Boolie

Daniel Lee Rider 1941-2006

If you’ve wandered through my web site or read through my blog, you’ll know many of the things I treasure in life. Hiking through the hills, little newts on the forest floor, the quacking of rafts of waterfowl in the winter. My cats sleeping on my chest or having adventures through the house or through my mind. But there’s at least one thing that’s of great importance to me that I deliberately haven’t talked about here: my family. I keep a separate set of pages for family pictures and stories that isn’t linked from my public site.

Today I’ll make an exception.

My stepfather Dan was diagnosed with lung cancer earlier this year. While the cancer treatment itself was progressing well and the tumors were greatly decreased, Dan developed a rapid case of radiation pneumonitis as a result of his treatment and his breathing troubles became severe enough that he needed to be put on a ventilator. I flew in a couple of weeks ago to be with him and my family, but unfortunately he didn’t improve.

Dan passed away on December 13th.

Dan came into my life a couple of decades ago when he and my mom started dating. They had been high school sweethearts but married other people and spent years apart, then started dating again after they each got divorced. Dan would drive down from Indiana on the weekends to be with us in Tennessee, and did that many, many times. They were like high school sweethearts all over again, and even though I didn’t know him very well then, it brought me great joy to see how happy he made my mom.

If Dan had done nothing else than make my mother that happy during the following years after they got married, that would have been enough for me. She deserves that happiness and I wished she had known that all her life. Fortunately for me, though, that was not the end of our relationship, as Dan and I grew close over the years.

Dan was my stepfather, but he loved me as a father and I loved him as a son.

I have many wonderful memories of him, so that even in this time of sadness as I mourn his passing, I also rejoice in the times we spent together. He helped me buy my first car when I was in college, a little red Nissan Pulsar. That was the first car I actually enjoyed driving, and it served me well during many trips back and forth between school and home, as well as around town and to the places I interned each summer.

He reached out to my wife and made her feel welcome in our large family, as he had been an outsider at one time as well. Dan had touched many lives in his life, and it was never more evident than when out in public in Indiana. Even walking through the Cincinnati airport when he picked up my wife and I a few years ago, we kept running into people he knew even as we walked from our gate to the exit. Everyone wanted to stop and say hi, because everybody liked him. That’s the kind of man he was.

Last summer after a family get-together, the rest of the family had departed but I had a few hours before my flight. I asked Dan if he could take me around the golf courses (the house is on a golf course) and he was happy to oblige. On a beautiful day, I’d prefer to go hiking and photograph wildlife, but Dan loved to golf. I know little of golf and peppered him with endless golf questions as we drove around in the golf cart, and we also discussed the various animals we saw as we went around, from a raccoon (a personal favorite of mine) to the odd coloration of some of the squirrels here, with a black-and-white coloring that makes them look a little raccoon-ish. It was one of those times where we didn’t discuss anything of great import, it was just nice to spend time together.

I got to see him this summer and again at Thanksgiving, and each visit ended with a strong hug. I talked to him on the phone shortly before he went into the hospital a couple of weeks ago, he wanted my help in choosing a present for my mom for Christmas. That was before we knew how serious his condition was, and it was the last time I spoke to him before he died. At first I regretted that our last discussion wasn’t about something more meaningful, but I quickly decided that it was completely appropriate. Even when he was feeling that miserable, his thoughts were of others, and to his dying day he was trying to do something nice for my mom and those he loved.

I don’t have any regrets about our relationship, he departed far too soon but he knew how I loved him and I knew how he loved me. It would have been nice to be be able to spend more time together, but we treasured the moments we had. Even now when I think of him, I don’t picture the man in the hospital bed hooked up to the ventilator, I think of the man in the picture above, beaming at his newest granddaughter who is beaming back at him. I took the picture at Thanksgiving this year, just a couple of weeks before he died. We had no idea at the time that he would get so sick so quickly.

The last couple of weeks have been the saddest of my life and I’m sure the last tears have not yet been shed. But even as I mourn for the loss in my life, I rejoice in the way he blessed my life and in the faith of the life yet to come.

Taking Advantage

In a world where might makes right being small wouldn’t seem to have any benefits. Indeed whenever the mother of this cub and its sibling sensed danger from another adult bear in the area, she’d send the little ones scurrying up into the trees. When it came time to feed however this little cub discovered its small size gave it an advantage. The larger bears couldn’t climb into the thin branches at the top of the tree so this part still had plenty of pine cones, ripe for the picking for the adventurous cub. Like a kid in a candy store, there were more cones at the treetop than the cub could possibly eat but it stayed for quite some time, feasting on the treasure it discovered.

