The first rule of Carpool: you do not talk about Carpool

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Autumn and hunting and learning experiences

I crack up when I hear that it is "the beginning of fall" right now in some areas that are pretty near to me. Although all the leaves have not turned, here, in northern Wisconsin, it is well into fall. In fact it could snow any day now.

Autumn here means that most of the male population take to the woods with their guns or bows to kill creatures. When I moved up here 9 years ago, I thought that was cruel. Last week, at the suggestion from someone I carpool with, I actually went into the woods with dogs and a man carrying a rifle. It may or may not have anything to do with hitting 3 deer in my time up here.

Not that we were hunting deer - it's grouse season now, as I learned.

<--- This is a grouse.

Anyway, after work, I was picked up from home with my 11 year old Newfoundland, Dulse, and brought to this "secret place". Although I was not blindfolded, nor was I threatened, I was strongly advised not to reveal the location. That, I guess, happens a lot up here.

Dulse and I and my buddy (I have friends with sons older than him), his 2-year-old Lab, and a giant gun started trekking along a path into the woods. At first Dulse, who misses playing with his brother, was chasing after the lab, who was doing all sorts of gymnastics I did not think were possible for a dog to do. Soon, my 11-year-old Newf backed off. I could tell he had this "f--- this!" look on his face and stuck mostly by me.

My buddy was determined to show me how his dog flushed a grouse and he would shoot it. He warned me not to scream when the gun went off, as this would throw off his concentration. (I did not mention when I lived in a neighborhood in Minneapolis, I heard gunshots regularly.)

He told me what kind of brush the grouse preferred, the height where they usually roosted in the trees, and their favorite times of day to feed.

We walked quietly, and every once in a while, my bud would say, mysteriously, in a whispering voice, that I should stay right there and look "down there" (he pointed in a general area) and that he was going off the train with his dog to see if he could flush a grouse. I spent the next 10 minutes "seeing" grouse anywhere but where my buddy was, whisper-screaming for Dulse to "come" by me so he wouldn't get shot, remembering any TV show/newspaper/radio story about how someone was accidently shot while hunting, and enjoying the woods. This happened twice. By the second time I had decided that he was proficient enough with the gun to know where his hunting companions/dogs were that he would not accidentally shoot anyone.

We neither shot anything, nor flushed anything in our hour and a half in the woods. We enjoyed our dogs, the beauty and scent of the fall woods, and chatted very little. It was wonderful and a great way to end a day of stressful work in the middle of the week. I am incredibly lucky to live here and to have the kind of friends who are willing to teach me something every day.

Goodbye, my friend

Hugybear's Tintoretto "Baci" (06/15/97-08/21/08) Godspeed, my heart dog!

It's been almost a year and a half since I have written in here and a month since I lost my best friend - my "heart dog", Baci. For those of you who don't know what a heart dog it, it is that once-in-a-lifetime dog, the dog you have connected with since the day you met.

This was so true with my Newfoundland, Baci. Even at 5 weeks of age, it was obvious that he would be my buddy. He came to me at 8 weeks with his littermate, Dulse. I was taking care of both of them for a couple of months for the breeder, and it was agreed that they would be xrayed for hip problems at age 4 months and at that time, I would relinquish Dulse to the breeder to go to another loving home.

I worked at a vet school at the time, and I remember my colleagues saying that I would keep both of them, just watch. Well, guess what? Dulse had his own charms - he was obedient, he was handsome, he was quiet and intense, and in the household, he firmly set his role as guardian of the house. In truth, he was the antithesis of Baci.

Baci was my clown. There was not a day I lived with him that he did not make me laugh. He was naughty and a counter surfer, but he was so sneaky in his food stealing that I had to laugh. I mean, before I learned to put all consumables on top of the refrigerator,there were times when I swore I was only out of the room for a minute and when I came back the food would be gone and he would on the other side of the room, sleeping. Unfortunately, visitors who did not live with him were also affected by this behavior. Some laughed, like the time we saw him trotting off with a baguette from my friend's bag, and it was not later until we realized that he had already consumed the wheel of Brie that was on the bottom of her bag! Others were not so kind about this bad habit and would sulk for hours. All I can say is that I warned everyone about Baci's food obsession, and if they couldn't remember, well.....

