Sunrise Walk

My friend Liz lives just a few blocks away, and like me, she enjoys Crofton’s beautiful sunrises which she glimpses through her kitchen window. Sunday morning was such a sunrise, and she emailed me to ask if I had seen it. At the end of the email she noted that I don’t post sunrise photos on the blog anymore, and teasingly suggested I was “getting really lazy.”

It’s true. I had not done a sunrise walk for a long time. When Oliver and Belle were alive, sheltie mornings began at 5:30, with walks at sunrise. But since their deaths, and the departure of foster dog Lucy and the pups, I only have lazy bones for dogs, no early risers. Allie, the cat who sleeps on my bed, gets up around 7:00 every morning, and then wakes Charley who tap dances on the six inches of laminate between the hall runner and my bedroom door, until I crawl out of bed, let her out for a pee, put on the coffee and struggle to rejoin the world. By then sunrise is over.

But the cat obviously read Liz’s email, and took it upon herself to ensure that “lazy” would never be an accurate descriptor of the woman who feeds her, grooms her, and grows her catnip. Monday morning, after weeks of getting up around 7, Allie decided to rise at 6:00. Charley and Sadie were not to be budged, so she rattled the bifold door of the linen closet in the hallway next to my bedroom – her trick to force me out of bed when the dogs won’t cooperate. "Wake up, mama, wake up!" When a tortie cat says it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up, even if two old dogs don’t think so.

Who, me?

By 6:45 I had downed my first couple of cups of coffee, showered, and pulled on some clothes. I let the dogs out to go pee and noticed the first line of red peeking over Salt Spring Island to the east.

Thinking back to Liz’s email of the previous morning, and with just a touch of the "I'll show her!" attitude, I grabbed a warm jacket and the dogs’ leashes, and we headed for the beach.

What, no breakfast?!!

Sadie was not impressed. As we headed down the driveway, she kept turning her head back to the house. "Mom, wait! Wait! You didn’t feed us yet! "

But sunrises wait for no one, and a few minutes later we reached the marina and the start of the seawalk to find the bay and the sky already flooded with colour, and the vacant house was afire with sunrise reflections.

As we wandered along the seawalk and down to the beach, I snapped away at the changing view, as the narrow band of red turned to a sea and sky of crimson and gold.















We had the beach to ourselves – no other walkers shared our moment, though back at the docks the morning commute to and from Salt Spring via the ferry had begun, and from further still, the metallic clank of ships loading their cargo at the mill could be heard. But on our little patch of sand and stone and water, we were alone with the fiery gem of sunrise, alone with the gulls and the ducks, who swam in rose-coloured waters against a red velvet sky. Red faded to pink, gold to yellow, and slowly the bay turned blue.


















And then it was over. The sunrise kaleidoscope ended, and daylight flooded the bay under a clear blue sky.

One hour, 120 photos and ten frozen fingers later, we began the wander back.
Sadie did entertain having a seafood breakfast,



but the liver treats in my pocket were enough to entice her away. On the seawalk, I chanced to look down to the beach below and to my surprise saw a face looking back – a large rock on which someone had carved a face. It was not there before - where did it come from and who was the artist?




And then another surprise – though the sunrise to the south east had faded, I glanced across the bay to the north east, and there saw the mainland’s north shore mountains now awash with gold and pink as the rising sun topped the island and struck the snow further afield. Two sunrises on one morning.



We watched until the mountains were white once again, and then returned home for another cup of coffee for me and a warm breakfast for all. As I sipped my coffee, I checked my email – and laughed to see another message from Liz. Had I seen this morning’s red sky?

I didn’t just see it. I experienced it. I was sucked into its vortex. I was one with it, and it was magical.

I have missed those magic moments. Lazy, easy-care dogs or not, it is time to start getting up earlier and going for sunrise walks. They soothe the soul and start the day off right.

And perhaps some morning soon my friend Liz will join me on the beach at sunrise?

For my friend

Crofton Sunrise, January 31, 2011

She knows who, and she knows why.

The rest of you will have to wait for the story and more photos!

Take a Walk with Me!

By Sagacious Sadie

My mama is busy tonight, so she said I could use the computer. Yesterday was a beautiful spring day so we went to Osborne Bay Park, our favourite offleash area. We haven't been there for a while, what with puppies and winter rains and all. Charley and me, we can't do the trail all the way down to the beach at the bottom of the park anymore (well, we could get down there, but climbing back up is another matter), so we just do the fields and trails at the top. The park is 65 acres, so there's lots to explore! Wanna come along?

