We're hoping that the blistering hot weather is behind us now for this year. Carmen likes to go walking with us when the weather is cool enough. Yesterday, our 30th anniversary, was just such a morning. After our coffee and exchange of hugs and memories, we determined that we would go to Edwin Warner dog park. Carmen still had to get ready, and Grace was getting anxious, so we decided that I would walk her to the entrance of our subdivision, and Carmen would drive down and meet us there.
We suited up and set out. I half expected to have to fight with Grace about turning left toward the entrance because she usually wants to go right toward wilder environs. My half-expectation was half right. She didn't want to go left. She didn't want to go right. She didn't want to go forward. She turned around and sat down, watching the door. For about five minutes she sat there. Then, in a totally unprecedented move, she went to the door and asked to go in. We entered, and Grace led me through the house until she found Carmen. She barked her "snap it up" bark, then led me back outside where she sat down and waited, perfectly calm, until Carmen came out to join us.
There are those who argue that dogs can't reason. They should try walking with Grace.
All Clean!
Home From The Groomer
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
Monday, August 8, 2016
Ring Of Bright Water
There is a creek that flows through Bellevue with access points nearly everywhere we walk. We have gone for a drink and/or a swim near Old Hickory Boulevard, and at a dozen more places between there and Sawyer Brown Road, nearly three miles west as the creek winds. We have seen common water snakes, snapping turtles, ducks, great blue herons and deer along what the map calls Flat Creek. This afternoon we hit the jackpot.
Grace led me down to Flat Creek at the access point nearest our condo. On these hot summer days, she likes to go for a swim, or at least a deep wade, at the beginning of the 90+ degree afternoon walk. She went right in, wading as deep as the shallow water would let her. I always look for snakes and snappers before I let her go in, and it was all clear. She was wading upstream, where the water gets deeper, so I looked ahead for anything dangerous. There was a major disturbance of the surface about thirty feet ahead, like I had never seen in this creek. A muskrat? A beaver? I pulled Grace onto dry land, and we walked over to the disturbed place. I didn't expect to see whatever it was. I figured it had gone into its hidey hole under the bank or somewhere out of sight. I certainly didn't expect to see one of my all-time favorite mammals, a river otter, cavorting in the water. There it was, chasing the little fish and otherwise frolicking underwater! We watched, mesmerized. The otter came up for air, saw us, and hissed at us, baring its sharp pointed teeth, then went back down, making its way further upstream and away from us. We watched it out of sight around the bend.
Great. Now I'll be disappointed every time we go to an otter-free creek access.
Grace led me down to Flat Creek at the access point nearest our condo. On these hot summer days, she likes to go for a swim, or at least a deep wade, at the beginning of the 90+ degree afternoon walk. She went right in, wading as deep as the shallow water would let her. I always look for snakes and snappers before I let her go in, and it was all clear. She was wading upstream, where the water gets deeper, so I looked ahead for anything dangerous. There was a major disturbance of the surface about thirty feet ahead, like I had never seen in this creek. A muskrat? A beaver? I pulled Grace onto dry land, and we walked over to the disturbed place. I didn't expect to see whatever it was. I figured it had gone into its hidey hole under the bank or somewhere out of sight. I certainly didn't expect to see one of my all-time favorite mammals, a river otter, cavorting in the water. There it was, chasing the little fish and otherwise frolicking underwater! We watched, mesmerized. The otter came up for air, saw us, and hissed at us, baring its sharp pointed teeth, then went back down, making its way further upstream and away from us. We watched it out of sight around the bend.
Great. Now I'll be disappointed every time we go to an otter-free creek access.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Deer Deer
It's been a long time since I've been moved to write a WWG post. This morning's walk was truly moving.
Our little corner of Nashville, Bellevue, is a hodgepodge of retail stores, restaurants, churches, single family homes, condominium communities and apartment complexes, with wild places (rapidly shrinking) in between. The rabbit population is dense, so much so that Grace has now caught twelve in her first year here. This also means that coyotes prowl the neighborhoods at night. I have seen one coyote, and Grace has detected them on several occasions. When she does, she tells the whole world about it.
This morning we were walking one of our habitual routes, crossing the drainage ditch between Old Harding Pike and Wynbrook condominium community, when we saw what we initially thought were two greyhounds bounding through the landscaping. We stopped to watch, and were confronted with two deer headed for the woods. They stopped about thirty feet from us and returned our stares. Grace lunged to the end of her four foot leash, and one deer bounded away. The other stayed, continuing to stare. She took a couple of steps closer. We also stepped closer. She took another step in our direction, still staring. Grace lunged again, and the deer took off , following her friend into the woods. We were about twenty feet apart before she ran off. It was our closest encounter ever with a deer.