Baci's breeder and I used to joke that Baci suffered from Canine ADD. He was easily distracted and interested in everything. He lived his entire life to the fullest, and looking back, although I know I gave him a good life, with the best of care, I know I could have done more to foster his intelligence and happiness.

On June 10, 2008, 5 days before his 11th birthday, he was diagnosed with osteosarcoma (bone cancer) in his front shoulder. He had only been limping for one day before I took him in to the vet. This disease is particularly insidious and the vet gave him one month to live. I was stunned at first before I was forced to face reality by a vet at work and look at options for treatment. The treatment of choice is amputation, but at the time, I thought that amputating an 11-year old Newfoundland's front leg, even though he was in good health otherwise, would be cruel. He had hip dysplasia that was being treated, he had had a knee replacement when he was younger, and he was at the top end of a Newf's lifespan.

The only other options were for controlling the pain, which some say is horrible, like the bone is exploding from the inside. He was put on pain meds, but I wanted to do something more. I contacted the vet school I used to work for and asked about a treatment called "palliative radiation," which is supposed to slow down the progress of the tumor, and thus cut down the pain so that the dog has a better quality of life for a few months longer. This consists of three radiation treatments in a span of a month. It is supposed to work on 75-80% of dogs. This meant that I had to travel four hours to Minnesota for initial oncologist consultation and for the treatments. I loved this dog so much and did not want to see him in pain and I thought that the odds were pretty good, so I did it.

It was so difficult to go through those weeks with him. I read books, I joined a web group that consisted of owners of dogs with bone cancer (invaluable for support, information, and tips to deal with this hideous disease), I arranged to get him a drug that would decrease the likelihood that his bone would fracture because of the weakness of the cancerous bone.

I constantly worried that I would not know when the time would be to let him go. He could swim, he seemed happy, but he really never stopped limping even though he was on all the pain meds I could give him. I made quality of life charts, I bugged the vets at work for advice on determining when he was in too much pain, I asked a friend to come up to help me decide, but ultimately, I used a combination of gut instinct and the advice from two friends who worked with animals and who have been through this disease with them. One said to pick three of his favorite things to do. When he could not do,or was having trouble doing two of them, it was time to let go. He loved to eat, he loved to swim, and he loved to be wherever I was, with a paw touching me.

Another friend said not to wait until he was unable to function; that I should be able to remember him still walking, still bright, still reasonable happy.

By the end of July, he could not get down to the beach anymore to swim.

He was still able to get onto the couch to lie next to me.

One day he refused a treat. The next day he would not eat. I knew it was time.

I took him into the vet, still walking, on August 21. He lifted his leg on 3 bushes there. He was still alert, but I could tell he was in pain and looking at me to do something about it. At 10 a.m. I whispered "I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you" into his ear as the vet administered the euthanasia solution. Part of my heart flew away that day.

This is an appropriate to put the piece about the Rainbow Bridge, but it makes me cry, even when I am not grieving for a recently-lost pet, so I won't.

I am sad, still. It takes a while to go through the grief. I have another dog to take care of - Dulse is still with me and still healthy, even at 11. I thought he would mourn more because his littermate is gone. Honestly, I think part of him enjoys having "only dog" status, and, of course, he is still guardian of the house.

Hugybear's Titian "Dulse"

Ticked Off

Ugh! Woods and hairy dogs and bug queasiness do not mix. This year has been a record for dog ticks up here in the woods and I cannot have one itch without quickly looking or scurrying to the bathroom to make sure that there isn't yet another tick on me! I've pulled about 20 off my dogs in about a month (no easy task with healthy-coated Newfies) and their tried and true flea and tick topical treatment isn't even working. Ticks are the absolute worst insect I have encountered (almost impossible to kill because of their hard outer exoskeleton) and the only one I enjoy watching die a slow, painful death. Nice thing for an animal lover to say.....

Gross, huh? And what a way to begin posting again after 4 months.

I may be seeing more ticks in my life because I have been hiking at my favorite spot, Raven Trail every weekend. I have loved this little piece of heaven since I discovered it when I first came up here about 8 years ago. Tourists have not really discovered it yet, although there is a "forest art"exhibition going on there from now until mid-June, so I guess it won't be long, I suppose. Right now, though, I can still walk one of the 4 trails there without seeing a soul and the dogs absolutely love it there, and find it even more peaceful than my neck of the woods.

