Jaci Dawn

Don said this would be our “test run” with the dogs before a week long vacation. And it was a test run.

First, there was the logistics of packing two big dog crates into the rig plus all of our gear for just a weekend. Note to self: we need to streamline. We used to be streamlined, back when the kids were little and the only car we had was a 1984 Ford Escort that we took everywhere (and I mean on some roads you wouldn’t take a 4×4 down – we were pretty insane).

Anyway, dogs and camping. It was a lot of fun having them both with us and seeing how they interact. Harvey is young enough that he is still a puppy and he loves to watch Murphy. In fact, he’s started to emulate Murphy. <Ahem> That’s not funny, Harvey! But it could also bring wisdom.

The first time we put a shock collar on Harvey and let him off of his lead, he headed straight down the road to the wilderness, not a look back! ACK! After a quick lesson on boundaries, he started staying closer, but we still had to really watch him. He’s like a hound following his nose…

Speaking of his nose: he froze into a perfect point. Of course I have no photos because carrying the camera and trying to manage Harvey was not possible, so I left the camera in camp. Harvey not only pulled a perfect point, but he held it until I came up beside him and flushed the grouse out. Lordy, he was excited to have a bird! Both dogs worked that thicket for several minutes until we pulled them away. It was a beautiful thing, seeing the bird dog come out in my rescue dog.

He was into birds several times. We don’t know if he is gun-shy. But it was fun to watch him work grouse and band tailed pigeons in the woods.

Murphy was not having the best trip. First, he smelled COYOTE. He hugged the perimeter of the campfire and growled out into the woods, tail tucked. Murphy is third in a line of dogs we have owned that knew what a coyote was and knew it meant a dog should stay close to the fire and humans. He’s not willing to tackle a coyote.

(Sadly, Harvey was oblivious. He knew the coyote was out there but didn’t seem to grasp the danger that presented. Hopefully, he will learn by Murphy’s example.)

The coyote must den near the camp. We found fresh spoor and scratch markings in the dirt that were a clear warning to the dogs: This is MY place. Scattered around that were several old piles of spoor. It was all in one place, a definite boundary marker.

Murphy was also bothered by the deer flies. Must be the dark coat because they buzzed Harvey and they buzzed the humans, but they attacked poor Murphy.

“Save me from the flies, Dad!!”

It was too brushy for me to feel comfortable taking Harvey out and working with him on the collar. He ranges ahead with Murphy and I trail behind Don. I felt like a nervous ninny or an over-protective mother. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I could have.

Harvey? Harvey was in Heaven.

He got to play in the “lake”. He followed his nose. He followed Murphy. He was a dog and he loved every second of it.

There’s a world of difference between the two breeds. Murphy – the Wire-Haired Pointing Griffon – is a calmer dog. He doesn’t have the nervous energy of all the previous bird dogs we have owned. He can relax completely. He still steals things, but he isn’t compelled to be constantly moving.

Harvey is just like our previous bird dogs: a bundle of nervous energy, constantly on the move. In the house, he’s calm as calm can be, but outside he has to be on the move constantly. He’s learning to steal things.

Yeah: “What Murphy does, I can do better” is Harvey’s motto. Murphy’s motto is “I’ll teach him all I know.”

In the end, we had a good time and I know now what to expect when we head out on a real vacation.

All ready to go home. Camp site is picked up and clean, fire has been doused and stirred, and dogs are loaded into crates. (Note: trash bag on top of Murphy’s crate: Haul it in – Haul it OUT!!)

I have three weeks to get ready for a REAL camping trip.

I have several friends who blog about cooking. You will notice that I do not blog about cooking. this is because while I like to bake occasionally and I sometimes enjoy making jelly, I categorically hate cooking. I am not a great cook, either. I don’t know if hating cooking came first or being a bad cook came first – and I don’t really care. I look forward to summer and barbecues because Don does nearly all the cooking in the summer.

Don made dinner for us on Friday. I even helped a little, but mostly I just took photos.

