The Wednesday Walk

Yesterday, Charley and Sadie and I joined the Crofton gang for the usual Wednesday walk. Once again, we went to Swallowfield. Spring flowers are really starting to put on a show now, new grasses are shooting up quickly across the delta, and apple and hawthorne trees are in full bloom.

Unfortunately, the batteries for my camera died after my first shot and for once I was without spares. Fortunately, my new friend and neighbour, Mary, took lots of photos which she has kindly given me permission to use on the blog (Thanks, Mary!).

First, the flowers.

Narcissus - this was the only photo I took before my batteries died.

The amazingly beautiful blue wild onion

Broom was in bloom everywhere, and we all particularly liked this red-splashed variety.

And then the dogs:

Tarben, Mary's dog, always makes me laugh - and for a dog that isn't crazy about water, he was very determined to get a stick from the river:

Glug glug

Almost got it!

Success!

The three wolfhounds also make me smile. They are very, very big and graze on the grass like horses. I can't tell them apart, though Bonnie and Bob, their humans, have no difficulty knowing who's who:

Grazers

Checking things out

Here's a good size comparison - Charley is nearly 60 pounds, and Sadie (sitting down) is about 70 pounds, but they look very small compared to the wolfhounds!

Some of the dogs love to play in the water,

Archie and Hugo make a big splash

but Charley was more cautious:

Hmmmm....it's wet

I can't seem to walk on water

And although Sadie paddled about, she spent more time mooching treats, barking, and lazing around:

All of the dogs had lots of fun:

Group circle

Trekking home

On the last stretch

Sadie and Charley were tired, and made no objection later that day when I took Oliver and Belle for sunset walks and left the big dogs at home.

Home....funny how quickly Crofton has become "home". Today we returned to the mainland, for a final three weeks of packing and sorting and organizing, and I'm chomping at the bit to get "home" to Crofton. The dogs were happy to see the pasture, and Allie was glad to see me (a friend from up north vacationed in the house, looking after her while we were in Crofton - thanks, Vadie), but for the first time I saw my place here without feeling the usual sense of relief at being "home". Home is now on Vancouver Island, and and I'm counting the days to the Big Move.

(Thanks again to Mary C. for providing the photos for today's blog)

In my own backyard

The hike to Crofton Lake

I have been walking the big dogs around our new town, getting to know its paths and beaches, streets and stairways. It is such a small town, that I thought I had pretty much seen all within walking distance of the house. However, I'm still not familiar with the places within a short drive, so when Else phoned to suggest a hike to Crofton Lake I jumped at the opportunity to check out yet another dog-friendly area.

To my surprise, the trail begins just at the end of my road - about five blocks away. An obscure trail off the end of the dead-end and through the bush opens onto a wider old roadway.

Dogs on the trail

Charley on the trail

A very gentle 20 minute climb, and we were there - a beautiful lake accessible only on foot, set amidst trees and a backdrop of mountains.

Crofton Lake

Crofton Lake

Ripples on the water

Lilies just starting to bloom

The dogs ran and ran and ran. Else's dogs, Tess and Archie, didn't hesitate to jump in the water; Charley and Sadie chose to stay on dry land though Sadie took great delight in slopping her way through the biggest and the best of the mud puddles.

Tess and Archie

At the end of the day, we had happy, happy dogs and I had discovered another great place right in my own back yard.

Sadie

Archie

Nekid 'Pacas!

Yesterday, I went over to Martin's new home to assist with the shearing of the herd. The team had assembled (professional shearers and friends - including the sister of one of the main volunteers at Hearts on Noses, the piggy sanctuary!), and everything was organized. My job was to write the animal's name on a large garbage bag, and N (for neck) and O (for other) on two smaller bags, and then clip them onto a frame. Once the animal was shorn and the fibre deposited into the appropriate bag, I put the two small bags into the big one (which contains the fibre from the "blanket" or main body of the alpaca), haul it to the studio, and set up the next one. It was a quick, efficient process.

While the shearing was going on, I was also able to learn a wee bit about fibre - I could feel and see different textures, different qualities of alpaca fibre. It was an interesting process, and although I'm not a knitter I can see how people could really get hooked on the spinning and weaving or knitting of alpaca fibre.

While the animals were confined for the shearing, nails were trimmed, teeth were checked and fighting teeth trimmed if necessary, overall condition observed such as weight and any skin problems.

But the process was not what held my interest the most - it was, of course, the alpacas! They were such curious little guys (and some not so little) - hanging over the fence to see what we were doing to their herdmate, coming back to see if their best buddy had received his haircut yet, looking with surprise at the other shorn members of the herd ("Who are you???? You're NEKID!!!!") and sniffing each other to figure out who was who.

A curious boy awaits his haircut

Martin had been shorn once at my place, but overall it is a new experience to him. It was a warm, sunny day and his coat was overdue for sheering; once shorn, he investigated every inch of his own body and revelled in the feel of the air on his skin. Rolling in the dirt, wiggling his torso, checking out his legs and tail, it was like watching a two year old child who has stripped off her clothes on a hot summer's day and is happily splashing in the backyard pool.

