Thursday, April 26, 2018

The Story of Stumpy Golden Eyes

What does it mean to be wild? What does it mean to be free...
 one can see there is something...some warm light, some comfort over there?
Let me tell you the story of Stumpy GoldenEyes,

 who fathered most of the kittens in a mile or two or three (or seven?) radius of a little hamlet in the Flint Hills of Kansas....

The Land of Stumpy Golden Eyes

There was a cat,
fluffy and wearing a black and white tuxedo. He was here before me, in the grasslands and prairie and hills and farmland. He ranged the miles around my little farmhouse, going here and there as he pleased. My guess is he sired many many of the ferals and not-feral cats in the area. I think I own one of his kits.
He did not come close enough for me to get a real good look at him. But I would see him pass by
 and he would see me see him.

As the years passed
he might have tangled with my big marmalade boy. He might have flirted with my Konza Prairie Dog. You never know what goes on behind the cloak of night. (Except that in Catland, some things do go on….)

Then something happened, which changed me and elevated my spirit through pain.
Stumpy, who had naught but a 2 inch stump of a tail, (the rest of which was most probably lost in a farming accident or wildlife encounter) began to come close to the house and sit. I got out my zoom camera and discovered the magnificent Golden Eyes which were deep as the river and bright as the prairie.

Stumpy Golden Eyes! I love you! Come let me meet you!

As he came closer each day that week, I got a better picture.

My heart sank.
 He was covered in big fatted ticks.
 His black and white long hair was missing in patches. Oh StumpyGoldenEyes I want to comfort you.
I asked the old farmer across the way,
who said Stumpy had always seemed to have been around. He didn't know how old he was, but certainly more than 10 or 15 years. All the kittens in the area were black and white. He was only seen from a distance. He did not linger but was like a shadow.

No one had ever touched Stumpy. He did not come to eat or drink or sleep on the big hay bales.

He walked alone.

I put out premium nourishment for this elder feline of the flint hills.
 I went and sat a respectful distance away; he came! He ate! He drank! And he came every day. By the end of the week he allowed me to sit within feet. I put out my concealed cat carrier near the food.
I touched him; his scabied, parasite-attacked body shivered and shrank.
 The next day he allowed me to lift him, ease him into the carrier.

I took him to our shelter, a warm country place with a huge grassy yard surrounded by tall trees. I told them the story. They saw his pain and dis-ease. They said, he could never be adopted. He is old and worn out. He is wild and fierce.

I asked them to clean him, to make him feel good, and they did. They took all the critters off of his noble body and made his skin and fur soft and supple. They fed him good things and he was at ease—for four days. I went each day and was able to pet him and give him company. And then his good humor wore off.

“Where are my flint hills? Where is the sky? I am Wild Cat!”

They told me, he should be put down now. He has few teeth, and is unable to eat well, especially in the wild.
He had been starving.
 ...He came to you because he needed help to go, they said.
He had come to me to help him cross the Rainbow Bridge.

He had come to find the warmth, to help him ease out of this tight broken shell into his new life!
I wept at the honor.
The shelter woman and I wept. We were not in a hurry and we held each other for a moment.
I asked her for a favor.
 I told her
Stumpy had never been inside anything but a barn. Could he please go outside?
Could he have his morphine outside, under his Blue Konza Prairie Skies?

The Wise Wonderful Woman of the shelter stood quietly and her heart and brain battled the Way Things Always Are. She wrestled The Way Things Are Done.
Then she said Yes.
My heart broke with gratitude. I still have a scar.

Stumpy GoldenEyes crossed the Rainbow Bridge out in the breezes of the Flint Hills. Perhaps he saw a mouse in the grass as he passed, or heard a birdsong.

They told me upon post- examination of his gums that he was at least 20 years old, but probably older.
When my number comes in, I am donating to the shelter an outdoor Passage Portal, a bridge and little cottage for those animals who loved or lived in the wild.
And a lifetime supply of Kleenex and chocolate for the shelter women.

Stumpy Golden Eyes of the Thunderpaws Tribe

can you see me?


addendum... all the cats of mine (such as ,  HERE,  and here, here, here, and HERE  are rescues from our shelter.)

