Muy Caliente

I had a post all prepared in my head – something about “Father’s Day” – that is, until I walked out of the office and met the wall of heat. All my thoughts just began to melt away and the coup de grâce was sliding into the seat of the truck and the thermometer reading 113 degrees in the shade. Day…ummm! The official temp was 107, but I happen to work in a geographical anomaly that is typically a heat trap and is 5-10 degrees hotter than the official temperature. My focus was then on getting home to let Gryphon out and into the cool of the house. I watched the temps fall as I climbed the escarpment and by the time I was home it was a respectable 104 degrees – my brain and the post slowly leaking away onto the sizzling asphalt. Gryphon was very glad to get into the house. Fortunately his “day house” only hit 81 that unbelievably hot day, so I think he was gladder to see me than escape the heat. I just wanted a beer and cold air!

Every day for a couple of weeks has been like this, full of good intention to work outside or write or work on a project and then the heat takes precedence as soon as I exit the building. I’ll still write the “Father’s Day” post, but Jimminy Louiseapoo my mind needs to solidify first!

I walked to the back of the house to check on the critters, who are usually gathering about the time I get off work. What I saw was Redford (the hog) wrapped around the #2 water tub. I have to say that I really felt sorry for him and his kin given the lack of natural water sources in the area. I watched for a while and soon he got up and stuck his whole head down in the water. I then unpacked the camera and by then he was in the #2 wash tub – first 2, then 4 wet cloven hooves. Yep! Packed pork in the tub and he stood there for a very long time. I would have never believed he would have fit his 250+ pounds in those confines, but he made it happen!

We’ve become hyper-aware of the need for water for these critters, as they will drain both birdbaths, a 3 gallon feed tub and the 15 gallon wash tub overnight. I see another tub happening this weekend. There is no natural source of water on the escarpment and the river below is quite a ways away. Fortunately most of the neighboring ranches maintain stock ponds and many of us here keep the water available; like my neighbor who keeps a 500-600 gallon tank full all the time. I’ve been amazed at the line of honey bees drinking around the rim of the birdbath in the back – sometimes 20-30 of them at a time.

Spring was too short and there wasn’t nearly enough rain during those months. I fear for our well this year and although we are sitting on the Edwards Aquifer, one of the most prolific artesian aquifers in the world, there isn’t an unlimited supply. We are watering only on a limited basis. We did get a little storm this morning, but it was only a half an inch all total.

I know many of you are being affected as well by these abnormal temps. Be safe! Be cool!

Dry!

Hot!

Dry and Hot!

Muy Caliente!!!

Is fall in the room???

If at first you don't succeed...

I'll just let Samantha entertain you ... add your own narration - surely there's some creative dialog in there ... mine's fled! :)

A return to Buffleopia

On February 13^th, 2005 we opened the gates to Buffleopia, home to the Bucolic Buffledog, a.k.a. Buffledog, a.k.a. Taylor and chronicled here at the Damp Dog. Over the course of time, most of you knew him as the Buffledog and for many of the readers here the name Buffledog has become synonymous with the Bernese Mountain Dog breed. After losing Taylor over 2 years ago I think my mind just retired the name as teams retire player’s numbers. To be quite frank, I didn’t think there would ever be another Buffledog. I stand corrected.

Gryphon is a very different dog than Taylor, but there are some very similar characteristics (aside from the obvious breed ones) that have given both of us pause. Perhaps it is because he is Taylor’s nephew - sired by Taylor's brother Sam. One of the most obvious and endearing common characteristics is the ability to look you in the eye with rapt attention; engaging in a silent and steady conversation – there is more going on in between those fluffy ears than we give them credit for having. There is the quick acceptance of new people that is so very similar, as those of you that got to meet Taylor will know exactly what I’m talking about. Sometimes it is very hard not to call Gryphon “Taylor”, as we have done more often than we probably should admit.