After each shearing, the alpaca was released into a cross-fenced area where there was lots of room for grazing but where they could mingle with the others as they became reacquainted (or, in Martin's case, acquainted)as they don't recognize each other sans hair. Martin tolerated inspection well, allowing others to sniff him, but not initiating sniffing himself. He stood in the middle of the field for a long time, just observing. Then he mingled a bit, rolled in the dirt several times, mingled some more, observed some more, nibbled the grass, checked out the two llamas across the fence, and checked out his body some more.

Hanging with a friend...

or two.....

or more.

When the last of the herd was finished, they were all released to the rolling acres of the larger area. Martin hung back, watching them leave.

Hey, where ya'll goin'?

When I left after a scrumptious dinner of the Best Ever Seafood Lasagna (oh my doG I need that recipe!), he had moved to an intermediate area where he was hanging out beside another fenced area containing some sheep and goats and a llama. He kept checking them out, going nose-to-nose with the sheep - I think he thought they were funny-looking potbellied pigs!

And every now and then he would climb to the highest spot of land and look over the beckoning pastures, thinking, thinking, thinking, about wandering through that final open gate to join the rest of the herd grazing on the green grass.









He appears to have settled in well, I feel very confident that I have made a right choice - Judy's compassion for the animals, her gentle manner with them, her warm personality, the temperaments of the animals in her care, all reassure me that Martin will have a great life.

Great weather, great people, great food......and great, great animals. What more could a person want? I suspect I will be a frequent visitor there.

Can you pick out Martin in the herd?

(Click on photo for better view; use back arrow to return to blog)

Pu p p i e s !!!!

Today, my friend Else asked me to photograph two litters of pups for the SPCA. Her friend Karen is fostering them, and they are now nine weeks old. I cannot imagine looking after THIRTEEN nine-week-old pups! Hopefully the pics will help them find their forever homes before Karen loses her mind!

There is a little blond one who looks like my Emma when she was a pup. There are several brindles, who look like my Caleb might have looked as a pup. There were black and tan ones and black and white ones, and every single puppy was cute, active, and simply adorable!

Here's some of my favourite pics from the day:
























And in case you are wondering, I still only have four dogs, all seniors. I've given into enough temptation this week.

When you tempt the gods, expect to get Zapped!

(Totally NOT about critters.....)

On Wednesday when I was looking for a couch, I saw a tile bistro table I absolutely loved. Correction: LOVED. UPPER CASE LETTER LOVED. It’s not often that I LOVE anything except animals or nature or a very few special people in my life. Certainly not material artifacts. But I LOVED this table. It warmed the cockles of my teeny tiny miserly trying-to-be-frugal heart.

However, I didn’t need a bisto table. It was unspeakably expensive for such a little item. And doG knows I have enough expenses right now, what with renos and moving costs and a few badly-needed pieces of furniture and appliances. Besides, yesterday I noticed antifreeze dripping from my car, took it in to the only local mechanic in my new community, and spent $500 getting the waterpump replaced. Ouch.

That settled it. No bistro table.

Today I went back to buy the clearance-sale couch on which I had finally decided. The manager was there. And I was able to get the couch for an additional $200 off. Bonus! An absolutely amazing “saddle” style reclining couch that hugs your body as you leaaaaannnnn baaaackkkkkkk to watch your favourite show or read your favourite book, for 50% of the original price - and well within the budget I had set.

And the washer/dryer combo I thought I was buying proved too big for the space. So I would get a smaller, simpler one instead – which meant a bit more of a saving.

And so I caved. Gave into temptation. I bought the table. Okay, so it still cost more than the additional $200 I saved on the couch and the anticipated saving on the washer/dryer, but heck.....sometimes you just have to say “I’M WORTH IT!”

As I backed out of the store’s parking lot, my New Love safely tucked into the back of my car.....I saw it. Antifreeze. Stop. Get out. Look under car. Drips of green coming from the very same place they were coming from yesterday. Mop up antifreeze so some unsuspecting cat or dog doesn’t die from my misfortune (antifreeze is very attractive to animals, and VERY poisonous – unless you use the petsafe version, which the garage didn’t carry). Limp back to the garage.

This time they tell me it is the radiator – and I can see the rusted oozing hole with my own eyes. Despite the fact that I now suspect the water pump was never broken in the first place (who has a water pump and a radiator go one day apart, both with the exact same leak spot??), I left the car there for repairs – the only game in town when the car is no longer safe to drive without risking further damage. With luck it may be ready next Thursday (there is apparently no radiator for my vehicle available anywhere in this area), and will cost me another $400.

Drive back to the new house in the loaner car (thank goodness!). Phone rings - the appliance place with the price on the smaller version of the washer/dryer combo. Smaller version will cost $400 MORE than the bigger one. Go figure.