First, Don had to make a camp fire and we had to let it settle down into some very nice hot coals. We rarely camp when you can have a fire (forest fire season and all), but it’s been an especially wet and cold year here in the Pacific Northwest (sorry to everyone else who is enduring the “hottest summer on record”: ours is one of the coolest on record).

We chopped some turkey sausage, potatoes, carrots, red onion, red pepper and Roma tomato and put it on aluminum foil. Nope, nothing from our garden: it has been that lousy of a year for a garden!

Don spiced it up with some peppery spice he had in his camp box.

No, we didn’t add smoked oysters. But we forgot to pack the olive oil. Don’t you just hate that? You get out camping and sure enough – you forgot some important food item and you have to punt. In this case, we used the oil off of the smoked oysters and dribbled it generously over all the sausage and veggies (then we ate the oysters as an hors d’oeuvre).

We double-wrapped it in aluminum foil but if you used heavy duty wrap, you probably wouldn’t have to.

Don set the packages on the hot coals.

And the timing begins. Every ten minutes, turn the foil packages over.

Don used a shovel and welding gloves to turn the packages over.

Forty minutes later…

Think maybe we could have done this in 30 minutes since there was a little bit of charring going on…

But darn, that was a good, hot meal! Everything was cooked through and soft & juicy! It wasn’t so burnt that it tasted bad, so Don rescued it out of the fire in plenty of time.

Yummy!

We’re home and it’s hot. Too hot to sit up here in my studio and post to my blog, so I am merely posting a “teaser” that will catch me up on the photo per day for 365 days challenge. These are 358-361:

A dog and his Human.

Summer Sky – not a cloud in sight!

Washington lilies were in bloom (named for Martha Washington, not the State). Can you see the spider?

And the orphan ducks are getting bigger! We only saw two of them today, but given their penchant for hiding, we’re not too worried. They’ve made it two weeks without a mama to protect them!

That’s it for tonight. It is supposed to get cooler tomorrow and as the week goes.

TTFN–

An old photo of my little Appaloosa mare, Whisper.

I got her for free. Really. I told several people that “if I were to pray in a horse of my own, she would be a strawberry roan Arabian that’s young enough to enjoy and free.”

One of those people brought me an ad she found in a grocery store on the bulletin board: Free Arab-cross. 2 years old. Greenbroke. Gentle.

Don actually agreed to take me to see her and it was love at first sight. I owned her for over 10 years until we moved into town and it was time to let her move on to a new home. I gave her away to a friend of Don’s and she was a member of their family for a long time.

She’d be 23 years old now so maybe she’s still out there and maybe she’ll come back to me some day.

She wasn’t a roan, but was that snow-flake red one a white blanket. But she was everything else I ever wanted in a horse: sweet, gentle, funny, stubborn. Oh, did I mention she was an Appy? She could be stubborn.

Some days I really miss my little horse.

I need to catch up on the Photo 365! I have just over a week left of taking a photo a day & posting it.

For Tuesday (#355/365):

Murphy being a good dog. He is a good dog. He still steals things and he has no table manners, but he’s the best friend Harvey always dreamed of. (Harvey, by the way, has no table manners either. We’re working on having to stay down and be good while people eat. It’s a journey.)

For today:

Do you see them? The photo is enlarged and therefore not great quality, but do you see them?! I saw them late Monday night as I was headed home from work. They were in the pond on Tuesday and I got to show them to my walking partner. And I saw them again tonight as I was headed home from work. We still have three of the five orphaned baby ducks! They are really good at hiding when they don’t want to be seen – my partner & I looked everywhere Thursday & Friday of last week and again on Monday and this morning. These babies have survived over a week now.

And to think we thought they were dead. I’m just so jazzed that they have survived this long. Every day is a miracle.

And now for my whine. I continue to be sick. It’s an all-over ache. No fever, just a complete lack of energy and a dull ache in my muscles. I feel like I can hardly put one foot in front of the other, but somehow I still do.

This isn’t related to the hike on Saturday: I was feeling like this before we went on the hike. I think it might be allergies, but it’s really bothersome. I just have no energy. Could it be the blood pressure meds? You’d think I would have noticed that side effect a while ago since I’ve been on the BP meds for three months (or is it 4?) now. I had plenty of energy the first three weeks of owning Harvey: we walked two times a day, even.

