Balls Out

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greater_sage-grouse

Last week I was lucky enough to catch a "Nature" special, and you know how I feel about PBS-type programming: LOVE IT! When you channel-surf using "free t.v." technology like I do (a digital antenna with an adapter made for a flat screen t.v.), you get what you get. Just like those old "rabbit ears" of old, reception becomes a challenge, and just like then, you can tune into different stations by moving the digital antenna around. When I saw the infamous "Nature" graphic come onto the screen, I got excited as I always do, knowing that beautiful photography is their standard, and I wasn't disappointed. Sleepy, yes, but also very interested.

This special focused on the amazing adaptability of the American West, a place often referred to as 'The Great Empty", which the host argued differently. Vast and human-free, but very much alive. These motherfuckin' birds are the jam, so good are the males at mating. 
I know crazy dudes who can't even tie their own shoelaces, let alone approach a decent woman, but that's how it goes for the disordered of our kind. In the wild, there's no such deception: you either got it, or you don't. The male who fights and wins against each and every opponent steppin' up to him gains entry to any female grouse he wants, with the stats to go along with his champion status, too: a record 31 lays was recorded by a group with one male. He managed to mate every 1/2 an hour with a different female grouse. That's impressive!

And not problem-free. A lot of the males are crippled, maimed, or dead at the end of mating season, and that's part of the point, too. The females want the best genes for their offspring, and these are not animals with complex sexual responses like humans. It's something to be fought for, won, and moved on from very quickly, as is suitable to their much shorter life span and lower brain capacity. But, I loved the strutting bravado of their ornate mating rituals and showy displays. 
If you got it, flaunt it! Very simple, isn't it? And so it was: the bird with the best ballsy performance got all the girls. Makes your dating life seem like a breeze in comparison, doesn't it?

At the end of every day, each individual is responsible for mating successfully, to the advantage of their species. If some jerk-off can't figure out how to speak to you properly, what good is he to you, girl? Not much. Even a birdbrain could tell you that, if only it would speak, right? Wrong. What messages are you not getting with his chest all puffed out? That bird's got his balls way out there, man, so why don't you grow a set? Grow up! Life is short, much shorter than you and your rinky dink, so get over it. It ain't all about you, bro. There's plenty of other males out there in the world. Respect your woman like you respect yourself, and you may just get the woman you deserve, instead of the woman you pay for. Mother Nature always wins.
 

For Takoda: I'm always on display, kiddo!

Badass Dragonfly

Me and a young dragonfly, on a beautiful Spring day.

Last week I walked out of the library on a beautifully sunny, warmly seasonal day to spot one very active dragonfly flitting about the entrance. I could tell right away that it wasn't a full grown insect by the size of it, but this little guy already had moxie. I watched it fly around it for awhile before I took out my smartphone to snap a few pics, fretting that the automatic door to the library would draw it in and seal its' young fate forever, before life really began. 

Within minutes I had a lot more to worry about, because I inevitably began attracting attention, which happens every single day of my life. Often I can channel those attentions and energies into more constructive actions, but not always. 

First, some older guy passing by wanted to pick it up and move it after I pointed it out. He worried in imitation of me, upping the conversational ante a notch by saying that the youngster would immediately get crushed by a passerby. He then went one "douchebag" move further, placing his socked Birkenstock foot right next to the bug to make it fly away, supposedly making his point about its' safety by its' immobility. It hadn't moved at all in response to him, unlike the fluttery open-wing display the young bug had flashed at me when I got closer to it earlier.

But that's not all, folks. Two pale hipster chicks with matching skinny jeans, face piercings, and large tats wanted to "help" out, too! I warned one of them away by pointing out her big dog jerking about on a small leash, with the well-known fact that dogs like to chase and eat bugs. Amateurs. One of them decided to get a piece of paper from within the building for emergency bug transport, thus opening and closing the very door I was trying to keep shut once again, which I kept repeating futilely to the small crowd. 

I think she thought she was an expert on all things related to bugs by stint of the rather odd and prominently displayed tattoo on her forearm of a lady's head inside a set of spider legs. It resembled her and her friend, who looked almost the same to me, but apparently I was way wrong about that, too! Oh...that's not what I meant by "Animal Behaviorist", out-of-touch hipster. They always kinda suck.

Finally, one of my older retiree friends from yoga saved me from the gathering crowd by simply passing by. It had gotten way out of hand over this one bug, so I just walked away from the situation. 