This path looks good!



It's such a nice day for a walk in the park.....



Lots of good things to sniff!



Now, where'd Charley get to?



Here she comes!



Would you like to sit a spell? Here's a nice bench for you.....



And I'll keep you company.



NOW where'd Charley get to? Is she over there?



Or maybe over there?



Ha ha - there you are, Charley!



Shall we move on?



Lots of interesting sniffing....



Whose been here?



Look, here's a little stream...



Of course, Charley has to go paddling in it.



Ohhh, look at this hollow log!



Well, we should probably head back home now....



That was fun. Thanks for coming along! Maybe next week we'll go to another park?



G'night!
Love, Sadie

A gloomy, grey Monday with a splash or two of colour

It was one of those mornings - grey, dark, wet, cold. Did I mention wet? The dogs had no interests in going outside, and I had no interest in doing much of anything either. I frittered away the day reading, watching tv, snoozing, and surfing the net while my "to do" list (which has plenty of tasks on it!) sat ignored. Dark gloomy days do that to me. Inertia extraordinaire.

By mid afternoon, the rain had slowed to a drizzle and I hauled my sorry butt out of the recliner to take the dogs for a long, slow walk - not much exercise, perhaps, but at least some fresh air.

The shoreline matched the day - grey, muddy, drab - but a hint of light in the sky gave promise to a brighter hour or two.

Grey skies and glassy waters make for good reflections at the marina.



I was trying to snap a row of seagulls on a rail without much success (a truck drove back and forth disturbing them repeatedly), but when I downloaded the photos, I had to laugh at what I'd captured. Look closely at the bird on the ground (you can click on any picture to enlarge it, then use your back browser to return to the blog) - I can't decide if this is a naughty boy seagull looking up the ladies' skirts, or if he is saying "Hey, up there! Don't poop on me!"



One of the cats at the empty house decided to let me know just how boring people with cameras have become.








The seagulls on the beach were busy scavenging as the tide went out. This one's eyes were bigger than his belly - or his throat - as he struggled repeatedly to swallow a small starfish. He didn't let me close enough for a good photo, but you can just see one starfish tentacle sticking out the beak.



Another shot of the boats, as we headed back home.

No gloomy Monday walk in January on the island is complete without looking for signs of spring - I forgot to photograph the pussywillows and snowdrops we saw on our walk, but just to torment my readers from central and eastern Canada and US, (and especially from Ontario where the temperatures are among the coldest in thirty years), here are a couple of photos taken in my yard when we returned from the walk:





And one last splash of colour with an interesting story behind it:

A couple of days ago, a reader contacted me via the link on the side of this blog, and shared with me a watercolour she had done in the summer of 1969 when she visited the island, sleeping in her little MG with her dog (!!!!!) as she travelled around painting. It is with her permission that I post the picture here. Thank you Cathy, for sharing your gift and adding such colour and beauty to a gloomy, grey Monday.

Watercolour, Saltspring Island from Mill Bay

(c) 2011 Catherine McNaughton

A dirty secret and an update on Martin

There is an unwritten code of ethics among responsible rescuers, and part of this code says that having rescued an animal, you have lifelong responsibility for that animal. If you place the animal, it must be a home which you are certain will give it a forever commitment. If it doesn't work out, you must take the animal back.

And so, for the past six months, I have had a dirty secret. Martin, the alpaca, is no longer where I placed him. And when I heard he was about to be moved again, I did not take him back.

Sh*t happens. Lives fall apart. Situations change. And so it was with Martin.

For those unfamiliar with Martin's story, I'll provide a brief summary:

In 2006, I rented some acreage in Mission, BC where Martin had been abandoned in the back field. He had been there for 6 – 8 years, all by himself. From neighbours, I learned he had been purchased as a newly-weaned cria by a former tenant, who then left him behind when they moved out a year later. Subsequently, some renters had fed him, most had not. He had no shelter except for a tree, under which he had dug a dirt hole. He lived with coyotes and bears roaming through the field, as well as the occasional pack of dogs. It was cold and snowy in winter, very wet in fall and spring, and hot in summer, yet he survived it all.

I named him Martin after Saint Martin de Porres, a Peruvian saint who was said to be able to communicate with the animals. It was a fitting name as alpacas are a Peruvian animal, and Saint Martin de Porres, from what I have read of him, embodied many of the qualities that I admire, and shared Martin the alpaca's gentle temperment.