Gryphon does bring both exuberance and energy to Buffleopia that we sorely missed with Taylor because of his multiple orthopedic issues. Some days Gryphon is like an F-18 with its afterburners engaged and it remains an unexpected event when he bursts into this kind of speed play! There is also a steady calm that Gryphon can display and it is that calm that makes him an excellent candidate to train for a Delta certification. I had such good experiences taking Taylor to the retirement community that my dad lives in that we want to carry this kind of engagement to a more involved level locally. There is always a need for Delta dogs in the hospitals and elder care facilities. Gryphon has already enriched our lives in so many ways that it seems a shame not to share this with those who could benefit so greatly from such wonderful interaction.

The boy is also a master thief, a regular klepto-dog! A very stealthy klepto-dog! More than once we have been engaged with a movie or show and he busies himself by gathering up all our shoes, all his toys and all the cats' toys. Then he's emptying the laundry hamper and grabbing the towels from both the downstairs bathrooms as well as from the kitchen. All of these items will then be piled on his bed and at some point one of us will look up and there he will be, right in the middle of his feathered nest with a grin of satisfaction on his face. It is hard not to laugh at this Buffle-wuzzle. What a funny boy!

I was concerned about our wildlife population here at Vulpine Acres and how they would all react to Gryphon’s presence. Giving chase has not been an issue and he merely talks to them as only dogs can talk – deer, fox and, of course, cats. I was afraid that his scent or his spoor would scare some of them away, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. In fact, several of the fox and deer are becoming bolder and staying closer even when we are outside. He’s stood within 6 feet of Simon (the alpha male fox) and dropped into the play pose when he saw Buckwheat (the little male deer from last year – who is growing a pretty impressive rack this year) and Buckwheat just looked at him. All three cats have come to a place of acceptance with him with varying degrees of contact. The Vulpine Café remains open and busy and we are much relieved.

So the gates to Buffleopia have once again been opened and Buffleopia is certainly more populated. Though there may only be one Bucolic Buffledog, Gryphon is certainly a Buffledog of the first order. The connection between Gryphon and us was the right call by the breeder and we cannot thank her enough for both her gift and her insight. Let the social lubricity begin!

Well…they weren’t usin’ it!

I’ve had a lot of cats over the years, but not until now have I ever had a hydro-kitty. Izzy is fascinated with water and not idly so. First thing in the morning while I’m filling the coffee maker from the RO (reverse osmosis filter) tap, she wants me to turn on the main tap so she can sit in the sink and drink from it. Washing dishes, there is Izzy wanting to paw at the suds or the running water. Run a bath and she can hear the tub filling even if she's outside. If you are the bather then you are going to have company, usually perched on your chest - it matters not if her tail gets soaked. Shaving – there Izzy is, waiting on an invitation for her to play in the water. Filling the water containers for the animals – there Izzy is pawing at the stream from the hose. Somewhere during her construction, her hydrophobic gene went missing.

Yesterday I stepped out onto the deck and there was Izzy in the bird bath lying in about ½ inch of water. Granted, it was in the upper 90s and pretty humid. She stayed there a good 30 minutes until the Mockingbird took umbrage and ran her off.

Spring Parade

We thought about going off for the weekend, but the weather has been so perfect we decided instead to have a holiday with the critters and the projects. The weather is perfect (and L#we's had a 1/2 price sale on their plants) for yardening and projecting and we can settle in to the Indy 500 race this afternoon. It not a bad way to spend a holiday weekend and the only crowds and traffic we have to fight would be the critter parade through the backyard. We'll probably run up to Austin and take Gryphon to one of the many great dog parks there.

The following photos were all taken yesterday in the early morning light and all within about 30 minutes.

Remember Tiny Tim? Well we finally figured out that it's a Tiny Tina! She seems to be doing fairly well considering her damaged front leg. It's still hard to watch her walk, but she's hanging with the herd and seems to be OK with a good coat.

Simon waiting on his daily bread

Redford's got eyelashes (and budding tusk)! Perhaps his blond ambition? ;)

The wonders of the mud spa!

Mirror Mirror
"Hi! My name's Buck and this is my other brother Buck."

