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Posts Tagged ‘Animals’

“Would you eat them here or there? Would you eat them anywhere?” You may recognize the voice of Dr Seuss. His Cat is a master manipulator. You may think you don’t like green eggs and ham, but gosh darn it, you’re gonna like them eventually.

It’s a great book for a toddler, especially the Love Bug. She likes to tell me where to sit, “Nana, sit here!” She likes to tell me where to go, like when I told her that Mama would be home, she looked me right in the eyes and said “Nana go bye bye!” I told her my plan was to stick around for awhile and she smiled as if to say that would be just fine.

Transitions can be hard at every stage in life. Who knew that crossing the threshold of a door – from the world of the wind and the sun outside with popsicles on the porch and school crossing guards who wave “Hello,” to the world inside with high chairs you have to sit in and diapers that for some reason must be changed all the time. My Bug, like Jane Goodall in her new children’s book,”Me Jane,” loves to be outside!

So coaxing her to come in is a major challenge. In fact I’d forgotten this simple fact about toddlers – everything is a negotiation! Then I remembered that the Bride loved a good argument at this age too. I was convinced she was going to study law, that’s how good she was. I found myself saying my daughter’s name instead of the Bug’s, over and over again because her level of sophistication is equal to her mothers.

So last night I thought ahead. After dinner I sat the Bug down and said we needed to talk. I told her I would keep my promise and we would have popsicles on the porch, but then I expected her to be a BIG GIRL when it was time to come in and “Not Cry.” She said “Not cry.” And I said, “OK, big girl, do you want a strawberry or a grape popsicle?” And she said, “Strawberry.”

It worked!

Today was the best day ever. We spent the whole morning at the Nashville Zoo and topped it off with a wild animal carousel ride. She eagerly hopped on the painted kangaroo with me and we waved at Mama who is thankfully home and was waving to us miraculously every time we rode around in a circle.  And now that I’ve got this toddler transition thing down, from getting her into the car without a fuss to getting her out of the tub at night, I’ll be heading home. My husband tells me he’s missing me. But leaving her, will be the hardest transition of all.

IMG_0595

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Shouldn’t Animal Rights be a bi-partisan thing? We all know the EPA is a left-wing agency and that gun owners and hunting enthusiasts are pretty much right-sided. Yet shouldn’t they all want to protect the animals they love/eat/hunt equally? I posted an innocuous sentence on Facebook about one Canadian Goose and started a mini-firestorm.

Animal Rights. It’s a relatively new movement that gained steam with the publication of a book, Animal Liberation, by Peter Singer in 1975. Before we knew it, chimps were being freed from laboratory cages and walking in a fur coat down Madison Avenue could be considered dangerous. For me, I drew the line somewhere in the broad/general/middle. I grew up with dogs, I can’t really remember a time when I didn’t have a dog and though I never really dressed them up (except for that one Xmas picture), I considered each and every one a part of the family.

But my anthropomorphism stopped there. If we needed our medical students to learn something of a child’s vein and practicing on a cat was necessary, so be it. Today the dog and cat labs at most medical schools have been replaced by virtual learning devices. Sacrificing a rabbit to see if a woman was pregnant was common in the last century, but experimenting on a rabbit’s eye to test mascara seemed senseless. Even today, scientists will use pigs and not just crash test dummies, to determine the best, safest design in car seats for children. Maybe you can see where I’m heading?

If an animal’s life could serve a greater good – save a child’s life for instance – then I would be alright with that, within of course some pre-required ethical limits.

What’s troubling me lately is so many small, but extremely vocal groups have emerged that would like to see pretty much all animals exist only in their natural environments; even as we humans dig, damage and develop their natural habitat. Let’s get rid of the horse drawn carriages in NYC! What about Charleston, they are a big industry in SC. And though I do feel that Orcas should probably not be swimming around in a tiny Sea World pool, I’m surprised by the latest rally that will be taking place this weekend in front of the John Paul Jones Arena. You see the circus is coming to town!