Pave Paradise and put up a parking lot

Although I do love being able to look from my hotel room on the 20th floor to the cityscape outside my window, I have to admit that it takes coming into the city for a few days to appreciate life in the woods. The driving is the first thing that got me. Minneapolis has never really had enough roads for its population - even when I lived here nearly 8 years ago!I feel extremely lucky that I still have my set of "Twin Cities driving cujones" so I felt no remorse whipping over two lanes to get off at my exit downtown and was able to avoid the fender bender that always seems imminent when driving on I-94 in the city. The second thing that got me is the light. Now, I really wanted to sleep with my curtains pulled all the way open so I could enjoy the night lights, but of course, I couldnt sleep because of the, well, night lights! Third of all is the $5 cup of coffee I am drinking right now. I make my own cafe breve at home with good coffee (that I get from the ahem- city-ahem), an italian espresso maker, and a handy dandy spinning milk foamer. I know it does not cost $5 a cup, nor do I need to grunt small talk at someone who has been up since 5 a.m. Fourth is the people. I swear, I saw more deer in the Northwoods in the past week than people I saw on my way down to get my $5 cup of coffee. It is good to see people, after all, we are social animals. But when you are used to the solitude of the woods, it just takes getting used to.

It is times like these that I don't know whether I could survive living full-time in the city again, although I still have fantasies when I am at home. Well, I will enjoy the things that the city offers while I'm here, including the conference that I have the good fortune to be attending.

Okay,was just on our two hour lunch break and I decided to visit my old stomping grounds - mainly Midwest Federal, where I spent 7 years working at a small outfit called TV Guide,and the IDS Center, where I was a bank teller. Not a bank, as I had previously written. (thanks, Renee!). As I was looking for a place to have lunch, I figured out two more things I don't miss about the city:
1, and this is tricky to say, but living in the city you can no longer ignore homeless people. Walking down Nicollet Mall, I remember years ago walking those same streets on the way to work and feeling bad/avoiding eye contact with people looking for a handout. So easy to avoid even thinking about homeless people when you live in an area where, if there are any, they are hidden away.
2, being aware of my purse/cash at all times. It is so funny (not ha-ha funny, either) that I immediately found myself with my hand on my wallet on one side and hugging the buildings on the other. It was so automatic: you can take the girl out of the city....

When the moon is in the seventh house....

I took this photo from my deck about a month ago and fooled around with editing it. I really like the way it turned out. I certainly have my father's artist eye.

Hmmm. Today I edited a draft of a neighbor's book and really enjoyed doing it. That took a lot of my day, though, so the rest was pretty boring. No strange noises emanating from the woods on my walk with Baci today.

Oh well, enjoy the photo!

Rushes in the sky

It is an in and out sunshiny winter day. One of those days when you bundle up extra tight as you step outside because you are in the shade and it's a little windy. Then, when you step out into the bright winter sun, closer to the earth than in the summer, it is actually hot enough to yank the scarf off your neck and put your gloves back in your pocket - that is, until you reach a shady area again....

The street I walk on with my pooches is easy to navigate now - it's no longer an Olympic skating rink. And like it always is, it is silent with the sounds of nature unless an occasional car drives by. A strange phenomenon happened today, though. I was just about in the middle of my walk, at the place I call "straight pines," which are rows and rows of six-story pines lined up as straight as a New York City boulevard.

Anyway, the wind just seemed to be blowing a little, but I kept hearing this rushing noise, very loud, almost like a train. This noise was tempered by a squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek of the trees bending, which either sounded like a very large barn door opening, or Mrs Bates' rocking chair in the movie "Psycho". I couldn't decide. Any way, it was very strange and got me thinking of "Psycho," which family rumor has it, I was taken to inadvertently as a toddler at a drive in. This is probably why I have always been freaked out, yet fascinated, by serial killers.

Now, ironically, I live about 100 miles straight north of where Ed Gein (the man who Psycho is based upon) did his dirty deeds like making lampshades out of his neighbors and doing other nasty things to corpses. That was in Plainfield, WI, and at least once a week I hear a radio commercial promoting the exciting activities and restaurants that the Plainfield Truck Stop has to offer. I have to put my brain in shut-down mode in order to keep driving......

White cloister

I have been keeping to myself for the past month again, but never so cloistered as this past week, when a pre-Christmas snow turned the world of northern Wisconsin into Narnia.