But the last two weeks I have been hard pressed to make one walk a day with Harvey. I just want to sleep (which, of course, I can’t because I’m really not sleepy). Today I almost didn’t manage a walk at work – and that’s all flat-land, easy stuff at a strolling pace!

I really do not like this feeling at all and I want it to pass. I NEED my energy.

And that’s my whine.

But at least the baby ducks have survived!

Let me preface this with: my camera did not take very good photos. The lighting was difficult and the wildflowers were very hard to get the camera to focus on. Maybe I am just critical because the view was so beautiful and no matter how you photograph, you just cannot capture the essence of the high Cascades.

The background to this story is about the Internet and the group of volunteers my husband works with (Trail Advocates). Some time back a woman posted a note on their website asking for information on Fish Creek Look Out during the 1930’s. Her mother and father spent a summer (their honeymoon) manning the look out up there and the daughter wanted more information. The comment languished until my husband read it and decided he should respond to the inquiry. Through the internet, he made fast friends with the woman, her still-living mother, and the entire extended family of this couple who spent their honeymoon isolated on a mountain top in Oregon.

Eventually, the journal will be posted on the Trail Advocates website and when it is, I will alert you so you can go and read this very romantic story. For now, you have my abridged version.

Elbert & Helen were very much in love. Elbert died about 8 years ago and Helen died this past March. Their children wanted to honor their parents by making a pilgrimage up this mountain to the site of the now long-gone look out. Donald agreed to show them the way and a date was set: July 17,2010.

Two daughters came: Pam, the eldest, and Bev, the one who originally posted. Bev’s long-time partner of 30 years came, JoAnn (the oldest of the group at age 72), and JoAnn’s daughter, Jenny. Jenny’s partner also came with their newly adopted dog, Elisa & Flora (the dog). Pam’s oldest son arrived, an architect who lives in Texas: John. The youngest grandson also came: Travis, age 25. A cousin, Bruce, and his wife, “Jah” also came along to pay homage, and another cousin, Ron, who is a Forest Ranger in Utah.

Also invited was a man that Pam met on an airplane less than a month ago: a former Estacada Forest Ranger, John. John was fascinated by the story that took place in the US Forest District he once managed and Pam believed it was not a coincidence that she met him o a trip to visit Maccu Piccu.

Last, there was Don and Murphy, our tour guides and myself. I was not the least prepared for the hike which was a very steep climb from 3,000 feet to 5140. The midwesterners suffered from the altitude as well as the strain to muscles and joints. I grew up in Ely, Nevada, an altitude of 65oo feet and was less discomforted by altitude than I was just plain lack of being in shape and approaching this entire hike already feeling rather weak and lethargic.

But we all made it to the summit. We zig-zagged up steep ridges, walked a rough decommissioned Forest Service road and staggered up more steep zig-zags. The wildflowers were incredible: blue gilia, silver-leaf arnica, Indian paintbrusk, wild daisies, yarrow, golden yarrow, larkspur, several shades and varieties of penstemons from pink to deep blue, bunchberries, salmonberry blooms, vanilla leaf and more. The views – when visible – were breath taking: Mt. Jefferson, Olallie Butte, Mt. Hood and Mt. Adams.

At the summit, there was a casual service of homage, a search for a geo-cache (the journal was signed by all and something added to the cache-box), and lunch.

We went down in small groups. Some opted to hike down to High Lake where Elbert & Helen had to go to get their drinking water. Three of the family members carried backpacking equipment up and chose to spend the night. Ranger John, JoAnn, Jenny, Elisa & Flora headed down first because 10-month old Flora was wiped out (that’s a big hike for a young puppy). I guided a very tired, sore, and exhausted Jah out (I was just as tired, sore and exhausted, but I know my way around the woods and wasn’t likely to make a mistake and get lost). Donald brought out Pam & Bev after taking architect John down to High Lake.

Jah ran out of water on the summit but I had extra in my pack and we shared that.