A group called Voices for Animals says “…circus animals spend about 11 months a year traveling, chained up and isolated.” They are distributing a video that shows an elephant being abused to further their cause. “The tools of the training include bull hooks, which are similar to fireplace pokers and electric prods. Animals are beaten, they are isolated. Highly social animals are isolated,” said Wendy Harper, a member of Voices for Animals.       http://www.nbc29.com/story/25323589/animal-rights-group-protests-circus-coming-to-jpj

The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus of course have denied any abusive treatment and say their trainers have absolutely lovely relationships with their animals. The truth I’m sure is somewhere in the middle, depending on the trainer and the size of the circus. But my kids grew up going to the Big Apple Circus every year, and it was a wonderful experience all around. And for the Love Bug, going to the zoo with friends is a favorite outing. Where else would we see a giraffe in the US? I remember bringing the Rocker to see a brand new baby Rhinoceros born at the Bronx Zoo, I’m sure I was more thrilled than he was.

Should we send our Giant Pandas back to China from the National Zoo? Send all the horses pulling tourists off to a farm in Montana and the elephants in the circus back to India? Let’s send all those geese back to Canada! I believe the Big Apple doesn’t have an elephant act anymore, partially because there are not a lot of them left, and maybe also because of the protesters. But our species doesn’t get to lay waste to animal habitats, pull more and more fossil fuels from the ground and continue to make trillions of dollars with disastrous consequences for our planet AND tell us where and when we can see wild animals. Sorry folks, it doesn’t work like that.

Dogs in the Wild while surrounded by an Invisible Fence

Dogs in the Wild while surrounded by an Invisible Fence

My Facebook sentence? “And in breaking Cville news, a lone Canadian Goose walked across Rt 29 N this afternoon and all 5 lanes stopped for him #whyiloveva”

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Daddy Jim and Corky

Daddy Jim and Corky

My very first dog was a black dog, his name was Corky. He was named after the County my foster/father/Daddy Jim’s ancestors were from in Ireland, County Cork. I’m not sure how he came to reside in Victory Gardens with us, but he was my constant companion and set the stage for the rest of my life – a life that always had a canine presence. In fact, until Buddha died, we were mostly a two-dog family. Either you are a one OR a two/or/more dog family, and we were definitely the more the merrier.

Our first married dog was a German Shepherd named Bones. He was named after the doctor on Star Trek of course, and because Bob’s first dog’s name was Doc and well, because he was a skin and bones stray when we found him at the pound. He loved porcupines, and to our utter astonishment couldn’t stop chasing them in the Berkshire Mountains. Shepherds are supposed to be smart dogs, but our Bones just never gave up despite many needles to the snout.

Anyway, over the years we seem to have adopted brown dogs, except for the Bride’s first dog, a tri-color (black, brown and white) Corgi, and Buddha, who was 100 pounds of long, fluffy, pure, white Samoyed-mix fur. With the exception of Corky, I’ve never owned a black dog. Here is our current canine

Brown Bean Burrito

Brown Bean Burrito

The Rocker's First Dog

The Rocker’s First Dog

The first time I heard about the troubles with black dogs was a few years ago when the Bride and Groom adopted their first married dog, a black Shepherd-mix rescue in Nashville. “He was going to be euthanized,” she said, “because they told me that nobody wants black dogs.” Maybe it was because she was going through her Trauma rotation at the time, that I didn’t give it another thought.

Until I heard about this MA photographer, Fred Levy, who has made it his life’s mission to showcase black shelter dogs for all the world to see.  http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2014/03/27/black-dogs-project_n_5037181.html?ncid=fcbklnkushpmg00000010

Through doing this project, I’ve found that it’s really important to share the idea that there are always so many dogs in need of a good safe home, regardless of what the dog looks like,” Levy told HuffPost. “Maybe someone will see this and consider the gravity of owning a pet, no matter what color it is.”

Who knows, the syndrome is called “Black Dog Bias,” and maybe it started with the superstition against black cats? I know my Irish Nana didn’t even like a black bird to fly in front of her. I get the fear of American Pit Bulls, although I don’t agree with it. I truly believe a dog, any dog, is what its owner makes of it, along with centuries of breeding to make it fetch or swim or herd or whatever. We had to train our Corgis not to nip at children’s ankles when they run, after all that will only do for cows. I asked Bob on a recent outing to get some fresh air, if he wanted to walk through the Charlottesville Albemarle SPCA (CASPCA) and look for an older black dog. http://caspca.org

He said, “Maybe next time.”