The bare winter trees took on white blooms, and the lake I could see through the leafless branches the day before disappeared again.The snow changed my normally silent world into a white womb. The dogs and I walk (well, slip) down the road hearing only the crunch of our 10 feet and an occasional scraping of a neighbor shoveling out the end of his driveway.

This true winter wonderland lasted a full week - longer than I have ever seen in my adult life (the months and months of winter I remember as a child don't count!) Everyone was talking about it. I asked a friend from New Hampshire about this phenomenon and she said it was due to the lack of wind and the heaviness of the snow. I had noticed the snow's weight the first morning as I shoveled, then went around to the dog’s yard to craft perfect snowballs for them to catch in their mouths. They loved it.

Today the wind is blowing my fantasies away. Sitting down to breakfast I first noticed the trees were swaying and I could see the iced-over lake again. Then I heard the thuds on the roof and the dogs bellowing furiously. I went outside to see that the giant pine next to the house was serving up its crust of snow and –SLAP!- a plateful came down right next to my bare foot.

Now I wait for the sudden silence of the dishwasher and the lightning bolt at the bottom of my laptop to change into a blue battery as the power goes off. Oh, well, it’s light enough to read all day.

Speaking of reading, a good friend lists the current books she's reading on her blog, so I will copy her and list what I'm reading:

I'm in the middle of Wally Lamb’s “I Know This Much is True” about twin brothers – one schizophrenic - and how the other deals with it. This has special meaning to me becauseI have an older brother who has suffered with the disease schizophrenia for 40 years. I borrowed this months ago from a colleague and keep on telling him guiltily that I am still reading it. I think it may be painful for me on some subconscious level so I tend to avoid it. I am determined to finish it, though.

I'm a few pages into “Suite Francaise” which is written by Irene Nemirofsky, an author who died in Auschwitz. It is the first two parts of her five part “suite” (which she never got to finish). Her daughter had been holding onto the manuscript for decades because she thought it was her diary, but looked at it and found that it was a book. I think that story alone was enough to want to read it. It is about living in France right before the Nazis swallowed it up.

I just got “The Emperor’s Children” and that is consuming me right now. Very well written by Claire Messud, it’s about a group of thirty-somethings living in New York City in the time between the mid 90s and 9/11. This may be the perfect day to lay on the couch, dogs at my feet, and eat up the pages.

Is It Safe?

I had a Marathon Man experience this morning. Don't let the dentist trick you into thinking that having a tooth filled is any different or less uncomfortable than it was when you were a kid. The last time I had a tooth filled was about 30 years ago. Now I am getting to the age where the fillings I got as a child need to be redone. The hygenist assured me that "it's so much faster now" and "hardly uncomfortable" at all.

My dentist is a sweetheart, although when I mentioned Dustin Hoffman and Marathon Man, she laughed maniacally. They have a new thing now called a dental dam (new to me at least) which they said would prevent bacteria and "burned tooth" from going to the back of my throat. I warned them that I had a bad gag reflex (so bad that every place I work, I am known for being a gagger – and it must be genetic, because my mother was a gagger as well), but they laughed heartily and put it in anyway. They started drilling and I started gagging and almost threw up. I was so embarrassed, but they took the dam out (and went to the lobby to add a "difficult patient fee" to my bill) and continued the torture, uh I mean the dental work.

They didn't numb me enough and I felt when the drill went into my nerve I had to pinch my upper thigh so I wouldn't scream and leap out of the chair. It was a horrible experience, but I realized that I had not had a drill in my mouth for nearly 30 years, so I should consider myself lucky.

"Act of God"

11/06/06 4:59 pm. Late twilight in the northwoods. On my way to a meeting. Warm enough for a bug to splatter on my windshield and leave beige waste: the foreshadowing of what was to come. A few minutes later, I glanced over to see where I had set my coffee mug that morning,and when I looked up I saw a brown furry body hit the right side of my xB. It only made the car move a little, but I pulled over to see the damage, as the native american family did to see if I was damaged. I wasn't, but the score was: deer=0, xB=0.Deer, in rut, probably didn't even know what hit him (or what he hit). I made sure the deer wasn't suffering and then called 911 to report the accident.

In Wisconsin, a deer/car accident is so common, it is considered an "act of God," like when branch falls on your car. This is good news for car owners, because it doesn't count against their driving record and if you have good insurance, you don't have to pay a dime.

I got a loaner from the collision place, which I get to keep until my car is done next Friday. It's a maroon Malibu and makes me feel like a speed demon, expecially after driving the little toaster. I am kind of scared that the toaster just "won't be the same" after the accident, but the collision place is owned by the husband of someone I work with, so I'll just have to see.



Move forward to today's date: the first photo is off of my front porch looking at the still unfrozen lake. It's hard to believe it's the same scene as two weeks ago. Snow, I have to admit, has the ability to cover up unsightly fallen leaves and light the late autumn with it's white crystals....



The second is my Dulsie Bear, pretending I am letting him pull me skijoring (when you have a dog pull you on your cross country skis)I have a belt I hook him to with a bungee so he can have some freedom, but just so I can have hands free to take photos.

Even in the slip-sliding late autumn, when the streets are black ice before noon, the dogs get grins on their faces whenever they suspect they will be going out with me.

Having ancestors from Newfoundland, they really enjoy this weather and the promise it brings for different scents, comfortable temperatures with thier permanent fur coats, and a landscape that must hark back to thier collective Newfoundland=dog memory. It is immediately apparent to me when they are out there. They sniff around more excitedly, dance around with their feet as if they want to take off running (at nine years of age!) and even in this photo to the right, you can see the happiness in their body language and alert faces.

And I am more than happy to give these two the happiness they deserve. They have given me years of enjoyment and complete affection.

"God took great care in creating this creature. He gave him the patience to be my teacher." -author unknown

Bare branches blowing in the wind

...and I can see across the lake for another 6 months. Above is the view not from my desk, which sits in front of a bay window overlooking the lake. It's not much of a lake - a pond, really, only 16 acres, but at least there are only a few of us who live here year round. The rest are summer only residents who are only noisy around the fourth of July. I am amazed at how lucky I am - and how much I don't feel as lucky as I should. I always wished for a quiet life in the woods when I was growing up in two big cities - now that I have it, I long for the city sometimes... Grass/greener thing, probably.



The other creatures in my life who are lucky are my two dogs, who have access to the warm, dry basement and a huge, fenced in dog yard. Dog people always say when you buy a house, you think of the dogs first - it is true in my case!




Above and to the left are are my two "boys," Baci and Dulse, Newfoundland littermates. Baci is at the top, but don't let the guilty look fool you. He once took an entire wheel of Brie out of a friend's bag - and we didn't even know it until we saw him trotting across the room with a baguette in his mouth. He has a silly stripe of white up his snout, a bright white chest, and two white "pajama feet" covering his back paws. His tail is all black, except for the end, which looks like he dipped it in a bucket of paint. Baci is an opportunist, but he gets away with it because he brings laughter into the house.

Left is his totally serious brother, Dulse, taking a well-deserved snooze. I rescued Dulse from certain euthanasia because the breeder didn't think he would live many years without major hip surgery. He is 9 years old now, has not had any surgery. He is proof positive that a hip dysplasia diagnosis at 4 months of age does not have to be a death sentence. He is able to run around the yard, go for long walks, and dominate his littermate Baci. Dulse never gets in trouble, but if Baci is yelled at, he is the one who runs off looking over his shoulder in shame. Dulse is a special dog. And I have to admit that I do have a special life in these very special woods.....

Today, I feel very lucky.

Sailor's delight

The other night I was driving home from a late day at work and saw a gorgeous red sunset:

It was a glaring reminder that after today I will be going home in the dark until about March. The good thing about driving at night is that you can see the deer's eyes shining in your headlights before you slam onto the the brakes. The bad news is the way the flakes come down in a snowstorm can hypnotize you..... NOT looking forward to 5 months of white-knuckled driving....

The other day going to work as I saw the sun come up, I noticed that the forests of the northwoods, in the distance, don't look that different than far-away mountains.

Oh, and that night, as I was coming home, I saw Mr Porcupine hadn't made it across the road and it really made me sad...

Today the boys and I had another walk down the road, and I saw this gorgeous almost-winter scene.

It won't be long until we're slip-sliding away down this road....

Everybody's livin' for the city...