...at least the pig left us somethin'...

"Hi!"

"All right Mr. De Mille, I'm ready for my close-up,"

HAVE A HAPPY AND SAFE
MEMORIAL DAY!

MINE!!!

It was a weekend of errant errands, projects large and small and thunderstorms and I sit here amazed at all the things on the list that didn’t get done. I think back to Thursday night, to the list … er … lists, to the hope and promise that all would be done in 3 days. No problem and I still might have some time to read, play with Gryphon, visit the sphere and lay a few courses on the rock wall. HA! HA and HA! Murphy sat firmly on his throne built upon our misery, presiding over misbegotten plans and grinned! Grinned I tell you! The list of uncrossed items conspicuously outweighs the crossed off items. Amazing!

I suppose that many of us believe the weekends, especially the long ones, to be the nostrum for the grind of the week – I know that is what is in my head as the weekend approaches. Perhaps that was true in my youth when my batteries had and endless capacity to recharge. Now I wonder if it is that my expectations have expanded or my capacity to execute has diminished – perhaps it is both.

In all reality, Vulpine Manor has benefited from our labors (whether or not the list was completed) and already the list for next weekend has begun. There will be plenty of time for lounging as the weather comes into its summer scorch. Meanwhile the extra rain we are getting and the high humidity has caused exponential growth and cutting must happen lest we fall behind the jungle swell. Some of you might remember the insurmountable vegetation that we faced when we first moved here. I’m proud to say that we are far better off now and NEVER want to go back there again.

I’m yawning so I should claim my pillow. Speaking of claims, I’ll leave you with these:

MINE! ALL MINE!!!

MINE! (nectar wars)

These guys are fast! Even at a shutter speed of 1/400 they blur!

MINE! (Gryphon's fridge)
(too bad he's not happy here, huh?)

Mrs. Pot’s Magical, Mystical Tickle Emporium

Well, today we went over to ol’ Mrs. Pot’s pit to get hissed; though the pit was a field and the little hissers were … well …not “little” hissers at all!

“Mrs. Pot, is this the pit?” said me.

“Why yes it is, a pit to hiss,” said she.

“The boy, Mrs. Pot …,” said me.

“His name?” said she.

“Gryphon,” said me.

“Has he been hissed in the pit before?” said she.

“No hissing around,” said me.

“Sixty dollars,” said she.

“Uggg,” said me.

“Gryphon’s collar,” said she.

“I’m wearing THAT?!” said he.

“’twill but tickle,” said she.

“In the pit?” said me.

“In the pit and be hissed,” said she.

“The hissers?” said me

“Are three,” said she.

“The grass, the box and the bush,” said she.

“What that?” said he.

“A hisser,” said me.

“WHAT”S THAT?!?!?” said he.

“A tickle,” said she.

“DAMN!” said he.

“It worked,” said she.

“To the bush!” said she.

“Ok,” said he.

“Rattle hissssss,” said Three.

“NO WAY!” said he.

“Bravo!” said she.

“He passed?” said me.

“Grade A,” said she.

“I’m outtie,” said he.

“In the truck,” said me.

“A COOKIE!” said he.

So we left ol’ Mrs. Pot’s pit and her hissers three and went home to where we don’t have a Mrs. Pot or a pit to hiss in. Perhaps we never will. Should a hisser stop to hiss, without a pit, Gryphon now knows to “let it be, let it be, if there is a hisser, let it be!” (sorry John)

Note: snake awareness training is serious business in parts of the country (like ours) where hissers are about. The old adage of “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” sure applies here. Although I was loathe taking him to this training, it was certainly not as bad as I anticipated. I will have to admit that it was weird wandering around in the grass field where there was 1 Diamondback Rattler loose (rattling, agressive and sometimes within just a few feet), 1 rattler underneath a dead cedar bough (and rattling) and a Copperhead in a box. The vipers were all missing the venom glands but were fully functioning and healthy otherwise. Frankly I think the exposure in the viper emporium was as helpful to the bipeds as the canines – recognizing potential danger by sight and sound and also by observing the viper’s behavior. There were 20 dogs, more people, 3 vipers, lots of stories (both good and bad) that support the activity and I came away with a companion that KNOWS not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