I picked up a really cool stick I planned to use in my artwork but I set it down somewhere along the line and neglected to pick it back up when I grabbed my walking stick for the final leg back down. Jah learned the value of a walking stick as we descended some gravelly places.

The first party made it to the cars by 4:40. Jah and I arrived at 5. Donald’s group made it down by 6:30. Except for a twisted ankle, no one got hurt.

Well, except for how stiff and sore I am today (and I imagine: Pam, Bev and Jah). Nearly everyone else seemed to be in better shape, but since I am not there to hear them complain, I could be very wrong. I’m pretty sure the three who spent the night came down sore and cold.

In the end, it was a wonderful hike, a wonderful tribute to Elbert & Helen, and Don & I feel like honorary members of this extended midwestern family.

Some photos:

Looking at the map of the trail. Don (brown hat, green plaid shirt) shows everyone the plan. Murphy (dead center of the huddle) is enjoying all these people on his trail. Flora wanders the outer rim.

Looking back down the decommissioned road at the stragglers. We’re only a mile from the base at this point, with a two mile stretch up the ridge to the summit. It was at this point coming back that I learned how to encourage someone who wanted to just sit down and cry more than I did. “We’re only a mile from the cars now.” Funny how having someone tell you how close you are helps!

The dogs take advantage of a break to beg for attention. (Flora & Jenny, Murphy & Elisa.)

Mr. Innocent Trail Leader.

I wish the colors had come out better! Two kinds of penstemon on the basalt, larkspur and arnica in the foreground. Butterflies were everywhere.

One of the views (to the west, so no Cascades peaks).

View to the SW: Ollalie Butte and Mt. Jefferson.

Bear grass in bloom – one of my favorites!

Mt Hood to the NNW.

The rock cairn telling us to turn left and back onto the trail. Only 2/3’s of a mile left back to the cars. Poor Jah was ready to throw it all in at this point. All I could think was, “We’re so close now!”

I’ll share more wildflowers over the next few days.

Summer is advancing in my garden. The gladiolas I painstakingly planted are starting to bloom and so are my beloved Shasta Daisies.

The weeds are also in full bloom and I don’t know when I’ll tackle them again.

The local wildlife was busy posing for photos this week.

The geese are back.

Sadly, the five little ducklings did not make it. Three of them made it three days, then there was one. Today there were none. 😦

My energy has not returned and tomorrow we have a huge hike planned. For my friend in the UK Suzanne Takes You Up: we will hike up 2,000 feet or 609 meters in elevation. We’re starting at 957 meters (1340 feet) and hiking to the summit at 1566.67 meters (1540 feet). I’ll post more about it tomorrow, but it is not a long hike and is rather steep.

We’re taking a group of tourists up to an old US Forest Service fire look out in the Cascades. Long story short, my husband met this family on the Internet. The mother (who just passed away in March) served as a Conscientious Objector during WW2 with her new husband by manning the look out one summer during the war. She sent my husband a copy of her diary of that summer (essentially their honeymoon).

The family “adopted” Don and now they have all come out West to hike up to the look out where they plan to either spread ashes or place a memorial for their parents.

I hope they understand this is not a hike in the park! And since many of them are ten years or more older than I am – I hope they’ve taken their heart meds! HAHAHA.

I will post tons of pics as this is a banner year for wildflowers and because I love taking photos in the high Cascades.

Last: I cannot believe this is the first time I’ve gone hiking this summer!! It’s the middle of July! I’ve usually managed at least a camping trip or two by now. Of course, it’s still ‘freaking’ cool out: only 70-something today for a high. This desert girl needs HOT sun in the summer… Not chilly winds and overcast skies. But the pay-off will be the wildflowers.

I’ll let you know how the hike to High Lake (what an original name!) goes.

The photos did not come out, but I decided to post them as my Photo 349/365 anyway.

If you have been following my blog, you know that we had nine goslings and ten ducklings waddling around the business park where I work. The last time I posted photos of them was the last time we saw them.

The geese and the ducks wander freely pond to pond, across a busy street and side streets. Then they just disappear. I’ve done a “Google Earth” search of the area near where I work and there is a wetlands to the west of us. It’s about a half-mile out, but entirely conceivable that geese and docks could waddle that far (assuming they get safely across the very, very busy street between the business park and the industrial area to the west. But it is only one street, a small industrial park, and a mostly unused railroad track before the wetlands).

I have no idea if the nine little goslings or the ten little ducklings made it. I hope so.

It is the middle of July and suddenly we have tiny baby ducks! Five of them as of Monday. Five of them as of Tuesday.

The sad part of this story is that we have no mama duck. She’s a pancake in the middle of an intersection in the business park.  She was in the crosswalk, so I don’t know why she got hit, but I suspect some people just do not care. Or they are talking on their cell phones despite the fact that it is illegal. Whatever happened, happened before we discovered the ducklings.

They are very wild and the closest I could come to them for photos is… well, not close.

24 hours after being orphaned, they were frenetic. They moved from pond to pond, stopping traffic, and waddling hurriedly around.

48 hours later, there are only three ducklings left. But there are 3.

I’ll try to keep you updated on these little guys. They are far too wild to try to capture. They keep to the far side of the pond from humans.

Speculating on the missing two, I’d guess crows. But one never knows.

Another boring post on dogs – sorry. I had another topic in mind, but the photos didn’t turn out. So I am going to bore you to death with the antics of my new friend, Harvey.

The first two weeks of Harvey’s new life, I was taking him for a mile-long walk two times a day.  That isn’t much, really, but I was also walking two miles a day during breaks at work, so I was feeling pretty good about fitting in four miles a day. However, I haven’t been feeling up to snuff the past few days and I’m barely managing one mile-long walk with him in the early morning and my two leisurely “strolls” at work (they are leisurely compared to the pace Harvey walks, coupled with the level terrain. At home, we’re going up and down hills). I suspect allergies play a part in the lethargy I am feeling, but I am just plain worn out.

Harvey, on the other hand, is experiencing energy to spare.

What to do? What to do? I need him to get enough exercise to be a tired dog (tired dogs are good dogs), but I haven’t got the energy to make that second hike in the afternoons. I’m sure it will come back, but my get-up-and-go got up and left.

Last night I discovered Harvey does know how to play. I think in the world of doggie adoptions, there’s a period where the new dog just is not certain of his new surroundings, so he doesn’t play, he doesn’t bark, he doesn’t exhibit a lot of his normal personality all in the name of figuring out what the rules are and if he will like his new home.

When my mother adopted her Schnauzer, he didn’t bark or howl for the first few weeks. Then one day, he started barking. And howling. It was the day he decided he lived with us and he knew my mom loved him. (Unfortunately, his favorite time to howl was at 3:00AM and the neighbors did not love him… or my mom.)

Harvey has been hiding his wonderful sense of humor from us. There have been hints, but he just has not felt free to be himself around us until these past few days.

In his “care package” from the pound, he was given several toys, all of which Murphy stole from him. Murphy ate the stuffed lamb. The rope toy has survived only because Murphy only plays with it in passing.

I stole it from Murphy last night & took it outside with Harvey, alone. And he was like a puppy, bouncing in the air and barking, wagging his fool tail and chewing on the rope toy until I took it and tossed it, again.

Tonight, I let Murphy in on the fun.

And fun it was. Don and I sat in the lawn chairs and just laughed at the antics as Harvey stole the rope toy time and again from Murphy. Tug of war? Harvey wins. Momentary lapse of attention? Harvey steals. Murphy stood over Harvey and barked and begged and feinted – but Harvey kept winning. When Murphy did get the toy, he trotted out of rope range and chewed on it. But he always took it back to tease Harvey, and Harvey would steal it away.

They’re good doggie friends. While some of the photos look like they are fighting, there were only play growls and play feints being made. Happy dogs.

And now Harvey is a tired dog.

Now, if only I could find my energy.

We spent the first two weeks of Harvey’s new life here just trying to keep him separate from Murphy. We weren’t too concerned they would fight, but we needed to keep them from playing too rough together.

I also had to avoid the temptation to give Harvey a bath and that was a real temptation since he’d peed all over himself when he was at the pound.

We let the dogs out together last Thursday. Harvey has to be tethered because he is a “runner”, but I found a long nylon horse lunge line that works perfectly for restraining him and yet allowing him to play rough with Murphy. I was afraid a cable or a chain would hurt a dog if it got tangled up, but the flat nylon is easy to untangle and doesn’t hurt as much. And it is longer than a cable or a chain, allowing for more movement. The caveat is: you have to monitor Harvey because he might conceive of chewing through the nylon. A very small caveat.

Sunday, Harvey got a bath while Murphy was out in the mountains hiking. Harvey came mostly clean, but not entirely. I’m going to have to return to the farm store and purchase some horse shampoo for white horses to see if I can work the yellow stain out of his long fur. I used to use some on my little white Appaloosa mare, so I know it’s out there.

Harvey wasn’t thrilled with a bath but he didn’t fight it, either. I found several old scabs that he must have earned when he was roaming free, before he was captured by Animal Control and taken to the pound. Makes me wonder, once again, what his story is.

Sunday afternoon late, Murphy returned from his grueling mountain hike.

Harvey jumped up and acted like his best friend had just returned from a long vacation. He was almost as excited to see Murphy as he is to see me after a long day away at work!

Murphy was a bit too tired after his hike to get too worked up.

There’s a definite pecking order in place as Harvey ducks down and Murphy takes the upper hand.

And this is about as rough as it gets.

Murphy does a lot of barking (we discovered that a loud “QUIET!” followed with a show of a squirt bottle works wonders to silence him) and Harvey runs in short circles for a minute before rolling over onto the grass and trying to dig a hole to hide in (another reason for the squirt bottle: to stop the digging).

It’s been an interesting experience. When Murphy was a pup, the water bottle didn’t work: he thought it was funny to turn into the bottle and lap up the water as we squirted him. Apparently he’s forgotten that trick and the squirt bottle now works wonders.

When we are not looking, sometimes Murphy hauls one of his precious “sticks” over to Harvey to “share”. Harvey doesn’t quite know how to play “stick”, but he does understand he’s being given a gift and he cheerfully chews on the stick with Murphy.

And then I caught him with the hose… I don’t know if Murphy hauled the hose to him or he discovered it on his own, but it had a nice hole in it when I caught him. I scolded him verbally and he cowered, tucked his tail and ran under the handicap ramp to hide.

Dang! Someone has used blunt force to correct him! I don’t mean a rolled up newspaper, either: Harvey thought I was going to hit him with the stick or my foot or … something more evil than the water bottle or a mere scolding. Once again, I wonder what his story is and I know whoever had him before me did not deserve him!

I wasn’t that upset about the hose, anyway: it already was bulging behind one of the couplings and I knew I’d have to shorten it and put a new coupling on it. Now I just have to throw it away because Harvey put a hole in the middle of it. Somewhere, we have a hose with a Murphy hole in it. And we still have extra hoses that are good.

I don’t like the digging, but as I find places where Harvey has tried to dig, I sprinkle on an organic compound to repel dogs & cats from digging (it contains a lot of pepper & sells for cheap at stores like Krogers or Wal-Mart). I’ve been using it for several years to keep Murphy from digging up my newly planted flowers & bulbs (after the year he dug up every single anenome I planted and ate them).

There were so many variables in bringing home a new male dog to a house with an established dominant dog, but both dogs – and both dog parents – have been learning how to manage. The dogs just happen to be well-socialized dogs (with other dogs) and the issue of dominance was settled with just a few short growls before we ever let them loose to play. The squirt bottle has been invaluable and I carry it in my hip pocket much of the time when both dogs are out (Harvey responds quite well to a sharp word). We’ve been able to have both dogs together in the small living room and still enjoy a movie (until some idiot down the road sets off fireworks and upsets Murphy – but that’s a whole rant and has nothing to do with dogs socializing).

Hard to believe this is only the third week of Harvey’s new life in his Forever Home.