Not me this weekend, though. This is the time when I really appreciate the quiet where you can hear the rush through the dry leaves and the calls of the birds that haven't migrated, the pioneers like chickadees and nuthatches, that will be our wild backtyard friend.This is when it gets a little less beautiful up here, but much more peaceful. I am able to see more than a sparkle of Crescent Lake through the deciduous trees at the end of my lawn, I am able to shop in town without it taking an hour to buy a can of tuna, and I am able to take my Newfs for walks down my skeleton-tree in front of lush pines road without fear that an Illinois teenager will come barreling around a curve. I have a perfect (so-far) system. We used to sell this item called "Hands-Free Leash" which is a big adjustable elastic band that goes around your waist and attached to the front is a stainless steel loop, which attaches to a bungee with a clip on the end of it. I made it for my two by further attaching a coupler to it so I had both of them pulling me along.

All the leaves are brown... and the wildlife too....

Fall brings happiness and sorrow to we year-round northwoodsers. More wildlife is on the move, so we get to see species we don't see all the time, for instance I saw a wolf cross the road last week and last night, during a horrible late fall/early winter sleet storm I saw a porcupine creeping across the highway. It was going really slowly, like it was saying "Shit! I should have brought an umbrella - I didn't expect this! This traffic can kiss my spiny ass if thinks I am going to move any faster!" Several people swerved out of its way and I saw in the rearview mirror that it made it. I guess attitude is everything, even in the wild kingdom.

Initially I thought that it might be hurt, so I felt bad, but then I googled the speed of porcupines and they apparently do move really slowly. I guess they don't have to run very fast from predators. Witness the result of a collegue's dog having a run-in with a porc (she was on her way to the ER when this photo was taken and recovered really nicely.)

I just looked it up: a baby porcupine is actually called a "porcupette". Oh how I love language.

The fog comes in on little cat feet...

...and as I glance left on the little road I take to my home, I see a hint of a gray haunch with a bob tail disappearing into the darkening woods. It's fall, nearly winter up here in the woods, and the smell is almost as refreshing as it is in the spring, but the astringent pine scent is softer somehow, and more pleasant than I remember it a year ago.


The dogs are excited about the new smells - everyone is happier except my colleagues who know that this is the start of the busy season that won't let up until March.

I haven't written in nearly 3 months. A lot has happened. A lot hasn't happened. I quit the Wildlife Rehab Center and feel bad about it. Mark and Sharon are okay with it though.

Baci had a bad neck problem that gave me a scare.

I wrote two press releases for St Matthais that made it in the Lakeland Times and upped the attendence of the events I wrote about quite a bit.

I'll sign off now - gotta get used to writing in here again.

It's a dry world after all

Friday I took a vacation day from work. Sick to stomach anyway and depressed. Good to be off of work, but sleeping the afternoon away did not help depression matters.

The weirdest thing happened. I have been glued to the television, as always, and these commercials about "Who does depression really hurt?" come on all the time. ("As if depressed people need something else to worry about", I keep thinking to myself resentfully. )

One of the scenes of the commercial has a Weimaraner at the door with a ball in his mouth, waiting - to imply that the owner is depressed and not playing with his/her canine buddy. Tug at heartstrings for me (forget about the neglected kid or spouse!).

Anyway, the power of the tube must be working a little, because yesterday, in the midst of a horrendous depressive episode(mmmmmmmmmmmmmm-Menopause is soooooooooooooo much fun!), I promised Baci that I would take him swimming today and I would throw the ball for him. Well, all day today he kept glancing at me, and that Weimaraner kept coming into my head, so I put on my green grape suit and a T-shirt and we headed out to the dock. I haven't been out there since May (so GLAD I pay taxes to live on a lake!) and I hadn't noticed how low the water was. When I moved here in the summer of 2002, the water came past the beginning of the dock and in fact there was a giant walleye who had a nest under the left end of the dock. Now the sand down there is hardly even moist and the grass on either side of the dock is hip high. I have been hearing that we have a drought in the Northwoods, but it's hard to believe when we had as much snow as we did and all the rain we have been having lately. It just floored me.

ANYWAY.......

I took Baci out to swim and took my new Chuck-It with us with us and threw it over and over - we must have stayed out there throwing and swimming for about a half hour always heard the secret to keeping a dog interested (as if Baci weren't the most observant and interested dog in my house right now) is to stop training when he is still anticipating fun. I stopped after a half hour and he still wanted to go after another ball. And he's 9 years old! And hasn't exercised in months! Tomorrow I will take his brother out (Dulse, his bro, is currently sulking with his back to me right now,sighing heavily every one in a while. I don't think he has the power of mind control that Baci has, though!

