Beagle and Friends: Part II

The theme of this second installment of the review of Maximilian's friends will be just how closely linked animal friends can be to one another...


This is Grace again, the amazing Velcro dog, demonstrating her inability to ever be too close to the being upon which she has chosen to lavish her particular (and fierce) affections for the moment. And again, Maximilian has stolen her favorite chair. I did check periodically while they were sitting like this to be sure that Maximilian was still able to breathe comfortably.


This is Maximilian's best good friend, Benny, who can also have moments of never being able to be close enough to the Beagle. I wonder what Grace and Benny would do if introduced... Maximilian probably should not be present for that occasion, lest they both desire to pile on top of him and he ends up at the bottom of a three-dog pile.


No folks, these are not conjoined beagle twins. This is Maximilian (left) and Buster enjoying a rare moment of stillness together before taking off to chase one another around the house and yard once again (in these episodes, the older Beagle (Maximilian) learned to simply wait for the younger Beagle (Buster) to circle back around whatever object they were using as the center for their game of chase (i.e. house, shed, human, etc.) and would then take a lunge at him rather than following him (or being chased by him) around and around said object).

One time, when Maximilian and Buster had had a longer-than-usual gap between their romper dates, they were reunited as my car (containing Maximilian) pulled into a parking space next to Buster's owners' car (containing Buster). Both Beagles had a slightly rolled-down window, and both used this to their full advantage to vent their best Beagle howls upon recognizing one another, and both struggled attempting to squeeze out of their respective 3.5-inch window gaps. A good Beagle time ensued. Maximilian misses Buster and wishes him the best in Hawaii!


And last, but not least, this is Addy, another good friend of Maximilian's. For these two, lounging in the sun is just as much a priority as greeting one another with kisses on the lips. On this particular day, I think Maximilian probably became jealous of Addy's well-chosen spot in the sun and somehow sneakily manipulated her out of it (perhaps by moving his lips out of her reach), leaving her the second-best spot in the house just outside of the range of the window's spill of sunlight.

Fields of Gold

In my recent sparrow travels, we came across an endless yellow field.

A field of yellow flowers. A cultivated (grown on purpose) yellow flower crop.

Rapeseed (from whence we get canola oil).

I'm not thrilled about the name, but the actual effect of acres and acres of plants flowering with yellow flowers, spanning a hill up into the sky and back down again is phenomenal.

It looked like something out of a Tim Burton movie. It was nearly too bright to look at directly.

Bees and all manner of pollinating insects buzzed around and around and around. My face and clothes glowed with a tinge of bright yellow.

The sky was as blue as blue can be and the flowers were as yellow as yellow can be. And they were all that I could see. I wanted to lie down and take a nap. And dream of purple elephants and green clouds and ice cream sundays.

But it wasn't a dream. It was real. And I forgot the sun in its jealous sky...

When one in the hand does not equal two in the bush

Many apologies for my absence. There are good reasons for it, I promise. They have to do with all of my worldly goods being purposely carted 1,300 miles and the upheaval that that entails. Maybe I should post about that in the future.

My current reason for being post-less for so long is that I'm in the middle of a sparrowing trip in Grand Forks, ND. It entails getting up freakishly early in the morning and walking through wet, muddy, fragrant meadows with an iPod, a speaker, a net and a few other accouterments (weighing in total approximately 48 pounds).

Freakishly early in the morning.

And again (and every day).

The current total is up to 17 sparrows of the intended variety (Nelson's Sparrow). Today was a banner day in terms of biodiversity (n = 5). Not-so-much in terms of adding to the total for sparrows of the intended variety (n = 1).

But I suppose when you're not catching Nelson's Sparrows, you might as well be catching something else - just to pass the time. I often think, upon seeing a bird, that I would appreciate being able to hold it in my hands to examine it more closely. Today I got that chance, though I didn't particularly want it at the time.

We inadvertently captured five times more 'other birds' than Nelson's Sparrows today. Then we ate pancakes and took a nap.

The 'other birds' in no particular order...

Marsh Wren

Common Yellowthroat

Savannah Sparrow

(I cheated and used an old photo here - ND Savannah Sparrow wasn't lucky enough to be photographed this time. Truth be told, I just dumped him unceremoniously out of the net and let him go his merry little way. I was grumpy because he wasn't one of his cousins.)

