Showing posts with label Golden Retriever. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Golden Retriever. Show all posts

Thursday, March 9, 2017

Goodbye, Sweet Prince




We hadn't had a dog for a while and didn't know we needed one until we met Barley. And he needed us. He came into our lives just under eight years ago on what would have been the last day of his life. How could we have imagined the joy he would bring us?

Barley was four years old when he arrived at our house, and his first four years hadn't been easy. We loved him from the moment we set eyes on him. It didn't take long to become accustomed to the comfort of his companionship. Looking out for him became as natural as breathing. You notice such things when they are gone.

Walking toward the house today, I glanced back for Barley. It was a momentary lapse, then reality hit like a blow. Barley died at home Tuesday morning, most likely from an embolism. It happened quickly and it was a mercy that he didn't suffer long.

As words are still hard to come by, I'm adding some pictures as a tribute to the dog whose paw prints are written forever on our hearts.




golden retriever running in snow

golden retriever behind tree







Linking with Saturday's Critters


Saturday, February 25, 2017

Botany and Barley




Stooping to free myself from a tangle of greenbriar on this early morning walk, I checked for Barley. Fifty paces back, he was a statue in the forest, nose glued to the ground, gathering information about the night shift. The level area around me was above the creek, where supple-jack grows in profusion, green and brown vines intertwined, the new green spirals winding around unwary cedars and dogwood trees. A thin spiral of supple-jack will start up a tree, subtle as sin, then grow and bring the tree to its knees before eventually uprooting it. Of course, the supple-jack comes down with the tree. Make of it what you will.




Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mean to disparage supple-jack completely. Many wild birds, including wild turkeys and bobwhite quail, dine on the fruit. The vines also make good perches for birds. A vine harvested last year formed an arching perch over our birdbath. It was broken recently, and the remains were useful only as something for Barley to carry around. I cut a few strands to take its place.




The walk up the hollow used to be an easy one, but since the 2009 ice storm, much of the area is obstructed with downfall, bleached bones of once stately trees. Searching for a clear path, I had turned up the bank from the creek bed and walked through shoulder high weeds along a deer highway that widened into a bedding area, then split off into narrow paths. One of the trails led back toward the bottom to the flat area where I now stood.




A few steps down from the flat was water, and Barley had come to life and found it before I did. It doesn’t take much to make him happy. A spring gurgles out from the rocky hillside and forms a creek that flows into pools where polliwogs and watercress grow. There are many springs here, but the kind that run all year are referred to as everlasting springs. The presence of watercress is a mute testimony to this.




Years ago, up a little further, I found wild hibiscus growing out of a rock ledge beside the creek. I’m not sure what I was hoping to find Sunday, but the clock turned me back before any notable discoveries were made. Though, on the way back, I saw several black and white feathers scattered on the ground, about 7” long. From the number of them there, it seemed likely that the bird they came from wouldn’t be needing them any more.

Back home, Don and I speculated about what kind of bird gave up the feathers. Don guessed a red headed woodpecker, or possibly a pileated. “Or maybe an ivory billed”, I suggested. “Good luck with that one”, Don grinned.

One of my college professors gave an assignment each semester for students to go out in the country on a clear night, lay on the ground for an hour facing the sky, and think about God. (The times were safer, and they didn’t have ticks there.) It was a worthwhile exercise, and I came away with even more awe of the One who scattered the stars in space.

I get the same feeling in the hollow, this place without distractions, surrounded by God’s creation. I came back refreshed, and with only one tick, a reminder that we are in this world and not the next.




Linking with Wild Bird Wednesday



Saturday, December 31, 2016

Ten Seconds


There will be plenty of people counting down the seconds to the new year tonight. 
Since I hope to be sound asleep by then, here's my own countdown a little early--
10 of my favorite animal sightings of 2016:


Fox Kit

10. Fox Kit


Wood Duck

9. Wood Duck


Eastern Chipmunk

8. Eastern Chipmunk


Eastern White-tailed Fawn

7. White-tailed Fawn


Eastern Wild Turkey

6. Eastern Wild Turkey


Raccoon

5. Raccoon


Monarch Chrysalis

4. Monarch Chrysalis


White-tailed buck

3.White-tailed Buck


Male Cardinal

2. Male Cardinal


Golden Retriever

1. Golden Retriever, Barley


Happy New Year!