So.....I bought a table I didn't NEED, and got zapped with unexpected, more urgent expenses of at least $800.

I'll just keep telling myself I’m worth it.

Six A.M. - Do you know where your dogs are?

I know where mine are. Fast asleep in beds and on rugs, after having INSISTED I get up at 5:00 to let them out. Only one of them actually did anything, so I suspect it was all a ruse as they know full well they each get a treat after that first trip out in the morning.

And why am I miffed that they are now all fast asleep? Because I'm not. And I need to be. Why? Because a certain ten year old black and white fidgeter kept me awake much of the night with her scritch, scritch, scritching on the laminate floor where she insisted on sleeping instead of on a rug or in a dogbed.

And where is said ten year old B&W now? Fast asleep on MY makeshift bed. A bed too small for dog AND human. (We are at the new house for a week, to oversee the installation of flooring and appliances).

But the sleeper couch I bought for the spare room arrives this morning, and so do the carpet people. So tonight I will have a bigger bed, in a newly-carpeted room, and all the dogs will be banned from the laminate living room floor at night time forevermore.

And there's even room on the sleeper couch for a certain B&W dog.

And Then There Were None

Farm animals, that is.

Martin the alpaca has headed to his new home on Vancouver Island. For those unfamiliar with his story, he was bought by a former tenant on this property and then abandoned six months later. A series of subsequent tenants continued his neglect over the next six years, and the breeder who lived next door stood by and did nothing. Martin's only shelter was a tree, his only food the pasture, with an occasional bale of hay tossed his way in winter if a tenant was so inclined.

I have been looking after him for the past three years, and asked the landlord to sign him over to me. Although I couldn't offer him a forever home (I can't afford acreage on my pension), I can make sure he is never abandoned or neglected again.

And so I found him the perfect home. You can read more about it here. In a nutshell, he will be integrated into a herd of alpacas on eleven beautiful acres on Vancouver Island, cared for by a woman who offers a home to many critters and who clearly loves the animals in her care.

Today, his new mama came to pick him up in her van, and with very little fuss or stress he accepted his halter, was led to the van, climbed in (with a little encouragement) and settled down for the ride. Of course, it was pouring rain - I wonder if wet alpaca in a car smells as bad as wet dog???

Martin waits for his ride

Settling down for the long journey home

Martin is going to be "Uncle Martin" to four young alpacas for a week or so, and then integrated into the full herd at the shearing next week. And I will be there to witness it - I have been invited to assist with the shearing and the sorting of the fibre.

And that leads to one other happy note to this story. For a couple of years I volunteered many, many hours a week at a multi-species sanctuary. It was one of the highlights of my life - I felt like I had found my true purpose, my raison d'etre. I loved the animals deeply and the work was the most fulfilling I had ever done. When, for reasons I won't get into here, I was no longer welcome there I was devastated. And even though I have since enjoyed fostering piggies and looking after Martin, and I love my dogs and cat, I have missed that multi-species experience, that farm life extraordinaire.

And so I will be volunteering at Martin's new home, helping with goats and sheep and dogs and ducks and (of course) alpacas and numerous other critters, many of which are rescues.

I feel like both Martin and I are "going home".

The Very Special Mother's Day Gift

My day started with a phone call from my daughter, who is vacationing somewhere in Arizona. And it ended with a dinner with my own mother, who lives in a senior’s facility in White Rock. Both events were special and filled my heart with love. Those mother-daughter connections are a gift indeed.

But it was on my way home from White Rock that I received a gift from another mama, an unexpected gift at an unexpected moment.

As I travelled along 16th Avenue, I was enjoying the fields of newborn animals – lambs and kids and foal. All of a sudden I noticed something didn’t look right with a horse standing in a field among other horses. I could see her back legs were stained pinkish-red, and there was something dragging alongside her tail. Thinking she might have been injured on the barbed wire fence, I quickly pulled over, jumped out of the car, and ran over to the fence for a better look.

It was then that I realized the “something dragging” was the remains of an amniotic sac and afterbirth. And as I watched, a little mound of new life, a tiny chestnut brown and white foal still wet with amniotic fluid, struggled to his feet and took his very first steps. He staggered to within a few feet of where I stood, looking at me with clear brown eyes and scrunching up his sweet, soft nose. Strangely, the mare was paying her new babe no attention at all - she was quietly chomping the green grass in the field.

There was no house in sight, so I jumped back in the car and drove to the first farmhouse that came into view. Fortunately there was someone home, and they were the owners of the horses in the fields. I let them know that their mare had just given birth and was still dragging the afterbirth, and watched as they ran across the fields to take care of the new mama and babe.

I wanted to return to the field with them for another look at this precious new life, but I knew my own crew would be impatiently waiting for their mama to get home and feed them dinner, and so I continued on my way, smiling all the while from the gift I had just received, the gift of seeing a new life begin.

Welcome to the world, little foal. May you live a long, safe, and well-loved life.