HOUSE ARREST OR BALL ON CHAIN FOR POLLY
Ah, SPRING, and the spring babies are tight in their dens or safe in their nests... right? Not if Polly is on the loose. Beagles are compulsive obsessive hunters... so are basset hounds, and Polly is a combo of both, so she's more compulsive than either... at least I think.
Yesterday they discovered that the resident rabbit (wild, of course, but has learned to cope) has a nest (I think) under the woodshed. Bear can go from one subject to another, so when HE's intent on something, I know there is a fresh enticing scent. Both went to work in tandem to dig out from under the woodshed even if it meant having the woodshed drop down on top of them... if they would even notice that fly in the ointment. But, the wise bunny had made her get-a-way to the area under the coop... much easier to dig at, and no babies in case they dig their way through.
They got so far in under the coop I was afraid they'd get stuck, so I withdrew one dog at a time and put them back on leashes... the leashes I have handy for walks ... Especially this time of year.
Why is it I feel compelled to let them do the instinctive thing so much, that when I'm defending the wild spring mothers in den, grass and hidden under brush and woodsheds, I want them to have their fun, but safely so that no baby animals are killed or injured. This morning we took our walk up to Cranberry Lake. When we got to the dirt road at the end of the path, I could hear the soft warnings of a robin for her baby to stay still and not make a sound. I turned to the opposite side of the road from where the mother robin was posted, and saw the obedient chick, sitting as still as rock. The dogs weren't aware or interested and though Polly was on a leash, I hadn't had to worry as she was unawares. Years ago I'd reprimanded either dog when we happened across a baby robin-too big for the nest-being led by the mother from the limbs above to hop to a safer place. They are interesting birds, robins. They prefer to stick around homes, at all other times... then go through the dangerous trek to bring their out of nest babies who are yet too young to fly to hop to safer realms.
Anyhow... Today, having safely past the robin chick, Bear was way ahead dashing towards the dam. I'd forgotten, but for the last 4 or 5 days a pair of mallards were at the dam, and not anxious enough to go far when flushed out of the area by Bear. I think they know that it's both a place where they will be bothered like this, but a safer place to nest then in the deep woods behind the lake where in the muddy bogs, thick with fern, though looking like a haven for ducks' nests, the mud shows traces of coyote paw prints... so many prints it creates a path, showing me that they make their rounds regularly. So, though inconvenient at times, the ducks chose the populated areas where the summer residents actually are a shield from their predators. So, Bear had flushed out the pair of mallards. I was kind of glad about that, as Tom was with me, and I wanted him to see them. It's funny how we know what a mallard looks like, yet it's always a thrill to see wild ducks. And Bear doesn't seem all that interested in the ducks... he's more interested in getting a stick a beaver has whittled down for the dam. He brings back that quarry so proudly. It's sticks or digging a hole that is his thing. Forget about tennis balls or even chew toys. I think that's why his teeth are so bad... he never chews anything... or maybe it's that he never chews anything because his teeth are so bad. Whereas he would rather bite me than have his teeth brushed, and the last thing I want to do for a dog is brush their teeth, he's slowly losing his teeth. I think six have been pulled so far by the vet. But, I digress.
This is about Polly... about the only threat to wildlife, as Bear is only a threat to wild sticks or things that live underground. So, the ducks having already been bothered, plus the collection of pine pollen and weeds that were loosened by the wild geese in back of the lake had caused a scum across the shore where I had intended to have Polly wade and cool off, it already 80 degrees in the shade, I decided to take her back down to Cranberry Run, the creek created from the overflow of the lake.
You know those reel out leashes... I have a 16ft. one. I have a fanny pack strapped around my waist which holds a camera and an extra leash for Bear who seldom needs it, as he sticks around. I slide the handle of the reel out leash that's attached to Polly's collar, on to the belt to the fanny pack. It's like the proverbial apron string but better, so I can keep her leashed, give her a little freedom, and still use my trekking poles (they help me to keep my knees from tiring). Well, try that down at the creek where brush and fallen logs abound. I had to hold the leash in my hand there, and carry my poles as best I could when passing the leash from hand to hand around the bushes and logs all down the creek. I could have let her trail it like a ball and chain, but I didn't want it to get wet, and I also remember the time I let her go across the creek on her "ball and chain" and she dashed up the hill ... one of those steep hills where you climb by using your hands like a rock climber, only with shifting debris slipping under my sneakers, and a hot sweaty job even on a cool day. I always fear she'll get away from me and then get caught where I can't see her, and she NEVER barks unless at a stranger or if she gets wind of a wild critter. Barring that, she could be caught for hours ... perhaps days, and never bark for me to find her and let her loose. (Bear... he barks for any and every reason. His other favorite thing to do besides digging; carrying sticks; and jumping at the door.)
Well, we got back safe and sound. Polly still was bent on digging beneath the woodshed, but there are enough rocks around the shed so it's impossible for them to do this... a smart thing for this rabbit survivor to know. So, she had her exercise... and so did her jail-keeper... me.