Cirque Gryphon

Gryphon’s first days here have been phenomenal. He’s taken to the house, cats, critters and us. It has been an instant bond from the day I arrived at the breeder’s and he took to “B” immediately when he and I arrived home. One cat has become his “bud” and one is a bit hesitant, but doesn’t flee when he approaches. Izzy, on the other hand, cannot understand WHY we would let such a behemoth in HER house! She gets along with all the other critters, including Redford the pig, so I’m hoping that she’ll come around eventually. They will all come in to eat and sometimes sleep, but only Sox will grace us with her presence if he is in the house. It’s pretty entertaining watching him do the whole “play pose” with the cats and he’s been snagged more than once when he’s been a little over-exuberant. Puppies! He may be a year old, but he’s still very much a puppy!

He’s had no issues being in his kennel during the day (I suspect that he sleeps most of the day). He was a bit restless at night and we realized that he was used to having a crate to retreat into and has been fine at night since that purchase. Using a crate has been a huge change from how things were with Taylor. Taylor never liked the very idea of a crate, much less being in one, and was a model house dog, rousing only when the alarm went off. We have to keep reminding ourselves that Gryphon is used to having a dozen kennel mates and some of his restlessness is due to their absence. The second night we were on the road we stopped in Roswell, NM at the Comfort Inn. I was just about to crash and Gryphon uttered the first peep of the trip so far. He was whining from the bathroom and when I went to investigate I found him in front of the closet mirror talking/whining to the doggie-in-the-mirror. This had a potentially disastrous outcome so in a moment of divine inspiration I stripped the spread from the bed and draped it over the ironing board and set the whole affair in front of the mirror. The doggie-in-the-mirror went away and Gryphon settled down - good thing, because I was dead tired and we still had 10 hours driving to reach home.

The trip was like most road trips that you push through alone. It was mostly a drive on auto-pilot; although, this time I managed to remember to pick up several book CDs from the library before setting out. The books made the long miles easier, especially at night.

The straightest and fastest shot from home to Boise takes up a lot of off-freeway driving – more appealing to the eye, but leaves a lot to be desired as far as cell service – blue cell hell – and phone tag was rampant - I mostly just gave up the effort. It was disappointing as I’d hoped to catch up on a lot of calls that never seem to get made.

The most stressful part of the trip was the very first night. Dark had fallen hard while I was still on I-10 and I was already wary of the stretch north from Ft. Stockton to the New Mexico border. I had not seen another vehicle in a couple of hours. This lonely road is a lot of sage, oil wells and … well … nothing actually. There was, however, a proliferation of jack rabbits, horned owls, coyotes and deer. Proliferation is not an adequate word; abundant might be a better choice, but still doesn’t do it justice. The scene played out like a peripheral sidebar featuring a Steven King novel while I was listening to Sarah Dunant’s In the Company of the Courtesan – a very weird experience at best, with carnage both in the book and on the road. After a half dozen owls had flown up in front of the Explorer over the course of 10 miles I began to feel a little spooked by all the nocturnal hijinks and pulled off in the next picnic area to sleep till dawn – probably another 40 miles and many more owls and critters.

I got out to unkink and shake off the unsettling miles, looked up and was awestruck. What struck me in this very western part of Texas nothingness were the lack of light pollution and the amazing display of celestial light. There were no vehicles, no street lamps, no houses; just a lot of great, open dark punctuated only by the occasional and distant lamp from an oil rig. I lay back on the hood of the truck and stared off into the cosmos until sleep threatened to overtake me and I retreated to my pillow in the back. I went to sleep thinking there is just nothing like the crystalline sky of the desert.

