Little Orphan Eggy

Nestled in the grass on a warm spring morning lay a little blue robin's egg. No trees nearby, no nests for it to have been tossed from, poor little egg looked as if it had just popped out if its mama's body mid-flight and landed on the soft, dewy pasture grass.

I recall similar discoveries last year at this time, when I found at least a half dozen orphaned blue eggs in the space of about three weeks. Some were lying on the grass in the middle of nowhere, some were beneath bare, nest-less trees as if mama had stopped to rest and delivered her load.

At the time, I researched the topic on the internet. I learned that sometimes mama will come back for a lost or fallen egg. But no mama ever did.

Perhaps the crows and stellar jays stole the eggs from the nests and the smooth, oval jewels slipped from their beaks as they winged across the sky persued by angry robins. Perhaps mama robin overproduced or sensed something wrong with this one, abandoning it to become some other critter's lunch. Whatever the cause of its lonely existence, I shall leave it there for Mother Nature to do as she intended - biodiversity at its finest as nature nourishes nature.

Princess Belle - for Deb

Deb Strong of Cat and Mouse Designs, the artist who created the wonderful portrait of my Caleb, fostered Belle before I applied to adopt her. In an email the other day, she mentioned that there haven't been many photos of Belle on my blog recently. Of course, Princess Belle immediately demanded I correct that oversight.

So here, Deb, for you, is a day in the life of Princess Belle:

Hi Auntie Deb! It's me, Belle! Come along on my day!

First I have to have my breakfast:

My mama says I'm a little piggy. Now, I ask you, do I look like this?????:



After breakfast, it's time for a little stroll:




Of course, I have to take my entourage with me:

That Oliver! Sometimes I have to give him a little shove with the shoulder. Nice boy, but he doesn't know his place. Princesses walk by themselves - the guards in front, the peons behind!:



But I'm a gracious Princess. So sometimes I let the commoners play in the Royal Pasture, in my presence. They can be quite entertaining. This is Sadie doing her Houdini impression:



I have a little sitdown at the top of the hill:

And a little meditation, watching the grass grow or a leaf fall:



And finally, back to the Royal Crate for a nice little snooze.:

G'night!

Pearl

I think I have seldom met a dog who so well suited her name. Pearl is just that - a pearl, with her almost translucent colour, the soft texture of her silky hair, her classic looks, her class and grace without being ostentatious. She is one gem of a dog.

Pearl is one of the Wednesday walking group. A Borzoi, she is a sighthound - gracefully athletic, yet calm and quiet and gentle. Originally bred in Russia, the name borzoi comes from borzaya which means "quick dog".

Pearl is perhaps one of the most photogenic dogs I have met , second only to Oliver. It's almost impossible to take a bad photo of her.

What I can't figure out is how a dog with such fine white fur stays soooo clean after a day on the estuary!

The Wednesday Walk

On Wednesday afternoons in my soon-to-be new hometown, a group of dog-loving people gather at the Lito bistro, order their lattes or granola bars or reserve their take-home meals, and head off to that week's chosen hiking spot.

I first met some of this group, and joined them on a hike, two years ago when I was over there to adopt my precious Caleb. Last Wednesday, when I was in Crofton to organize some renos, I was once again invited on the hike. The week's destination was the same place I had hiked with Caleb and Charley - a beautiful estuary of rivers and creeks and meadows and mountain views, ending at the point where the rivers flow into the bay. The place is referred to as Swallowfield, a very appropriate name as swallows dive and soar among the craggy trees and rocks in the fields.

There were six humans and sixteen dogs this week - and I was not the only one who left some dogs at home! I took Charley and Sadie, but left the two shelties at the house with Bjorn, who is building my new fence and painting the place for me.

We parked the vehicles and leashed up the dogs. Once safely away from private residences, we let the dogs off leash. Thank heavens for well socialized dogs - not a single altercation the whole afternoon! The weather was near perfect - not too hot, not too cold, a bit of sun, a bit of breeze.




The flowers and blossoms are slowly awakening from their winter's rest:

Turkey vulture!

Sapsucker holes, all in a row

After a while, we reached the river where Caleb had once enjoyed swimming, retrieving his stick over and over again.

Hugo, Caleb, and Drew, May 2007.

Photo courtesy of Else G.

But before I reached the water, I heard someone shout. I couldn't catch what was being said, but soon found out - Sadie had fallen in! Not just fallen in, but fallen in where the bank is undermined and dogs can't get themselves out. And she was right under the water!

Sadie: I nearly DWOWNED!!!!!

Charley: You did NOT, you big wuss! It's the exact same spot I fell in two years ago, and it wasn't THAT bad, 'cept for the WET part.

Sadie: Well, you shuda warned me! All the uver dogs knew ya don't go in the water there! Seems like it must be an initiation rite - don't tell the new guy, let 'em dwown!!!!

Charley: You didn't dwown. That nice man, Bob, reached down and hauled you out.

Sadie: Well, I was VEWY, VEWY wet!!

Soggy Sadie

Cocky Charley

Yes, Sadie fell in at the exact same spot Charley had fallen in two years ago. They came to the end of the path, saw water, reached over for a drink, and - kersplash! But, as Sadie says, the other dogs don't try to drink there - they know you have to drink further to the left. I agree with Sadie - it's an initiation rite. Now she is officially one of the Wednesday Walking Gang.

After some play time at the river, we headed off across the meadows to the mouth, where smaller channels, low banks, gravel beaches, and driftwood logs provided lots of recreation for the dogs, whether they liked to swim or explore, or climb, or just sit in the shade or the sun.













Sadie, Charley and I made many new friends, both human and canine. And we took lots of pictures of our canine friends, who we'll introduce in another entry. Stay tuned!

The Tarben Series

This is Tarben. He is one of the many new friends that Charley and Sadie met on our Wednesday Walk with a group of dog-loving people in our soon-to-be new hometown. Tarben and his human also live just across the street from our new house so I plan to thoroughly ingratiate myself in order to get lots of Tarben time. I am madly in love with his big, happy, grinning face. Isn’t he scrumptious?

Tarben is a ball fiend. And he is bulldog-persistent.

We were standing beside a huge log – and I mean huge; it was almost as high as I am, and wide enough around for two dogs to easily walk side by side along its length. As logs are wont to do, it had little areas where it didn't settle quite flat on the ground.

Tarben was lying beside the log, mouthing his ball, when – oops – it rolled into one of those little pockets under the Big Log.

Hey, I lost my ball! Somebody? Anybody? Can you get it for me?

No one moved to retrieve it so he decided to go after it himself. But – and we’ve all had this experience – it was just out of paw’s reach, so each attempt to scrabble it closer ended up driving it deeper. (What you can't see in these next shots is his right paw outstretched as far it can possibly reach, nails just grazing the ball which spins under his attempts to fish it back out.)

Aarrghhhhh - I can feel it!

He was determined.

Can't...quite...reach...it

Gotta...get...that....BALL!

Maybe if I turn this way?

Or hold my tongue just so?

And, proving once again that persistence pays and patience is a virtue:

Ah, success!

Aren't I a clever boy!!????


Stayed tuned for more adventures from the Wednesday Walk

This one is for Bill

I came across this wonderful driftwood stump while on the Wednesday Walk. The part sticking up is affixed - a former root. For some strange reason, it immediately reminded me of an illustration I had once seen of Mr. Toad from Wind in the Willows, where he is standing on a hill, leaning on his cane, looking across the river.



Here's a close up:




(Black Jack's Carol will get the title to this entry! So, Carol, what does Bill see in this pic?)