Posts Tagged ‘dog’
Predatory Behavior
Last Sunday, we were blessed with a visit from our kids for one last day of mirth before the return to regularly scheduled programming of the work world in 2026. The weather was a bit of a risk as we were under a warning for sleet and freezing rain. They braved the drive anyway, with utmost caution, and the weather didn’t turn out to be as bad as it could have been.
As soon as they headed home and Cyndie and I went down to tend to the horses, the murky sky opened up a bit for a sweet show at sunset.
Two days later, we received what I feel is the worst weather for winter: rain. Once again, the snow is a saturated mess. I took Asher for an afternoon explore, and he fixated on a dead tree trunk that he seemed certain contained a rodent snack.
I stood waiting while he worked furiously to gain access. Seeing him so harmlessly entertained is a reward worth allowing to play out uninterrupted, so I busied myself with tamping down the wet snow where I stood.
He showed no sign of giving up and began to attack the little trees in the immediate vicinity that were getting in his way. They served to fulfill his urge to chomp on things better than any of the artificial chew toys in his extensive collection in the house.
He worked on that effort for so long, my project of tamping snow grew to create a raised median at the intersection of the two trails where he was busy at it.
As much as I wished to let him play to his heart’s content, his distraction had lasted so long that it became time to feed the horses, and I was forced to call him off. We trundled away through the snow slurry toward the barn after a minor struggle to redirect his attention away from the prize he never reached.
If there was a mouse in there, I wonder what its experience was like during the onslaught. Did it assume there was an earthquake, or did it sense the telltale signs of a predator at its door?
I think I can relate to what it must have been like inside that hollow section of the tree limb. That is what it feels like every day for citizens of the United States under the criminal control of the current administration. If only there were someone who could call off the brutal regime and send them on their way.
That terrorized critter suffered for less than an hour. Our suffering shows no signs of abating.
To the rest of the world: I’m sorry you have to witness this, or worse yet, be directly impacted by the actions of the disgusting few who are systematically dismantling our country for their personal gain.
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Wonder Dog
Before I get to today’s post, I want to proclaim that I unequivocally object to everything the current U.S. criminal masquerading as a leader is up to, as well as all of the rest of the people in positions of power, who are allowing things to happen. It is soul-crushing and heartbreaking.
Our New Year’s getaway to Mike and Barb’s cabin was not entirely for Asher’s benefit, but he did seem to receive the bulk of everyone’s attention while we’ve been here. On a walk through the woods along a portage from Bluewater Lake to Trout Lake, we paused to let Asher zoom on the snow-covered ice.
He is enthralled with the scent he picks up from the deer tracks in the snow and would gladly follow them endlessly if we allowed. A gnome home in the trunk of a tree didn’t even get a sniff from him, probably because it looks like they must have traveled south for the winter.
No one is shoveling their entrance.
The extreme cold has softened, and it is pleasant to be out enjoying winter at its best. We’ve received fresh fallen snow each day, which is keeping everything white and making it look like we are playing in a snow globe.
As darkness fell, we heard the pop of a fireworks shot down the lake, which Barb and Mike knew indicated their neighbors were going to do a show of multiple shots soon. With a full moon peaking through the light cloud cover, we decided to walk down to the lake to watch.
Since Asher had never shown any reaction to gunshots or thunderclaps, we decided to test his reaction to the fireworks.
Our mistake was in assuming he would be as oblivious to them as he is to the other loud booms. The poor guy flipped out. Our 90-pound puppy went into a full-on panic of yelping and trying to drag me as fast as he could, and as far away as he could get.
We have confirmed our wonder dog’s kryoptonite.
Lesson learned, the hard way. This morning, Asher woke up as happy as ever, and he and I had a wonderful walk at dawn, leaving last night’s terror a memory we hope he won’t need to relive. In a short time, we will pack him up along with our bags and leftover food and head for home.
It’s been a fabulous visit. I expect it will also be fabulous to get him back to our usual routine at home, where he can be the wonder dog who barks at delivery trucks and rabbits in his yard.
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Great Adventures
Our first day of the new year up in the north woods was pure joy for Asher and us. The big pup got a lot of love from Mike, here shown gently accepting a treat:
We have been eating the most delicious and festive of foods prepared by Barb and Cyndie, with Mike adding his artistry in a variety of ways, including these wonderful appetizers:
When we weren’t busy eating, we were outside giving Asher a chance to explore the woods around the cabin. He was a good sport about staying in contact with us when we let him wander a little bit to follow the obvious deer tracks in the snow.
Mike dug through a closet of dog toys accumulated over the years and came up with a chew toy for Asher. Our hound gnawed on it for a little while, but then began pacing the cabin, looking for a place to bury it. I let him take it outside with us, and he immediately hunted for somewhere he could bury it in the snow.
