We finally seem to have a new resident red squirrel. Our fluffy, well-fed girl, Maude, disappeared last summer, after reigning over our bird feeders and nearby birch trees for several years, leaving our yard completely squirrel-less.
When she disappeared, we scanned the trees for weeks, but were not rewarded by a single fluffy tail or scolding chitter. Rhonda was despondent, missing her near-daily squirrel-led deck-dashes.
I’m pretty sure Maude enjoyed those romps nearly as much as Rhonda. She knew exactly how far she needed to go to be safe, often leaving the feeder barely ahead of the black and tan bullet at her heels. She would flow nimbly up a post or over a railing, knowing full well that Ronni couldn’t reach her. Only once, in those three years, did she misjudge her timing, leaving a mouthful of tail fur (but only fur) for the triumphant Dachshund to savor.
It wasn’t until mid-winter that we noticed a skittish newcomer in a nearby tree. He was young and lean, not yet the size of our complacent, well-fed Mauve. For a while, he scampered higher in the trees at the slightest perceived sound or movement from the house.
We knew the bird feeders would draw him in eventually, but he was cautious. When he finally found the courage to reach the bounty of the feeder, his first visits were quick grab and run raids. In time, he relaxed enough to eat a few black oil sunflower seeds and pull peanut pieces from the suet bar.
Unlike Maude though, who would happily continue stuffing her cheeks while waiting for me to open the door for Ronni to dart out, George (yes, we named him George) was gone like a flash at the first bark from inside the house.
Very disappointing for Ronni, who was used to Maude’s confident, playful nature. George, so far, is more of an eat and run type.
GeorgeReady to run!
George is becoming a bit bolder in recent weeks, but it’ll be a while (if he survives) before he’s as cheeky and brave as our Maude. Maybe by next fall, he’ll be ready to give Rhonda a run for her money, so to speak.
R.I.P. Maude. I hope this feisty little guy is one of your offspring. 💗
A shotgun blast of 40-50 Pine Siskins shot past my deck this morning, probably just as irritated as me by the sudden onslaught of sleet from a leaden gray sky.
Yesterday, the local mob of Siskins had arrived, followed shortly by yet another mob, until there were so many swirling, chattering and bickering birds darting from birch tree to birch tree, I thought sure war would break out any moment.
Turn your volume up! 😄 And this was only the first mob!
Why these tiny sparrows invariably travel in such numbers is beyond me, since upon arrival, they immediately go to raucously arguing over every seed and spruce cone on the freshly uncovered ground.
It’s like a feathery swarm of bees up in the trees, bringing the still bare limbs alive with constant movement and sound. Small war parties would part from the mob, arrowing to the ground, only to take up the noisy argument amongst the damp, dead leaves. Back and forth, back and forth, for about fifteen minutes.
Then, as if on cue, the entire mob of birds would lift into the air, circle and rocket off to some new destination, known only to them.
Silence falls, broken occasionally by the appreciative chirp of a chickadee as it returns gratefully to its usually peaceful perch by the bird feeder.
I didn’t see hide nor feather of them the rest of the day, leaving the trees and bird feeder to our quieter and more polite nuthatches and chickadees. We even had a solitary woodpecker drop by for a suet snack.
This morning, just as the weather turned for the worse, the war reconvened with that shotgun blast. Pine Siskins everywhere.
I’m betting they were nesting in the dense patch of birch trees across the driveway and the sudden, sullen downpour of sleet (it really did seem to just start up without warning) had the birds taking flight from the bare, unprotected branches. Most likely heading for better cover in the copse of spruce trees beyond our yard. Smart birds.
I awoke to the patter of raindrops outside my bedroom window. Slowly at first, still drowsy with sleep, I tried unsuccessfully to identify the soft, steady music of it.
Almost drifting off again to the pleasant sound, it finally registered and I uttered a surprised and happy, “Oh! Rain!”
Of course, that was all it took to have blankets stirring and a sleek, black and tan face popping out from under them. Mom was up!
Rhonda’s morning ritual, as soon as she knows I’m awake (even if barely) is to throw her 13 lb self joyfully across my neck, bathing my face in morning kisses. It’s hard to believe she’s been doing this for nearly six years already.
Rhonda’s March 31st birthday has become my own personal start of spring, even though we will invariably have a few more short bursts of winter, defiantly declaring its unwillingness to quit the field.
But winter will give way. In the meantime, back to our wonderful morning rain …
Those of you who don’t live where winter blankets the world around you in stark, silent white snow for months at a time, might not understand how precious the sound of the very first rain shower of the year is. 💦☔️💦
Even the wildlife seem to appreciate the light rain. This pair of yearling moose were contentedly browsing newly uncovered twigs along the still icy driveway. The snow level had dropped by easily a foot since the rain began.
I will, of course, periodically lose my enjoyment of wet, cloudy days later in the year, but right now – it’s heavenly!! It rained off and on nearly all day. Not a heavy rain, but a gentle, continuous fall.
I cracked windows open in spite of the chill, the better to hear the welcome drips from roof to window’s ledge. I could literally see snow disappearing under the gentle pressure and [relatively] balmy 40° temperature.
Raindrops glistened like diamonds and clung to the branches of the small spruce tree next to my bird feeders, only to fall and scatter in a sparkling display of light as happy chickadees landed, causing the branches to quiver.
The first spring rain is a joyous occasion. My heart swells to bursting over the promise of spring. It’s a good day.
I had quite the wake-up call this morning. With Jerry off at a Dr appt, it was up to me to get up with the little doggos and take them out for their morning constitutional.
Happily, they didn’t wake me until 8:00 am, but it was pre-coffee, so I admit I wasn’t fully awake.
