My father was born in the Eastern Kentucky mountains of Appalachia in the mid-1930s. I think it would be safe to call him a “free range” child by today’s standards of “helicopter” and “bubble wrap” parenting. He spent a great deal of his childhood essentially being raised by his older siblings – 4, 8, and 12 years older than he was. Needless to say, this resulted in some good stories to tell (and embellish) in his adult years.
One such story is about how his older brothers Bruce and Walter convinced my father – the youngest – to put his tongue on the coal bucket handle in the depth of winter. Once his wet tongue made contact with the cold metal bucket handle, the two became one with his tongue becoming “permanently” attached to the handle. Obviously, now in his early 80s, my father is not still attached to the bucket handle, but the separation process of wet tongue and cold metal bucket handle resulted in the detachment of a fair patch of skin from my father’s tongue.
So equipped with this folklore from my father’s childhood, I set forth to tackle the West Central Idaho winter, and I have learned a few things along the way.
While I haven’t gone around sticking my wet tongue to any cold metal surfaces, I can personally attest to the truth that between 25F and 32F or so, wet skin of any kind does, in point of fact, stick fast to any cold metal surface. If you minimize the contact and move quickly, however, you can avoid leaving behind your epidermis.
The new lesson I have learned is that somewhere below 25F – and most definitely in the -5F to 10F range – everything sticks to cold metal – dry skin, dry gloves, dry insulated coveralls, wet gloves, wet insulated coveralls, and acrylic stocking caps in all states of moisture content.
My chicken runs are constructed out of chain-link fence panels, and ingress and egress through snow-limiting gate clearances have resulted in a few “sticky” situations. So far, I’ve managed to unstick myself without incident, but I always carry my cell phone with me in the event I need to call my husband for assistance. Spring is a long way off. Just sayin’…