We chatted as we walked uphill about tai chi, yoga, seasonal storms and flooding, how water always flows downhill, and realtors that take advantage of your relative ignorance by selling you a place on the cheap that floods with each passing storm because you didn't research water tables before buying the house you now own (which is really about the inanity inherent in the human condition), and then finally, I looked at her tote bag printed with Northwestern Native motifs from her cruise to Alaska, because I know about that stuff, too. She looked a bit pale and exhausted as we parted ways at the corner.

And that's called "Mid-afternoon" to me, kids. I have a feeling me and the juvenile dragonfly I left by the library are going to be just fine without a group of well-intentioned helpers. Let's just call it "instinct" for today's lesson about appropriateness.  Enjoy the weather today. It's perfection.

Midget Ponies and Pet Therapy Dogs

My last pony sighting was way back in 2011, and here was my caption of said pony on Facebook: "Midget Pony!!! Should have been front and center. (March 23, 2011)." Notice the tiara, though, because she's a special, magical pony. That's the right attitude to have when showcasing the pony as therapy.

You all know by now about my fondness for the "wee pony", because I actively stump for their return to our town parade every year (see more about my annual complaints here: http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2015/02/old-houses-in-snow.html), and each time I have been denied my request. Why? Where have all the ponies gone?! 

As it turns out, they've been quite busy as a stable indeed. I sat up straight from my futon the other evening, when the local news flashed a story across the screen about "Magic" (I know, I know!), the magical pony that travels around, making wheelchair-bound Grandma's and hospital-sick kids alike happy with his fancy brand of happiness.

And it is very fancy: just like Pet Therapy dogs, the grooming requirements for healthcare visits are quite strict, as is the behavior for animals that visit the sick and infirm. We can't have any bad episodes! The select few animals trained and groomed to visit our sick have to be better than everyone around them, including the humans they tend to.

How do I know? Can't you guess by now, kids? I seriously thought about training my very own "Ted" as a therapy dog, after he successfully completed his first obedience course with my dog trainer friend in Brooklyn. Of course, I didn't have the time to floss Ted's teeth, or the money too pay someone else to do that for me, but he had the perfect temperament for therapy work, because more than a few humans told me he was exactly like me. Ted was me as a dog!! 

And so it is that I also find other famously healing animals with wonderful human parents, like Sir Harvard Dangerfield of Boston (a wildly famous Samoyed, just like my little girl "Snowflake" was!), Odin the Underfoot Mal (sensitive, highly emotive, and always lurking beneath Mommy's feet for food scraps, just like TeddyBear did), Lil' Bub the Cat, and so many others that are too many to mention here. You definitely need to be on social media more! There's a lot of good, fun stuff going on. Here's an introductory primer course in "coolness":

http://www.horse-therapy.org/

http://www.harvarddangerfield.com/ 

http://lilbub.com/

http://www.buzzfeed.com/alix/the-most-popular-dog-on-instagram#.mel1a2jJyK

Go forth and heal, my friends, knowing that I support you fully and completely, for all time. Happy Memorial Day weekend!

Woodchuck Lives!

I had a piece about botany scheduled for today, but in the miracle that is "life", I opened my door this morning to the little girl woodchuck* eating shoots on the front lawn. OH, YAY! As soon as I saw her, she smartly bolted to safety underneath the porch. It was great to see that she made it through the long cold winter. She has a rich, glossy, golden-brown pelt and a cute button tail on her round bottom.  
So healthy!

The woodchucks made it through winter! Oh, good. I love them :)

When I started getting ready to leave, making my bed and throwing out some trash, I opened the door for a second time to "Mr. Woodchuck". Yeah! He made it, too! He's bigger and browner, with a long, showily furry tail, and he's also a lot bolder, as is natural for most males of Mammalian species. I played a short game of hide-and-seek with him, as I went to the other room and back for my iPhone, deciding on whether or not to open the door, which had chased "Mrs. Woodchuck" away. I don't want to scare my home-base animals. I want them to feel safe with me, because they are.

Once outside, I was struck by how rodent-like its' side profile is, yet the full front face more closely resembles the chubby-cheek cuteness of a beaver. Awesome! Both Mommy and Daddy groundhogs stuffed their cheeks with the brand new sweet grass and wild onion shoots now growing in abundance throughout the Northeast. I spoke softly to the male that remained outdoors, opened out the door quietly while gently padding towards him on the porch, and I was rewarded for my good behavior with this killer shot:

Posing for the camera like a pro. Thanks, Mr. Woodchuck. I'm a big fan!

