1 Year and Counting

One year ago Rocky Mason can into my life. (see the post Rocky Mason) Since then he's led the most sheepful life.

He has other sheep, donkey, deer, and pig friends. He lives in huge pastures and has grazed all of his days. He has produced the thickest most wondrous smelling wool.



And given the most tender sweet kisses and tolerated mine.



His beginning wasn't the most perfect beginning, but between then and now I think has come incredibly close.

Happy Birthday dear Rocky. May you have many more years as a loved sheep!!




(The last two images taken by my friend, Ron Aaron)

Not so little, eh?

This is the guy from the previous post.

The blur is his Shield of Power.

I wish I had seen it before I fed him!

Not So Cute Anymore--part 2

Almost a year ago to the week I had a run in with a ex-pet rodent-like being ( "Not So Cute Anymore"). Everything ended fine--my hand healed and the little prairie dog now lives in Oklahoma with others of his own kind. Not because of what happened but because there is a well known, well respected prairie dog sanctuary there. It wouldn't have been fair to him to live all alone and frustrated because he had been a pet and now wasn't because the people didn't. want. him. anymore. Being with his own kind was the best thing for him--and that's all that mattered.

This time the encounter was a squirrel.

Please do not think the sweet fluffy baby in the picture above is the one I speak of. He is not. The being of which I speak came to the sanctuary via his owner who didn't want him anymore. That's all I knew, for if I had taken just a few minutes to peruse his file I would have found out why. But I won't spoil it for you. You will have to read on.

I opened the cage the squirrel was staying in. About 6' tall, 5' long and 4' wide. A generous house. Tree branches were inside to allow for natural climbing and gnawing as well as a hiding box and bedding for comfortable repose. I cleaned the previous bits of food and began to replace the bowl that was there with a newly filled one. He seemed to be confused as to how to get to the new bowl (it was in a kind of tunnel but very accessible) so I closed the smaller door and opened the larger door where he was anxiously awaiting his breakfast. As I placed the fruit, nut, and veggie filled bowl on the shelf, he launched himself from one of the branches and landed on my forearm, teeth digging into my soft flesh.

(let's pause now for an image to develop in your mind.... forearm... squirrel attached via teeth, hands on either side of face like he's gnawing an ear of corn.... got it?)

I stood still in shock. My usual reaction is to fling whomever is gnawing a body part as far away from gnawed body part as possible. Said prairie dog flew a few feet then landed in deep hay. However, this time I was inside a rather large room, no deep hay to be found anywhere. So I stood there for what seemed forever while he gnawed my arm to the bone. I could feel his little rodent teeth as they scraped my ulna. Over and over. I thought (finally) about how I could distract him from his endeavor. I flicked his nose several times thinking the assault to his most sensitive sensor would make him stop.

gnaw. gnaw. gnaw.

I then tried to scruff his neck but he was so intent on mauling my arm that his little neck was like that of a turtle--scrunched down between his shoulders with muscles tensed so the only thing I scruffed was fur, which, in the moment, came out in my hand.

gnaw. gnaw. gnaw.

I quickly realized that he wasn't going to let go no matter what distraction I tried. I walked out of the room into the hallway and made a left towards the vet room.

gnaw. gnaw. gnaw.

I walked into the surgery room where Megan and Jaime were working on a patient

gnaw. gnaw. gnaw.

and threw my arm outward, squirrel still firmly attached, and said (cried, screamed...), " He. Won't. Let. Go!!!!!!"

gnaw. gnaw...

It's funny what one remembers in retrospect. Megan's eyes were huge, her mouth an 'o'. Jaime, on the other side of the table looked up and began to move in my direction. At the same time Megan moved in my direction the squirrel realized he wasn't where he started out, released my forearm, and jumped to my head. I vaguely remember telling Megan and Jaime that he was on my head, on my back, then the back of my legs, and off. I had tucked my head into my chest and closed my eyes because by this time the pain was becoming very intense.