Photography by Fred Levy

Photography by Fred Levy

 

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Every single place you go there is an opportunity to learn something new. Last night, we were picking up some comfort Mexican food at our newest neighborhood restaurant, when we overheard this guy waiting for his to-go order say that the deer would be starving this winter. He wasn’t exactly a mountain man, but he did look like he knew a thing or two about hunting. So I interrupted his conversation about how many deer had been spotted and/or hit by a car on his way over here, a common subject in this neck of the woods, to ask him why the deer would starve this winter. I was expecting to hear about another snowmageddon.

Instead, he told us that their main food source, acorns, had been decimated by those tasty little critters Ms Bean loved to crunch. IMG_0595In this year of the cicada – where numbers reached one million per acre and sometimes more – not only did the insects hatch their eggs in the branches of oak trees, they managed to feed on and kill off those portions of the tree. I had noticed splotches of dead, brown leaves at the ends of many of our oaks, and I knew the cicadas were responsible. Even though this was the 17 year plague of the cacophonous insect, I was told our trees would survive the onslaught. I didn’t think about the loss of acorns.

Don’t look away Ms Bean, you know you loved them!

 An acorn on an oak tree grew,
The wind around him gently blew,
It whispered to him quite softly
‘Some day from your mother
You will be free
To grow and be a mighty tree’
‘Who’? ‘Me’? A mighty oak’?
The little acorn thought this a joke.

Acorns have been the subject of poetry, like the above poem by Joseph Enright, and have been used in heraldry designs for centuries. In fact, I believe they gave bonny Prince George’s mum, Kate, a crest with an acorn when she married into the Royal Family. Here it is on the right, joined with Prince Wills. There are three acorn sprigs that represent the three children in the Middleton family. And the leaves represent Berkshire, where she grew up.  I like the unicorn!article-2434825-1850314F00000578-643_634x505

Yesterday morning I looked out my kitchen window to see a mama deer with two young fawns nursing underneath her. She stood straight and tall and we just stared at each other. We’ve posted our property so that hunters are forbidden, still I don’t want these beautiful animals to starve. This weekend I’ll be going to a farm supply store, to see what deer would like to eat. They’ve finished off my roses, and the new growth of a few tender shrubs. One even managed to find and trample the fence around a new fig tree, but he only ate half of it. Considerate don’t you think?

Kensington Palace released this photo of the new conjugal coat of arms for the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge

Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2434825/Kate-Middleton-Prince-Williams-new-Conjungal-Coat-Arms-revealed.html#ixzz2iqKSH400
Follow us: @MailOnline on Twitter | DailyMail on Facebook

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Last night, while making dinner, I heard Bob yelling from the living room, “You’ve got to see this, there’s a hawk…” and in the middle of my beans and rice he’s rushing into the kitchen to point out the commotion. Let it be said, I heard the commotion.  There is no TV in the kitchen so I can conjure up culinary delights quietly and without much fuss. One of the first questions the architect we unfortunately had to fire asked us was, “Do you want an open plan kitchen, or do you like this space separate?”  Since I actually cook in my kitchen, pots and pans everywhere, I thought it should be my haven of peaceful mess and creativity. “Private kitchen,” I said.

Turning off the burner, I spied a bunch of black birds buzzing around a tree, having a good old fashioned spring squak-fest. Following Bob’s finger’s line of sight I saw it. At this point my dear husband is proclaiming it to be an eagle. The American Bald Eagle is his favorite bird, really if he could be reincarnated he’d come back as an eagle and soar around on thermal winds. The hawk/eagle was just sitting very haughtily on a dead branch while these pesky black birds were telling him to move on. Bob quietly retreated to fetch his camera and here he is:    Osprey Web 20130508

When we were first married, we lived on the edge of a bird sanctuary in Pittsfield, MA. Wild Guinea Hens would visit our bird feeder and peck around on the ground to give us a show. Later, when we moved to the Jersey Shore, a Great Blue Heron would fly out over our garage most mornings for breakfast in the Shrewsbury tributary. When I discovered 2 old prints of these birds at an antique fair, the hens and the herons, I had them framed and hung in VA.photo copy 4 photo copy 5

Still not sure what bird should represent our Blue Ridge mountain home, I’ve been deciding between the Cardinal, the Blue Bird or the Woodpecker, all very abundant on our land. But truth be told, red-tailed Hawks are almost always flying in the valley.

