The adventuresome life of a Great Pyrenees/Newfoundland dog in Northwestern Ontario

Posts tagged ‘geese’

What I Did on My Summer Holiday…

That’s a laugh. Summer Holiday? What’s that?

Summertime is when I’m my busiest. There are all kinds of growling, speeding metal things to bark at as they roll up and down the big gravel path. There are all kinds of two-leggers invading the neighbourhood, and they make all kinds of strange noises and burning smells. There are two-leggers in tin cans that float on the splashy wet stuff down the hill from the my two-leggers’ house. All of them need to be reminded that I am the Queen of the Boreal Forest. This is my domain, and who are they to invite themselves?

There are other things that make my summer busy, too. Siggy’s back on the island, and I go back behind the bay and over to the south shore of The Point to bark hello whenever I hear him out and about over there. He has a very distinctive bark, so I know it’s him whenever I hear him call.

The long-necked flappers are busy mowing and fertilizing Al & Joanne’s lawn every day (there seem to be more of them every time I find them there!). The sneaky deer are always wandering into the yard hoping to get a nibble at Kay’s or Elizabeth’s gardens. And the wolves are sometimes by to see if they can get a nibble at one of the sneaky deer. None of this sort of behaviour is allowed on the Campbell Estate. As the official enforcer, I make it so. But I will write more on nibblers next entry….

Harley and Bud are next door more often, now, too. Bud is old and has slowed down. So has Harley, but he doesn’t stay indoors as much as Bud does now. Joanne and Al let me come in to visit with Bud all the time, and we spent many hot, sultry afternoons and evenings lying on the cool, hard, grey floor downstairs in his two-leggers’ house.

Harley’s two-leggers, Chris and Amity, were down more often this summer. I’m glad, because they brought their little two-legger with them. Owen is a bit older than me – he’s four and I just had my third birthday. But two-leggers are slow to mature, and he’s still a two-legger puppy – er, child, I think they say. And despite the fact that he is older than me, we are just about the same height!

This is a photo Amity took of Owen and me. (Thank-you for letting me use it here). We just have the best fun together!

Owen and I have become best of friends this summer. He calls me as soon as he gets out of their ride. He calls me when he gets up in the morning. We run together. We go swimming together. We play together. We share hugs and kisses. Owen is the greatest!

Sometimes another little two-legger comes, Brandon. Brandon gave me a Christmas present last year, if you remember, but he really doesn’t like me as much as Owen does. When he’s here, he and Owen play together a lot. Then I get a bit bored, ’cause they play things like Daddy & Son. Daddy seems to be busy with work, and Son, well, I’m not sure what he’s doing, but he never seems to have a dog friend! So, when they start those sorts of games, I go into the garage and chill with my old pal, Bud. Bud will always be my best dog-friend….

Bush Beat

Today, I thought I’d share something with you from my first year on the Campbell Estate. My run at that time was beside an older area of the forest, and there are lots of old, decaying logs on the forest floor – all covered with soft green piles of green stuff that feels really good under my paws. The Silly Flappers like to go there in the Spring, and sometimes the young ones start practicing in the falling leaf time, too!

I was a puppy when I first heard the boy Silly Flappers showing off to their girlfriends. They kept me up all night. It wasn’t just the ones close to me. The sound carries through the woods for a mile or more. Sometimes you aren’t really sure you’re hearing it – it’s more of a sense of the air kind of throbbing around you. Elizabeth found a really good clip online for me to share with those of you who don’t live in the Boreal Forest so you can hear what it sounds like. The two-leggers who recorded this must have been really close, ’cause you can hear the whoosh of the feathers in the recording, which makes the drumming sound softer. I’ve never heard that before. The drumming I’ve heard is always just the thump that gets faster and faster.

By the time I find a drumming Silly Flapper, he has already stopped. I can get much closer to them than other Silly Flappers before they flap furiously away on me. They’re very unsociable. Most flappers are, I guess. They don’t seem to like me much, anyway. Even the Long-necked Flappers who call me all the time don’t let me come close to say hello back.