Jaime gently led me over to the sink so I would stop bleeding all over the surgical table.

OH YEAH--the patient they had been examining, an elderly chihuahua, was only for a moment left alone on the table. Jaime rushed back and put her on the ground and then helped Megan try to catch the now rogue squirrel.

By this time I knelt by the sink with my bleeding arm in the sink. I began to cry as the adrenaline rush faded. My head was down and my eyes were closed. The pain was incredible. Meanwhile I could hear scurrying and footsteps as the girls tried to wrangle the squirrel. I could sense his path around the room and was surprised when he landed on my head. He immediately jumped and I looked up in time to see Jaime, with thick leather welder's gloves, trap him with both hands in the sink. Right next to my arm!

Jaime took the squirrel back to his home and later told me that I had left the door open and the other squirrel that was in there (there were two?!) was just sitting inside wondering what was going on. Cute.

Megan assessed my arm and prepared to flush the wound. (Let me just say if anyone ever gets bitten (or receives puncture wounds of any kind) make sure your first stop is finding someone to flush out your wound. This is the single most important safeguard of fighting off an infection!) She used a curve tipped syringe similar to this one, some dilute iodine, and began to flush the wound.( I digress but just so you know, in emergency animal medicine this is my 2nd favorite part of emergency care. Something so satisfying about cleaning all the bad stuff out and determining how big and bad the wound really is.) I was barely able to look up to watch as Jaime told me this was something she thought I really wanted to see. The syringe tip was in one of the holes filling the wound with fluid. If I hadn't been in so much pain I really would have thought it was cool to see my skin rise several millimeters.

After the flushing, Megan cleaned my entire forearm with betadine (apparently during The Episode the squirrel had scratched my arm nicely) and she then put a pressure bandage on and advised me to see my doctor as soon as possible for antibiotics and a tetanus shot. (She really rocks as a animal vet and a people vet!) Good thing I was current with my rabies shots--they might have had to worry about the little guy!!

I went to my doctor and he agreed that I had indeed been bitten by a small mammal judging by the puncture wounds and commented that Megan did a really good job cleaning me up. Major antibiotics and a tetanus shot and I was golden.

Almost a week later and the only signs are two small marks on my forearm, a little swelling, fading scratch marks on the inside of my arm and a righteous bruise that starts at my elbow and runs to my wrist on the outside of my arm.

Oh, and the reason the owner relinquished the squirrel--he was becoming aggressive.

Make note that the squirrel was in no way at fault in this situation. Squirrels are wild animals like it or not and not suitable in the least to be treated like a pet--for any reason. There is no doubt in my mind that in time he will be able to be released into his natural habitat and do very well.

Bottom line--wild animals do not make good pets.

Get this book NOW!!!

I don't think I've ever recommended anything during the life of this blog.

Today is different.

Run, don't walk, to your local bookstore and get this book. I am not kidding. It is the most amazingly touching book I've read in a long time.

The book is about life from Shreve's point of view and how she ended up with her family--Eli and the wondrous Charlie. Mike comes along after awhile and rounds out her life, giving it the balance she was missing (and she for him). The story is an ongoing one of growth, enlightenment, and humor; of hard times in the frigid Wyoming winter and outdoor naps in the warmth of the sun. A life rich--with life, and a coyote.

Her photographs of Charlie and the Wyoming wilderness will give you pause. From puppy to full grown coyote you won't be able to help falling in love with him, or the photographs.

Go to Shreve's The Daily Coyote website. You can get your daily dose of Charlie there.

What? You're still here? GO GET THE BOOK!!!

What I did on my Christmas break-- A Pictoral

Sweet Rocky



Sweet sweet Reina






Brent



Me!!



Forrest



Niles



Lillie



Peace









Jeero





white wing dove tree



daddy daughter walk

it snowed. it really really snowed.

While it may not be the awesome deep, fluffy, powdery, snow of the Great North, THIS, friends was as snow as we get down here in south central Texas.








We're still speechless.