I did not want a dog. I knew that I would be the one doing the feeding and the walking. I was right, of course, but the walking has changed my life in many ways, many of them welcome. Damn it!
Our little corner of Nashville, Bellevue, is a hodgepodge of retail stores, restaurants, churches, single family homes, condominium communities and apartment complexes, with wild places (rapidly shrinking) in between. The rabbit population is dense, so much so that Grace has now caught twelve in her first year here. This also means that coyotes prowl the neighborhoods at night. I have seen one coyote, and Grace has detected them on several occasions. When she does, she tells the whole world about it.
This morning we were walking one of our habitual routes, crossing the drainage ditch between Old Harding Pike and Wynbrook condominium community, when we saw what we initially thought were two greyhounds bounding through the landscaping. We stopped to watch, and were confronted with two deer headed for the woods. They stopped about thirty feet from us and returned our stares. Grace lunged to the end of her four foot leash, and one deer bounded away. The other stayed, continuing to stare. She took a couple of steps closer. We also stepped closer. She took another step in our direction, still staring. Grace lunged again, and the deer took off , following her friend into the woods. We were about twenty feet apart before she ran off. It was our closest encounter ever with a deer.
I did not want a dog. I knew that I would be the one doing the feeding and the walking. I was right, of course, but the walking has changed my life in many ways, many of them welcome. Damn it!
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Fudd's Law: A Moral Dilemma
Any fan of Warner Brothers cartoons knows that Fudd's First Law is "Kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit, kill da wabbit..." My beloved bassador is a strict follower of this doctrine. She caught three wabbits in Pennsylvania (two dead, one wounded) and up until this morning she had the same score in Tennessee. If you count near misses, the count goes much higher. She has a two hundred pound anchor at the other end of her leash, so most of her encounters are misses, by a little or a lot.
This morning, about 45 minutes into our 1 1/2 hour walk, we encountered a rabbit lying in an unnatural position on Bellevue Road, up against the curb. Its left hind leg was bloody and obviously broken. Almost certainly, it had been hit by a car. It cowered and shivered and had to be in a lot of pain. At first, I restrained my wabbit killer while I weighed the options. As a former volunteer for Tamarack Wildlife Rehabilitation and Education Center, my first thought was to try to capture it and figure out where I could take it and how I could get it there. Or I could take it to a vet and see what they can do. Or I could put it out of its misery. "How would I go about that?" I asked myself, as Grace strained and whined at the other end of the leash. Hmmm. We ran toward the bunny, and it marshaled its strength enough to take off running. But even with a two hundred pound anchor, Grace was able to catch it, shake it, kill it.
She carried it proudly for a few hundred yards, long enough for three other dogs to see that she had a fresh kill in her mouth, then she laid it down by a tree and we continued on our merry way. Was it my imagination, or did Grace have an extra spring in her step the rest of the way home?
This morning, about 45 minutes into our 1 1/2 hour walk, we encountered a rabbit lying in an unnatural position on Bellevue Road, up against the curb. Its left hind leg was bloody and obviously broken. Almost certainly, it had been hit by a car. It cowered and shivered and had to be in a lot of pain. At first, I restrained my wabbit killer while I weighed the options. As a former volunteer for Tamarack Wildlife Rehabilitation and Education Center, my first thought was to try to capture it and figure out where I could take it and how I could get it there. Or I could take it to a vet and see what they can do. Or I could put it out of its misery. "How would I go about that?" I asked myself, as Grace strained and whined at the other end of the leash. Hmmm. We ran toward the bunny, and it marshaled its strength enough to take off running. But even with a two hundred pound anchor, Grace was able to catch it, shake it, kill it.
She carried it proudly for a few hundred yards, long enough for three other dogs to see that she had a fresh kill in her mouth, then she laid it down by a tree and we continued on our merry way. Was it my imagination, or did Grace have an extra spring in her step the rest of the way home?
Saturday, February 6, 2016
Here We Come A-Molin'
This was a couple of days ago. I've been busy. Sue me.
