Jack’s Walk

Contemplating his next move ©voyager, all rights reserved

When Jack jumps into the water at the park or the river he’s accustomed to the ducks scattering away from him. Today this small flock of ducks didn’t scatter. Instead, they swam towards him and then dared him to come in. Now,  Jack isn’t one to go looking for trouble, but I’ve seen him stand his ground around dogs that are a lot bigger than him. He once took on a huge German Shepherd and was holding his own until we broke it up. “Take that,” Jack snorfed,  kicking up dirt with his back feet as walked away. He had swagger that day.

He did not have swagger today. Jack actually let those ducks keep him out of the water. Every time he went forward the ducks came forward. If he turned to the left so did the ducks. If he turned to the right so did the ducks. Those ducks patrolled that shore like warships in formation and Jack finally walked away. I think he made the right decision. They might be small, but those ducks meant business and at a ratio of seven to one they had the upper hand wing.

 

Jack’s Walk

Make a wish ©voyager, all rights reserved

While I was waiting at a stoplight today I watched a woman bend over to pick up her dog’s poop. She wore an expression of total disgust on her face and after she’d bagged the offending item she held it gingerly between her thumb and index finger as far away from her body as her arm would reach. She then took about 10 steps, stopped and set the bag down in front of a light standard and walked away.

I’ve seen bags of poop on the ground a few times and I’ve always just assumed that someone forgot it. I’ve done that – set the bag down while I fiddle with my camera and then forget to pick it up.* This wasn’t that, though. This was deliberately making her dog’s poop someone else’s problem. Someone like me who walks with a trash bag because I don’t like litter.  I think there should be a rule that if you aren’t prepared to deal with your dog’s shit then you shouldn’t have a dog.

 

*I almost always go back to pick it up.

Jack’s Walk

The Marcus Magic Comb in action. ©voyager, all rights reserved

Jack doesn’t do a heavy shed in the springtime because normally we go to the east coast for the summer. There he swims in the cold water of the Gulf of St. Lawrence almost every day and he needs a bit of extra fluff for insulation and added buoyancy. This year we fooled him, though, and stayed home in good old hot and humid Ontario. The poor boy spent his summer with too much hair and despite all the hot weather he kept his undercoat. Now, as the weather cools down Jack has finally decided to shed all that hair and OMG is there a lot of it. His undercoat is blondish and it wads up in tufts that pull out like feathers and explode into handfuls. It’s almost like magic. That photo was taken after only a few passes with our Marcus Magic Comb and there seems to be no end to the hair that comes out. I can brush him until my arms are sore and still the hair keeps coming. Anyone want to borrow a dog for a few weeks?

 

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

Our weather has turned cooler over the past few days and the change has been enough to make me take stock of the season. It seems so soon this year, but already I can see the signs of summer passing into fall. The undergrowth in the forest is thinning out and the edges of a few leaves have started to take on a hint of yellow or brown. Fields have been harvested and the farmer’s markets are filled with autumn fare – beets, carrots, squash, potatoes, even the apple harvest has begun. It’s my favourite time of year.

 

The circle of life

Nature as we imagine for children is this sweet place with fluffy bunnies with chequered hankies, and when we grow up we still call it “Mother Nature” as if it were some nurturing, benevolent entity. Actual nature doesn’t care for that shit. It’s a cruel and violent place where 90% of baby bunnies don’t get to see a second summer. But in nature, death is never wasteful. One animals tragic death is another’s lucky find. So here’s an unlucky shrew and a been grass snake, and some very happy insects and ant.

©Giliell, all rights reserved

©Giliell, all rights reserved

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

A friend of my mom’s came to sit with her this afternoon, giving Jack and I a nice block of time to get out of town and go for a much-needed forest walk. Jack’s been very patient with the change in his routine, but he hasn’t been his usual cheerful self so I wanted to fix that. I’m pretty sure he had a good time.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

The light was lousy this morning and Jack was on leash which means I shoot one-handed, so I consider this photo mostly just a test shot, but there it is again… the water stone that replaced my little pond at the park. I’ve been walking around it for a few days now, framing it from different angles and I admit it’s growing on me. I still don’t like the square base that it’s set in, but it does looks pretty when it’s framed by the gazebo. They’ve also turned up the water volume a bit and it makes a lovely burbling sound now which is nice. The stone itself also has some interesting angles that I want to explore. I still miss the koi and the tadpoles, but that’s life isn’t it. All things come and go and wishing it different won’t make it so. It took me a while, but I’m finally adjusting to this hunk of rock and just maybe I’m even learning to like it.

Jack’s Walk

Unflappable ©voyager, all rights reserved

It’s been my experience that herons are notoriously hard to get close to. They seem to see you coming a mile away and either long-leg it in the other direction or take flight. Not this guy. He’s at the park every morning in about the same spot and people just don’t seem to faze him. In that photo up there I’m about 10 meters away on the other side of the creek with Jack at my feet. Now, Jack is a calm sort of guy so he’s being quiet, but he’s already been in the creek splashing around a bit upstream and the heron looked at him once or twice and shrugged. Jack seems a bit in awe of the bird and always watches him closely. He’s either a bit intimidated or he’s trying to figure out his fishing technique. My bet is on the latter.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

My boy was all HappyJack™ this morning playing in the creek at the park. It isn’t my favourite place for him to swim because the water can be a bit smelly, but a quick dousing with the outdoor hose at home takes care of that easily enough. After the hosing Jack smells like an ordinary wet dog, which isn’t exactly odour-free, but it is familiar and I find it oddly comforting. Water equals pleasure for Jack and the whiffs of wet afterward tell me that my boy is tired and happy.

Jack fell asleep soon after getting home today (he is 11 after all) and I’m sure he’s dreaming about paddling and floating and maybe even catching a fish. I hope your day is filled with simple pleasures, too.

Jack’s Walk

Early morning at the park ©voyager, all rights reserved

Our virtual vacation is over and Jack and I are ready to get back into our usual routines… sort of. My mother is approaching the end of her life and I’ve been spending my days at her nursing home which doesn’t leave me much time to take Jack out to his favourite trails. We’ve been managing by taking shorter walks around the neighbourhood in the early morning and late evening and Jack is just so happy to spend time with me that he hasn’t even complained. Poor Bubba is used to hanging out with me all day and he is not happy about me being gone so much. When I’m home he sticks to me like a lollipop on a cat, afraid that I’ll sneak out when his isn’t looking. This morning I made a point of taking some extra time to take him to our local park and it was such a joy to watch him splash and frolic that I’m going to try to do that every day. It’s good for both of us to have a small bit of normal in the form of fresh air and exercise. The blog is a good bit of normal for me, too.

There’s no wifi in my mom’s care home so that’s a bit of a challenge, but we’ll try to be here every day as usual.