The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, save the suicidal flood of bugs upon the windshield north of Salt Lake City. Best the awfulness happen there since driving through SLC is a trial all unto itself – it’s the one unavoidable traffic cesspool along I-15 from Spanish Fork to Tremonton that has the same effect on the psyche as fingernails on a chalk board. Sure, there are ways around it if one wants to add a day to the trip.

I spent a good bit of the time feeling like I was in a huge extended neighborhood, since I’ve run this route so often. I really don’t have to think where to turn, where the motels are, where the gas exits are as well as the restaurants. I’m sure truckers must feel this way. No thinking - pas de la pensée. There were long distances of some pretty spectacular scenery and often I would find myself absorbed in what seemed like an endless non sequitur - flashes of grandeur that had zero relation to the book I was listening to – comic and confusing sometimes. On the return I had the added comedy of Gryphon – my own canine Cirque du Soleil.

Gryphon’s home!!!!

…and he’s worth every bit of the 3400 miles, 4 travel days and 58 hours of driving. Gryphon traveled great! He seems happy, although the cats don’t - more on that and the trip in another post. Here are his 1st pics at his new casa and a view of and from his daytime air conditioned palace. NO! He's not spoiled ;)~

Gryphon's door!

Kennel is to the right in the above pic and I've partitioned off a third of the shop space for him

Gryphon's view

His name is …………………

... GRYPHON!!!!!!! Heart (and body) of a lion, wings of and eagle and is the protector. Here’s his photo at 8 weeks!

We are feverishly busy getting ready for his arrival – in between thunderstorms that seem to be threatening our sanity. Since the acreage here isn’t completely fenced yet (a work in progress that has only been completed around the pasture) we needed to provide a safe place for Gryphon to be during the day. So, we are building a huge kennel that abuts the shop and there’ll be a dog door to the interior that is air conditioned. The shop has been puppy-proofed with latches on all the cabinets and coverings on all the shelves – basically removing access to things that look chewable. Since he’s 11 months that is still an issue and it’s going to take a while to figure out his little canine interest. When we are home he’ll be with us, but during the day while we are working he’ll have his puppy palace – out of sight from the road.

Here is the site that I’m clearing for the kennel and the dog door will be through the wall of the shop beneath the window. What a lot of rock to dig out and what you are seeing is only a third of what’s been removed already! Sod will go down tomorrow and the kennel will go up tomorrow afternoon.

Meanwhile it is round after round of vet visits for the cats for their annuals, servicing the Explorer for the trip, getting the house ready for the new Buffledog! We are remembering about the infamous “tail sweep”, fur bunnies everywhere and simply space for him to move easily about. He probably won’t be quite as large as Taylor was; Taylor was 135+, but I don’t think Gryphon will be much more than 110-115.

So, I’ve stocked up on book tapes for the 3400 mile trip and I’m really looking forward to being away from the office for a few days. Fortunately it looks like great weather for the 5 or 6 days that I’m going to be on the road.

Soon there will be our own photos of the boy!

NOW…………..

You also get to meet Felix, our now frequent ring tailed cat. The shot is a little out of focus since the auto-focus was ineffective in the dark and I just had to guess at the distance – ‘twas a few feet short, but you get the idea. These little guys are just off-the-chart cute.

Hope everyone has a wonderful weekend!

Waiting

bellman banter

"May I be of service, sir?"
"No, I'm waiting."
"On what, sir?"
"On who."
"Who, sir?"
"I'm not sure."
"I'm sorry, sir?"
"I'm not."

Seamus

It’s been two years today. I’ve been waiting.

I frankly have had little heart to be here. Perhaps it’s that I’ve been waiting.

I sit silently on the porch in the early morning hours; my hands warm around the coffee mug and watch our menagerie venture out into the wee first light. I often talk to the Buffledog in these lone moments – these were our times in the pre-dawn and we only missed our walks when one or the other of us was down with injury or sickness. These walks were magical, mysterious, sometimes guarded, sometimes filled with discovery and always full of greetings for our fellow early risers. I sometimes hear my neighbor walk his old Lab, but cannot see them on the road. I sit silently on the porch and wait.