After sending off the picture to a local birder, we were delighted to find out that this hawk/eagle was actuallyan Osprey!

The last time I saw an Osprey was in Martha’s Vineyard, nesting on top of a pole. But sure enough, this bird of prey likes to migrate through these parts in the spring and fall. Still we’re told, they are rarely seen in the Ivy Creek Natural Area which is a part of the  VA Birding and Wildlife Trail. http://ivycreekfoundation.org/ivycreek.html

Well we missed the annual meeting of the VA Society of Ornithologists, but I’m going to tell Bob to send his picture in to the eBird site http://ebird.org/content/va so they can document the Osprey’s fight path. Maybe he’s heading back to Menemsha pond, where the toddler Bride and I would dig for clams.

And a footnote: yesterday the Bride found a bird in her bathroom. It was a beautiful day so she had left her back door open; luckily she shooed it out the same door!

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It’s been an exciting week getting back to “normal” after Thanksgiving at the beach. Laundry is done, Ms Bean has decided to ignore us again when we call her outside, a dead deer showed up in the yard, made a big batch of vegetable soup…wait a minute. Did I just say something about a deer? Yes, unfortunately it’s hunting season and although our property is posted, this poor animal managed to drag itself next to Bob’s garden. That evening, I asked Bob why finding the deer was so hard on me, and he reminded me about something that happened when the Rocker was a baby.

We were all outside working on our garden, picking up twigs on the lawn. It was a beautiful Fall day. Suddenly we heard a piercing cry, and I followed the anguished sounds to a pine tree. There stood the most beautiful red cardinal. I gently moved my hand toward the bird, and it just stayed there, surprising me. I picked him up to find he had impaled himself on a pine needle. I sent Bob into the house for a shoebox and a towel, and we packed him up for a quick ride to the vet, but he died on the way. I am married to a man who deals with life and death issues on a daily basis; old people in nursing homes who are barely cognizant, toddlers who fall into swimming pools. Yet I can barely breathe when confronted with a suffering animal.

Although my deer didn’t make the local news, along with the “Bag it or Buy it” piece about school lunches for the week, the BIG news story in Albemarle County was a thwarted child abduction at the indoor “Fashion Square Mall.” http://www.nbc29.com/story/20228216/attempted-abduction-bond-hearing It seems that the mall security guards just let this guy go, in fact escorted him out of the building after the 2 year old’s father rescued his daughter. And to make matters worse, it was the girl’s parents who finally called the police 6 hours later! There had been much hand-wringing and soul-searching until some community members identified the suspect and he was arrested on Thursday.

I thought about that first big case in NY, Etan Patz in 1979 when the Bride was born. About how they have finally charged a man after so many years. http://articles.nydailynews.com/2012-11-15/news/35139303_1_etan-patz-pedro-hernandez-child-molester And about how that changed the way many of us parent; to become attachment types, which leads to helicopter or even drone-like parenting. While searching through my baby pictures, I found little me in a playpen outside. Bob said he was left in a carriage outside for the “fresh air.” The conflict continues, to smother and coddle, to wrap in wool, or to let your children roam “free-range?”

“Don’t Bother Abducting Me — I’m a Pain in the Ass” T-shirts, and More!

When you consider that hunting season never ends for these criminals, I would err on the side of caution today.

1949 in Victory Gardens

1949 in Victory Gardens

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Once upon a time, in a town between two rivers, we had 2 Welsh Corgis. One was the mama, Tootsie Roll, and Blaze was her son. When I opened the door in the morning, they would zoom out in perfect Blue Angel formation, zig-zagging across the yard warning all creatures great and small to stay clear of our territory. Our Vet was Dr Poole, and his daughter Heather was our dog sitter. Here is a painting my sister Kay did of the dynamic duo.

Heather was studying Chinese Medicine in NYC, and so we were agreeable subjects for her acupuncture needles. It wasn’t until we returned from a long trip, to an elderly Tootsie’s tepid reception, that we realized she had been practicing massage on our dogs. It was as if Toots was saying, “What, oh, it’s you again?” No happy, jumping, slobbering kisses for us!