Ah, SPRING, and the spring babies are tight in their dens or safe in their nests... right? Not if Polly is on the loose. Beagles are compulsive obsessive hunters... so are basset hounds, and Polly is a combo of both, so she's more compulsive than either... at least I think.
Yesterday they discovered that the resident rabbit (wild, of course, but has learned to cope) has a nest (I think) under the woodshed. Bear can go from one subject to another, so when HE's intent on something, I know there is a fresh enticing scent. Both went to work in tandem to dig out from under the woodshed even if it meant having the woodshed drop down on top of them... if they would even notice that fly in the ointment. But, the wise bunny had made her get-a-way to the area under the coop... much easier to dig at, and no babies in case they dig their way through.
They got so far in under the coop I was afraid they'd get stuck, so I withdrew one dog at a time and put them back on leashes... the leashes I have handy for walks ... Especially this time of year.
Why is it I feel compelled to let them do the instinctive thing so much, that when I'm defending the wild spring mothers in den, grass and hidden under brush and woodsheds, I want them to have their fun, but safely so that no baby animals are killed or injured. This morning we took our walk up to Cranberry Lake. When we got to the dirt road at the end of the path, I could hear the soft warnings of a robin for her baby to stay still and not make a sound. I turned to the opposite side of the road from where the mother robin was posted, and saw the obedient chick, sitting as still as rock. The dogs weren't aware or interested and though Polly was on a leash, I hadn't had to worry as she was unawares. Years ago I'd reprimanded either dog when we happened across a baby robin-too big for the nest-being led by the mother from the limbs above to hop to a safer place. They are interesting birds, robins. They prefer to stick around homes, at all other times... then go through the dangerous trek to bring their out of nest babies who are yet too young to fly to hop to safer realms.
Anyhow... Today, having safely past the robin chick, Bear was way ahead dashing towards the dam. I'd forgotten, but for the last 4 or 5 days a pair of mallards were at the dam, and not anxious enough to go far when flushed out of the area by Bear. I think they know that it's both a place where they will be bothered like this, but a safer place to nest then in the deep woods behind the lake where in the muddy bogs, thick with fern, though looking like a haven for ducks' nests, the mud shows traces of coyote paw prints... so many prints it creates a path, showing me that they make their rounds regularly. So, though inconvenient at times, the ducks chose the populated areas where the summer residents actually are a shield from their predators. So, Bear had flushed out the pair of mallards. I was kind of glad about that, as Tom was with me, and I wanted him to see them. It's funny how we know what a mallard looks like, yet it's always a thrill to see wild ducks. And Bear doesn't seem all that interested in the ducks... he's more interested in getting a stick a beaver has whittled down for the dam. He brings back that quarry so proudly. It's sticks or digging a hole that is his thing. Forget about tennis balls or even chew toys. I think that's why his teeth are so bad... he never chews anything... or maybe it's that he never chews anything because his teeth are so bad. Whereas he would rather bite me than have his teeth brushed, and the last thing I want to do for a dog is brush their teeth, he's slowly losing his teeth. I think six have been pulled so far by the vet. But, I digress.
This is about Polly... about the only threat to wildlife, as Bear is only a threat to wild sticks or things that live underground. So, the ducks having already been bothered, plus the collection of pine pollen and weeds that were loosened by the wild geese in back of the lake had caused a scum across the shore where I had intended to have Polly wade and cool off, it already 80 degrees in the shade, I decided to take her back down to Cranberry Run, the creek created from the overflow of the lake.
You know those reel out leashes... I have a 16ft. one. I have a fanny pack strapped around my waist which holds a camera and an extra leash for Bear who seldom needs it, as he sticks around. I slide the handle of the reel out leash that's attached to Polly's collar, on to the belt to the fanny pack. It's like the proverbial apron string but better, so I can keep her leashed, give her a little freedom, and still use my trekking poles (they help me to keep my knees from tiring). Well, try that down at the creek where brush and fallen logs abound. I had to hold the leash in my hand there, and carry my poles as best I could when passing the leash from hand to hand around the bushes and logs all down the creek. I could have let her trail it like a ball and chain, but I didn't want it to get wet, and I also remember the time I let her go across the creek on her "ball and chain" and she dashed up the hill ... one of those steep hills where you climb by using your hands like a rock climber, only with shifting debris slipping under my sneakers, and a hot sweaty job even on a cool day. I always fear she'll get away from me and then get caught where I can't see her, and she NEVER barks unless at a stranger or if she gets wind of a wild critter. Barring that, she could be caught for hours ... perhaps days, and never bark for me to find her and let her loose. (Bear... he barks for any and every reason. His other favorite thing to do besides digging; carrying sticks; and jumping at the door.)
Well, we got back safe and sound. Polly still was bent on digging beneath the woodshed, but there are enough rocks around the shed so it's impossible for them to do this... a smart thing for this rabbit survivor to know. So, she had her exercise... and so did her jail-keeper... me.
posted by Cranberry Jo @ 6/08/2011 10:22:00 AM
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