The migratory birds are coming well north by now.
We saw three swans on the Tomhannock Reservoir on our way to Vermont this weekend. It looked as though one was last year's signet - it was still dusty in some spots behind its wings. I roused a flock of mergansers on the small pond the road crosses on the way to Cambridge the day before. They were already fully matched up, mated pairs swimming side by side. And the sounds of the birds in the back yard is different. There are higher pitched, smaller voices that we haven't heard over the winter. Even the crows are wandering further - they are not waking us up each morning now before the alarm clock has rung.
The ubiquitous house sparrows are building their nests, or already have. I saw one going into a crack in the corner of a neighbor's porch roof molding yesterday. I didn't see any materials in its beak, but the sound was of much company inside. I wonder if the people who rent that apartment can stand in the front of their flat and hear the sound of the new chicks when they are born, under their feet.
It's nice to be warm again, to be overheated padding around the house in thick wool socks and fuzzy fleece robe over nearly ans fuzzy fleece pajamas.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Bad Dogs!
The Wolf Pack, now duo now since the Malamute died, scared the hell out of me this morning. It seemed warm enough to leave them in the unheated garage overnight rather than the basement. Overnights in the basement are reserved for temperatures approaching 10 degree and below. The dogs are happier in the seemingly drafty and unfriendly garage than cooped up in the comfy room in the basement, perhaps because they can hear the comings and goings on the street. And their marginal level of being house broken makes the garage much easier to maintain.
The two Husky girls are not brave dogs. They won't bark or whine until they know that someone safe has come to the door. After several days of pet sit visits they know the sound of my car as well as my walk up the front steps onto the porch, my fumbling with the key in the cranky front door lock. Like every other day, I started talking to them this morning as I walked by the garage door.
Any other day, the girls would have been whining and talking by the time I made it inside the kitchen and reached for the door to the garage. This morning, I found utter silence all the way in. No whines, no yips, not even the sound of overly long claws scratching on the cement floor. By the time I opened the door into the garage my heart was in my throat, fearing that I would find I had misjudged conditions and I would find two curled up Huskies dead of hypothermia. I was already rehearsing what I would tell the owner.
Instead, they were lined up at the garage door happily waiting for me to start the morning's routine. They got an exasperated Bad Dog on their way out to run in the yard, though they had no idea what I said. I realized that they were quiet because they were sure that I would do the important things - giving them time outside, refreshing the food and the most important, closing the visit with a treat. I never thought happy dogs would be a problem!
It's been a busy month and one with some sadness. The remarkable 35 plus year old quarter horse is gone. Volunteers on a late night shift somehow got food into him that he couldn't get down his throat. He was just coming out of an event - colic or choking or both - and probably still had some swelling in his throat. After nearly a day trying to resolve the issue, the barn owner had no choice. The horse was miserable and was not going to be able to come out of it, even with the vet trying everything in his arsenal. Emails have been flying around from the person who was in charge of that shift trying to shift the blame. Happily she doesn't have much regard for me so I haven't gotten any of them.
I am not mad at the dogs for giving me such a fright this morning, but they could have picked better timing to decide they could be sure of me.
The two Husky girls are not brave dogs. They won't bark or whine until they know that someone safe has come to the door. After several days of pet sit visits they know the sound of my car as well as my walk up the front steps onto the porch, my fumbling with the key in the cranky front door lock. Like every other day, I started talking to them this morning as I walked by the garage door.
Any other day, the girls would have been whining and talking by the time I made it inside the kitchen and reached for the door to the garage. This morning, I found utter silence all the way in. No whines, no yips, not even the sound of overly long claws scratching on the cement floor. By the time I opened the door into the garage my heart was in my throat, fearing that I would find I had misjudged conditions and I would find two curled up Huskies dead of hypothermia. I was already rehearsing what I would tell the owner.
Instead, they were lined up at the garage door happily waiting for me to start the morning's routine. They got an exasperated Bad Dog on their way out to run in the yard, though they had no idea what I said. I realized that they were quiet because they were sure that I would do the important things - giving them time outside, refreshing the food and the most important, closing the visit with a treat. I never thought happy dogs would be a problem!