Linking with Saturday's Critters



Monday, December 12, 2016

Mountain Lion Hollow


male cardinal on winterberry


It's good to see the sun after several gloomy days, which had closed in on us like grey felt in a flower press. The hunting season finally over, Barley and I have taken to walking in the hollow below our house. Where the trail makes its final descent into the hollow, winterberry trees have put on their Christmas decorations, bright red candy-colored balls. Birds flee at our approach, receding as waves into an ocean of weeds, or wildflowers, depending on one's perspective. I stand still, holding my breath, and the birds return, one by one, drawn by the fruit, devouring the ornaments like a child who can't wait for Christmas.




Barley holds his breath, too, standing motionless several paces behind me.




The hollow is quiet this morning, except for the twitter of birds, but this place is not always without drama. One October, in the early morning dark, Don walked down the trail and set up with his bow in a tree facing the valley, overlooking the creek. As the first rays of light streamed across the hollow, he noticed movement in the tall amber colored weeds, about 75 yards away. He fixed his gaze on the area for a short time before a tail appeared, swishing slowly back and forth. Then the steely eyes of a mountain lion came into focus, staring straight at him. A chill went down his spine.

Don remembers thinking that he’s always preferred to deer hunt alone. It was more true that day than ever before. Looking down at his bow, he calculated his chances of getting off a clean shot at a charging cat. Not good. He decided to begin his retreat. Then, if the mountain lion charged, he’d have time to get his back against a large tree and pull out his hunting knife. He got his feet on the ground and took one step sideways up the hill, keeping an eye on the path, and one on the predator below. The mountain lion didn’t move. Its tail twitched, but its eyes were steady.

Don continued to sidle up the hill, judging, with each step, the distance to the next tree. He was home before he could breathe easy. 

I think about that mountain lion once in a while when Barley and I are walking in the hollow, and my fingers tighten, momentarily, on the knife in my pocket.






Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Co-inhabitants


Every once in a while, when we start thinking that this place where we live belongs to us, 
we are reminded that our opinion is not universal.


eastern wild turkey gobblers

Most mornings lately, four Eastern Wild Turkey gobblers have been gathering on our back patio.


eastern wild turkey gobbler in birdbath

They like the convenience of fresh water (or sometimes ice) in the birdbath, a chance to admire their reflections in the window glass, and the exceptional acoustics. If volume had anything to do with ownership, when they gobble, they would have the deed to the house in their feathery back pocket. The turkeys retreat a little when we pass by the windows, but seem only mildly inconvenienced by the other occupants of this place, namely us. Their forebears, after all, were here long before ours were.
 
Before dawn yesterday morning, Don watched a skunk saunter away from the back of the house, while a fat raccoon sat in the bird feeder, eating a bedtime snack. We've been wondering why the bird feed disappeared so fast, and now we know that it's been going to two more residents.


mother raccoon with kits
              
In the summer, a mother raccoon and her two kits would come in the evenings to eat... 


raccoon kit in oak tree

...before climbing up to their nursery in a large oak tree behind the house. 
In the nighttime, the place belonged to them.


button buck

Deer have always been occupants of our woods. 
Of the seven we see regularly, one button buck has taken to the dog kennel, and helps himself to fallen acorns. 


white-tailed buck

We see the larger bucks less frequently, but in the shelter of the darkness, they may consider this place their own, too.


barley golden retriever

Barley is the only four-legged creature with a key to the house.

So far.







Saturday, August 20, 2016

Lost and Found




We had a bit of a scare at our house last evening. At dinnertime, when I let Barley out the front door, a Black Snake slithered in. I screamed bloody murder, and Don came running. He trapped the snake with his boot while I went after the loppers; then I retreated, shaken, to the kitchen as he dispatched the snake. It was a mature Black Snake, not huge, but a good 2 feet long.

