I've postponed this post because I had hoped to get a picture, but no luck.

Tuesday as Annie and I went to school, I came around the garden and had a view of the road for about sixty yards. Maybe it was 185.743672 feet. Well, after making the corner, the blasted shrubs growing on the adjacent property blocked my view. I'll vent on that jerk another time. At any rate, during those couple of seconds of clarity, I saw something up the road. My first thought was that someone was sitting on the road. It was a little after eight in the morning. Why would someone be sitting on the road? Well, it was just the immediate thought given the sensory information I had received. Annie was talking about I don't know what, and I was still looking at the road. We came around a particularly large outcropping of brush, and I saw what it was: a very healthy Tom Turkey.

Annie was ecstatic. We were actually later than normal for going to school, but we took the time to watch Tom and his girlfriend cross the road. I had seen them (I'm sure it was the same couple) on Highway 9 the day before. Apparently they are looking for a new home. I told Annie lots of stories from my history with turkeys. Tom was beautiful, by the way. He fluffed out in total spendor, and showed all his colors. We were enthralled.

A few of the stories that I told Annie required (yes, really required) me to make a turkey gobble. She chuckled and I've had to repeat the sound too many times. She hadn't heard it, though, and was anxious to hear it for herself. You know. The real sound, and not Daddy's version. The next morning, I got up early as usual. Around quarter to seven, I went out to feed Tolkien, and heard gobbling. I ran inside and told Annie (who was faking sleeping) that she needed to put her shoes on immediately. We rushed out to the deck to hear... silence. Well, almost silence. My neighbor was getting ready to go to work and had the car on. Damned thing was like a nest of hornets. Then I heard it. Annie didn't. But he kept on announcing the dawn of a new day. Finally, Annie heard it, too. Her face lit up, and she exclaimed, "he sounds funny!" Well, they are turkeys. They sound funny.

When we returned home that evening, we kept our eyes out for them, but didn't see anything. After homework, however, I went out to feed Tolkien and I saw the hen in the yard. I heard him again this morning, so I hope he likes the area, and they move in. If they do, and I can keep my neighbors from hunting them, we could have a new form of wildlife. Very cool.

Gobbledy-gook...

What a horrible night and morning. Tolkien got up many times during the night, and come going in and out of the house. That's not entirely abnormal, so I figured he was just having trouble going to the bathroom in the rain. However, at about four in the morning, I heard him whine as he stood up. He went out, and stayed out the rest of the night. I got up this morning a little later than usual as a result of taking care of Tolkien's difficulties. I went out to feed him about seven, and he was standing outside panting. That was weird. I reached down to pet his neck, and he yelped. He didn't eat, didn't have any water, and just followed me around everywhere. He would stand in front of me and just give off a vibe of 'please, help me.' I gave him a bath, and managed to get him to lie down. That lasted for five minutes. Then he was up standing and panting, again. I thought that maybe he was having issues with his joints, so I gave him some Ascriptin. He finally ate it, although he yelped when he first tried to take it, well he was trying to take the cheese that it was wrapped in.

Finally, I called the vet. They were closing in a little over an hour, and it was going to take at least a half hour to get there. The vet was very good, and very kind to him. I was sure this was going to be a one-way trip. I was envisioning tumors, cancer, whatever. Well, she checked him out very thoroughly, and concluded that without x-rays, her best guess was that he had strained the muscles in his neck. Frankly, I doubt that is hard for him to do given the fact that he is about 160 pounds, and his head is probably 20 of them. She gave him a shot of morphine, and gave me some pain killers to give him over the next few days. If he isn't better on Monday, she wants to do the x-rays. Right now he is lying on the floor next to me and sounds like a steam engine. I wish he could get some sleep.

Struggling with pets for the past couple of years...

Annie and I were busy putting away laundry when I walked by the rocking chair. Last week when I rode my motorcycle to work, I went in full leathers, and lazily left them in the chair. Lilo apparently decided that the leathers were cool, and nestled into them...



I asked him what he was doing, and I believe he requested that I get a side car and cat gear so he can go on a ride. Get in line, buddy. Annie's next...

Born to be Wild...

I can't help but write this now, after sitting on the deck and watching the sun come up with the computer on the deck table.

I'm very fond of giant breed dogs. Sadly, they don't live as long as other breeds, but their temperment agrees with me very well. The two I've had, a Great Dane, and now an English Mastiff have shown the breeds to be easy going, not hyper, and exceedingly affectionate. Danes are hands down the dog for me, and the Mastiff was actually my ex-wife's dog that stayed here when she left. She and her boyfriend now have what I disrespectfully call a "drop-kick dog." These are the really small, and really hyper dogs that are constantly yapping in the high-pitched bark that drives me insane. I suspect that all major serial killers had drop-kick dogs, and that's why the ultimately started hearing voices in their heads. I'm just not a drop-kick dog kind of person. I'd rather have a cat. I digress...

