GORILLA GORILLA

Celeste and Richmond had fled the city less than a week before. Then the first of the gorillas joined them. The normally calm Richmond screamed for Celeste to run. Celeste, a former employee of a primate research center, calmly told Richmond to sit down, remain still, and not to look at the gorillas directly. Celeste observed the gorillas quietly for a minute or two. "Get up Richmond; we're in luck. These gentle creatures are conversing with each other in sign language. They must be from a lab similar to the one I worked for." The normally calm Richmond shakily rose to his feet. "Are you quite sure," he asked? "Oh yes, quite sure," Celeste responded.

Celeste approached the large silverback and inquired about what had brought them out into the wild. This gentle giant slowly responded with hand gestures: "Man-green-peace-open-cage-much- gorilla-big-truck-long-walk-city-gone-open-truck-gorilla-free-gorilla-here-city-bad-jungle-there" "What's he saying," Richmond asked?

Celeste quietly responded with, "I think I see the hand of our old friend Ron from Greenpeace in all of this." Ron had apparently raided a research center, loaded all of the experimental animals up in a large truck and turned them loose in this wilderness. Celeste went on to explain that the big gorilla had told her that the city was a like a bad jungle. "Makes you wish we'd done the same as Ron instead of just leaving the city in frustration," Celeste continued.

The Silverback next related to Celeste the story of his capture: "Mother-fight-bad-man-mother fight-mother-fight-bad-man-point-stick-bang!-bang!-bang!-mother-sleep-Old-Silverback-defend-mother-bang!-bang!-Old-Silverback-sleep-me-baby-gorilla-cage---(The gorilla then grabbed two small trees by the trunks and shook them violently as he screamed a horrible primal scream of frustration, grief, and rage.)

The gorilla's performance was both beautiful in its strength, and yet horribly ugly in its implications. One is reminded of an atomic explosion, the majesty of the ever-expanding mushroom cloud as it widens and reaches for the heavens, yet the horror of the underlying consequences. In a better world, no creature would ever be subjected to such pressures.

The gorilla's rage subsided as he then went on to describe his journey to our country: "Many-day-journey-water-journey-hear-water-gorilla-sing-Silverback-small-sad-water-gorilla-gone---sing- gone-Silverback-big-sad-(Celeste then explained to Richmond that the gorilla must have heard either whales or dolphins; most likely dolphins. Dolphins have been known to frolic around ships at sea for days.)

The Silverback next explained about where he'd first been taken to after "water journey". It sounded like a medical research center. He told about a good friend gorilla: "friend-gorilla-many-strong-many-happy-many-love-man-white-fur- (this was apparently in reference to the lab coat the man was wearing) -take-friend-gorilla-friend-gorilla-back-friend-gorilla-little-strong-man-white-fur-take-friend-gorilla-friend-gorilla-no-strong-man-white-fur-take-friend-gorilla-friend-gorilla-back-friend-gorilla-sleep-Mother-sleep---Old-Silverback-sleep---why-man-hate-why-man-hate"

In all good conscience, neither Celeste nor Richmond could come up with an answer. Why does man hate? Or, perhaps a better question would be, why doesn't man care? They discussed at length how the Eskimo sees man as no longer afraid of the bear. The gorilla sees man as no longer afraid of the gorilla, or the lion, or the tiger. Worst of all, man is no longer afraid of man, or the damage man can do to himself and all around him. After much soul-searching, Celeste and Richmond both came to the same conclusion. They must return to the city and teach man again to fear the bear, the gorilla, the lion, the tiger. And most of all, men must, to ensure survival, learn to fear themselves. How much can one man, one woman, accomplish? Who knows? At least these two individuals can start with themselves.
Hopefully, The Beginning

Anyone wishing to hear these powerful brute's sadness, simply click on:
http://www.primate.wisc.edu/pin/vocals/apes.html
and from the first set of entries for gorilla gorilla, scroll down to whimper, and get out your hanky and............................................................................................................................................ listen.

Rainbow Bridge

"Just this side of Heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge"
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food and water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by.
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing: they miss someone very special to them; who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks in the distance. The bright eyes are intent; the eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to break away from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. YOU have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross the Rainbow Bridge together........"
- Anonymous -

Toby and The Praying Mantis

He came mewing into our lives a short seven or eight months ago. Bushy long tail and a thick fur. Looked like both Persian and Tabby Cat to me. Could be wrong about that, but I don't know. He was the only cat on the place that learned to use the scratching post. Oh, the others shredded the spring toy on top but would rather sharpen their claws on Grandma Kellin's chair.