It's been a busy month and one with some sadness. The remarkable 35 plus year old quarter horse is gone. Volunteers on a late night shift somehow got food into him that he couldn't get down his throat. He was just coming out of an event - colic or choking or both - and probably still had some swelling in his throat. After nearly a day trying to resolve the issue, the barn owner had no choice. The horse was miserable and was not going to be able to come out of it, even with the vet trying everything in his arsenal. Emails have been flying around from the person who was in charge of that shift trying to shift the blame. Happily she doesn't have much regard for me so I haven't gotten any of them.
I am not mad at the dogs for giving me such a fright this morning, but they could have picked better timing to decide they could be sure of me.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Changes
The "Wolf Pack" I sometimes take care of is not exactly a pack any more. The old man of a Malamute passed away and it is down to the two Husky girls. They do their best to act like a pack, leaping and and singing at me as though they want to increase the amount of space they occupy. But it is not the same. The presence of the Malamute was a weighty anchor.
A long time client, who has always been mostly my job because they are nearby, will be moving out of my area this coming spring/summer. The dog and I have an easy, settled relationship. We walk the boundaries of the yard in comfortable silence, the dog watching me to see if I'll let him scoop up a mouthful of something inappropriate and me watching him to see if he might need the plastic bag that I have in my pocket. When it is time to go back in, I say Home and point at the door. He reluctantly goes in, unless he hears the child being very noisy. Then he'll lead me back.
As far as I know this dog has never been trained to this command and has no idea of what the word means - I may as well say the name of my favorite food. But somehow he has always understood my intent.
At my last visit, I saw a neighbor across the street walking his black cat along the sidewalk. He stopped and opened a side door, waiting while the cat first pretended to ignore him then dash through the door. This was obviously a well-rehearsed dance.
A long time client, who has always been mostly my job because they are nearby, will be moving out of my area this coming spring/summer. The dog and I have an easy, settled relationship. We walk the boundaries of the yard in comfortable silence, the dog watching me to see if I'll let him scoop up a mouthful of something inappropriate and me watching him to see if he might need the plastic bag that I have in my pocket. When it is time to go back in, I say Home and point at the door. He reluctantly goes in, unless he hears the child being very noisy. Then he'll lead me back.
As far as I know this dog has never been trained to this command and has no idea of what the word means - I may as well say the name of my favorite food. But somehow he has always understood my intent.
At my last visit, I saw a neighbor across the street walking his black cat along the sidewalk. He stopped and opened a side door, waiting while the cat first pretended to ignore him then dash through the door. This was obviously a well-rehearsed dance.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
On the Mend
The cast comes off the wrist in 9 days and we'll see how long it takes the hand to get over the violin strings again. Meanwhile I have completed a major upgrade to the Sage City web site, added fresh references to the Wiki pages of people who have been involved with the Symphony and am most of the way through finishing the first version of another Wiki page to get it up for review. The cats have been loving this time, because my butt is solidly parked in a chair for extended time periods. They are doing fine with my lap, but I need a more comfy chair.
I've been much apart from other people and animals during this time except for some pet sitting and a few social forays. While I am glad to be done with it soon, I have very much liked the respite from how hectic my life had become. I'll just have to find better ways to get that time than breaking bones!
I've been much apart from other people and animals during this time except for some pet sitting and a few social forays. While I am glad to be done with it soon, I have very much liked the respite from how hectic my life had become. I'll just have to find better ways to get that time than breaking bones!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
House Pets
I'm away from the horses for a bit and house pets have to satisfy for a while. It works, but the mix of the bigger and the smaller critters will feel good when I am recovered from the fall I took and able to shovel horse poop again.
