A very thick fog has settled in our area. I’m not used to so much fog, and neither is the dog. Early morning walks and especially the late evening walks through the farmer fields make the dog a little anxious. Now that it has rained throughout the night the fog has cleared, but I am sure it will return soon. I appreciate the fog when the temperature drops and it appears that the fog is freezing and falling from sky, or it attaches itself to skeletal shapes of leafless trees and bushes. Even ones own breath blows out and looks to freeze and drop to the ground to join the swirl of fog.
The light from street lamps are fuzzy blurs at worst, and at best the light beams highlight the swirls of fog that blow around like a Canadian snowdrift. In just a dozen or so steps into one of the many surrounding farm fields you can easily loose all sense of direction as any directional lights start to disappear with every step away from buildings and roads. While your vision subsides the noises seem to grow more intense.
The other night as I walked with the dog through this soupy fog we were both suddenly shocked to see a huge farm tractor appear beside us in one of the fields with a large plow lowered to turn over the soil. With only lights on in the front of the tractor we felt the effects of the rumbling machine before we had the chance to see it clearly.
Truly the farmer never seems to take a break. A field recently harvested is quickly turned over and reseeded with the next crop. Over the year it seems that the cycle goes something like this: grain, maize, feldsalat (a tiny little lettuce that is harvested by many workers on their hands and knees). Then there is some kind of root, or tuber vegetable that is simply mixed into the soil as a natural fertilizer. There are other food crops and non-food crops, but the same thing applies…they are always doing something in the fields.
Most of the local farmers are people with ‘regular’ jobs on top of their family farm so that when work is done in a 9 to 5 job, the evenings are spent either sowing, or harvesting.
One of the only fields around our house that is still sitting (as far as I can tell) fallow with a fertilizer crop waiting to be plowed into the ground is home to a pair of Ring Neck Pheasants. The dog usually keeps off the fields as there are plenty of field mice to catch on the edges and borders of the fields, yet the other day in the misty evening fog the dog ran back along the dirt road looking like someone who has realized they’ve just missed an item in the last aisle they passed in the grocery store. A new sound, or smell has directed him to the edge of the field and on instinct he plunges into the frost covered greenery and bounds like a dolphin would at sea. Then, Whoosh! a pheasant hen takes to the air and skims the plants with a zigzag flight only to disappear into the fog at the other end of the field. With determination the dog keeps looking and soon a large male pheasant complete with a beautiful long tail shoots out of the plants a few metres away from where I am standing on the roadside. Along with the zigzag flight he adds his own scolding clucking as he too disappears the same way his mate did a few seconds earlier.
Winter fog has obscured my vision, but it has also helped to make some things clear. The farmer never stops, and nature will always surprise.