Jack’s Walk

No, Mommy, I will not look at you. ©voyager, all rights reserved

It’s always challenging to get decent photos of Jack when we’re on a walk. To begin with, he usually walks ahead of me, which is better than behind me because I can see what he’s doing, but it means I get a lot of bum photos. Secondly, Jack doesn’t like to pose, so if I stop and make a point of taking his picture, he gets restless and wanders away before I can focus, or he resents that I won’t let him walk away, and he refuses to look at me. I can usually snap one or two photos before he gets too irritable, but today Jack simply wouldn’t let me get a nice picture of him, no way, no how.  Here he is this morning, studiously surveying a tree growing in the distance, which is obviously more compelling than me. It didn’t help that I’d given Jack the last cookie in my pocket about 10 minutes before this and he knew it. I called him as sweetly as I could, “Hey Bubba. Look at me. Bubba… Bubbs. Over here, look at me, Jack. Look at me. Jack… Bubba… Bubbs. I’ll stop at Tim’s on the way home (which is Canadian for coffee and donuts), I’ll share an old-fashioned plain with you.” Nope, Jack wasn’t having any of it today. Apparently, the promise of a donut is not a good enticement, especially if you don’t have a milk bone handy to back it up. So, no smiling Jack today. But, if you look closely on Jack’s side, just above his Rt. hip, you can see Lenny the Lump. Lenny is the brother to Larry the Lump, who was removed from Jack’s armpit several years ago, and Lenny’s starting to get big. This is the first time I’ve been able to see him in a photo, but unlike the armpit, he has plenty of room to grow on Jack’s side and will probably never have to be removed. Labs are prone to getting fatty cysts, and Jack has a few other smaller ones on his chest and neck, but they aren’t large enough yet to warrant a name. Lenny is now about the size of an orange and is still growing, but the only time it bothers Jack is when the vet or I palpate it, and that’s only because he thinks it’s weird that we’re squeezing him there. I understand that; I’d think it was weird if someone cupped their hand and squeezed me in that spot, too. The vet did try to explain it once to Jack, but he heard the word “fatty” and thought the Dr. was telling him to lose weight again and stopped listening. Yep, I understand that too, Jack.

Yellowhammers Visit.

I had this visitor a few weeks ago, but the light was bad and I was unable to identify the species. Luckily my biologist friend was able to forward it to an ornithologist who was so very kind and identified the bird for me. So when yesterday they returned in good light, I knew what I am looking at.

The ornithologist also sent some bad news with the identification. He confirmed my subjective observation that there are significantly fewer birds. Some species are actually becoming rare – the whole genus Carduelis for example (greenfinches, goldfinches, siskins). This winter I have not seen a single specimen of these three species, whereas in previous years greenfinches and siskins came in flocks counting dozens.

© Charly, all rights reserved. Click for full

© Charly, all rights reserved. Click for full

© Charly, all rights reserved. Click for full

And yes, we finally had a few cms of snow. This week seems to have been the actual winter, what we had before was merely agonizingly long and dark fall.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

The weather has turned cold again and the mud has firmed up into ridges that catch the edge of your boots. This morning on our walk I tripped a few times but managed to avoid falling, a feat few of my friends will believe, but I swear is true. It was all a bit jarring, though, and I did come home with a few aches in unusual places.

After our walk, I went for an x-ray of my spine that involved a few “problematic” positions and by the time I got home again, I was in pain and feeling the strain of extra gravity. The pain is better now that I’m supine and resting, but the gravity isn’t easing. I suspect it’s related to the storm that’s moving in tonight. They’re calling for a mix of freezing rain and snow to start around midnight and end around 7 a.m.,  just in time for everyone’s morning commute. I hope it’s mostly snow. Some of our trees are in early bud and a load of ice on their branches right now could be disastrous.

Jack’s Walk

Jack waiting for a treat ©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack and I went to our wee forest for a walk today, and we were surprised to find it was covered with snow. Yesterday was a melting day in town, and most of our snow again vanished into the soggy ground or ran in rivulets down the sewers, but Trillium Woods was still wearing its blanket of snowy white. The snow was soft and wet, and you could see that some melting had taken place, but not the amount that we experienced in the city just a few miles away.

We did notice a lot of tiny footprints all over the forest, and Jack told me that the animals had been helping the little folk gather up sticks and stones and bits of plant debris to shore up their tunnels. Jack went to a few of the entrances to their world but said everyone has finally gone back to sleep. I asked if they were safe, and he said yes, that he could smell damp, but not too much mould and no open water. At the last entrance he checked (somewhere around Big Bob Oak), Jack said he heard Tom Ticktock snoring then he laughed and trotted away. I called after him and he hesitated for a moment before flicking his tail at me and continuing on. I think that’s a bit rude, don’t you?