Tolkien (the Mastiff) is a very good dog, he's just not that smart. He is, though, very affectionate, and since Soren's passing has assumed the mantle of protector. This was a big step for him, as he had to stop urinating on himself every time someone drove up. That wasn't fear inspiring. Now he barks and growls at people he doesn't know, and puts on a big show before running into the garage to hide. Now if I could get him to stop dropping land mines on the road and deck, we'd have it made.

His description as a "mountain dog" is not because we live in the mountains. It is because he is one. A mountain. On mornings like this, he likes to lie on the deck right next to me... and snore. Maybe he's actually a volcano. Lying next to me sounds sweet and all, but his bulk extends from the table to the side of the chair. Every time I get up for a cup of coffee or to get some paperwork I need for whatever I'm working on, I look like I'm practicing Tai Chi exercises. One leg goes way up in the air, and extends out over his bulk, while my arms go wide to balance myself and whatever I'm holding in my hands. The same routine puts me back in the chair. I could make him move, but that would just be mean. Besides, he'll just settle back into his volcano form in a few seconds. Of course, I have to be careful not to disturb him during the expeditions around Mount Tolkien. If I startle him out of his reverie, he sits up and I get a thirty pound dog head slammed into parts of my body I'd just as soon not have punched.

He cracks me up, and I wouldn't have it any other way.



Mountain climber...

... to be nice. I was thinking about the days on the river, and remembered one of the stories that makes me laugh... now...

Trotlines were very common on the Gasconade. Legally, they are supposed to be marked to show who the owner is, and a place of residence. Few people do it, and most of them leave the lines out in the river after they get tired of checking them. When I saw lines that were not marked, I'd take them out. I could just imagine what it would be like for a kid playing in the water to get one of these huge hooks buried in them... ok, I was equally as worried about my dog and me doing it. Part of it is, I just consider the trotline very sportsman like. If they are afraid they are going to starve without it, ok, but that's not what I've seen. I had a neighbor that proudly showed me his huge chest freezer full of catfish, and with further pride told me that he was still pulling them out of the river and had to give them away because he had no place to put them. No wonder Flanders and I couldn't catch a single one when we went night fishing. Granted, it did give us the opportunity to watch me try to balance the boat near a large branch that broke in my hands and resulted in me falling in the water. We were die-hard, though. We boated home, I took a hot shower, and we were back on the water to continue drinking beer fishing.

Well, anyway, my story is supposed to be about the time I was trolling down the river, and saw a continuous splashing about ten feet from shore. Every now and then, I could see a trotline come to the surface, and knew something was trapped. It was not the kind of splashing that comes from a fish. I turned the boat in that direction, and saw a rather large river turtle with its foot caught on a hook. I know that we are supposed to approach wildlife with a certain respect, but a) I'm Dr. Dolittle, and b) it was a freakin' turtle. I figured I'd have to force it to let me hold the foot to get the hook out.

The hook was completely through the foot. Having been in a similar situation with a treble hook, I knew it was going to hurt the poor turtle like a mother to pull it out. I was thinking about the confusion this poor creature must have been going through, and how close to exhaustion it must have been trying to make sure it could get air. I gingerly started working on the foot, and after a few minutes, I got the hook out. Imagining how pleased the turtle must have been to be free, I quickly tried to release it. Not quickly enough, however... It reached over and took a bite out of my hand. It wasn't a snapping turtle, but it could have given one a run for its money. I had a big v-shaped wound in my finger where it took out a chunk of flesh with its beak. It then swam off to continue its pleasant life as a river dweller. I was probably the first meal it had had in a couple of days.

I hope it got sick...

Mental note: knock them in the head before you help... people, too...

I was sitting on the floor working on my presentation. I was freakin' hot and sweaty. Not only was it hot in the house, but the notebook computer on my lap was about 200 degrees, and made it worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fluttering... My bat friend had returned. He had apparently gotten into some dried plants that I have in the kitchen because he had a piece of straw stuck in his claws. For about ten minutes he fluttered around, and Lilo thought it was very exciting. He chased it around jumping off chairs and tracked it through the house. We lost it somewhere along the way. I think it went into the study. I figure it found its way in, it can find its way out. Maybe that's why we haven't had any mosquitoes in the house this year!

Fond of at least one kind of rodent...

I was sitting on the floor working on my presentation. I was freakin' hot and sweaty. Not only was it hot in the house, but the notebook computer on my lap was about 200 degrees, and made it worse. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something fluttering... My bat friend had returned. He had apparently gotten into some dried plants that I have in the kitchen because he had a piece of straw stuck in his claws. For about ten minutes he fluttered around, and Lilo thought it was very exciting. He chased it around jumping off chairs and tracked it through the house. We lost it somewhere along the way. I think it went into the study. I figure it found its way in, it can find its way out. Maybe that's why we haven't had any mosquitoes in the house this year!