It's important to that we respect all life on this planet we share, 
which includes animal life. We've made it through the winter, folks! Let's celebrate the glory that is Spring 2015. There won't ever be another one like it, and that's the unique gift of each season we have to enjoy. To share our appreciation of the glory of G-d's gifts that expresses His love for us, try showing some support for His good, natural works through any number of the many available networks we have in place. 

I joined the one that you see as a link below when I was a kid in the 70s by saving my weekly allowances. I still have the poster they sent me of beautiful line drawings. My "Moo Moo" mom was not exactly happy with my choice for fund allocation, but I did it anyway and I've never regretted it. Best of luck to you during your animal adventures (and all your other adventures) today.

http://friendsofanimals.org/about_us/who_we_are

 

* http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Groundhog

Predator vs. Predator

Aha, Corvus! I see you, crow.

We've had a series of absolutely beautiful mornings with bright, warm sun, cooled by light breezes. Sometimes it's the perfect way to drink coffee and take a good look around, which was exactly what I did. 
I was not disappointed by my porch musings. Across the street, a dead pine among a stand of healthy trees serves as a watchtower for most of the birds that live nearby, the short list that I observed being this: cardinals, sparrows, mourning doves, blue jays, and a few powerful predators perched at the top. At first, a duo of large crows cawed and searched for food, while a few smaller birds clustered on the branches beneath them. But a feather I found a few days earlier was the harbinger of something new to the neighborhood.

New to the neighborhood.

To my surprise, the next morning when I opened the door, I was rewarded with the sight of a small red-tailed hawk at the top spot. 
I sat down to watch him engage his environment, and he was ruling well. A dove landed then quickly took off, then the crows circled nearby from atop a healthy pine, one braving the hawk's watchful gaze to land on a lower branch, only to take off quickly to report back to its' mate. 
I could tell the hawk was extremely aware of its' surroundings. 
Every time it swivelled its' head, the patch of feathers switched from white to brown, the color of the head feathers on the side. It's young and growing fast. I spotted a feather that still had some white downy chick feathers on it after I found a larger, more adult one. 

The last morning I saw it on top of the dead pine tree, I conspicuously took out my dark smart phone camera, pointed it right at the tree from a standing position and snapped a few pics, which sealed the deal that I already knew existed between us, about who was the bigger, smarter predator in the neighborhood. I haven't seen it since.

Mysterious Chow

My first meeting with "Mysterious Chow".

I've walked past the white house on the corner for months now, and until recently, I hadn't noticed the leash wrapped around a tree on the front lawn. At first I thought there might be an abandoned baby's toy on the lawn too, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a brightly-colored doggie chew toy. Huh. I wonder what kind of dog lives here? I hadn't seen one out, ever.

Wow! So pretty! But, so many questions....

And just like that, there it was, one beautifully sunny Spring afternoon when I was walking back from the library: a dog right there on the front lawn. And what a dog! It was a gloriously maned Chow Chow, its' gorgeous long fur lit from behind by the late day sun, streaming regally in the breeze, reminding me afterwards of a Chinese painting about a mythical dragon, or a fanciful lion, the splendid beast of a thousand fables. I was so surprised that I cried out a loud "Oh!" and "Heyyyy!", then proceeded to make kissy sounds and other rude noises at the it, while "Chow" rightly ignored me, only giving away its' peripheral attentions by shifting away from me when I tried to call out to it again, a little further up the hill. A perfect mien and bearing, too! "Chow" was aloof, attentive, aware, cautious, and supervisory. That's the sign of a solid, strong mind in a dog, just what you want as an owner. Hmmm....I wonder if "Chow" is a boy or a girl? What kind of owner does "Chow" have? So many questions....

"I see you. And?" So it went. I'd get a glance, then the brush off.

The next time I saw "Chow", I was determined to make friends so I could get a closer look, maybe find out his or her name by reaching for the cluster of dog tags around its' neck, a gesture that's typically too intimate with a relatively unknown animal. How to proceed? It's a chancy proposition to walk onto a stranger's lawn and just introduce yourself to a dog. Luckily for me, this a daffy, doggy sort of town, (http://mariedoucette.blogspot.com/2013/09/dogs-dog-statues.html), so, with a bit of hesitation, I moved in closer; first, by standing by the opening in the fence to the front yard. When the dog seemed OK with that, I walked around the yard a little, talking to it in a soothing, cooing way. Finally, I sat down on the front steps. "Chow" surprised me again by immediately getting up to sniff at me, tail wagging slowly back and forth. Excellent! Friendly, but hesitant and curious. That's real progress with an animal.

Mysterious Chow with "concerned" face and waggly brows. So cute!