The chores here are endless and often solitary. More than once I’ve turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend and companion. I feel his presence. I wish I could feel his fur. Still I wait.

On what, sir?

On who.

April Fool’s Day. The phone rings and a familiar name pops up on the screen. I smile and answer, stepping outside to the building front and sit on the steps. We catch up as old friends do after a long absence. Then I listen for 10 minutes.

“Talk it over” she says, “and call me later this evening.” I already knew the answer.

His AKC name is Giorgio.

We haven’t named him yet – soon - he's all Buffledog though!!!

He’s 11 months old.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s a goofball … purrrrrrrrrfect!

He’s Taylor’s nephew.

I’m driving to Idaho on April 21st to pick him up.

I’m waiting, but I’m smiling.

Here’s his pic from 2 weeks ago.

Me and you and Pepé Le Pew

I was reading John Irving’s The Hotel New Hampshire in the bath and laughing out loud at State ‘o Maine’s acquisition of the taste ‘o canine – well, laughing as best I could under the circumstances.

Consider the tub, or a water trough that tries to pass as a tub by virtue of proximity in the little room known as the bathroom – a builder issue bit of fiberglass nonsense that generally has one prone with feet, tibias, fibias, femurs and an organization of other anatomical parts in an amalgam known as legs exposed as one seeks immersion of torso, an immersion that is never fully realized. The trough has a back that is near vertical and places one’s chin an inch from the top of the sternum while wheezing through a windpipe that feels kinked like a cranky, cold hose – all for the search of a bit ‘o warmth from the waters. This also leaves an expanse of flesh approximately 10” wide and 18” long from chin to just below the navel that needs the occasional hand generated wave in order to feel connected to the activity known as bath … little solace for the legs though.

I was laughing until the tears flowed and I could no longer read the words, I grabbed the wine glass from its tenuous perch on the soap dish handle and closed my eyes, visualizing the busted motorcycle being towed/escorted out of Falmouth with State ‘o Maine in the side car.

“Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrkkkk.”

I knew the “umpff” was coming and kept my eyes closed to keep the surprise alive as 12 pounds of Izzy lands on the micro acreage that was residing above the waterline.

“Umpff!”

“Purrrrrrrrrrrrr………..”

There were 10 little needles intent on performing catupunture and drawing the milk of Vlad Ţepeş, portending a clipping in Izzy’s very near future. Remember, this is a 12 pound fur-ball that is trying to worm her way into some semblance of comfort that is involving my chest residing above the water line – all the while purring with abandon and feeling like she’d finally found “the spot” that her adopted sisters cannot, in any way, intrude. So much for the peaceful bath!

I started thinking, as she finally settled in (tail to the left or tail to the right of my face – wet tail? – don’t care – ohhh! Let’s slip a paw into the water as well! No matter that I’ll shake it all over the pages of the book!), of the remarkable day/evening it had been critter wise.

The first was wondering what the fresh turned earth was out by the green house. I finished my early morning ministrations regarding the animal’s gratuitous feed and very necessary water. Grabbing a cup of (very necessary) coffee I went to investigate the oddness by the green house. “Aliens” was the first thought and “crop circles” was the immediate next. I stood gaping at a trench 6 inches deep and 15 feet long. There was another similar disturbance past the big cactus, though not as long. It finally dawned on me that it was probably Redford. I’d recently read that a sounder could uproot a field or a yard in a night if they were finding some tasty morsel just below the surface – grubs, tubers or whatever. If I could only direct his efforts I wishfully thought. Who knew there was that much dirt in this property that seems to just grow rocks!

Second was a flock of nearly 20 goldfinches that’d finally discovered the much neglected finch feeder. This was the first time for gold finches in this yard. They were still in their winter plumage. I hope to see them all in their summer garb. There is also a pair of gold fronted woodpeckers and a pair of ladder-backs that have found our place amenable as well.