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Life and Death in the Yard: Country Living

For exactly three years, a good 10-20% of this blog has shared views and videos of
the most graceful, beautiful mated Deer Pair in soybeans (HERE)
click on pics to view large
who came to check out the apple, peach, and apricot trees in early spring and wandered peacefully around the yard for 15 minutes,
Woodchucks, one of whom
 came in late winter and is now a family of four who love cold carrots and my mustard greens-- eating apples
 (HERE), and
playing on the woodpile HERE
ethereal butterflies (e.g., HERE and HERE and more HERE)
Singing Orioles,
Playful Hummingbirds
and  stunning Cardinals.
Rockstar Spiders who spin Perfect webs or who play Wargames.
Very Shy Coyotes,
 Dragonflies that are smiling,
and RABBITS, darling wabbits,  Big eared Rabbits!
Sphinx moths and very strange moths,

Bald Eagles in kansas and Stately Raptors, Souring Hawks, a Baby hawk
and the faabulous Vultures!
Vultures in light! more Vultures...The beauty of Vultures!

The Beautiful Goose. Migrating Geese. HUGE FLOCKS of Geese!
The wonderful and necessary BEES!
The visiting Dogs.   Hollyhocks in Wind. American Goldfinches in the Kansa Wind.
 Pelicans playing on kansas thermals overhead!
Birds in SNOW.  Black and white Cats in Snow with Pink Noses.
Big beautiful Sunflowers and Enourmous sunflowers with bees and

Plant Life, the amazing Flint hills, the life of rocks, and
sublime and strange sky and the  river noises and turtles

The Horses and  Donkeys and Cows nearby along the morning commute...

Life in the Yard like HERE and HERE
is what makes
 all the dirt and dust that constantly blows into the house,
 spiders scaring me into adrenaline overdrive,
 wind that destroys everything i planted last week--

Even death.
Last night i killed a big brown recluse spider in the bathroom. I didn't want to, but my fear still exists. Perfect love which drives out fear is an ongoing endeavor.
Last night, up late reading the political blogs, i squeaked as a mouse scampered in from the kitchen--it screeched in its tracks as it saw me sitting up in bed--and made a sharp right turn into a pile of sheets. Later in the deep dark of early morning, my Konza Prairie Dog sounded like she was in playheaven, pouncing and murmering with glee as she moved the mouse along in its journey through The Cycle.

I woke and pondered death.
dead at my hand.
The death of an owl hit by a passing truck. The death of a rabbit, softer than milkweed under the wheel...

The death of a crow in the yard, a wounded skunk, a passing wildcat wounded by a bullet, an enourmous disemboweled rat given as a gift by a member of the Thunderpaws Tribe of cats...
One writes roadkill love poems to channel the hurt...
Death. It is not the death that hurts, but the moments of violence, confusion, pain and fear that preceed.
Earlier in the day
a hawk had descended in hungry fury on the woodpile, resulting in a scattering of birds but perhaps one less squirrel...

There are cycles in everything.

A woodpecker and a sparrow were pecking and arguing over a seedcake yesterday morning. Back and forth they picked and pecked and peeped-- all while NOT eating. Suddenly, a hummingbird came close and just hovered around both of them. This is three feet from the front porch. Usually the hummers stay 15-25 feet out, near the nectar feeders and the flowers.

The hummingbird came within 3-4 inches of each bird, just humming with interest, for about 20 seconds.
The tiny weightless hummingbird whispered away.
 The sparrow and the woodpecker quietly began to eat.

A song to listen to while hiking in the Flint Hills: HERE

Monday, April 23, 2018

it came to me that every time i lose a dog...

It came to me that every time I lose a dog
 they take a piece of my heart with them, and 
every new dog who comes into my life gifts me with a piece of their heart. If I live long enough all the components of my heart will be dog, and I will become as generous and loving as they are. - Anonymous

http://marysbeagooddogblog...rainbow bridge...-sweetest-boxers-are good for the heart

Quotes and stories here weep

Sunday, April 22, 2018

Orange Cats: Sweetest Marmalades

What is with Orange Cats?
They love water, they think they own the place, and
Here is a beauty named Oliver!

(not his real name...)

here are some marmalades from my favorite calendar-- HERE

Friday, April 20, 2018

Dachshunds! Weiner Dog Races 2012 in Manhattan Kansas (Redux)

Dachshunds, Doxies, Weenie Dogs-- they are hilarious as they race downtown.
 Hie thee to Poyntz Avenue this saturday at 8:30 am for the festivities of paws on poyntz.

(a Doxie lover friend asked if I would bump this up. Here ya go!)

 Cutest Doxie.

 Intelligent Dachshund.
 Long-haired Doxie.

Some of these photos are from the excellent calendar HERE
which i can not do without.

 Sweetest Dachshund.

Map Click HERE

I want to run too!