"Chow" impressed me further, after inspecting my clothes, bag, and shoes, by backtracking to my first steps around the yard and a bush, to the steps I now sat on, matching my fresh scent on the trail I had just made, to the bottom of my sneaker. Smart! I liked "Chow" even more; that's a very advanced skill for a dog to show. I encouraged it to do so, as it made one last sniff of my sneaker to complete the loop. Very clever, "Chow". For my bravery, I was rewarded with my next clue: I spied a Tennessee Department of Health dog tag around its' neck, the kind that's required for pet vaccinations. Aha! "Chow" was from far away. That could explain its' recent appearance on the front lawn, and the white pickup truck in the driveway, but, was "Chow" a boy or girl? I couldn't tell. That's the thing with furriness. What's "Chow's" name?! I couldn't make kissy sounds and yell out "Chow!" every time we met. I'd have to go deeper, but I decided that was enough for the day. "Chow" had this adorably concerned expression, wrinkling its' brows and turning to look at the door and windows to the owner's apartment, as if to question whether or not to proceed. Circumspect, also a most excellent personality trait.

And also very shy!

The next time we met, I had a brief encounter with the dog, because "Chow" was tracking a fat, old, black and white Welsh Corgi walking (or waddling?) with his/her owner in the park across the street, busily marking its' territory around the yard, as far as the leash would go. That gave me my next clue in the case; "Chow" was probably a boy, but I still didn't know for sure. He (or she?) then did something really interesting. He stood right in front of me, with me standing on the sidewalk below, he above my head on the lawn and, as he barked out loudly to the dog, he peed right in front of me. Wow, "Chow"! He was saying in a very clear way, "Don't mess with her! She's my friend!", then he went into a full-on showy display mode, prancing around proudly in circles, barking and kicking up huge clods of dirt and grass, to spread his Royal Chow scent around. Thanks, "Chow"! What a pal.

Branching out to attend to guard dog duties.

The very next time I walked past the white house, "Chow" was lying down, a bit outside of my view on the sidewalk, beside the stone steps, with a German Shepherd puppy standing over him, barking playfully in his face. Okay, now there's two dogs; an aloof and proud Chow, and the other a possible future attack dog. That's a bit much, even for a hardcore "dog person" like me, which was probably the exact message the transplanted owner intended, what with years and years of New York City based crime dramas implanted into every newcomer's head. And when a young women came out by herself, I knew that was it. She didn't look like she was from these here parts, poor thing. Must be frightening to be an out-of-towner in New York, even in a place as relatively safe and beautiful as Rockland County's bucolic Hudson Valley region. This ain't the South, fo' sho'. She pulled the Shepherd puppy indoors by its' collar, as I stood by the opening in the fence on the side of the yard, deciding what to do. I loved "Chow", who was playing an adorable game of hide-and-seek with me behind the stone steps, but I didn't feel comfortable taking liberties with another persons' pet, especially with someone who had clearly not given me an invitation to do so.

"Are you catching this?!"

So, I did what any "nosy" New Yorker would do: when "Chow's" owner came out again to interact with him, I peppered her with a series of rapid-fire, but friendly, questions. Who knew when I would get the chance again? Their appearances were so sporadic and uneven, it could be months before an opportunity presented itself to me again. She was a bit tense, preferring to bite off short one word replies before finally graduating to a complete sentence, under the easy persistence of my obviously good-natured ways, thus bringing an end to my little mystery: "His name is Grizzly." Yeah! Perfect! Well, of course it is! And that's exactly what he is: a shy, sweet, fluffy, big, beautiful Grizzly Bear Dog. Happy hunting, dog lovers! Be safe.

Still, he will always be "Mysterious Chow" to me.

Nature: Hungry Squirrles and Intense Rabbits

Hankering for a hunk of Italian bread.

I was walking home from the library one afternoon to be startled by a squirrel with a huge hunk of Italian bread in its' mouth, dexterously climbing a bush's branches with it locked down in its' mouth. 

Intensely chewing and staring...at you!

I must have had extra special magnetic rays radiating out from me that day, because later on, the local bunny rabbit decided to stand right outside the window of the room where I stay, surprisingly intense in it's stare, chewing vigorously and intently looking at me with a gaze that didn't break after I walked across the room to take a picture. 

"A bird ran into my giant freak-head."

Sometimes having The Patron Saint of Animals (St. Francis) as your main "go-to guy" is a bit unnerving, like Elaine from Seinfeld's bird phobia, provoked by a kamikaze pigeon flight at her "big head" while walking through Central Park. Sometimes I need to dial my pheromones down a bit. What do you attract?

My wolf pack grew by two that day.