The calamity averted, we looked for Barley. Since coming to us last December, except when we've taken him places, he's never been out of sight of the house. He spends most of his time in the house with us, but sometimes we call him our driveway dog, because when we walk in the woods, he always runs home ahead of us, as if drawn to the house with a large magnet, and waits in the driveway. But last night, we didn't see him anywhere. Nor did he respond to our calling. Alarmed, Don noticed that the deer were still grazing on the north side of the house, so we knew he hadn't gone that way.  

Don got the pickup, and I joined him, and we headed for the road. At the highway, we saw where Barley had dropped his favorite stick. We thought he could be headed for Don's brother's place, a mile away, but Barley is not savvy about cars, and anything could happen. Across the highway and up the hill on the county road opposite ours, we found him, 1/4 mile from home, looking lost and lonely at the side of the road. With great relief, I got out of the truck and wrapped him in my arms, then he willingly jumped in the back seat, and rode with us back home. Once there, he sniffed the front door with great interest, then settled back into his routine, seemingly as relieved to be back home as we were to have him.

We trembled when we thought of the other possible outcomes for Barley.  But it's comforting to know that the God who watches over us doesn't confine His interest to people, He sees every bird that falls, He cares about every creature He has made, and He certainly cares about Barley.
In His hand is the life of every creature,
and the breath of every human being.
Job 12:10


First posted on 8/17/10

Friday, February 19, 2016

Whispers of Spring




After basking in the glow of the fireplace, 
winter has kicked off its slippers and cracked open the window to spring.
The ancient yellow daffodils are up a good 5 inches and there's new fuzz on the lamb's ears.




A few of the lilac buds have swollen and burst.
Inside their small purple packages, along with their bottled-up fragrance, is the promise of beauty and nectar.

From the pond, we hear spring peepers singing, and late at night, under the stars, coyotes join the chorus with their love songs.




Barley takes note, and is happy to curl up safe inside for the night.



Autumn arrives in the early morning,

but spring at the close of a winter day.

Elizabeth Bowden



First published on February 20, 2012

Linking with Saturday's Critters



Monday, February 1, 2016

False Spring


It doesn't take much to get everybody's hopes up. We get a few days of nice weather, and even nature starts thinking, "Spring!" 
Yesterday, when it was still January, there was a fly and a cricket in the house, a small snake on the front porch,
and two ticks rode back from the woods on Barley. 




The trees have not capitulated to the siren song of spring yet, but some of the fields have already turned green...




 ...and the snowdrops, though always early, were swaying in a springlike breeze today.

Of course, it's only February 1st, and even if we didn't follow Kevin on channel 10, or Ron and Abby on KY3, 
we'd still know that these balmy days won't last.

About this time every year, I'm reminded of the ancient promise God gave to Noah:
“As long as the earth endures,
seedtime and harvest,
cold and heat,
summer and winter,
day and night
will never cease.” 
Genesis 8:22
The promise has never been broken, and I believe we can safely say that, sooner or later, spring will come.




Don doesn't even like to hear me breathe this prayer, but Barley and I can't help asking:
"Please, God, can we have at least one good snow first?"


Linking with Saturday's Critters,

Skywatch Friday

and Wednesday Around the World




Wednesday, December 30, 2015

Ten Seconds

We'll be counting down the big seconds soon. 
Here's another countdown, 10 favorite photos from 2015 (click for lightbox):



10.  Female Ruby-Throated Hummingbird




9.  Wild Rabbit and Eastern Chipmunk




8.  Eastern Wild Turkey Hen and Poults



Golden Retriever profile

7.  Barley, Golden Retriever




6.  Dogwood Blossoms




5.  Whiskey Creek on Bull Shoals Lake




4.  O'possum




3.  North Branch Creek and Bull Shoals Lake



Sunset on Bull Shoals Lake in Theodosia, Missouri


2.  Sunrise Over Bull Shoals Lake





1.  Yellow-Shafted Flicker with Dogwood Berry