In the meantime I have had a chance to think about where I want to go with my violin playing, and I well may opt for a change of direction. The woman who has been holding down my seat in front of the second violins in one of my orchestras has again started to get odd about the conductor. Thus far it feels very similar to what happened the last time I was out of action for a bit and she filled the seat. The conductor is easily influenced by someone with a certain type of manipulative behavior, and as a result I felt like chopped liver for a while when I returned to the seat. There was little to no communication and he was downright rude several times in the first couple of performance cycles.
I am resolved that I don't want to go through that again, and I've been thinking of doing some different things in my playing than before. I well may let her have that seat, move to the back, and not get into the fray. This time of being unable to play is helpful in my coming to a decision about that.
In the meantime I have had a chance to think about where I want to go with my violin playing, and I well may opt for a change of direction. The woman who has been holding down my seat in front of the second violins in one of my orchestras has again started to get odd about the conductor. Thus far it feels very similar to what happened the last time I was out of action for a bit and she filled the seat. The conductor is easily influenced by someone with a certain type of manipulative behavior, and as a result I felt like chopped liver for a while when I returned to the seat. There was little to no communication and he was downright rude several times in the first couple of performance cycles.
I am resolved that I don't want to go through that again, and I've been thinking of doing some different things in my playing than before. I well may let her have that seat, move to the back, and not get into the fray. This time of being unable to play is helpful in my coming to a decision about that.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Things to remember
The pair of goats at the farm, leaning out over the top of their enclosure hoping that one of us coming by to pick up our box of vegies will go over and scratch their head. The male nuzzling the doe while thay waited.
The ever-annoying Siamese patting at my leg to get some attention, so he can climb in front of me as I type.
The ever-annoying Siamese patting at my leg to get some attention, so he can climb in front of me as I type.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
From the Farm, Animals Too
The last week has been spent processing vegetables that arrive in copious quantities from the CSA, but my husband doesn't eat. This last week turned up a red beet coulis, which worked great as a sauce over cheese ravioli and for pork chops. The second batch of beets got turned into that and hit the freezer today, with the garlic and ramped up from the original version. Some of the collard greens were hidden in a kimchi soup, and the rest may find their way to tonight's fish.
Today's recipe was to use something that he does like, but Ma Nature tends to pre-package in a quantity that is harder for two people to kill in a single meal - butternut squash. Aside from having overshot the mark a little on the curry, which will not be an issue when I add the cream tonight, it came out well.
I was struck by how much of what I used came from a local farm, including animals. All of the vegetables as well as the pears came from this last week's visit to pick up our farm share. The stock came out of the freezer, made a few months ago from the backs of the whole chickens from another local farm. I buy them fresh and cut them up for our purposes. The vegetables that went into that stock came from the same farm as the squash and the pears.
The only things that did not come from a local farm were the butter and the curry. The cream I'll add later is also from a local cooperative.
Some years ago, I'd have thought that this kind of habit required that I live in a very rural area. But we live in a cluster of small cities with over a dozen colleges and the seat of state government under our noses, in a traditionally industrial valley. The produce and animals that contributed to this soup all came from smaller family farms, tucked into the rolling hills north and east of here. The local food movement is alive and well around here.
Today's recipe was to use something that he does like, but Ma Nature tends to pre-package in a quantity that is harder for two people to kill in a single meal - butternut squash. Aside from having overshot the mark a little on the curry, which will not be an issue when I add the cream tonight, it came out well.
I was struck by how much of what I used came from a local farm, including animals. All of the vegetables as well as the pears came from this last week's visit to pick up our farm share. The stock came out of the freezer, made a few months ago from the backs of the whole chickens from another local farm. I buy them fresh and cut them up for our purposes. The vegetables that went into that stock came from the same farm as the squash and the pears.
The only things that did not come from a local farm were the butter and the curry. The cream I'll add later is also from a local cooperative.
Some years ago, I'd have thought that this kind of habit required that I live in a very rural area. But we live in a cluster of small cities with over a dozen colleges and the seat of state government under our noses, in a traditionally industrial valley. The produce and animals that contributed to this soup all came from smaller family farms, tucked into the rolling hills north and east of here. The local food movement is alive and well around here.
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