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The conditions were perfect. The sun peeked through the winter clouds forcing the chilly tide back just enough for some outdoor fun. The street was snow packed with just a crystal dusting from the chilly breeze that came through overnight. In our snow blanketed yard, two overactive, exuberant 3-year-old Samoyeds, Koda and Roxanne, chased each other around. Cabin fever had set in from being cooped up in the house over the two-day blizzard.

My other half and I bundled up, put on extra layers, laced up our winter boots and spent the next ten minutes rounding up the dogs. It was obviously fun for them as we chased them around the house trying to get them outfitted with harnesses and collars. But once they were on, the two canine fluff balls were instantly by the kitchen door, wound up with anticipation.

With our coats, gloves and hats on, we headed for the garage. Todd grabbed the handcrafted toboggan sled propped up against the garage wall. I gave the garage door opener a push. The doors pulled opened, creaking from the cold and a whoosh of fresh winter air rushed in promising possibilities for the day. The neighborhood was quiet, still recovering from the assault of a cold front that left 14 inches of snow in its wake. Koda and Roxanne pulled ahead on their leashes trying to catch up with Todd. He was busy setting up the sled on the snow-covered driveway.

Once the pups were in front of the sled, Koda lifted his nose into the air, his eyes shining with excitement. Roxanne stood by patiently looking blasé. We pulled out the black polyester tug lines to hook them up to the sled. The snap of steel couplers to their collars sent Koda and Roxanne into a frenzy. Impatient barking and howling ensued, disrupting the serene stillness of the picture perfect neighborhood by the lake.

Todd jumped on the footboards on the sled runners. I ran out in front reminding our two rambunctious fur balls to keep the tug line from the sled taut. And then Todd gave the command, “Hike! Hike!” With a strong push off their hind legs, the sled jerked forward and they were off floating over the snow down the driveway.

“Koda, Gee! Roxanne, Gee!” Todd yelled commanding the dogs to turn left at the end of the drive. I cannot say that this experience is anything like the Iditarod but I can attest to the exhilaration of ‘Urban Sledding’; of having cold air rush over your face while hanging on tight to the sled handle bars; trusting that your dogs will listen to your commands and trusting that their instincts will lead the way.

The whooshing sound of the sled runners against the snow packed street, visible only by the encroaching snow drifts on either side of it, was interrupted only by the sound of paws making contact with the pathway as the dogs set pace. Their tails erect, eyes and ears alert, Koda and Roxanne were in perfect sync racing down South Shore Drive.

Something in the air caught Koda’s attention. He turned his head towards the right, his ears tweaked in interest, his nose moving back and forth in a quick succession of sniffs. Roxanne followed suite. In the next second, they both reverted to their natural instincts to pursue this new distraction and defied everything they had been trained to do for the past two years. I watched curiously and the sled took a turn into our neighbor’s yard. They were sprinting towards a pine tree.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Todd yelled, hanging on, trying to remember to stay calm. The sled rammed into a bank of snow, about 3 foot tall and stopped, the dogs still pulling against the leads to get to the tree, barking in excitement.

I chuckled running quickly down the street to help Todd calm the pups and wrangle them back into position. It didn’t take long for me to reach them. They had only made it about 20 feet from our driveway and into our neighbor’s yard across the street. I traipsed over the snow to give the pups a stern reprimand, a difficult task given that Todd and I were in a fit of laughter from this speed bump.

In minutes, they were back in position and with another “Hike!” they sped off down the street once again. Pulling my wool coat just a little tighter around me, I watched as they turned into little specks disappearing into the Cove. They reappeared on the other side of the Cove a short while later and turned on command back onto South Shore Drive. I could see the blur of paws, pink tongues flapping and the devilish delight in Koda and Roxanne’s eyes. There was a huge grin on Todd’s face as they came down the home stretch.

We spent the next half hour taking turns on the sled, marveling at the two Samoyed’s unfailing enthusiasm and penchant for living in the moment. We stopped a couple times to chat with curious onlookers and neighbors who found it amusing that sled dogs lived this far south. When the pups decided they’d had enough and the sun retreated behind the clouds, we unhooked them and retired back into our humble abode.

The rest of the day was uneventful as we waited patiently for the snowplough fairy to come clear our street. The pups fell asleep and a perfect moment of peace and quiet pervaded the household for just a little while.

It may not have been the thrill of the Iditarod but a thrill nonetheless. There were no breathtaking trails, no Aurora Borealis to behold, no whispering forests of Evergreens or jagged mountain ranges and frozen rivers. But Mother Nature did not neglect us. There were beautiful hoar frosted trees and shrubs, sparkling snow blanketing the homes and yards that surround Hastings Lake and a secure, comfortable feeling of familiarity of a nice quiet neighborhood in a small Nebraska town we like to call home.

About the author: Jeannette Bierman

Jean Bierman settled in Hastings after graduating Hastings College in 1993. A self proclaimed geek techie, she is insanely interested in everything. When she’s not glass blowing, scouring the web, reading, or dog sledding with her husband, Todd and Samoyeds, Koda and Roxanne, she’s in the kitchen uncovering secrets to all things food. She claims she does know everything, just not everything at once.