Crunch Crunch Crunch

My first day in Yellowstone set the tone for the entire trip. That Wednesday was my final morning in the Tetons and I drove north to Yellowstone, where I would stay for the rest of my trip. I didn’t see much in the Tetons that morning and the weather was so cloudy that the mountains were mostly hidden. On my drive into Yellowstone, however, it wasn’t long before I started to see wildlife.

On the road towards Bridge Bay I came across two coyotes hunting near a small pond, then found a small group of gray jays working their way through the forest. On the road towards Roosevelt as it was getting late in the day, I pulled off the road to photograph some bighorn sheep lambs and ewes that were near the road. The gentleman next to me mentioned that a bear was coming, and sure enough far down the road a black bear had crossed the road and was heading towards the bottom of a hill.

After not having seen any bears the previous year in Yellowstone, I was excited to see my first of this trip (it would not be my last). As I settled in with my new telephoto lens, a small group of us watched as the bear wandered over to an old carcass of some large mammal and began to work over the bones. When an idling diesel pickup truck left, it was suddenly so quiet that you could actually hear the crunch crunch crunch as the bear began breaking apart the ribs. Eventually it walked back down towards where it had come from. It was time for me to depart as well, the bear had its dinner, now it was time for mine.

Reborn

I spent a week in Yellowstone and the Tetons recently. Last year I visited for a week at the same time of year, where the Tetons amazed me day after day, while Yellowstone was more hit and miss. This year the roles reversed. The Tetons were fun with some great highlights, but I quickly realized how lucky I had been last year to see the animals and sights I did.

Yellowstone, however, took my breath away almost from the time I entered the park. On my first full day in the park, I had gotten some nice hiking in but didn’t see much wildlife. At the end of the day I had a great chance to watch black bears and a coyote from a close distance, along with a number of other people. It was getting late so I turned the car around and headed down from Mt. Washburn and back towards my hotel in Gardiner. I hadn’t gotten very far when a black shape crossed the road in front of me. The light was getting low and I only saw its shape and not details, but it took me just a split second to realize that I had just seen my first wolf.

At that point my excitement short-circuited my brain and I struggled to even remember how to stop the car and roll down the window. I barely managed this simple task and grabbed a camera from the seat next to me. The wolf had disappeared into the sagebrush however and left me to wonder at not only being lucky enough to see a wolf, but see it from a close distance. Suddenly the wolf popped up on the ridgeline, curious enough to stop for a quick look before continuing on its way. It stopped only for a moment but long enough for me to get a picture before it disappeared into the advancing darkness.

I pulled over at a nearby turnout, too afraid to look at my camera to see if I had gotten the shot. I eventually worked up the courage and brought up the image and while it was underexposed and a little out of focus, it came out surprisingly well given the circumstances. When I converted the RAW image, I tried to capture the feel of the moment, a dark shape suddenly appearing in the fading light.

Having watched a coyote just a few minutes earlier, the wolf’s larger size was particularly striking. This wolf has black fur, apparently one of several in this pack with dark coloration. My silent reverie was disrupted a few moments later when a pickup pulled into the pullout with me. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that they had just missed a close encounter with such an amazing creature. When the woman stepped out of the truck I had a little laugh at myself, as she was carrying an antenna, most likely tracking the wolf by the radio collar around its neck. The encounter wouldn’t have been so rare for her.

After getting back in the car, my spirits were high and I felt reborn. On the drive back to Gardiner I wondered what more Yellowstone could possibly offer in the coming days.

Templeton’s Personal Trainer

Our oldest cat Templeton likes to chase dragonflies around the yard. He never comes even remotely close to catching them but he never gives up hope, at least it gets him lots of exercise. There was one time when a mating pair of dragonflies almost flew right into him, focused more on themselves than the world around them, but I saw what was happening and was able to restrain him.

Hard To Say Goodbye

I grew up in the eastern part of the United States. In the deciduous forests there, eastern gray squirrels and eastern chipmunks are your frequent hiking partners. While the Northwest has many things to offer, one thing I miss is the squirrels and chipmunks. Not that we don’t have them here, just not in the numbers I’d prefer. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise that even in parks as magnificent as the Tetons and Yellowstone, I’ll photograph just about every squirrel and chipmunk I come across — which is why no one likes to hike with me. And God help you if I see a newt.

The chipmunks in the Tetons and Yellowstone are the yellow-pine chipmunk, the Uinta chipmunk, and the least chipmunk, similar but different species to the eastern chipmunks of my youth and the Townsend’s chipmunks of my not-quite-youth.

Trials and Feats of Daring

Throughout history, many societies have made their young people endure trials and feats of daring to prove their readiness to be welcomed into society as adults. These feats could range from the fairly benign, such as swimming across a raging river full of hungry crocodiles with a hunk of meat strapped to your back, to the so-dangerous-it’s-almost-suicidal, such as giving Scout a bath.