Before we made our way back indoors, I snuck over and retrieved the “bone” and brought it back in with us.
He soon lost interest in it and moved on to other distractions, including barking at things out the window that none of the rest of us could perceive.
When we weren’t outside enjoying walks in the perfect falling snow, Barb and I ripped through a 300-piece jigsaw puzzle, while Cyndie made short work of a cribbage match with Mike. We played a couple of other games, listened to an episode of the Telepathy Tapes podcast, and watched a movie that was wrongly identified as a “comedy.”
You know, ‘at-the-lake’ activities.
My daily routine has been knocked for a loop without our usual twice-a-day horse-feeding detail, demonstrated by my confused and entirely incorrect exclamation that it was “already seven o’clock!” after glancing up at an analog clock with Roman numerals.
It was 5:00. Oops. Flipped that around a bit. That drew a few well-deserved wisecracks and laughter.
It’s a good thing I don’t drink alcohol. I’m able to remain clear-headed during these kinds of foibles, allowing me to chronicle them accurately for posterity.
We have no responsibilities to do anything different today, but I’ve heard a trip to Grand Rapids to eat at a restaurant is possible. I doubt Asher will be too thrilled with that plan, since it will involve him staying here alone, but I suspect we can reward him with a big explore later around our hosts’ other wooded property, just a short drive from their cabin.
Sometimes great adventures involve a little sacrifice.
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Snowy Walk
By 4:00 yesterday afternoon, it was a winter wonderland outside. Cyndie and I set out to feed the horses by way of a walk through the woods with Asher.
We found a lot of branches drooping across the trails under the weight of the sticky, wet snow. It didn’t take Asher long to get out of sight as we trudged through the snow. We resorted to taking pictures of each other.
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When we popped out of the trees, Asher’s silhouette appeared in the distance.
He was having a blast in the snow. Earlier in the afternoon, Cyndie decided to open the door and let Asher outside by himself to romp while she stayed warm and dry inside. That has not been our normal practice, so it was pleasing to find he stayed close and came back in when called.
The snow was coming down with intimidating intensity as we made our way to the horses. We decided I should do a mid-storm plowing of the driveway after cleaning up manure.
I learned very quickly that the treatment I applied to the blade was entirely ineffective. The snow was wet against the ground and heavy to push with the plow blade. I had to get off and scrape the blade clean multiple times.
The extra work last night will have been worth it if the plowing is easier this morning. It certainly can’t be any worse.
One thing I have no complaints about, big snow events are wonderfully picturesque to view.
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A Thursday
There was an unexpected Asher adventure as we were about to feed the horses yesterday morning, involving a raccoon. While Cyndie and I were focused on the usual chores, Asher vanished without our noticing. His telltale, excited barking in the distance instantly grabbed our attention.
Cyndie stopped what she was doing and hustled in the direction of the hay shed. In the perennial garden just beyond the shed, she found Asher and the raccoon in conflict with each other. I stayed with the horses, trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary was going on, despite the angry noises coming from the raccoon.
She reported that Asher had the butt end of the still-complaining raccoon in his mouth and took off running when she showed up. When she caught up to him again, across the road at the end of our driveway, she said he was in the process of burying the no longer living critter.
I don’t remember seeing coon hound in the 18 breeds identified in his DNA.
Our neighbor just south of us was pleased to hear he has some help in controlling the population of nuisance wildlife. When Cyndie stopped by to deliver some Christmas cookies, he told her he had dispatched 19 possums and 25 raccoons this year.
It’s comforting to know that we may have gained some tolerance for occasions when Asher might wander onto their property, now that he’s seen as contributing to pest control in the area.
After a couple of days above freezing, we are facing another Winter Weather Advisory from the National Weather Service, which predicts light snow, wind as high as 40-50 mph, and icy flash freezing conditions. Needless to say, the horse blankets are back on.
Mia needs the added protection more than the others, but she was the most uncooperative about letting us cover her up. She doesn’t grow as thick a winter coat and ends up shivering more quickly than the others, so one would think she’d welcome the blanket.
Instead of chasing her around in an attempt to force compliance, we are inclined to patiently invite her to come to us as we stand holding the blanket. Since they were all eating from their feed buckets while we were putting the blankets on, that just meant standing close to her bucket, and eventually she stayed put while we covered her up and hooked up all the clasps.
I have every confidence that they understand why we are covering them up again. We also move hay nets from out on fence posts to up underneath the overhang. Since we only do these things during periods of stormy weather and always return things to normal afterwards, I believe they read the signals and accept the changes without unwarranted stress.
Lousy weather is stressful enough on its own, especially when high winds are involved. The Weather Service is tossing out phrases like “a conveyor belt of Aleutian low-pressure systems” and “atmospheric rivers.”
