Cold enough for you?

As I write this early Friday morning, it’s 20 degrees, with a wind chill factor of 10, and we’ve got about 3 inches of snow on the ground. To put that in perspective, right this second it’s 3 degrees warmer in Anchorage than in Waco.

Granted, this little cold spell is nothing compared to what folks northeast of here have suffered the past few days. Consider what life’s been like in Chicago lately.

Still, it’s been cold enough for Texas in my book.

There’s an old saying that if you don’t like the weather in Texas, stick around a few minutes and it’ll change. Not this week, with three days of below-freezing weather.

I don’t know about you, but the cold has left me feeling antsy.

I’m not antsy because I have cabin fever and want to go play golf. I’m antsy because we’re in the business of delivering a newspaper every day, icy roads or not.

The conditions weren’t as bad as they looked Friday morning, because the snow was still fluffy and unpacked. But after the day’s slush refreezes Friday night, delivering Saturday’s paper could be tricky in places.

Our carriers are real troopers and hats off to them for getting your paper to you year-round, fair weather and foul. They’ll do a fine job this weekend, I’m sure, but that won’t stop me from being antsy.

Another reason I’m feeling this way is that I have some stock to tend to and they’re 85 miles down a slick road from where I’m sitting.

The stock I’m talking about is a herd of bison that have become pretty spoiled during the years. They’ve got enough hay and dried grass to eat until the weekend thaw, and they’re genetically engineered with thick layers of fat and wool to insulate them from much colder weather than this.

Also, they eat snow for water rather than stand helplessly around a frozen stock tank like cattle. So the buffalo are perfectly equipped for this weather.

That won’t stop them from working the system, though. I may be 85 miles away, but I can tell you exactly where those buffalo are standing and what they’re doing right this second.

They’re standing by the main gate facing northwest into the wind — bison prefer to face into the wind rather than away from it like cattle do — and they’re watching the county road.

They’re eagerly awaiting the arrival of a certain white pickup truck. They’re fond of that truck because they know that on a cold day it will carry six sacks of range cubes in the back. To either a buffalo or a beef animal, that’s 300 pounds of cow candy.

These buffalo know that on icy days, the people inside that truck are compelled to feed them cow candy, whether they need it or not.

So they stand at the gate and wait. And while they wait, each and every one is practicing his hangdog, feed-me-before-I-starve expression.

I call this their welfare mode. What we have, these buffalo and their human help, is a codependent relationship. I confess to being a cheerful participant.

One of the things I enjoy most in this life is riding on the tailgate and pouring out those range cubes.

The buffalo run behind the truck, butting each other out of the way to get first crack at the feed dribbling out of the sacks. Sometimes the jostling gets so intense that I have to pull my legs up Indian style to keep from getting smashed.

It’s quite an experience, seeing 75 buffalo follow you like the Pied Piper, running and butting and bellowing and snorting as they go.

Since I was a boy helping my dad feed his cattle, I have understood that some of a rancher’s best days are also some of the worst — days when Mother Nature seems determined to make her creatures as miserable as possible.

After feeding on a day like this, you crawl back into the truck with your nose running and your ears frozen, and you feel you’ve made a difference. It’s deeply gratifying work.

We made arrangements for my brother-in-law to feed the buffaloes this week, so they won’t be disappointed. But I’ll miss feeding on what’s likely the nastiest day of the year, and I’m feeling antsy about that.

So I guess I’ll just pour another cup, count the hours until the thaw and fret about whether your paper will be on time tomorrow morning.

See you at the coffee shop.

Donnis Baggett is publisher of the Waco Tribune-Herald . His e-mail address is dbaggett@wacotrib.com.