Baci has not looked as content in a long time as he has all evening.

A Tree Falls in Minocqlyn

So there are drawbacks to being a semi-recluse, I discovered this weekend.

We had a huge, cracking thunderstorm Friday before I left for work, so bad that my big "tough" dogs lept on the bed with me ("huh? what's that NOISE? Woof.") The brave one, Baci, actually started "growling back" at the storm as it moved off. But I was surprised and pleased that the electricity stayed on without interruption and nothing seemed to be amiss as I got ready for work, put the dogs out, and took off down the road to work.

It was really hot on Friday and was due to be even hotter on Saturday, and, since I don't go into town after Thursday (because of the t(err)ourists), generally, I was all set up for the weekend with dvds and soda and food and such. I had also been battling the summer cold from hell and was determined to not have one minute of discomfort all Saturday. So I hermetically sealed myself inside the house with the a/c blasting (for the dogs of course!) and watched old "Degrassi Junior High" dvds.

A great day. Then came Sunday, which was just as hot, but in which I had to get the garbage out to the end of the driveway and go into town to get an a/c filter and other stuff. So Sunday morning, I walked out to the driveway and saw, behind my truck and my car, that a HUGE White Pine had come down on the driveway and taken a birch and a couple of aspens with it. It was so massive - as big as a moving van – that at first I didn't know what to think. I moved some miscellaneous branches out of the way so I could get the garbage bin by, then when I came back, I moved other branches so I could get my little car out.

I wasn't sure what had happened. I looked up about four stories high and saw that what was on my driveway was the top of a huge tree that had either been hit by lightning or been blown off by the wind the day before. The exposed pith where it had come off was a scar as big as a large man. I was just astounded that something this big and seemingly sturdy had been cut down in its prime by nature. We think of nature as only taking the weak, as culling the unhealthy from the herd or forest or population, but this was proof positive that this was not the case. I couldn't look at the downed tree anymore because it was actually making me extremely sad.

Even on Monday, when I got back from work, after I had arranged to have the tree cut up and hauled away at the end of the week, I was floored at what a waste of beauty this was. On Sunday the needles were still sprung out like it was drinking up the sun, and pulling up nutrition from its trunk. By Monday evening the needles were already wilting, closing like a person's dying hands, as if it had given up hope. Or accepted its fate. It was still very hard to look at this fallen mastadon of the forest. I took a small branch from it to put in my living room.

I can't wait until my chainsaw-wielding friend comes this weekend, cuts it up into manageable pieces. and hauls it away to use in his outdoor wood burner. It will be comforting to know that it is helping heat humans this coming winter.

Wild nights are calling

Loony bin
For the past week, about 7:30 in the evenings,I hear the loons calling each other. Last week there appeared to be some altercation between these birds with some terrible noises coming from the lake. When I asked the rehab director about it, he said that the males may be fighting for territory and that would mean that a male coming in to take over would kill the other males chicks and it would not be unusual for the two males to fight to the death. I haven't heard the screaming since that night,but the winning loon reminds me every night who's boss.

A day in the life
Didn't get to do much at the NWC this weekend. Fed some baby birds, which is always rewarding and scary (I'm not very good at making sure they get all the mealworms they need.) And I set up an aquatic cage for a blue heron juvenile who just looked plain scared. We set out a lot of buckets with branches in them so he will have plenty of places to hide out.

We also got another bald eagle in with a luxated shoulder, although this one was given some steroids and put in a cage in case he might recover some ability to fly.
Weekend at Barbie's
I had a guest this weekend who gave me a huge surprise for my 50th. Little reminders of what has gone on since we have known each other (nearly a quarter of a century!) like a composition book from the university of Minnesota, a toy teller tray to remind us both of where we met and where we never want to return to and a nice card with a generous contribution to the Humane Society of America (not George's"Human Fund"!) It was a wonderful gesture and made me feel good.

