Sent With a Kiss

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My husband, Don, is a real estate broker, and one of the perks of being married to someone in his profession, is that we often go together to photograph his listings, and I get to see some beautiful places.

It was a cool morning when we went to shoot an acreage he has listed for sale, eleven some acres near the lake, mostly wooded, with a good-sized field in the front.

We met the owners there, a retired couple who like to do a lot of trail riding with their three beautiful Missouri Fox Trotters.  We followed the owner lady to the field where the horses were grazing in the shade.  She made a kissing sound and pointed, and the horses started running away, their legs barely touching the ground.  And then they flew, or so it seemed, their manes and tails giving form to the wind.  They went in a wide sweep around the long field, and when they returned, another kiss sent them around again.

When they returned the second time, I almost missed what the owner said; it was spoken in such a soft voice.  It was only when I saw the horses react to her that I understood she had been talking to them.  "Ok," the owner had told them, "now you can settle down and graze". And that's exactly what they did.

When I asked about the training, the owner mentioned that they follow the training principles of Clinton Anderson from Australia, which, from where we were standing, appeared to be highly effective.  She said that the horses listen to her and watch her body language.  When she kissed and pointed, it was the "sending exercise", which told the horses to go away, and then turn back toward her. Such a signal might be used to send the horses through a gate, or to a trailer. When she told them to graze, her dropped arm and relaxed posture reinforced her words. 

I haven't been around horses much, but it was quite amazing to see these powerful animals controlled by the body language and quiet voice of a woman who is a fraction of their size.  

I might be remiss if I didn't mention that if you'd like to see more about this property, you can check out the details on my husband's website by clicking here, and scrolling down to the forth property.

The first photo was taken by Don.

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Peaceable Kingdom

It was hot yesterday morning, and as I hurried to fill the bird bath and feeder before work, there was a surprise waiting for me. From just behind the bird feeder, a bobcat sprinted a short distance away and laid down.

We watched each other warily at first.  I was ready to run for the house at one false move. These creatures are extremely fast, and a rabid one should not be taken lightly.  Then the bobcat settled down to his business, and I to mine.  He stayed when I went in the house, came back with my camera, and took some shots.  

After a small yawn, he thumped his short tail on the ground several times, then settled in for a good cleaning up.

I got out the hose, scrubbed the bird bath, filled the feeder, and watered the raspberries while he was cleaning up, then turned back to wrap up the hose.  When I looked again, he was gone.

My first guess, of course, was that he was sick, though he appeared to be well fed; bobcats are very nocturnal and have a natural fear of humans.  We're not excluding the possibility, however, that, since we were gone much of last week, he got used to this place when we weren't around and considers it part of his hunting grounds.  I can only speculate how often he may have watched us from the shadows.

We impact our surroundings, sometimes in ways we don't intend.  We feed the small creatures, who congregate, and at times, by this, become more available to predators.  And though we always root for the smaller ones, we have no illusions that we have any control over the outcome.

A wild hen turkey has been coming around lately with one darling poult, a far cry from the average hatch of twelve.  This bobcat may have warmed his belly with some of the eggs, or the small poults.

Such is life on our beautiful planet, and things like this remind us that there's something broken about this world, that, as hard as we try, we can't fix.  As Christians, we anticipate the day when Jesus will reign as king and all of nature will be at peace.  

The wolf will live with the lamb,

the leopard will lie down with the goat, 

the calf and the lion and the yearling together;

and a little child will lead them.

The cow will feed with the bear,

their young will lie down together,

 and the lion will eat straw like the ox.

The infant will play near the cobra's den, 

and the young child will put its hand into the viper's nest.

They will neither harm nor destroy 

on all my holy mountain,

for the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the Lord

as the waters cover the sea.

Isaiah 11:6-9

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Home Depot

On clear mornings, before the heat has risen and the tasks of the day have crowded in, I like to sit on the deck and read my Bible.  It's the best way I know to start the day.  When I first go out, the yard is silent, then, little by little, the wild things pick up their normal activity, and the sounds of life return.

Lately I've had company. Here's the pattern; from the nearby hickory tree I hear the wingbeats of a bird going to and from the feeder.  I hold my breath as the sound comes closer and a tufted titmouse swoops into sight.  It flies to the table in front of me, then flits from chair to chair, cocking its head and studying me to be sure I'm not a threat.  That satisfied, the little titmouse is in the air again, and I feel its wings brush my hair.  After several false starts, it gathers courage, and sits down on my head.  Once there, there's a lot of hair arranging before little beautician flies away. 

These birds usually build nests in tree cavities; if I didn't know that, I'd think they were starting one on my head.  More likely, they're just looking for nesting material, like a local version of Home Depot, and I'm happy to fill that need, as long as they don't get carried away.

When we were kids, Mom drew heavily from a collection of adages to teach us lessons.  I'm reminded of her often repeated one about worries:

You can't keep a bird from flying over your head, 

but you can keep it from making a nest in your hair.

Don sneaked these pictures the other day from the house, and I didn't even know I was married to a paparazzi.

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Home Alone

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It was hot out yesterday, with the air still and humid.  Not far from the house, at the base of an old oak tree, a sleeping fawn was curled into a tight ball. Don had discovered it before light, and where it lay, we could see it from the garage window.  It was a tiny one, the first we'd seen this year.

I watched the little creature as the sun rose in the sky 

and the shadows moved across the grass.

Its white spots moved up and down with the rhythm of its breathing.

Mid morning, it woke and sniffed its surroundings

before laying back down.

Barley is one of the gentlest souls around, 

and he was was curious enough to take a sniff...

but as soon as the little one raised its head, Barley backed away.  

The fawn woke again in the afternoon, stretched its legs,

then folded them up like an card table and returned to its nap.

We've often heard that it's not wise to intervene on behalf of a lone fawn, as the mothers normally leave them in a safe place and go about their business, but now its easier to see why people do that.  As far as we could tell, this little fawn was left alone just about ten hours, and we were wondering how it could stay hydrated on such a hot day.  Apparently their moisture requirements are much different than ours.

Finally, late in the afternoon, the mama doe came back.  

The thirsty little fawn drank its fill, then followed its mama into the woods. 

We love happy endings.

In His hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind.

Job 12:10






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