To us, it just seems like a Thursday.
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Winter Wonderland
Well, it looks like we got the upper end of the predicted snowfall depth range. I know what I’ll be doing all day today. We postponed a lunch date so we can focus on clearing snow around here and avoid dodging snowplows clearing the rural roads.
Asher is in his glory over all the snow.
“Are we going outside yet?”
“How ‘bout now?”
We envy him his natural coat that allows immediate departure into the elements. He waits (mostly) patiently for us to don all our gear. When the door opens, and he hears permission granted, he bolts through it and leaps off the steps to race into the snow.
His favorite yard toys are Jolly Balls with rope strung through the middle of them. I guess the appeal is that he can both chase after it when we’ve heaved it as far as we can, and he can entice us into a battle of tug-of-war when he brings it back.
While we were out on a morning walk, before the snowstorm reached us, I spotted a single snowflake floating down out of the sky, triggering these curiosities:
- Does this also happen in the summer? Are there ever single raindrops that drop out of a cloud?
- Is it atypical for one snowflake or one raindrop to fall before any others in a precipitation event?
Eventually, a lot of flakes were falling at the same time.
With the base layer already in place, this new snow is going to make it look like a winter wonderland around here. I will need to wear snowshoes to pack down a path for walking Asher on all of our trails.
In the short time I was down at the barn feeding the horses in the afternoon, my bootprints on the driveway provided a reference for how fast the snow was accumulating.
I suspect those will be barely noticeable this morning. When Cyndie took Asher out for one last pee before bedtime, it was hard for her to push the storm door open against the snow piling up.
That tells me I’ll have my work cut out for me plowing it all.
This will not be one of the winters with concerns about whether or not we will have a white Christmas.
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Old Lessons
This is starting to feel like a real winter. For the first time in years, our temperature has not risen above freezing since dropping below in the last week of November. The snow that has fallen is accumulating, not melting. The 10-day forecast shows the trend will continue.
I have to admit, the last two years have lulled me into an uncharacteristic lackadaisical attitude about my techniques of managing the cold and snow. Case in point, that dang plow blade on the Grizzly. It took me three tries to get the mechanisms of the winch-lift and the catch-pin of the blade angle connected so they wouldn’t interfere with each other.
The solution was so obvious when I took the time to consider it. I’m a little sad that my memory of how it worked in the past, before I added the now-failed bracket, made this into a bigger deal than it deserved.
Yesterday, I was finally able to run the plow along the edges of the driveway to push the snow bank one length beyond the pavement. Like any good winter, as soon as I finished, it started snowing again, covering the surface with a new dusting of flakes.
While returning from a walk with Asher, Cyndie had me call his name in a fresh exercise of following commands.
She had been out on Friday night to meet Elysa in Hudson for a creative art experience. I took Asher out with me that night, thinking he would hang around while I cleared some of the freshly fallen snow. He disappeared into the darkness and was gone for two hours. It serves me right for recently bragging about how great it’s been having him stay around.
I’m blaming the darkness of night and the wealth of nocturnal critters available to tempt him. Last night, when I took him out, however, I used a leash. Fool me once…
Not that darkness is the only time he faces temptations to chase prey. The rabbits have been plentiful this year, and he is more than happy to race after them at every opportunity. They are creating well-worn trails in the snow toward the barn overhang, where there is an endless supply of spilled senior horse food pellets to eat.
We are no longer surprised when we show up to sweep off the placemats before feeding and find them already cleaned.
The horses are coping well with the impact of real winter weather. It seems they remember how to do this better than I do.
I trust I will get the hang of it after a few more decent snowfalls. Clearing fallen snow is almost like riding a bike. Once you get it down, it just gets easier as you go along.
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Allowing Urges
It’s been a while since I gushed about the progress we are enjoying with Asher as he matures into his last few months before turning 4. He is growing ever so close to the free-roaming farm-type dog we’ve been envisioning him becoming for the nearly three years since we adopted him.
The biggest accomplishments are his understanding of our property borders (and for the most part, respecting them) and his increasingly dependable responses to being called to return to us from wherever he has wandered.
Take a moment to absorb the clean, snowy landscape in the photo above, where he is breaking trail for the first time since we got all that snow. It is a treat for us to be able to allow him to trot ahead on his own to explore what catches his attention.
When possible, I like to allow him to follow his instinctual urge to dig. We try to cut him off when he wants to dig in the yard, so it is fun to let him go at it in the woods without restriction. When we are on the edge of a trail, it tends to come down to my mood.
Yesterday, I felt like letting him have his fun.
The pristine, snowy landscape looked a little more like a crime scene after he got done. No burrowing rodents were harmed in the making of his calamitous mess.
