Scratcher of heads, rubber of bellies
A great blue heron perches on a downed tree as its shadow is cast over the green water. Even though it was actively scanning and listening for movement in the water below, its perch seemed too high to have a chance at capturing any frogs or fish, so it may have been in reconnaissance mode. It eventually started hunting closer to the water.
A good man could walk by a scene like this without reaching in to give the kitten a belly rub and risk waking him in the process.
A good man, and a better man than me.
We’ve made some big progress on the Ellie front over the past couple of weeks — we’ve started giving her occasional free reign in the off-leash section of the park just a hop-skip-and-jump from our home. We leave her leash attached to make it easier to corral her when necessary, as she sometimes gets rather excited and her ears stop working. For a dog her size, she runs really fast and can overwhelm smaller dogs or run into stationary dogs or people.
But it’s still a big step forward, it wasn’t that long ago that we weren’t sure she’d ever be allowed off-leash, even for a moment. She got loose once in the early days and had no concept of the danger of streets or cars, and wasn’t coming back when called. We’ve been working hard on her stopping and waiting for permission to cross the street, and on her learning to heel and to come. She’s gotten good enough (when treats are proffered, of course) that we let her have some play time when we’re comfortable with the other dogs (and owners) who are around.
Templeton loved his outside time and if he wasn’t exploring the sights and smells of the backyard, he’d usually sprawl out in the grass for a catnap. But he also liked being in high places and couldn’t resist the occasional climb to higher elevations to survey the kingdom. This was especially true if I was enjoying a bowl of cereal at the table, he’d wait until I was distracted and then the sounds of slurping would bring me back to attention, Templeton face down and going to town on the milk.
Oh how I loved you little one.
One of my experiments with Sam behind the lavender, one of his squirrel watching spots (squirrel watching is a Sam specialty). The lavender was transplanted from a nearly dead houseplant and is now thriving in the backyard.
One of the things I’ve been playing around with this summer is taking pictures of the cats hidden behind plants. This is Scout earlier in the summer in one of her favorite places in the backyard: behind the tub of catnip.
Sam has also really taken to the cat tree, preferring the middle perch that is covered like a tube. Scout is the only one who doesn’t often sleep in the tree, but she doesn’t change her sleeping spots so casually. Even the sweltering temperatures of a heat wave don’t drive her from her favorite locations in the upper floors.
Em? Emma? I’ll take that as a yes.
Red squirrels are known as boomers in some areas, a name I love although I don’t know its origin — these little chatterboxes certainly aren’t quiet, but boomy isn’t quite how I’d describe their shrill alarm calls.
I’ve toyed with the idea of having a series of “Greatest Hiking Days Ever” posts that trace in pictures and words my favorite days on the trails from start to finish, and if I do, September 27, 2005 would be a fine place to start. It started with a lovely sunrise in the Tetons, then black bears dining on huckleberries amidst the fall colors, followed by a wonderful hike into Death Canyon where I met this red squirrel and chipmunks and blacktails and even my first pikas, and ended with a moose family in Willow Flats.
There are many things to love in parks as spectacular as Yellowstone and the Tetons, and perhaps squirrels shouldn’t be so high on my list, but I love the chatter and scoldings that rain down from the trees as I hike the forested trails. I heard almost no squirrels on my last trip there a couple of years ago, a personal anecdote in support of the controversial theory of global quieting. I’m not in a position to say if humans are playing a role or if the earth is naturally cycling from noisy to quiet, just that I missed my treetop companions and I hope they are there to welcome me on my next return.
A forlorn Ellie watches Sam and Emma play in the cat tree. She often relaxes this way with her front legs splayed wide. Don’t feel too sorry for her, she got some gifts from the pet store as well.
Boolie 