LeConte's Sparrow

and last but not least, Swamp Sparrow

On a sunnier (literally and metaphorically speaking) day, we did catch some lovely numbers of the 'right birds.' This is a Nelson's Sparrow friend I banded in ND two summers ago and ran into again this week. He was absent from my capture list last summer, but my bet is that he was here.

Anyway, the moral of the story is that the old adage of one bird in the hand is worth two in the bush is not necessarily always applicable. And in this case, it makes this being a bit grumpy.

So...

Dear 'other birds,' I do love you for who you are, but please tell your friends the Nelson's Sparrows that I require their presence... sooner rather than later.

Not pictured (but seen or heard): Clay-colored Sparrow, Grasshopper Sparrow, Song Sparrow, Bobolink, Wilson's Phalarope, Red-winged Blackbird, Northern Harrier, White Pelican, Western Meadowlark, Eastern Kingbird, Cliff Swallow, Sedge Wren

Sleeping Beagle: Part I

Have I mentioned that Maximilian is passionately devoted to sleeping?

He is.

Also, you should know that he is a dog that understands the value of comfort. And he is often stubborn enough to procure a comfortable state in the way of his choosing.

Not uncommonly, this involves sleeping on some piece of furniture in a way that would be verboten for most pets (and some people).

Let's start out with a mild(ish) example...

Here is Maximilian proudly sleeping on the princess couch of a three year-old. Apparently he is not bothered by the three princesses who have ganged up on him and are peering at him whilst he slumbers peacefully. Beagles know no other way to slumber.

Here he is making himself comfortable amongst the couch pillows. Sometimes he likes to hide his nose while he sleeps. I suspect this is because his nose gets chilly.

Here, his behavior is beginning to morph into a more feline attitude. He has posed himself precariously on the arm of the couch in front of a big window, ready to whip around and alert the occupants of the house of any passersby if he deems it necessary.

Any cat would be jealous of this prime spot. But Maximilian has gotten there first. Again, with handy access to the window in order to best keep his watch on the neighborhood.

And finally, this has become the norm for my own schmushed couch corner. He has made for himself a little nest between the cushion and the back of the couch. A personal little napping nook. Or is it a cranny? I can't really tell. I should ask him.

Some have asserted that he is single-handedly ruining my couch. I am not sure that I have a good argument against that assertion. But I do know that I don't think I care.

A Strawberry Story

I have threatened that when I grow up I am going to run a strawberry farm. This is not an idle threat. Having been to several u-pick farms, I have concluded that they are just about the most wonderful places on the planet. If I could own and operate one of those, I think it would be lots of fun (and hard work probably).

One of the many appeals of such a career for me is getting to spend time in the great outdoors caring for living things. Another is the (literal) fruits of one's labor.


But it's not always about fruit at a strawberry farm. A strawberry farmer has the freedom to dabble in other wares. These carrots and onions and greens look good enough to me to have come straight from Mr. McGregor's garden.

I have vegetarian friends who would simply swoon if they were to see a pile of veggies like these.

But back to the strawberries...

I think there is something inborn deep inside of us that makes us want to pick strawberries ourselves rather than just walking out of a store with berries picked by someone else's (luck) hands. And I think it is because they are beautiful like this one. Picking them doesn't require much strength or intelligence. You merely bend down, make your choice and pluck.

There is, I suppose, some discretion involved. But it's not too difficult a task to tell the difference between a ripe and not-so-ripe strawberry.


It is, however, difficult to stop taking photos of the beautiful berries long enough to fill a bucket with them. Maybe cameras should be discouraged on u-pick grounds. This berry appears to be oozing deliciousness.

I managed to tear myself away from behind the camera enough to begin to fill a bucket. After a few minutes, that looks like this.

Then - oops - it looks like this. Because that particular one was just too tempting to drop into the bucket after having it in my hot little hands.


Eventually (depending on how many times you stop picking to take photos), the bucket looks like this. The dreams of smoothies and desserts of the strawberry persuasion grows in direct proportion to the weight of strawberries in your bucket.

Then, you get home (maybe you eat a cone of strawberry ice cream first), and the strawberries look so wonderful in your sink that you have to do something with them right away. Waiting is just not acceptable.

And then, hey presto, you have something resembling this!

Anybody know where I can buy a strawberry farm? Seriously.

The Parting Glass

I came across this song recently and found its sentiment acutely timely for me.

It is an old Scottish folk song. It may be happy, it may be sad, it may be both. It will be whatever you want it to be.

So to all who are left behind, "Goodnight and joy be with you all."