Jack’s Walk

Yesterday was Groundhog Day, and Ontario’s best rodent prognosticator, Wiarton Willie, has called for an early Spring. I think he may be right. It’s about 4 degrees today, and the 8 cm of snow that fell on Saturday and Sunday is melting away quickly. There’s a constant trickle of water running down the streets and into the storm sewers, and patches of green grass are once again emerging. We had 3 melts in January, which felt a bit like spring, and February is shaping up to be about the same. Since when does Spring start in the middle of winter?

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My mother-in-law has groundhogs living under one of her backyard cabins. We leave them be because they’re very entertaining to watch and are as adorable a can be. The fellow in this video proves my point. Enjoy.

 

The Art of Book Design: Uncle Wiggily’s Rheumatism

Howard R. Garis. Uncle Wiggily’s Rheumatism. New York, A. L. Burt company, 1920

It’s Children’s Book Saturday and I love the cover of this book. Uncle Wiggily is a very dapper looking rabbit with sparkling pink eyes that shine. I took the time to read a bit of this book and the stories are just as charming. Uncle Wiggily is a rabbit who has adventures and he and the other characters in the book are sweetly portrayed for a young audience.

Unfortunately, the artwork inside the book is a bit disappointing. The animals are more realistically drawn and lose some of the charm of the cover. The colours are also dull and uninspired. There are also only 4 illustrations in the book. I had hoped for more from an edition of this date. If you’d like to see the artwork, I’ve included it below the fold. There are apparently more Uncle Wiggily books out there and you may see another title down the road.

[Read more…]

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved (click for full size)

Jack is not a duck, nor is he Jesus, but he was walking on water today. Jack loves water. He loves the big water of the North Atlantic and the little water of ponds and puddles near home.  It seems he’s even attracted to water when it’s in its solid state. On our way around the trail this morning, Jack insisted on walking on the pond.

“Don’t worry, Mummy. The ice is strong, and I’ll pay attention to it. There are heaps of interesting smells here.”

It did look solid enough, but I thought I should test it, so I slowly made my way out to Jack, bouncing on the balls of my feet and making the occasional stomp. The ice was surprisingly robust at the edges of the pond, and it was also full of divots and craters. I have no idea what causes water to freeze in this manner, but it was interesting. It felt a bit like being on the surface of the moon. I mentioned this to Jack, and soon we were playing Star Trek Away Mission and laughing like little kids. It was a good day.

 

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

! Jack and I are on the lam. We wanted to see how much flooding there was over the weekend and when we arrived, we found both trails closed – due to flooding. Jack was the first to cross the barrier, and he quickly trotted off toward the river.

“Hey, Bubba. Come back here. You can’t go there, the sign says it’s closed.” I called out, adding “Hey, wait up.”

“Silly Mummy,” he replied, “Dog’s can’t read.”

First, that’s an outright lie. Most dogs read very well, and many are multi-lingual, but they don’t want people to know because they’re afraid someone will make it a job for them to do.

Secondly, he wasn’t waiting up for me. By the time I’d adjusted my scarf to protect my camera from the mizzle, Jack was already in the water and out far enough to be in the current, which frightened me, so I called him to come to shore.

“Don’t worry Mummy, the water isn’t too fast for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, You’re super-dog. Now come here,” but as I got closer to the river, I saw that Jack’s assessment of this situation was accurate. The current wasn’t very energetic, and the banks were only mildly flooded. We’d seen much worse earlier in the month, after the first January thaw. I told Jack he could stay in for a few minutes and stood at the edge of the water, watching him swim upstream and away, then relax and float back downstream for a bit. His sister taught him this “surfing” method at the beach, but Jack doesn’t have the drive that Lucy did, and he soon tires of the upstream work part of the equation, and sure enough, he came into shore after only a few minutes.

“I don’t know how you can swim in such cold water. I don’t know why you’d want to either.” I told him.

“Mummy, it’s invigorating and much healthier for you than that heated therapy pool that you use.”

“I’m not so sure about that, Bubbs. That river water doesn’t look too clean to me.” I said as he shook the water out of his coat and onto mine.

He harumphed and padded off down the path farther away from the car. I almost called him back but decided that the mizzle wasn’t that bad, and the fish police weren’t too likely to be waiting for us back at the car, and I was right on both counts. The walk may have even been a bit sweeter than usual because of the rebelliousness of crossing that barrier, to which I say,

“Take that Mr. Conservation Officer. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster.”