I built Martin a good shelter, made sure he had fresh water, grains and hay all year, had him shorn (he had never been done!) and his toes and teeth done, had him gelded, and taught him to come when called and to eat from my hand. He shared the pasture with the potbellied pigs I fostered, socialized with llamas in an adjacent field, and became comfortable around me and my dogs.






I knew I would not be on that property for more than a few years – retirement was looming, and the rent was too high for me to afford on my pension. Nor would I have the finances to buy acreage of my own. But I could not, in good conscience, walk away from him at the end of my lease. I persuaded the landlord to sign him over to me so that I could find Martin a home.

When I was about to retire, in 2009, I put the word out via rescue forums and alpaca organizations to find him a new home. A kind woman on Vancouver Island, who has an assortment of rescue animals, and also a herd of alpacas from which she collects the fibre for weaving, offered to take him in - a bonus for me as the community to which I was retiring was coincidentally about twenty minutes away from her farm, allowing me to continue to see Martin. Another rescue person and I did a homecheck, talked with her about our expectations, and met her other animals. The woman came to Mission to pick up Martin, and he rode home in comfort in the back of her van. Martin had a home.




I visited him there several times. Martin had settled in well, becoming "Uncle Martin" to the crias, and learning how to truly be an alpaca. I thought my work was done.

And then, last spring, I received an email from Martin’s new mama to say that ill health was forcing her dear friend and business partner to reconsider her participation in the care of the herd, and in the final shakedown, some of the animals would have to be rehomed. While I was not happy to hear this, I did understand – and I have a huge respect for animal caregivers who recognize their own physical and financial limitations. I see and hear of so many rescues/rescuers who lack the ability to recognize when they are overextended, and ultimately it is the animals who suffer.

As the person responsible for Martin’s initial rescue, many would say I should have taken him back and found him another home. The email came right at the time that my two shelties died just a week apart, and my mom had a medical crisis, and it was simply not possible for me to house him on my small village lot. And I was confident that Martin’s new mama shared the same values as I for selecting where he should go, and had a similar access to animal-loving networks. And so I stood back.

Sure enough, a person who does horse rescue offered to take on a small herd of alpacas, including Martin, and care for them while new homes were found. I was kept in the loop. The alpacas would only be placed in homes in pairs or more - no more lonely alpacas. I sponsored Martin to ensure his needs would be met, and just before Christmas received word that Martin and his best buddy Belvedere, a chocolate coloured senior alpaca, had been adopted by one of the horse rescue's foster homes.

So Martin is back on the mainland, this time in Northern BC, where he is being spoiled rotten by Serena and her family. Within days he was eating treats from her hand, coming up to the front fence to see what was going on, hanging out with the horses and ducks, and living the easy life.

He and Belvedere have a fenced pasture on which they can roam, a barn which they can go in and out of at will (their stall heated with infrared lamps in winter), and lots of attention. They each have their own feed bucket into which yummy grains are put each day – and then they both chow down from one bucket before both moving on to the second one. Silly alpacas!

Serena, his new mama, recently sent me these photos, and gave me permission to post them here.

I chose not to tell this story as it unfolded last summer because it was my dirty secret – I had failed to home Martin in a way that would ensure he would never lose a home again. But over the past few weeks, I decided that I will share his story, because I believe it is worth the telling. I still have no patience for people who adopt animals and then decide for frivolous reasons not to keep them, who view them as property, as commodities, an inconvenience, who think that having a baby is reason enough to dump a dog. But I also recognize that sometimes in life, sh*t happens, and life turns upside down and inside out, and the four legged family members have their lives turned upside down too. Ideally, a stable life where the whole family, human and animal, remain together is usually in each member's best interest, but sometimes it cannot be.

What is important, I think, is to ensure that the animal - whether dog or pig or alpaca or bird or pet rat - is provided with a secure environment, with good food, with fresh water, with companionship .... and with love. And that is something Martin has. He is a content, happy alpaca who has finally found his home. Thank you, Serena, for welcoming Martin and Belvedere.

For more stories on Martin's life with me and his transition to the alpaca herd on Vancouver island, check out some of these earlier posts:

Mischievous Martin, Pesky Pigs and Three Dawdling Dogs

Hey, Who Stole Martin?

The Grass is always Greener

An Alpaca gets the Zoomies

Martin

The Odd Couple

A Herd of His Own

Martin's Big Snip - Part One

Martin's Big Snip - Part Two

Martin's Big Snip - Part Three

And then there were none

Nekid 'Pacas!

Fun at the Farm