Grace and I were out for our morning walk. So far so good. Nine times out of ten the morning walk goes east along Old Harding Pike, taking in the condo communities along the right side. Once at the other end, at Hicks Road, we either cross over to where the power lines cut through the woods to Iroquois Apartments, or to the "Doggie Doos" pet grooming place. This particular morning she took us to the latter. There is a field on the right side and a six foot high ridge on the left. We went left. As we approached the slope, she did her foxy jump and dove nose first into the dirt and ivy. With her usual manic fervor, she clawed, bit and dug her way down into the obviously molehill-riddled ground, poking that busy nose into every chasm she dug and scratching an area a yard square in search of the elusive moles. This is routine behavior, not worthy of a blog post. It's what happened next that made me laugh. She was eyebrows deep into a hole on the right side of the excavation, when on the left side several moles suddenly broke cover and ran, searching for safer ground. From my perspective it looked like a cartoon or a Marx Brothers routine. A mole would pop out of this hole, run six or seven inches, then dive down another hole. Two or three at a time would do this, ongoing for several minutes, while Grace, completely oblivious, continued to dig and scratch and poke that nose into the holes. I don't know if it was one of the ones I'd seen that unluckily ran into a hole that led to Grace's mouth, or a different one, but on this occasion she did that signature slow, careful backing out of the hole with a struggling mole in her mouth. She played cat and mouse (dog and mole just doesn't sound right) until the mole was unable to run any more, and on we went with our walk.
Grace and I were out for our morning walk. So far so good. Nine times out of ten the morning walk goes east along Old Harding Pike, taking in the condo communities along the right side. Once at the other end, at Hicks Road, we either cross over to where the power lines cut through the woods to Iroquois Apartments, or to the "Doggie Doos" pet grooming place. This particular morning she took us to the latter. There is a field on the right side and a six foot high ridge on the left. We went left. As we approached the slope, she did her foxy jump and dove nose first into the dirt and ivy. With her usual manic fervor, she clawed, bit and dug her way down into the obviously molehill-riddled ground, poking that busy nose into every chasm she dug and scratching an area a yard square in search of the elusive moles. This is routine behavior, not worthy of a blog post. It's what happened next that made me laugh. She was eyebrows deep into a hole on the right side of the excavation, when on the left side several moles suddenly broke cover and ran, searching for safer ground. From my perspective it looked like a cartoon or a Marx Brothers routine. A mole would pop out of this hole, run six or seven inches, then dive down another hole. Two or three at a time would do this, ongoing for several minutes, while Grace, completely oblivious, continued to dig and scratch and poke that nose into the holes. I don't know if it was one of the ones I'd seen that unluckily ran into a hole that led to Grace's mouth, or a different one, but on this occasion she did that signature slow, careful backing out of the hole with a struggling mole in her mouth. She played cat and mouse (dog and mole just doesn't sound right) until the mole was unable to run any more, and on we went with our walk.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Mighty Hunter
When we went for walks in Meadville, Pennsylvania, it was all about the pee and poop. Sure, we chased and caught a chipmunk now and then, she killed about thirty moles in two and a half years, and a few birds and baby bunnies bit the dust. But those were incidental to the work of taking care of business. Here at Wyndchase Bellevue, and for some distance around the property, it's all about the hunt. Sometimes I think she's playing a game called "No peeing or pooping until I kill something." Instead of sniffing the ground for good places to make deposits, she's sniffing the bushes for rabbits, poking in the grass for moles, and all the time watching watching watching for rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks. We almost never go out in the local area without giving chase to something, and usually several somethings. She has caught and killed three moles and three rabbits in two months, and come within inches of many more, including many chipmunks.
This week has been chipmunk week. Monday morning at Edwin Warner Park, I swear they were taunting her. They ran across the trail right in front of us, just out of reach. They sat at the edge of the path until we got close, then darted into the cracks and crevices of the stone walls along the edge. They ran in the gully beside the road, Grace hot on their tiny heels. Back home at Wyndchase, the tradition continues. The little bastids are doing the same tricks, with the addition of storm drains and down spouts in which to escape. I have done an emergency repair of a downspout torn from the wall by a frustrated bassador. In addition, there is a ten foot by forty foot pit behind the complex, with retaining.walls of railroad ties, deep enough to dissuade her from jumping in, where chipmunks and squirrels are visible and in tantalizing motion. I keep a tight leash on our girl when she is at the edge gazing down at the action in the pit. And back home, they even come strolling across the porch on the other side of the sliding glass door. Evil little critters, chipmunks .
I don't know if it's a Tennessee thing, a Nashville thing or a Bellevue thing, but around here, the hedges are mostly short, squat holly bushes. They are, evidently, excellent evergreen bushes. They are, certainly, excellent rabbit habitat. The area around the trunks is wide open, and the canopy hangs down close to the ground. During most of our walking time she is poking that busy busy nose into the bushes, sniffing and looking for rabbits. As often as not, a bunny comes shooting out the other side, dashing for cover elsewhere. Grace goes running around the end of the hedge, hoping to find it on the other side. No luck? She dashes back around to the original point. No luck? Back around again, back and forth until either she gives up, or her dad drags her away. Then on we go to a different hedge.
This gives her a lot of exercise per mile, and I appreciate that.