Third was an appearance by Pepé Le Pew. Like Redford, he’s not exactly a welcome guest; although this skunk is a regular enough visitor to have earned a name. Pepé was foraging around the back deck and Zoë was on the deck watching with, much to my horror, great curiosity – that cat curiosity that could land her in BIG, stinky trouble. Meanwhile the vulpine herd was milling about and looking expectantly for their dinner, Rocky was being a naughty raccoon and shaking seed from the bird feeder and Tiny Tim was hobbling around the little piles of corn that I’d just put out.

I waited until Pepé was out if sight before I opened the door to toss the bread to the fox. I stepped out onto the deck and realized too late that the stripped stink reservoir was just behind the rose bush to the right of the door. I froze in mid-step and in my paralysis I could only think that I would not want to see the underside of Pepé’s tail. Fortunately he ambled off, seemingly unconcerned with my presence. Even Tiny Tim seemed to accept my presence and offerings to the now squabbling vulpines.

Since all the fox don’t show up at the same time the yeasty Frisbee toss happens several times over the course of an evening. It was closing time at the Vulpine Café and I threw out a few extra pieces for the malingerers. I noticed an eye shine that was a little different in the understory – redder than the normal gold of the fox and green of the cats and raccoons. This was something new; although the eye shine was somewhat familiar it belonged to something I’d not seen before. I went back in and stood by the window hoping that this newcomer would come out. It did finally appear and at first I thought it was the tiniest fox I’d ever seen – it was not time for kits yet! It was moving with a hopping, sepentine motion that reminded me of a mink or a ferret. I wanted a better view and reluctantly turned on the flashlight, hoping I wouldn’t scare it off. It gathered up a piece of bread and when it turned I saw the stripped plume of a tail and I knew then that I was watching a ring tailed cat. “B” had just gone to bed when I shouted for her to come see! It came back for another piece just as she came in and she too was witness to our new critter. It seems very shy, but didn’t bolt under the torch light.

I’d seen the red/gold eye shine before, but thought it was just some trick of the light on the fox eyes. I’ve heard mention of the ring tails being in the area, but most folks have never seen one. I’m feeling truly blessed that it has graced us with its presence. Follow this link to see this cuter-than cute fellow!

All in all, it was a very remarkable critter day.

Izzy finally decided that she was wet enough and sauntered off to another room, probably to terrorize one of her unsuspecting sisters. I sighed and tried to sink even farther into the fiberglass.

Cooper & Redford

We have 2 new residents at Casa Vulpini and, as is the custom here, they have received their names (whether they want them or not) by virtue of their multiple appearances.

The first is Cooper, a Cooper's Hawk (I know, not very original, but we seem to think it fits) that has a nest high in one of the taller oaks and has become a regular feature in the yard - much to the dismay and detriment of the birds that feed here as well ... they are, after all, its preferred food. We've watched our little daredevil live up to its reputation as it flies perilously fast through the fairly dense woods here. I was reading that in a study of Cooper's Hawks, they found that nearly 1/4 of the ones examined had healed fractures in their chest - typically their wishbones. Dangerous game, this eating stuff!

I caught Cooper during his/her ablutions one Saturday morning. Cooper and I watched each other for a while before I decided to risk slowly dragging the camera out of its bag and changing lenses. Perhaps the raptor was waiting on the rapture because it seem to care less about my very obvious presence. These are but a few of the shots spanning a 15 - 20 minute period.

I'm quite sure we will have words if Cooper decides to snatch dinner from under our noses, but perhaps the raptor will keep it on the sly and wow us with its aerial stunts instead.

Next on Kitsuni Acres is Redford. He appeared as a complete shock early one morning and has now shed the light on the recent questions of, "...what are these deer rooting for?" He's big enough (we think somewhere around 150-200 pounds, although looking at him tonight he seems bigger than that) that he should have tusks already if he's a wild boar; so perhaps he's an escaped domestic. Either way, we aren't really keen on having Redford as a guest beneath the bird feeder. He's sharing the space with both the deer and the fox routinely so there seems to be some peaceful accord ... so far. We now suspect he's been around a while and that would explain the few odd diggings in the yard. Redford does have a sweet tooth for the bird seed. He is very shy and very fleet footed. Ah! The pleasures of rural life! Sigh...............

