One of those evenings, I brought my camera.
Dad loved his dog Huck, who was a placid, wise-eyed hound dog. He talked to him as if Huck were able to converse right back, but after Huck died suddenly and painfully in the last year after getting a bone splinter lodged in his intestinal tract, Dad found it hard to transfer those affections to Huck's hyper predecessor.
And when I write "hyper," I really mean "the craziest, slobberiest, jump-up-ing-est pup you ever did see."
And when I write "We took Ruger for a walk," I really mean "We went for walk in the fields while Ruger tore around at a million miles an hour."
It's okay. He'd run back to us every few minutes, jump onto someone, knock them down, and then take off again, full tilt, into the sunset.
In the meantime, my girls kept a wary eye out.
Hey, scroll back up to the top and look at that picture of Ruger bounding through the goldenrod with his tongue hanging out....
_________________________________________________________________
Okay, now look at Annika. Ruger's strong personality is contagious, I guess. (Either that, or Annika and Ruger share some traits. Annika is not slobbery, though.)
I took this picture to show Dad when I visited him in Rochester. (But God moved him along the day before my would-be visit.) I'm wearing one of his Carhartts, but because it was hunting season, I also dug one of his orange hats out of the closet. Pleased that I was uncharacteristically responsible in his honor, I intended to show off my caution.
One bright tree left.
Rose Red brought home some turkey feathers. (I love her.)
They found dried puffballs to puff.
The last picture I took that night was a small flock of wild geese sounding their lonesome way home.
The nerd in me wants to tell you that lovely Rose Red found grouse feathers, in fact! (Harder to spot, I'd say - so more's the treasure!)
ReplyDeleteSo much for blogging after midnight.
ReplyDeleteYou're right, of course!
(And we found turkey feathers, too! Tho' not as many.)
You're no nerd, unless you want to be. I'd say fifteen years of time and study makes you a knowledgeable naturalist, instead. If only there were a way for you to pour all that knowledge into my head in fifteen seconds, I'd be set...
p.s.
ReplyDeleteSuch is my admiration of your knowledge that, except for the obvious identifications (or misidentifications, you know, like turkey-grouse feathers), you could tell me anything, and I'd trust it implicitly.
What? You say that this feather I thought was a blue jay's is actually a rare Northern Towheaded Blue-Rumped Sphinkger?! (I'd totally fall for it, too.)