Geese are water birds, and the excitement that a new wading pool created was almost overwhelming. Fred, paterfamilias and His Excellence the Great Gander, immediately decided to lord it over Ethel and the four goslings. While they raced around the edge of the pool in a very agitated state, Fred splashed around in the center of the pool thoroughly enjoying his good fortune. Then Ricky, the largest of the goslings, decided to jump in and join in the fun. The squawking, thumping and pecking that ensued should have been captured on videotape (why didn’t I think of that?) . . . the eventual outcome of all the splashing was a draw, as Ricky vacated the pool in deference to Fred’s status as Great Gander. But it was a clear indication that Fred’s status will be challenged in the days and weeks to come and I’m laying my bets on Ricky to reign supreme.
Monthly Archives: April 2012
Longhorn Babies Don’t Have Horns, But Mama Does
It is spring in the country, and new calves are cropping up on the scene. They appear on wobbly legs alongside their mothers as they try to nurse, and then collapse into the grass or sagebrush for long naps while their mothers graze nearby. All through the winter months the cows largely ignored us on our daily walks and would occasionally draw close enough to have their ears scratched or flanks patted as we passed by. Once the calves show up, it is a very different story. It is every man (or woman) for him or herself, and that goes for the dogs. Rosie has been chased by an irate Angus or Longhorn cow so many times she now cuts a wide berth around the cows and their calves. And we follow suit. My attempts to photograph the baby calves has consisted of short bursts of bravery followed by cowardly retreats at high speed.
Jezebel is a marvelous mother who is very solicitious of her calf. She doesn’t leave any doubt that you’d be faced with the horns of a dilemma if you crossed her path or surprised her unexpectedly. A friend who raised a herd of longhorns stated they are excellent mothers, more tolerant of drought and disease, and have little trouble calving. Our observations of her care of this beautiful calf reinforces our high opinion of her. We haven’t gotten close enough to determine whether the calf is a bull or heifer, so the official christening has not occurred. We have been batting around ideas for a name,
and could use a little help, so suggestions are welcome.
In the meantime, we are on a watch for a different breed of baby, due between now and May 1. More darned exitement!
The Little Dog Who LIves Up The Lane
Sally Mae is a Welsh corgi-mix who lives half a mile up the road. She is a frequent visitor and playmate with our dog Rosie, and has become an important member of our animal kingdom. She frequently joins us for our daily walks and loves taking a dip in the pond along the way. She also hangs around for a dog cookie after the walk, and if she is out and about, she pays an evening visit for a little supper with Rosie and Lady. Dogs are territorial, and occasionally Rosie has fits of jealousy if we pay too much attention to Sally, who is hard to resist. She has an infectious grin, and slyly wriggles into our presence looking for a hug, a few pats or a rub. If she is outside when we head into town, she will streak up the road as fast as her very short legs will carry her to try to beat us to the cattle guard, and she often does. She then turns around with a triumphant toss of her head, grinning with her tongue hanging out, victorious that she won the race.
She and Rosie both enjoy tracking whatever is out in the sagebrush on our walks, but Sally does it with a ferocity that is surprising in so gentle a little dog. Whenever a rabbit emerges, she is on it! And while she never catches them, she gives it everything she has, tearing through the grass and sage, leaping over any obstacle to catch her prey. She also used to like to heel and nip at the horses in the corrals around her place. We have yelled and hollered at her repeatedly to stop this endeavor for fear she will be stomped or kicked by the horses, who do not enjoy this aggravation. One afternoon shortly after she joined me for a walk, she broke away to bark and nip at one of the horses just through the fence. On this day a big bay gelding let fly with a hind leg and struck her in the head with its hoof. She was able to escape back under the fence and onto the road, where I reached for her with my heart pounding with fear. I gathered her up and raced for home.
Sally was bleeding profusely from her nose and I could not tell whether she had bitten her tongue or what the damage was. I wrapped her in a horse blanket and layed her in the old Dodge Rambo. I will never forget the pleading look in her eyes as she struggled to breathe with blood filling her nostrils. Just our luck, the vet was out of town and not expected back for a few days. Sally’s owner was also out of town. I kept calling until I located a family member who said they would come and attend to her. As we waited, I examined her more closely and could find no damage other than to her nose, which was swelling but showed no external damage. Her tongue and teeth were intact.
Sally recovered and although she snuffled a lot for a few weeks while the cartilage in her nose heeled and she was able to clear her nasal passages, she seemed almost as good as new. And she no longer displayed any interest in horses whatsoever. She does continue to have one overriding interest, however, that keeps her pretty close to home: Her ongoing love for her master who died a couple of years ago. I know Sally still expects he will return one day, and we’re told she sleeps under his desk in the house at night. I was reminded of this by a movie we watched recently about a dog in Japan whose master died unexpectedly. Based on a true story, the dog’s name was Hachiko, and he was an Asian Akita who returned to the train station to await his master’s return for nearly a decade. The Japanese people were so moved by his single-minded devotion they erected a bronze statue in his honor. This story of unconditional love and the unbroken bond between a dog and his master even after death left me so moved I was still weeping the next day. I will think of this story always, and I will try to hug Rosie and Lady and Sally a bit harder whenever I get a chance.