On Books

Have you ever read something that truly surprised you – something so far off your radar that you actually thought about it long after you read it? I had just such an occasion reading Wings of Madness recently. It was an intriguing biographical and historical story surrounding something that we are all more than familiar with … flight – specifically, the beginning of flight! The biographical subject rubbed shoulders with many notables with whom we are so familiar: Thomas Edison, Alexander Graham Bell, Samuel Pierpont Langley, Gustave Eiffel, Theodore Roosevelt as well as the Cartiers, the Rothschilds and Princess Isabelle. Yet this is a man who was unknown to me, absent from the histories I have read and studied. He was a Brazilian national who spent most of his life in Paris and was on the very public forefront of man’s venture into the realm of birds at the same time as Orville and Wilbur Wright, who, in stark contrast, were keeping their aeronautical developments quite secret. His name is Alberto Santos-Dumont.

Santos-Dumont is revered in the country of his birth, Brazil, and many there hold that the homage of first in flight should belong to him. I think it curious that, I feel safe in saying, most of the people in this country have never heard of this shy, eccentric personality.

I kept waiting for the book to become dry and overly factual – a sure antidote for insomnia for me; however, dryness never happened. The book did plod along in a few places and the very nature of the subject would seem to dictate a yawn, but the author, Paul Hoffman, just kept drawing me in further and further. That I’m even writing about it here is a surprise, but I felt it worth sharing.

I am making a conscious effort to read through the embarrassing amount of books that we’ve collected over the years. Granted two thirds of the books are how-to books and such, but it’s the volumes of fiction and non-fiction that I am trying to claim. Books just seem to collect on our shelves like dust and are often abandoned after acquisition; overwhelming in their weight and noticed only upon moving. Ironically, the re-claiming began during a week long bed rest in a Vicodin haze after pulling my back out moving boxes of said books. It has been interesting and enlightening to go to a shelf and pick a half a dozen books and just read them through, not thinking about "what's next". I’m finding while reading I’m remembering why I chose a book to begin with, be it subject, author or both. Although there have been some exceptions to the moratorium on “new” books over the last 13 months, in the main it has been a worthy endeavor to visit our own library instead of another worm’s shelves. Equally satisfying is keeping a list of what I have read, therefore eliminating the dependence on a disgustingly shallow short-term memory pool that is evaporating by the day.

Happy reading!

Flip

There’s a new pea in our pod. Grandchild #5 and this time it was a girl! I’m still amazed after raising 3 girls that we only had grandsons. I figure this girl is either going to be very spoiled or very tough – perhaps both!

It was pretty much a dream delivery, except she apparently got stuck for a bit and it broke her right collar bone. So her little arm is all trussed up in a mini-sling. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s already got one up on her brothers and cousins – guess there’ll be a time for bragging rights, huh?

She arrived with a full head of blond hair and has a brother/cousin approval rating of 100%. Her oldest brother met her for the 1^st time in the hospital and after examining the bar coded ID band on her leg he turns to his mom and said, “Mommy, have you paid for this baby yet?” (great fits of laughter erupted among the adults in the room). With the most serious look on his face he pumped his right arm with a flat, backhand for emphasis and continued, “Mommy, you HAVE to pay for this baby!” After the ruckus died down a bit he observed the changing of the diaper and further added to the family we’ll just save this for later archive with a, “Mommy, why is her willy so little?” May the Goddess help her!

So … Flip … a nickname - a grandpa’s. How did this name come to be, you may ask. In a text message from me to the auntie person, I asked for baby news while labor was happening. Auntie replies, “No flipping baby yet!” So there you have it folks, Flip, the new pea in a pod of boys – maybe the Goddess should help them!!!

btw Michelle, funny that we both did a baby pea post - appears we both believe in a certain prerogative ;)