten sled dogs.

We left on Friday in the late morning, since the campground wouldn't be ready for us until 3 PM. My plan was to load eight dogs in their boxes on the truck, and have Dexter and Atlas ride in the cab with me. Dexter is too old to maneuver in and out of the dog boxes, and while I did try to lure Atlas into a box, he's not quite ready for it yet. I also didn't want his first box trip to be 6+ hours. I did not anticipate Sagan going full starfish when I tried to put her into a box. She had no problem riding in the dog box all of last season, so this was a frustrating new development. I ended up piling her into the cab with Dex and Atlas, and the three of them awkwardly squished each other the whole ride.

It was over 60ºF when we arrived at Branch Brook campground, so we couldn't hit the trails right away. I used the last of the daylight to set up camp with my sleeping tent, a potty tent (the bathrooms at this campground are far), table, and chair. I cooked dinner (can o' soup) over my propane stove and fed the dogs their evening meal. The first night was relatively quiet, though a few other teams did appear. Around 9 PM, I got everyone in their boxes for the night—even Sagan, after some coaxing. I set up a crate inside the tent for Atlas (who I'm certain would blast through a tent given the opportunity) and Dex slept beside me on a thick comforter.

I woke up early Saturday morning to crisp temperatures (around 38ºF) and excited dogs. My plan for the day was similar to how we ran last year: two teams of four, practicing commands and passing with other teams. I brought my Fritz Dyck cart, since I need to get used to running it, and because it's smaller and more maneuverable than the ATV (it also can't break down, or run out of gas, etc.). My first run was with Willow and Sagan in lead, Atlas and Laika in wheel. The hardest part was taking off, as the dogs had to maneuver through the open field, past other dog trucks, to the trail. They eventually got the hang of it and they had a great time zipping around the woods—going much faster than they've been on our ATV runs. Atlas ran wonderfully even with all the distractions, and his very first passes with other dog teams were flawless. He's such a good natured guy.

While I had the first team out, Hubble managed to cause some of his usual Hubble-trouble. I had positioned him on the drop line where the trailer meets the truck; a mistake I even considered correcting but it slipped my mind in the chaos of hooking up the first team. Well, as we took off (and likely as other teams passed by), he got fired up and decided to tear into the trailer's wiring. When I got back, I saw that he had bitten clean through. It's a small trailer, and the hookup doesn't control any extra braking elements, but it's of course nice and important to have brake lights and blinkers. Especially for 6+ hour road trips. An unofficial alert went out, and other mushers stopped over to offer their support and advice. Turns out, many folks have dealt with this before (at least it wasn't my brake lines). Even better, a friend's boyfriend happened to have the knowledge and tools to completely fix the wiring for me. The mushing community really does come through. (Thanks Rachel and Chris!)

Back to the mushing. My second team was Hopper and Denali in lead, with Blitz and Hubble in wheel. They also did quite well out on the trail, with some nice passes with other teams and distractions. For the second set of runs, I swapped pairs—Willow/Sagan with Hubble/Blitz and Hopper/Denali with Atlas/Laika. After four runs (two per team) it was around noon and temperatures were a bit too hot for anything more. I ate a sandwich while the dogs were content to nap in the sunshine.

By evening, temperatures had fallen and we got a final set of runs in before dark. I went back to the original team setups (Sagan/Willow with Atlas/Laika, Denali/Hopper with Hubble/Blitz). I could tell the dogs didn't really need this final run, but I wanted to make the most of our time and knew we'd be leaving early the next morning. The first team out ran just fine, but the second team had some troubles. On the final stretch towards camp, the dogs tried to turn into the wrong field (in their defense, we did park there last year). When I got them to turn back to the trail, they had a sloppy head-on pass with a 2-dog bikejor team. No one got hurt, they just slowed down and were a bit too interested in the other dogs. During this little mishap, Denali's harness got twisted. Rather than stop and fix it, I opted to keep them moving as another bikejor team was approaching. They had another sloppy pass, and I could tell they were mentally tired at this point. Eventually, they got their shit together and made it back to our campsite. (Sorry Alison and Megan!) Five flawless runs out of six isn't bad, and even the "bad" run wasn't awful. I'll take it.

Back at camp, I took off everyone's harnesses and fed myself and the dogs by headlamp. The team was tired even though they technically didn't run all that far. Training isn't just about running; it's about traveling and sleeping in the boxes, hanging out on the drop line, watching other teams pass, and so forth. After dinner, the dogs curled up in their spots while I sat by a fire with other mushers.

Sunday morning was a blur of cleaning mud, breaking down frosty gear, and throwing some food into myself and the dogs. I also had ten bags of Inukshuk to drop off with another musher, which helped offset the cost of the pallet I ordered over the summer. Once everything was squared away, and the dogs were nestled back in their boxes (including Sagan), and Dex and Atlas were secured in the cab, we were ready to make the long trek back home.

Where We've Been

There was still snow on the ground for my last blog entry, so I guess it's time for some updates. Summer has arrived to the North Country, and this year, it doesn't want to leave. Along with warm temperatures, we've had more rain than I've ever experienced anywhere, I think. It rained so much, I didn't water my garden for most of July and August. The mosquitoes are absolutely thriving, which makes being outside almost intolerable—unless you're covered head to toe. Not ideal for hot and muggy days.