Naturally I jumped at the chance to learn dog massage when our wonderful friend and vet, Dr Barbara Butler, offered a workshop this weekend: “Therapeutic Massage: Chinese Wisdom in Your Hands.” She brought along 2 of her beautiful and very well mannered English Setters, Pearl and Rusty. We learned that “An Shen” and “Tui Na” are methods that originated in different parts of China, but today are used simultaneously to describe all manner of animal massage. Dr Barbara showed us how to calm our dogs during a thunderstorm by rubbing gently in the hollow behind the ears. She also demonstrated how to massage the bladder channel running down a dog’s back to improve their health and well being. Earlysville Animal Hospital will post the diagrams of a dog’s meridian points in the near future. http://earlysvilleanimalhospital.com


Targeted massage can reduce pain, and help with muscle spasms by increasing circulation. It can also soothe joints and connective tissue in geriatric or arthritic dogs. It’s almost like yoga for dogs, an immediate stress reliever. Since our own special needs rescue pup has hip dysplasia, I was eager to try it on her. Ms Bean’s eyes glazed over and she immediately had to lay down. Thank you Dr Barbara and also Dr. Emily Kinnaird, her able assistant, and the staff at Earlysville – the best little animal hospital in central VA! Oh and thanks to Pearl and Rusty too. I have to think they returned to their farm for a nice long nap!

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While doing a little research on the Queen’s Jubilee this week, I’ve stumbled upon article after article about her favorite breed of dog – the refined, somewhat height-challenged Welsh Corgi. Over the years, our family has been privileged to share our territory with many breeds (and mutts of mixed breeds too), but the one that stole my heart, the one that was part of the Rocker and Bride’s childhood, the one that would run into the ocean and be swept away if we weren’t careful, was the magnificent and hilarious Corgi.

“Corgi sales are soaring, spurred on by the Jubilee. Liz Hoggard explains how the royal pet has become the subject of artworks, topiary and blogs.” http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/lifestyle/london-life/dog-save-the-queen-corgis-surge-in-popularity-7799955.html Yes, I even found a place to buy Corgi shaped cookie cutters!

For us, it all began with a visit to a Corgi breeder in NJ after we’d moved back among family. Was it my way of coping with the guilt of moving my 7 year old daughter away from her sweet, nursery and elementary school friends? Probably. I was expecting to pick out a cute little teddy bear puppy, golden colored without so much as a hint of a tail. But the Bride was very “hands on hips” in those days, and declared that a dog “must” have a tail. So Tootsie Roll came home with us; a Cardigan Welsh Corgi (the kind with tails, not the Queen’s choice) who was a tri-color and looked just like her name, black and white with red on her ends. My sister Kay immortalized her in a needlepoint pillow. Her moniker was, “Lightening Legs” since she coaxed everyone into ball games with a tactic I call the “Corgi Dance.”

Later, Her Hinnyness Toots had puppies, and then it was the Rocker’s turn to pick one to keep. Tootsie had been bred to a champion (well, aren’t they all) who was a most beautiful Sable color.
All the puppies looked like daddy, and my son chose the alpha male in the group; the biggest, first born with the most beautiful shock of white on his forehead, Blaze (see pup at right in above picture with daughter). This mama/son team would sprint out of the house in formation like the Blue Angels, zig zagging their way around the yard, chasing squirrels and herons and sniffing out rabbit holes in the swamp tributary behind us. Depending on the tide, many a day their little legs were covered up to the belly with organic/smelling/black, swamp mud. My vet was the one who told me to look into getting a Corgi. We had an older German Shepherd at home, and he said it would be like going from the “…sublime to the ridiculous.” He smiled as he said that, we had become friends and his daughter was our pet sitter. I knew he loved Corgis, and he knew I would too!

Ms Bean is here because I thought I saw a Corgi on a local news show about a bunch of rescued puppies from a puppy mill. When I got to the vet in another county to take this poor creature home, it turned out it was a Papillon (easily mistaken with those big, foxy ears) and someone else had gotten there first. On my way home, I stopped at the Charlottesville Albemarle SPCA and came home with Beaner, my heart just had to be filled.

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