Let them eat baguette
I fought the t(err)ourist battle at the grocery store this weekend because I wanted to make this fantastic Italian bread salad that called for an entire good baguette. I grabbed the baguette out of the bin and it was so fresh that it was still warm from the oven. After a half hour in line, I went home. I got everything and put it away and stupidly left the dogs out while I went to change. I came out not two minutes later and the only thing left of the baguette was the little cellophane window on the package. I told the dogs that it was a good thing I don't believe in beating animals. They looked at my from the corners of their eyes all night. NO DINNER FOR YOU!

The rest of the weekend went rather smoothly.

I am kind of tired today because I am under the weather and from now until the beginning of September we can be called into my fave place, the "w(ho)arehouse" at any time.

Red Letter Day

Last Friday, on the spur of the moment, I was flipping through a dog magazine and saw this fantastic idea for a bowl that would ensure that dogs would eat slower. I saw a few subtle design flaws,including the material used and submitted my idea,called the Slow-down bowl, to a company contest we had all week I submitted it at the very last minute.

Well,today was our annual company picnic, where the grand prize winner was announced and I couldn't believe it, but I won with my simple design idea. The funny thing is that there were far better ideas in my opinion,but I guess I won't complain as I cash my "big check" at the bank tomorrow!

As I am finishing this up,and for the first time in 3 summers, I have a deer grazing on my front lawn as I am watching her! Of course I haven't mowed in weeks so there are probably some delicacies out there for her to munch on. How exciting!

Wild Kingdom

Remember this? Marlin Perkins introduced the topic of the show - like alligators - and his assistant Jim Fowler. After the Mutual of Omaha commercial, Marlin comes back, and they are out in the Everglades at a campsite. He then says, "I'll just sit here in the tent with Larita, the foot masseuse,while Jim goes out to find the man-eating gator!" Then he says something (from the tent) like, "Watch out, Jim, for that flailing tail! One knock from that'll scar you for life!"

Head hanging
There was a whole misunderstanding about last week when I decided to take the weekend off because I was depressed that I turned 50 (like I could do anything about it!). The NWC didn't get my message and were apparently swamped, so I felt bad, but I went in anyway. And of course they love volunteers so much they welcomed me with open arms.

Fawn-Doe-Rosa
There is a game farm near the border of Wisconsin and Minnesota called Fawn-Doe-Rosa. It is a silly name, but it runs through my mind often when I am feeding the little fawns who are getting bigger and shyer (yey-they'll have a chance in the wild!) at the same time as they really really want their bottles of formula. We are getting more and more, although we have plenty more room. Of course the rehabilitator always wishes there would be fewer animals in need.

There otter be a law
The baby otter who was cuddling on my foot a couple of weeks ago is now in an aquatic cage of her own,alternately having a blast swimming and figuring out ways to get out of the enclosure into the "no-man's land" that buffers the cage from outdoors, when the interns or I come to slide more fish into her bowl. There are now thick leather gloves between the two doors in case she escapes, because apparently she would rather bite the hands that feed her than get caught I was over feeding the Merganser ducklings, I saw the assistant rehab director try to distract the otter by making "burr-burr" noises as the intern tried to slip in the fish unnoticed. She did get away with it, but barely.

Micey-micey, who cut up the miceys?
Although the barred owl chick that I tweeze-fed mouse parts to for the last two weeks is out with another barred owl and eating on his own, I still had to halve mice for the two wise ones, and this is my MOST unfavorite job. I'd like to report that I only gagged once, but didn't hurl.

He will never pass this way again
We had to put down another bald eagle today, because he came in with a dislocated shoulder. He was beautiful - even the rehab director said so. Someone who has lived here for a few decades told me a couple of weeks ago that the eagle population has just skyrocketed since she was a youngster, so I suppose with more life comes more death,too. It was still sad.

Gaping at me
I think baby birds have to be THE most helpless creatures (besides human babies). And we have a lot of them and are getting more everyday, from incubated spotted eggs (which we got to look at in a little dark room with a pen light to see how the embryos were progressing) to the robin who was released,but still hangs out at the aviary hoping that someone will take pity on him and hand feed him. Although he is fully capable of foraging on his own, his charm when he flies at your face or lands on your shoulder peering at you through still-baby-like pin feathers, tugs at your heart and you give in. Even the rough and tough experienced rehabbers do it!

Oh and one more thing. I always have been and continue to be amazed at the gentleness of the men who choose to care-take animals, whether wild or domesticated (the animals I mean, not the men). A very charming trait, indeed.