Anthropologists have long debated where one such feat fits into this scale of bravery: getting Templeton to take his medicine. The debate knows no end chiefly because it all depends on who is giving the medicine.

If it’s a stranger to Templeton who’s giving the pills, we’re on the nearly-suicidal end of the scale, much like trying to hold Scout while small children are around.

If I’m giving Templeton his pills, however, we fall into the fairly benign category. Much like trimming Scout’s nails, there may be a lot of noise and movement but there’s no real danger.

The little one won’t strike out at me in anger, and the feat of daring becomes more a feat of patience and resilience with a dash of cleverness thrown in. You collect him in your arms and he knows what’s coming. He gives you a look that says “I love you but I’m not taking that pill!” I look back into his beautiful green eyes and answer “I love you and you WILL take this pill” and then it’s on.

Templeton’s defenses come in two main thrusts. His first defense is to keep the pill out of his mouth in the first place, which involves a lot of head turning, a jaw clamped down with all his might, lots of squirming, and flailing legs that try to knock the pill away.

We have a little device that shoots the pill down his throat which has helped immensely. However, this is where his second method of defense kicks in. After you’ve shot the pill a hundred times and missed, every so often you’ll use the force (thanks Obi-wan!) and the pill will find its target. However, Templeton immediately starts to work it back up, and it’s a stunning sight to see how quickly he can spit pills back up. If only there was a way to harness this power for the good of humanity.

Templeton added a new wrinkle to his defenses this last time. He had picked up an infection and needed a pill in the morning for over a week. Once I got the pill down his throat, he wouldn’t try and work it up. He’d just sit there and wait to be released. He’d meow a bit in protest but otherwise was calm and I figured my will had finally overcome his. Feeling victorious, I set him free and he bolted away. It slowly dawned on me that during his meows of protest he had kept his mouth closed the entire time.

He hadn’t swallowed the pill at all! He was going to run off and spit it out when I wasn’t looking! These pills start foaming fairly soon after they come into contact with saliva, however, so he couldn’t get them up very easily and it looked like he was foaming at the mouth.

So if you want to know how I spent each morning that week, you can envision a mighty struggle trying to get him to swallow the pill, then me chasing him around the house while a foamy white spittle is hanging down from his mouth. I’d eventually capture him and get all the foam back inside his mouth (kids, don’t try this at home) and then try and get him to eat since the medicine was supposed to be taken with food.

Templeton would protest of course and not eat anything, even though he was hungry. I know my little one won’t hold a grudge against me for long, though, so I’d just go upstairs and then come back down and he’d usually eat for me right away.

That cat is a little too clever for his own good.

A Mystery Solved

One unusual development this year is that Scout hasn’t wanted to be outside much during the supervised time the cats get in the backyard when I get home from work. She’s never loved the outdoors as much as Templeton, but she used to like to spend at least an hour or so outside. These days she’ll only spend a few minutes if she’ll even come out at all.

But then I noticed that she did want to come out once the sun set, and then she’d usually stay out until it got dark and I made both cats come inside. Tonight I suddenly realized what’s going on.

Scout’s a werekitten.

I’m on to you little one.

Devotion

Portland was gripped with a record-breaking heat wave a couple of weeks ago. On Saturday I sweated it out in my office on the main floor. I figured the cats would stay in the coolest parts of the house, but they would often want to be near me and hang out in my office instead.

This picture of Scout is from that day, she was up on my bookcase and looking pretty pathetic. This wasn’t even her at her worst, I decided not to take the picture when her mouth was hanging open as she looked like she had passed on.

For the next few days, I took pity on the little ones and moved my laptop and LCD into my wife’s office in the basement, where it stays much cooler. The cats can’t quite understand why I don’t just control the weather like the old days, and my protests that I was never omnipotent and that the old house just had air conditioning fall on deaf ears.

Still, I have to admire their devotion to me that they’d suffer just to be near me.

Animals and Earthquakes

There was a small earthquake in Washington during the wee hours of the morning on Thursday that we felt here in Portland. I was lying in bed, nearly asleep, with Scout curled up on my chest. I sensed the earthquake coming and then a moment later the room shook for a few seconds and then was quiet again.

After the room had been shaking for a moment or two, Scout jumped off my chest and hid under the bed. Go ahead and save yourself little one, don’t worry about me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Given how startled Scout was, I thought I’d better check on Templeton. I had left him a few minutes earlier when he was zonked out next to me in my office chair. When I got down to my office, he was still zonked out in the chair. Templeton’s not one to let a simple thing like the earth shaking interfere with a good cat nap.