Elizabeth says that the reason the Silly Flapper drummer boys are easier to get close to is because they’re so full of something called hormones, and they have so much energy invested in showing off that, even though they’re scared by me (!) they haven’t got the juice to switch into flee mode. She says people who have approached a male peacock (she showed me a tail feather of one that she has hanging on her wall – very pretty, and very long!) will understand. The boy peacock with a fanned tail has a very hard time fleeing an enemy!

Imagine a flapper thinking of me as an enemy! Absurd! But Elizabeth says that’s exactly how they see me…. Come to think of it, though, I did try once to make friends with a little swimming flapper once when I was little, too. It went limp and quit peeping at me. Elizabeth says the flappers don’t realise that I don’t mean to hurt them, and there are other dog-like animals in the forest who eat them if they catch them. So I guess I understand a bit now why they don’t like me much…. -:o(=

Anyway, Elizabeth wrote this one Spring morning after I first heard the Silly Flapper drummer boys from my run the night before:

Okay, I’ll admit that I’m a bit nuts about my dog. Most dog owners will understand.

I sing to her. I noticed my last dog really liked it, so I tried it with Stella, too – well actually, the habit just sort of carried over. I’ll take a tune I know and add lyrics just for Stella.

Yes, I’m afraid I might be a little … touched?

Last night I woke up to Stella’s barking. She barked for some time. I’ve never heard her bark at night before.

This morning, as we were eating breakfast (mom and I), Stella put her head on the leg of the table and fell asleep. She began to snore. She got up, followed me into the kitchen and, while I made my hot chocolate, she flopped onto the floor and looked with exhausted puppy eyes at me. I began to sing. Appalachian mountain man kind of droning tune:

Ho, little Stella
Snorin’ on the floor.
Listened to the ruffed grouse
drummin’ all night.
Barked at the ruffed grouse
all night long –
Woof, woof, woof.
Stupid ol’ bird.
Woof, woof, woof.
Wanna go to sleep.
Barkin’ at the ruffed grouse
and howlin’ at the moon
all night long –
Aaaah woooooh!
Woof, woof, Whoooooh!
All night long!
Now she’s snorin’ on the floor –
Snorin’ on the floor!

Hope you enjoy it as much as she did. She thumped her tail in time to the words.

Cheers! I think I’m going to have a nap, too!

Hmmph. You’d think she’d been up barking at them all night!

They Set the Clocks Ahead too Far!

I’m overdue for Spring Blow-Out.

No, that isn’t a major annual digestive event. And no, Elizabeth is not having a big Spring Sale at the bookshop.

It’s hot outside, and I still have all my winter wool on. It’s time to blast it out of my skin and into the birds’ nests, wool bags and other various receptacles that can use it to more advantage than I can right now.

Last weekend, the two-leggers turned their clocks ahead one hour. But I think somewhere someone important put theirs ahead a bit too far. It’s still supposed to be cold out for another few weeks. And yes, I am complaining. I’m too hot!

Squawky White flappers - they look whiter from underneath...

Squawky White flappers - they look whiter from underneath...

It must’ve been Someone Really Important, because the summer flappers are coming home early, too. On our walk to the Cathedral last night after work, Elizabeth and I watched the white squawky flappers flying over the harbour. What’s that about? Don’t they know it’s too soon? They aren’t supposed to come here for another two weeks almost! And as we crossed one of the big bridges on the way to work today, I saw long-necked flappers swimming in the water below (it was warm enough that my car window was down for the trip). They weren’t my long-necked flappers, ’cause they weren’t calling hello to me; my long-necked flappers have more sense to be home this early, I like to think.

There are huge patches of the yard without white stuff on them now. The river looks like it’s thinking about turning splashy soon. It shouldn’t go splash for another month at least!

Balsam Firs - How can anyone NOT like Winter?

Balsam Firs - How can anyone NOT like Winter?

Winter is my favourite time of year. I love the cold. I love the white fluffy stuff. I love running through it and diving into it and lying in it and eating it…. I’m really upset. Where was Winter this year? Did I miss it? Who stole Winter? GRRRRRR.

So, I am forced to stage a protest. I’m having my biggest Spring Blow-Out ever. If you come into the bookshop and see a big white ball of wool rolling through the aisles, that’s just the beginning. Forget about dust-bunnies this Spring, two-leggers! The DUST-HARES are about to invade!

Tag Cloud

%d bloggers like this: