Posts Tagged ‘pets’
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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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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Animal Activity
When out on a walk around the property yesterday, Cyndie came upon a love message from the burrowing gophers that wreak havoc on our turf.
I guess they’re trying to get on my good side. We definitely don’t have any problems with soil aeration. I assume all the mole and gopher activity is an indication that the world below the surface has plenty of living organisms on which they are feeding.
It would follow that the large population of moles, voles, and gophers around here is why we also have so many snakes, owls, hawks, and coyotes, too –the circle of predators and prey.
The horses were quietly chilling in their post-feeding morning lethargy when the backup-warning beep of the forklift vehicle down at the road put them on alert.
Light ran down to the gate of the paddock, which didn’t provide her much of an advantage because the truck was out of sight over the hill. She stood there for a second with her head held high and ears perked, then returned to the higher ground under the overhang.
I don’t know if the horses have come to recognize the pallet of white bags as their sustenance yet, but as soon as the funky vehicle appeared over the rise, they all relaxed their attention and returned to their previous stupor.
Later, when I rolled the trash bin down to the road with Asher just after sunset, I spotted the horses all grazing in the back pasture. Yes, there are horses visible in that photo, hiding in the darkness below that orange glow in the sky.
When Asher and I got to the road, there was a grain trailer parked in the field yonder that I felt might tempt him to leave our property to investigate. As I tried to park the bin precisely, I was also fumbling to get my hand on the controller for his e-collar in case he didn’t obey my command.
I saw the white flash of a cat dart away from the trailer about the same time that Asher did. My commands didn’t stand a chance. He disappeared after it into the tight rows of dried cornstalks before I could find any of the buttons.
Beeper. As if.
Vibration. Whatever.
Shock. Nope.
Is this thing working? I started pushing all the buttons, trying to hit the control to increase the shock’s intensity. The moderate breeze rattled the dried stalks enough that I couldn’t tell if it was wind or Asher, and I couldn’t see any sign of him in there.
Before anything truly problematic occurred, Asher reappeared around the corner at the near end of the cornstalks as if nothing had happened.
I use the controller so rarely that I need to remember to pay better attention to what I am doing, but I also think we should tighten the collar so it won’t be easy for him to ignore the signals at his choosing.
The day provided a powerful feeling that we are but a small fraction of the much larger amount of animal activity going on around us all the time.
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Watching Leaves
Friday morning, Asher got a little ahead of us into the woods on our walk. My eye caught sight of something dark with a huge wingspan moving through the trees, most likely in response to the dog’s presence. It was dramatically large, but I couldn’t see anything identifying beyond a total blackness.
Our first impressions were of an eagle or owl, based on the spread of those wings. When it paused briefly on a mid-height branch, it didn’t bring its wings in, giving the impression of possible injury and continuing to strike awe for how big it was to be flying among all our trees. Then it quickly flew away and up into other trees until I couldn’t find it anymore.
We arrived at the barn as the sun was beginning to be visible through the tree branches on our eastern horizon. The temperature had dropped well below freezing overnight, and the frost was significant over the grass. There wasn’t a hint of any air moving.
While I was taking care of groundskeeping in the paddocks, it suddenly sounded like raindrops were falling. I looked up to discover the warm sunshine was bathing the trees, and the sound was coming from scores of leaves letting go and falling, knocking others loose on the way down.
It was mesmerizing. I stared for the longest time without moving as the show played out. The number of leaves breaking loose from branches all at the same time, without the slightest breeze wiggling them free, was mind-blowing.
They just kept breaking away and dropping straight down, making the most interesting chorus of light tapping.
I assume the striking scene was a result of the difference between being frozen overnight and then suddenly warming up in the direct sunlight. As the minutes passed, the spectacle of the falling leaves faded, presumably as the temperature variation in the trees equalized over time.
Asher and I spent much of the day simply watching the beauty of the landscapes around us.
Cyndie took a picture of us sitting on the spot we’ve turned into a lookout at the top of the first rise of the driveway from the road.
I’d been watching the horses make their way lazily from the large paddock out to graze in the hay field.
There was a thin crust of ice on Paddock Lake before the sun appeared high enough to melt it. We have plenty of grass that could be mowed once more, but by the time it gets dry, my motivation is nowhere to be found. Instead, I watched from our perch on the hill as our neighbor mowed his.
If I never get around to it before winter arrives, it won’t be a catastrophe. Somebody seems to be loosening his standards around here. Maybe it’s a result of my recent thinking about what this place would look like if we did nothing to care for it.
Fooling around could have me eventually finding out.
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Living Good
This weekend, I am home alone with our animals while Cyndie is up at the lake place with friends. I’ve only lost track of Asher twice so far while I have been tending to the horses or mowing some grass. After walking to the house across the road up the hill, around our home, and up and down our driveway without finding him, I went back to what I was doing, and he showed up soon after both times.
I’m claiming, “no harm, no foul.”
We are getting along like a couple of guys home alone for the weekend. He lets me watch football games with the sound on too loud, and I have been keeping him entertained with his squeaky chew toys and Kong balls.
We both have taken naps.
The weather has been about as fine as September can offer, making it a joy to be outside, and as I mentioned yesterday, the horses have been looking as calm and contented as ever.
This morning, Asher hung around the barn the whole time while I went through the usual routine, cleaning up after and feeding the herd.
We are enjoying the good life for the moment. It’s what all creatures crave, no?
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Barking Dog
After multiple nights and too many mornings of an unhappy dog endlessly barking somewhere in our valley, it was quiet last night. Was it something I did that finally brought peace? Possibly.
Due to a variety of weather conditions, the sound of the barking changed a few times between seeming far away and almost within our property border. Asher got worked up several times in the night, barking back from his bedtime crate.
Yesterday morning, I walked to the corner of our property to get a better read on where the barking was coming from. I deduced it was a property on the other side of the road, between two closer neighbors whom Cyndie and I had initially suspected.
It occurred to me that there was a possibility the owner could need help, and the dog was sounding an alarm. Cyndie and I talked about asking the Sheriff for a welfare check at the home.
At the same time, I felt some responsibility to check ourselves before involving the police. Cyndie decided to drive by the property and possibly stop in to talk with them directly. She returned with a report that the place didn’t look the least bit inviting and there was nobody out and about. She chose not to pull into their driveway.
I verified the address of the place and then found a phone number for one of the people who live across the road from there. The neighbor acknowledged the problem property but didn’t have any relationship with the owner either. The barking had kept them from sleeping well for several nights and they had already reported it to the Sheriff’s office once.
I sympathized with their plight, because if it was bothering us on the far side of the valley, it must be exponentially worse for them to listen to the unhappy dog constantly barking. She encouraged me to add my complaint to the Sheriff at the non-emergency number.
The dispatcher was very nice about gathering as much information as necessary and then confirmed she found a record of previous complaints. She assured me an officer would stop by to make a welfare check on the dog and the property owner.
It’s funny, but after the call, I found myself hoping the dog would keep barking so the deputy would hear the problem. I conveyed to the dispatcher that there are moments of quiet between the long periods of barking that have been carrying on into the nights and early mornings for more than three days.
The only evidence I have that my call might have led to a solution is the blissful peace and quiet that commanded the evening as darkness settled over our valley last night. The lack of barking made it a lot easier for me to hear the owls conversing in the woods around our house.
Here’s hoping the dog and owner are both okay and that something good will come from this for everyone who has been coping with it for days.
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Animal Escapades
I don’t think I’ve written much about the success we’ve been having with Asher mostly staying in contact with us when we let him be off-leash outside. We’ve been training him with an e-collar, but I don’t think he is as influenced by the collar so much as he’s just maturing and becoming ever more aware of our routine and understanding our property boundaries.
He is frequently content to sit and watch the scenes across our landscape, taking in all the scents that pass his way.
Yesterday, he was taking a particular interest in the horses. I looked up from a project I was working on when I heard the thundering sound of hooves and caught a glimpse of Mix running in from the hay field.
Asher didn’t even twitch. He just watched her approach. I don’t know what got into Mix, but she then ran right back out again. It was as if she just wanted the exercise, but I knew that wasn’t true.
Although, she did then run right back in one more time. That was too much for Asher. He jumped up and ran to the paddock fence to meet her energy. Of course, he didn’t have any plan once he got there. They just stood for a moment, looking at each other with blank expressions.
Meanwhile, the other horses showed no concern for the excitement and stayed up on the high spot of the hay field, calm as ever.
At one point, Mia lay down to nap. As soon as she was done, Swings took a turn.
It was a humid day that had started out foggy. We had received over two-and-a-half inches of rain overnight from a very raucous thunderstorm. Other than the weird burst of running from Mix, the animals all seemed unfazed by the weather.
Mix had been a little gimpy for the last week, and Cyndie has been giving her something for pain relief. I wondered if the running was because she was feeling better. Later, I decided that wasn’t the case because it looked like the running might have left Mix feeling a little more achy than before.
Maybe Asher wanted Mix to stop running around because he realized she might hurt herself if she kept it up. Mix is the youngest in the herd, so it seems odd to have her appear the least comfortable.
We are in the process of slowly transitioning from feeding the horses grains to giving them a manufactured “Senior Feed.” I don’t think Light likes it. She has been dumping a lot of the feed out of her bucket in apparent frustration. Last night, both Cyndie and I noticed an audible increase in gut sounds in all four of the horses.
I think the new feed is giving them rumbly tummies.
Asher doesn’t seem to mind the change. He tries eating what they spill, regardless of what it is. When he refuses to obey the “Leave it!” command, he ends up back on a leash in the barn. We are disinclined toward using the e-collar to train for those violations.
We reserve that for more serious escapades.
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Relative Something 