The next hurdle of training that would be nice to achieve is for him to respectfully greet visitors, which would involve less loud barking and no attempts to stand with his paws on their chest. The difficulty I see us facing is our insecurity about his behavior around the arrival of visitors, which leads to our anxiety, which he then feels, triggering his instinct to take control and protect us by doing the very things we don’t want him to do.
It is satisfying to have him unleash his “big boy bark” when strangers show up at our door, but we haven’t mastered the skills of discipline to have him heel or sit down and shut up when we call him off. When guests show up, we tend to rely on a leash during the greeting phase.
We keep reminding ourselves that we’ve successfully trained him to respect a lot of commands, so we just need to keep working on each next step with the same consistency that has worked for us before.
His urge to climb on people is one we don’t want to allow. Zooming around outside and chasing squirrels and rabbits in our yard and woods are urges we can grant, as long as he comes when called and stays within our property boundaries.
He behaves like he’s a dog or something, you know? We just have to keep improving our game of being responsible dog parents.
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Different Profiles
As Asher was trotting up the driveway the other day, his shadow on the pavement looked like an interesting silhouette. I pulled out my phone and tried to snap a photo, needing to wait for good sunlight through the tree branches while also trying to keep up with him.
The challenge of keeping up with him is that he speeds up as soon as he notices someone closing in on him.
The first shot had him looking rather moose-like to me. At jogging speed, I didn’t get the shadow framed as well as I wanted.
This one didn’t line up so well, either, but it captures a little more of a truer profile of him. I particularly like that it caught one of his front paws in the motion of his scampering.
Yesterday, before the rain really started falling, I took a picture of Mia in her muddy rain slicker.
Since our rain overnight was predicted to turn into snow, I think the horses will understand this morning why we subjected them to the nuisance of blankets again. At least I didn’t find any evidence yesterday that they were rubbing the mud onto the newly braided bale twine we wrapped around the post on Monday.
Cold and wetness are never a good combination for the girls. It would seem most logical to stay beneath the overhang and munch on the hay we hang under there for them. For some reason, at least three of them can’t seem to resist the adventure of exposing themselves to the elements.
Swings is the one who most often demonstrates the ability to remain dry by staying under the roof. She is the oldest of the bunch. Maybe the additional years have produced a more informed intellect.
She be older, so she be wiser.
This would be a good time to be able to tune in to their telepathic frequency to find out what they are thinking. At the very least, I hope they recognize we want what is best for them. We wouldn’t subject them to the rain sheets if we weren’t concerned about their exposure to wet snow and rain when temperatures are cold.
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Fool’s Errand
Backstory: My initial lesson in how water flows across our land was after the first winter we moved here, in the spring of 2013. It is a powerful thing to witness large amounts of water begin to flow toward the next lowest spot on the way to the nearest river.
When the big melt started that spring, snow had filled the main drainage swale along the southern border of our property. It was impossible to see the water moving beneath the snow cover, but when the flow became too much for the situation, that snow became a dam. The water backed up until it spilled over the bank and flooded our neighbor’s farm field.
It became obvious to me that neglected growth had begun to clog up the western end of the drainage path. That caused the snow to jam against the little trees and thick underbrush until it formed the blockage.
Every year since, I have endeavored to keep our span of the drainage path clear before snow season starts.
Nowadays, most of the flow happens during heavy downbursts of rainstorms, but just in case a big snowfall might still happen, I continue to clear growth from the center of the swale.
Yesterday, I used the string trimmer to carve a path down the middle, instead of the brush cutter pulled by the big diesel tractor. The big tractor flattens much of the tall grass, and then the brush cutter just passes over that without actually mowing it.
Clearing the path right down the center is the fool’s errand, because the flow of water doesn’t care that I want it to stay in the middle and follow the lane I have carved. Runoff carries a lot of organic debris and silt. Anywhere the flow slows, floating material settles out, creating a high spot, so the water then moves around it. Water carves its own path.
So the actual washed-out gully that forms zigs and zags on and off the path I cut. As long as the tall outer sides of the swale are intact, the ultimate purpose is achieved. My choosing to cut the path down the middle is meant to guarantee there will be nothing to collect snow if that situation were to occur again.
Another fool’s errand happens indoors with our dog, Asher. When we picked him up from his foster home, it was obvious he LOVED being on their furniture. We weren’t sure about giving his large 90-pound frame free range on our furniture, but he won us over to a partial degree. Our bed is off limits, and he learned that right away. Cyndie bought covers for the couch and one chair in the living room.
Lately, he’s decided he’d rather choose the tight confines of an uncovered chair.
We can’t resist his sweet little face and don’t really care –his hair is everywhere, regardless– but it is comical that he seems to flow wherever the spirit moves him, regardless of our attempts to guide him.
Seems a little like the water in our drainage swale.
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Relative Something 