And she does grudgingly accomplish the business detailed in the opening paragraph. I appreciate that as well.
This week has been chipmunk week. Monday morning at Edwin Warner Park, I swear they were taunting her. They ran across the trail right in front of us, just out of reach. They sat at the edge of the path until we got close, then darted into the cracks and crevices of the stone walls along the edge. They ran in the gully beside the road, Grace hot on their tiny heels. Back home at Wyndchase, the tradition continues. The little bastids are doing the same tricks, with the addition of storm drains and down spouts in which to escape. I have done an emergency repair of a downspout torn from the wall by a frustrated bassador. In addition, there is a ten foot by forty foot pit behind the complex, with retaining.walls of railroad ties, deep enough to dissuade her from jumping in, where chipmunks and squirrels are visible and in tantalizing motion. I keep a tight leash on our girl when she is at the edge gazing down at the action in the pit. And back home, they even come strolling across the porch on the other side of the sliding glass door. Evil little critters, chipmunks .
I don't know if it's a Tennessee thing, a Nashville thing or a Bellevue thing, but around here, the hedges are mostly short, squat holly bushes. They are, evidently, excellent evergreen bushes. They are, certainly, excellent rabbit habitat. The area around the trunks is wide open, and the canopy hangs down close to the ground. During most of our walking time she is poking that busy busy nose into the bushes, sniffing and looking for rabbits. As often as not, a bunny comes shooting out the other side, dashing for cover elsewhere. Grace goes running around the end of the hedge, hoping to find it on the other side. No luck? She dashes back around to the original point. No luck? Back around again, back and forth until either she gives up, or her dad drags her away. Then on we go to a different hedge.
This gives her a lot of exercise per mile, and I appreciate that.
And she does grudgingly accomplish the business detailed in the opening paragraph. I appreciate that as well.
Friday, August 14, 2015
Nashville Dogs
Tomorrow we'll be here four weeks. We are up and running at home, with much of our stuff still packed up and stored in the third bedroom of our apartment here in Bellevue, an area in the southwest reaches of Nashville. We have closed on the sale of our house in Pennsylvania, made strides toward buying a condo in a nearby geezer community, gotten our Tennessee tag for the car, and tried three nearby Mexican restaurants, all very good. And I've even worked a day as an extra on the ABC TV show "Nashville." We love it here.
Through it all, at least two or three times a day, you guessed it, walking with Grace. The apartment complex is very pet friendly. One of the office guys lives one corridor over with a big golden dog named Harvey. He's not playful, but he's friendly. Many other dogs are walked around the grassy areas between buildings and surrounding the whole property. We rarely go out without encountering at least one or two dogs. Rabbits are also plentiful. Grace has caught two already. Squirrels, chipmunks and moles round out the mammals, and cicadas and lizards add to the fun. And that's just around here.
A five minute drive away is Edwin Warner Park, a 625 acre chunk of land with a maze of paved and unpaved nature trails, a Nature Center, an amphitheater, benches, trash cans and best of all, a huge fenced in dog park, where there are always dogs to play with, and a dog-height water fountain. Pretty much every day we get Grace dressed in her collar and harness and take her for an hour walk on the trails or romp in the dog park. We do it early in the morning before the day gets too hot, and more importantly, before the dreaded Nashville rush hour traffic builds. Then we come home to air conditioning and Grace's king size Sleep Number bed. She somehow manages to take up the whole thing, and sleeps until the afternoon walk.
She doesn't have a best friend here yet. But then, neither do I.
Through it all, at least two or three times a day, you guessed it, walking with Grace. The apartment complex is very pet friendly. One of the office guys lives one corridor over with a big golden dog named Harvey. He's not playful, but he's friendly. Many other dogs are walked around the grassy areas between buildings and surrounding the whole property. We rarely go out without encountering at least one or two dogs. Rabbits are also plentiful. Grace has caught two already. Squirrels, chipmunks and moles round out the mammals, and cicadas and lizards add to the fun. And that's just around here.
A five minute drive away is Edwin Warner Park, a 625 acre chunk of land with a maze of paved and unpaved nature trails, a Nature Center, an amphitheater, benches, trash cans and best of all, a huge fenced in dog park, where there are always dogs to play with, and a dog-height water fountain. Pretty much every day we get Grace dressed in her collar and harness and take her for an hour walk on the trails or romp in the dog park. We do it early in the morning before the day gets too hot, and more importantly, before the dreaded Nashville rush hour traffic builds. Then we come home to air conditioning and Grace's king size Sleep Number bed. She somehow manages to take up the whole thing, and sleeps until the afternoon walk.
She doesn't have a best friend here yet. But then, neither do I.
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