Back in May, the dog van's transmission started giving me trouble on a visit to New Jersey. I brought it to a local specialist (shout out to Robbin's Transmission) and while it took a few months, I have it back now and it's driving great. I didn't get to take as many trips down to New Jersey, like I had hoped, but I did manage to spend Labor Day weekend with friends and family there.

My garden was a big success this year. I somehow ended up with about a dozen squash and zucchini plants (I swear I planted cucumbers, too, but none materialized) which spawned my "free veggie cart" idea. Growing my own food and sharing it has brought me a sense of community that was sorely needed, especially in these "Trying Times". I'm still getting tomatoes, peppers, and kale almost every day, but the bulk of the garden has run its course.

Last Christmas, I received a better canning system from my sister and her fiance, along with a vacuum sealer and a food dehydrator from my parents. Even with giving away a bunch of vegetables, I still have a surplus, so preservation is in full swing. My freezer is stocked with vacuum sealed  zucchini, squash, carrots, string beans, snap peas, and sweet corn. I've got canned beets, peppers, and pickles in the pantry. I've dehydrated some peppers and tomatoes with varying degrees of success.

I only got a handful of potatoes from my grow bag experiment; I think next year I'll try another method. I grew six lovely pumpkins and a bunch of bird house gourds. It always seems when I plant a variety pack, I ultimately end up with mostly one thing, but I did get a single speckled swan neck gourd and some other weird green thing. Next year, I need to stagger my planting so I have the pumpkins and gourds later. I'm hoping they'll last until October, though. The wild blackberries didn't do well this year, it seems they preferred last year's drought to this summer's monsoon weather. When my parents visited, we picked about a jar full that I'll use for pancakes and smoothies.

We lost the other ISA Brown chicken (Cheese, of the Macaroni and Cheese duo) this summer. I noticed she stopped laying and had a few symptoms of various possible issues. I attempted to treat her and she was still eating and evading me up until her last day. I suspect she may have had cancer, which is common in high egg producing breeds. Since her sister died of heart failure (best guess) before reaching maturity, I suspect that whole brood was genetically compromised.

Oh, that reminds me, I don't think I mentioned the two new chickens that joined the flock this spring. I picked up Bread and Butter, a pair of Easter Eggers, from a farm about an hour away. After losing Macaroni, I knew I wanted another big-sized egg layer to join the flock (PJ and Jean lay tiny eggs and not very often). It's recommended to introduce at least two birds, as a singleton may get harassed, so I got two cream colored ladies who lay beautiful green and blue eggs. They integrated with the flock without much fuss, and have been happy and healthy ever since. Morticia and Frosty have been reliable layers, PJ is as cute as ever, and Jean has been "broody"; she needs to be moved from the nesting boxes pretty regularly. Poor thing just wants to be a mom!

As for the dogs, it’s been a long off season. Atlas, fitting his namesake, has grown to be my biggest Siberian—and he’s only 9-months-old. So far he’s been a delightful pup, able to keep up with my more dominant dogs but doesn’t start trouble and knows when to surrender. He had his first few runs in harness last month, and as expected, he’s a total natural.

Willow has had an interesting summer. I noticed she was losing chunks of hair (more than the usual summer coat blow), mainly around her neck and shoulders. Upon further investigation, I found skin irritation right where I had applied Advantix a day prior. I took her to the vet, and the best we could figure was that she developed a new allergy to the topical preventative and from there, developed a little infection. I’m sure her thick fur and the humid weather made a perfect breeding ground for whatever was going on, though it never seemed to bother her.

I spent the next two weeks or so giving her topical and oral antibiotics, along with a few medicated baths which she tolerated but very much loathed. Her skin cleared up, but then a new weird thing started happening. She would have these little episodes, usually at bed time, where she’d pant heavily and wouldn’t settle. They freaked me out, which seemed to only make her worse. One night I almost brought her to the emergency vet all the way in Ithaca, I was so worried. Except the moment I got the leash out, she became her usual happy-go-lucky, perky self. After a midnight walk around our trail, she did finally relax.

My vet ran lots of tests on her, but everything came back perfectly healthy and normal. Diagnosis was another guess, but we think it was a combination of anxiety (she had these episodes when we went upstairs, where the bath is) along with some gastric distress. She’s a notoriously fussy eater, and while on the antibiotic, she was even less enthusiastic about meals. I now have her on one or two Famotidine (Pepcid) pills a day, which seems to be helping with her acid belly issues.

I’ve also dealt with a couple fights between the dogs this off season. Everyone is luckily OK, but I’ve learned that adding more dogs means scaling and changing our existing procedures (this is a very project manager-y way to explain it). For example, I won’t release all ten dogs into the large play yard anymore. There are too many personality dynamics and opportunities for problems to pop up. I’m also enforcing strict crate rules whenever there’s food around (human or dog), to avoid resource related aggression. The learning continues.

Looking forward, our 2021-2022 season is just now beginning, and there are still a lot of unknowns. We’re still in a pandemic, but with vaccines available, races and events are being scheduled. There are some other challenges we’ll be working around as well, but I’ll write more on that later.

For now, happy end of summer, and cheers to the best time of year.