The minute I stepped out onto the porch , I knew something was amiss, but couldn’t pinpoint the problem.
At first, I thought the dogs just noticed the missing car, but then I saw the mohawk of stiff fur along Baxter’s spine, and Ronni was sniffing the porch decking with avid attention.
Concerned there might be wildlife about; I decided to call them back into the house and potty them on leash a little later, after doing a quick investigation – and as it turned out, I was not a minute too soon!
I shooed two very reluctant dachshunds through the mudroom and into the main house, then walked back to the front door with the intention of going out to check for prints (moose, bear, etc.).
Identification turned out to be super easy, as my front door window was suddenly framed with the huge head of a fluffy, red and white Saint Bernard, standing with his front feet on my door, looking in at me!
*Note; this very type of scenario is exactly why I keep telling Jer not to let Baxter out to potty unsupervised. While it’s true he won’t run off – there is no telling what else might wander by our semi-rural homestead. Jer continues to ignore my cautions. We are going to have another talk.
Victor, aka “Vinnie”, according to his name tag.
Anyway, after my heartbeat slowed from the surprise face-to-face, I took stock of the situation. The Saint Bernard looked fairly clean, well groomed and seemed friendly enough – but he wasn’t alone.
Further out in the yard was another dog, and this one was, if anything, even bigger. My best guess was a Husky/Karelian Bear Dog cross. Possibly some GSD (or heck, Great Dane?!?) mixed in? Easily over 100 lbs.
Before doing anything else, I paused and gave thanks that Baxter had come when called.
These two dogs had BEEN ON OUR PORCH already (Ronni’s animated sniffing proved that) and had obviously been nearby while I was pottying the dogs. While Ronni had been on leash, Baxter had not been.
This could have so quickly turned into a tragic situation. I honestly didn’t give a thought to the St. Bernard. The prick-eared Husky-looking dog though … he looked like the type of dog that would/could easily chase down and kill a rabbit (or small dog).
I’m not saying he would have – I’m just saying the thought passed through my mind and I was SO glad I hadn’t needed to race out onto our ice-rink of a yard, in my slippers, to attempt an intervention. 🥺
Early morning visitor.
After weighing my options, keeping these dogs (OK, especially the beautiful Saint Bernard) safe and off the streets won out and I cautiously opened the front door far enough to put a hand out to be sniffed while I spoke softly to him. The St. Bernard was wary but not unfriendly and after a few moments of indecision, he let me pet him. Once I had a hand firmly on his collar, I debated my next move.
Having come straight from bed, I was woefully unprepared for a dog rescue. I didn’t even have my phone with me. It was upstairs, plugged in next to the bed. If I let the dog go and ran for my phone, the two dogs would likely take off. All I could do then would be to put their description on our local Mat-Su Lost & Found Pets Facebook page and hope the owner might see it and know their general vicinity. Not good enough!
Fortunately, I had Rhonda’s leash close to hand, having just taken it off her minutes earlier. I casually clipped it to the big dog’s collar, giving me more control while offering the hesitant dog space to back away from me if he chose to.
I was also keeping a wary eye on the second dog, which had finally come up onto the porch as well. He didn’t look unfriendly, but way too shy to approach.
I wanted to bring the Saint into the mudroom, where I could (hopefully) safely close him in while I ran upstairs for my phone. I didn’t want to frighten him by pulling too hard on the leash and he wasn’t interested in kibble (the only “treats” I could put my hands on from the doorway).
Convincing him to come inside was quite the negotiation, but I didn’t have my glasses on and couldn’t read the numbers on this pretty boy’s dog tag. I needed my glasses and my phone!
Finally, I thought to set Baxter’s food dish on the floor well inside the mudroom. Kibble wasn’t the key, so I thought, maybe he was thirsty? Success! I had to shove his butt over to get the door shut, but he didn’t care.
Victor, happily lapping water from Baxter’s bowl.
It was pretty cute watching a 100+ pound St Bernard lapping water from a bowl sized for a 14# dachshund, but it did the trick. I refilled the tiny bowl and squeezed past him into the house – shooing indignant dachshunds away from the door and shutting it firmly behind me.
I took the precaution of kenneling the dachshunds, then retrieved both phone and glasses.
As soon as I had my glasses on and could read the phone number on Victor’s tag, I tried calling the owner, all the while praying he wasn’t at work in Anchorage or something.
My first call went to voicemail, so I left a message, switched to plan two and snapped a few photos. I apologize for the poor quality photos, but it was very close quarters.
Luckily, just as I finished a quick post to the Lost & Found Facebook page, my phone rang. Sure enough, it was a very relieved dog owner. I told him the situation – one dog in the mudroom and another anxious pacing the unfenced yard.
His first response was a hesitant, “Oh. Only two?” It seems he was still missing one dog. Sigh. I described the husky cross as dark, black and sable, with white chest and socks. He had already started his car and was on his way, but asked if I would please keep an eye out for a pretty red and white husky.
I agreed, and told him I could also update the Facebook page with a description of the still-missing red husky, for which he was grateful.
Victor was thrilled to be reunited with his daddy about 15 minutes later, and the shy, anxious husky turned into an adult version of a bouncing puppy, leaping into the cab of the truck as soon as the door opened.
I guess all’s well as ends well – at least for these two. Baxter and Rhonda, after gobbling down their own belated breakfast at nearly 10:00 am, proceeded to suspiciously sniff every corner of the mudroom. Btw, Baxter ate breakfast from an alternative food dish, since his was headed for the dishwasher. You can’t be too careful these days.
I hope the pretty red Husky finds her way home, or some other kind soul manages to entice her close enough to read her tag. Huskies can be much more people-shy than a goofy 10-mo-old St. Bernard.
De & the Dachsies - Our Rambles 