Fond of at least one kind of rodent...

I got back from lunch a couple of hours ago. I have to say it is really nice to leave the house (office, that is) for lunch at times. The food and company was excellent, and surprisingly I didn't fall into food coma after eating. It's surprising because I had insomnia last night, and probably would have fallen asleep on the way home... By the way, I stopped twice at the stop sign where I got busted on Monday...

Yeah, I had trouble sleeping last night. I woke up constantly after funky dreams. I seemed to be getting into fist fights, which is very wierd, given that I don't believe I've ever been in a fist fight. I generally only sleep deeply for a maximum of two hours, and the rest of my time is very light. That's why I was typically the one who got up to check on Annie when she was a baby during the night. I think it is worse when the moon is full (werewolf? more like werebananaslug). Well, to get to the point, I began to hear the tell tale signs of mouse activity in the kitchen. Yes, the kitchen is sixty feet from the bedroom, and there are walls in the way, but I have pretty good hearing. I've tried very hard to damage my hearing with loud music, but was not successful.

Twice I heard/saw Lilo jump out of the bedroom window and canter into the kitchen like an elephant. Stealthy he is not. I optimistically thought that maybe he would take care of the problem, but knowing Lilo, he was probably negotiating with the mouse. If the mouse could bite through the can that held the canned food, he'd share it. No? Fine, I'll go back to the window... Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. This is a terrible place for an insomniac to be in. The blood is pumping, and then I'm irritated with the knowledge that I'm not going to get to sleep for even longer. I should have banged my head into the cupboard door again to see if I could just knock myself out.

I approached the kitchen with stealth (unlike Lilo), but a creaky floor gave me away. I turned the light on, and opened the pantry door. There he was... right on the side of the pantry frame. This happened once before, and by the time I found something to grab him with, he was gone. Ironically, after my dreams, I reacted instantly. Believe it or not, I punched him. I never thought about missing and breaking my hand on the frame, and nailed him. My pinky knuckle is a little sore from contacting the frame, but other than that, I didn't hurt myself. I think I pulled the punch a bit at the last minute when a voice in my head said, 'you know, he really is kind of cute.' That voice sounded a lot like Annie. He fell to the ground. I don't think he was dead, just stunned. I picked him up by the tail, and unceremoniously through him out into the fruit garden. Somehow, I tried to justify to myself that I wouldn't have to explain (as if she would ask) to Annie that I killed it. Now, if a coyote or a neighbor cat pounced on it, I can't help it....

An hour later, I fell asleep...

Provoked to violence...

I woke up around two this morning, and couldn't get back to sleep. That's not unusual for me, but around three, I finally started to doze off. As I started to get into the sleep zone, and happened to look out the window. It dawned on me that I hadn't seen Lilo in quite a while, and he usually sleeps on the bed or in the window (if it's open). I sat up, completely awake now. It didn't take long to determine that he wasn't in the house, so I grabbed a flashlight and started looking outside.

I walked all over the deck, looked over the driveway and the garage, went below the house and looked under the house where he has gone in the past when he escapes... No dice. I heard some movement in the trees that sounded a lot like a coyote, and started to get seriously worried. Around 3:30 am, I walked to the other side of the house, and the light flashed across some bright green eyes. There he was sitting on the landing of the stairs to the garage... just watching me. I picked him up and took him inside. I dropped him on the floor, and went back to bed. He bawled for a while about having his night time adventure interupted, and I told him to shut it. He did. Sometime a little after four, he jumped on the bed, and I fell asleep.

This morning he tried to get on my good side by looking especially innocent. He had crawled into Annie's toy chest and fallen asleep amidst all the stuffed animals. It didn't work...

Dr. Dolittle feeling a little more like Mr. Hyde

I hope this is not too cliche' since I live in the Bay Area, but I thought it was pretty funny...

One of my neighbors lost all but one of his chickens to the coyotes. I believe this is the second time it has happened to him. He was going out of town for a few weeks, and he wanted to know if Annie and I could watch the survivor. While gone, he is hoping to reduce or eliminate the rodents that have set up a restaurant and bathroom in the chicken coop. Well, one of the deceased was a rooster. I used to enjoy hearing him every morning and through out the day as he declared his dominance over the world. Apparently, so did the surviving chicken. She welcomes the day with a wonderful crow. That is, it is a wonderful crow for a chicken. It sounds like something is dreadfully wrong with her, but it is just clear enough to recognize what she is trying to do.

She'll be happy to find that when she goes home, there will be more chickens, and maybe one of them will be a rooster. Then again, they may have a bit of a fight over who is actually the leader now that she (sort of) crows!

Cock-a-doodle-doo...