No photos, just memories.

Today on the drive home from work I listened to NPR. Two scientists were being interviewed and while I couldn't entirely grasp why they studied the distance an ant steps, what did catch my attention was the story of one scientist talking about a photo when he was 9 of him outside holding a butterfly net and looking into it. The other scientist had a very similar story about a similar photo at near the same age. They grew up almost a world apart and met one another and began doing research together.

Their stories got me to thinking--what was my earliest memory of being outside with animals? I remember being six living in Lubbock, Texas and playing with big red ants. I would play with them alone, mastering my technique of picking them up one at a time, without being bitten. It was huge competition between the other kids in the neighborhood of who could pick up ants and not get bitten. Apparently the honor of winning was huge to get me to practice as often as I did.

I then remembered being nine and being with my friends and climbing up ivy that grew on the side of a neighbors house and taking a nestling sparrow home to raise. I thought it fascinating holding a real live bird and one so tiny was miraculous. I remember the smell of the ivy and thinking of how thick the woody stems were and how they could hold my body as I climbed without breaking. I remember hearing the adult sparrows giving what I know now their distress calls. I remember hearing the nestlings cheeps as their parents sounded the alarm. I also vividly remember my mom telling me to go put the baby back, and I did. But that didn't stop my finding critters.

During that same time frame we lived in San Angelo, Texas and apparently horney-toads were abundant. (For those not versed in the Texan vernacular, 'horney-toads' aka horned lizards are small lizards that have virtually disappeared from the landscape because of the prevalence of residential pesticide use.) I remember collecting a coffee can full of horney toads of all sizes. I had been in my mom and dad's room, laying on their bed playing with them. As happens, I lost interest and went outside to play with my friends. I was across the street and two doors down when I heard my mom scream. I knew immediately what it was all about and raced home to collect the now free roaming reptiles. I still remember my mom finding me to rescue a rogue lizard and take him outside when she vacuumed inside.

I do have other vivid memories growing up but I wanted to remember my very first critter encounters. So that would explain why I do what I do today.... and love.

7 random things about me...

Over the last 3 years I've tried to keep this blog about what I see, hear, experience... I've just been tagged to list 7 random things about me and truly it makes me think. As a mother, I rarely think about me in the big picture--it's usually a spur of the moment gotta-have-this-it's-so-me (think Halloween stuff on sale, a really cool something something at the craft store...) to validate that I have a desire for something other than what the kids may need.

I figure everyone knows my love of critters, dirt, plants, magic, etc... so I'll try to dig deeply and see what I come up with.

1. I absolutely love religious iconic art. I collect what moves me--Catholic prayer cards, illustrations in old bibles, missals--they all just leave me speechless. Early on I wanted to be an illustrator like the monks that used to hand write and illustrate bibles.



2. Infants are magic. I love the smell of babies and admire their tiny pudgy fingers and their puckered cherubic lips...

3. I collect coats, jackets, hoodies and sweaters. Though it rarely gets cold enough to wear them all here, I won't be caught unprepared!

4. I have a favorite pillow that I never leave home without.

5. I found and was able to keep my very first dog, Sandy, 6 years ago.



6. I am shy in crowds. I am gregarious, outspoken, witty, flirtatious, and often smart one on one. But get me in a room with more than one person I don't know and I'm looking for a way out without being noticed.

7. I love looking for old religious relics in antique stores. I recently stumbled across a small white marble font that would be mounted at the entryway of a catholic church or rectory. It was beautiful. It was hugely overpriced and I kick myself for not getting a photo. Someday I will collect them!

This was tough and took more time than I thought. I like these tests of self knowledge. Perhaps I will find more and pass on the challenge to you.

Another day, more Grace.

So I was off today and was out front taking pictures of the butterflies when I heard what I thought was a distress call of a rabbit? A hawk of some sort? An owl??? (in the daytime???) I was still in my flannel jammie bottoms and long sleeved t-shirt and Brent's flip-flops--to die for I know. I walked across the neighbor's front yard and across the street and stopped in front of the little cemetery. I for sure thought that whom-ever-it-was would be up in the trees inside the locked gate. Then, of course, there wasn't another call. Walking back to the house, camera in hand, I saw the girls had tippy-toed to the front yard in hopes of a hand out.



Ok, they got one. As they hung around snacking, I sat on the bench and documented the drama.



The feline girls made a tight formation in order to check out what was going on. They are fond of the dry dog food I sprinkled in the grass and I could tell they were wondering if they could take down the large ungulates that were feasting on their treats. I suppose they realized their folly so they faded into the garden only to observe--and make sure if there were any leftovers, they would taken care of.



After a dry food snack, a doe gets a little thirsty. Between the 6 deer that showed up, I had to fill and refill the birdbath because they all drank deeply. This drought has been hard on them but somehow they manage.







With just a little help from the herd cat.

Grace lives.

You know, all it takes is to walk to the front door and see the front garden teaming with butterflies--handful after handful--to relieve one of the day's (week's, month's) burdens. Because we all know there are days that life's burdens are overwhelming .



Among and around the differing tones of greens, lavenders, and grey, bright bursts of gold, yellow, and black swirl, flutter, and still in the blink of an eye. The sheer energy from the little flashes of life melted my foul mood. I was able to stand a little straighter and smile.



What perfection!

Portland loves....

(Bunny spray painted at ground level at the corner of a building on Aberta Street in Portland).

My journey is nearly complete. I am exhausted and yet I can internally reflect on the last 4 days in the middle of the chaos that is the Portland airport. My flight leaves in less than an hour and yet my day was full before noon.

This day began earlier than the last few. A 4am text from Brent asking if I knew where Lillie's backpack was... yes. This really happened. This was after my alarm went off (I have no idea why) and I had talked myself into going back to sleep and not going to the coast. The Oregon coast, the coast that I had told just about everyone I talked with over the last 4 days that I was going to visit. Yes, I had chickened out. Then the text.

So I got up. 4:30am. Showered, packed every single thing I had collected (and it all actually fit!!), checked out and off I went in total early morning darkness on my journey-to the Starbucks down the street from the hotel. No adventure should be attempted without a serious dose of manna--Triple Venti No Foam Latte.

I was set. The caffeine boost was enough to send my fears of the unknown into the dark corners of the itty bitty rental car.



It was a little tricky to navigate a city I do not know, in the dark and rain, and on the phone with Misty. Something had to go so I could drink my latte!!! Just kidding--I made it with NO turn arounds!! (unlike my arrival!)

Somehow, the directions held true and by full daybreak I arrived at Seaside, Oregon. Led by my gut, I found the exact cul de sac I had been told about. I parked, grabbed my camera and off I went.



It was so cold and windy and rainy that had I not been on a serious mission to touch the western coastal waters, I might have ducked into the bakery I parked in front of to wait it all out (like I had even seen the sun since I got here!!)

Looking for shells to take back to my family, I came across this partial sand dollar. And another. And another. The only shells on the beach at this time were partial sand dollars... amazing!!



You know something's up when the residents are all fluffed up and look miserable.



Walking along snapping shots of whatever I came across, I found this perfect heart, minus the wings. The chest plate of a crab--who would have known crabs carried such beauty so close?



I was in the land of crows! Walking into my hotel, one serenaded me from the roof. Driving along the roadways, I saw their dark shapes on the light posts, in the fields, on the sidewalks... I was in heaven!!! I shared my coffee cake with a crew--a murder of crows. First one, then two, the six... there was a trio on the beach as the area warmed a little. This one let me get pretty close before he fled.



Too quickly my time at the beach was over. On the way to Seaside, I noticed a natural area and found it on the way back to Portland. Driving down the single lane paved road, I was transported into the land of long ago. The area was quiet, the only sounds were the running water--in the creek and through the branches of the trees.





I would never tire of this view.



I will return. I have to!