This little fellow knew that we loved him. He always wanted to be with one of us. As he weakened, he'd drag himself to us. Force fed water and food for several weeks to keep him alive. He'd started failure-to-thrive symptoms some time ago. We tried everything we knew to do. Had we known the final outcome, we could have spared him this and would have just let him go. A clinic three counties over had the tools and resources to diagnose his condition. Some form of peritonitis, inherited from his mother. No known chance for recovery. Too many body systems involved. A Veterinary Doctor said that there were treatments that had been tried, but the outcome was never good. Save the little one the suffering in view of the inevitable outcome.

Why suffering? Why such an early death? Can't answer that question. Our Creator gives us pets to love and care for so we can learn to love and care for each other. Of that much, I'm very sure. Thank you for being our friend, Toby. We'll certainly miss you. And we loved you very much.

Would be remiss on my part not to mention the service for Toby. We prepared a grave off the edge of our back yard and underneath a large cactus with many bloom buds. As I walked past our pool, I noticed a Praying Mantis in the pool's water. I raised my hand under the mantis to let it dry off. As soon as it got active, I gave it the option of getting on some willow bushes near Toby's grave. It started to climb onto the bush but for some reason, it backed up and walked up my arm. No problem here; I like little critters. As we let Julia, our 11-year-old, sprinkle the first handful of dirt on Toby's grave and pour the remainder of our glass of wine on the grave, I felt the mantis on my right shoulder. It was swiveling its tiny head about, taking in all of the proceedings. Next, it simply stopped and held its forelegs up in a prayerful attitude. As we finished the service for Toby, I asked Julia's mom to look and see if the mantis was still on my back. It had already gone. Strangest thing.

Julia was crying throughout the service. Simply heart-broken. This never gets any easier, but you're a dad, you just handle things. And I really hope it never does get any easier.
Bill, Kathy, and Julia

Camille, et all,
Sorry about the spider. I saw, maybe the same critter, yesterday while I was again mowing. I had to keep bumping her butt to make her get it off the grass where I was mowing. She finally got it in gear and went on out in the woods where it was relatively safe for her. Then later the same day, I was letting our coonhound and Beagle out to romp. The coonhound did shy away just a bit from that little snake right in front of our entrance door, but the Beagle completely ignored it and went about his business. That poor little snake--about a foot or so long--was terrified of those rambunctious dogs. Several of our cats saw an open door and came running to get in out of the heat. I grabbed that poor little scared snake up for safekeeping. It wanted to bite but I wouldn't let it. Probably would have given it an upset stomach in any event. I came here in my wife's office and told her to keep it cool but looka' here, "Get that thing outta' here, and now!!!" Hope I'm not the only critter lover left. Those critters need loving too. <<(:{)-- I just love this place. Such a peaceful spirit inhabits all who live here.
Uncle Bill 7-1-03
(Editor's Note: This author, as a boy, used to stroll around totin' a big ugly snake wrapped around his neck, bobbing and hissing. Ew!!)

Wandering Eyes

Fired the old mower up and was trying to get out ahead of the grass. The monsoon season here in the south really promotes a healthy growth of grass, and quickly. Around on the west side, just south of the garage, something jumped on my leg and gave me a bit of a start. Same old big house spider as last time. Pickin's must be good here. Was afraid I may have scared her into moving the last time I mowed. But no; she was still here.
Tried to pick her up and move her. Jumped right out of my hand and tried to run for cover. I took off my rag hat and offered her a ride. She went in and jumped out faster that she'd gone in. "Aww man! Don't you ever wash that thing?" "Looka' here, spider; I was just trying to be nice." "Yeah? Well, don't bother. And looka' here yourself, you just about got me killed this time. Why waste time running that noisy contraption in the first place. Scares alla' th' bugs away, if you ask me. This neighborhood has gone straight down since you folks moved in. Always making noise and tramping around and digging things up and planting things. Why can't ya' all just leave things be?" "Well, I'm truly sorry about alla' that, but every body has to be some place."
"Don't see why it has to be right here. Why, just this afternoon I heard over the web <<(:{)- that one of you humans ran one of those big contraptions of yours right smack dab over one of my cousins. Left three hundred little orphans to fend for themselves. Out there at the mercy of a cold cruel world. And that's just a week after their old man left one evening to pick up a couple of bugs for supper and never returned. That old goat has a wandering eye, too. Matter of fact, he has eight wandering eyes. Probably out there cavorting with some young thing right now.
"Looka' here, I'm really sorry about your cousin. Just one of those unfortunate accidents; at least, I hope it was." " What was that? I heard that!" "I said I was really sorry about . . . ." "No, I mean after that." "Oh, you mean, 'Just one of those unfortunate accidents.'" "No, after alla' that." "I forget." "Yeah, how convenient. Real selective memory." "Look, Mrs. Spider, I gotta' finish up here. You mind staying on the fresh-mowed part 'till I'm finished?" "I got a choice here?" "Only if you want to go join your cousin." "You humans! You think you rule th' world. If it wasn't for us spiders, the bugs would be th' ones runnin' things real quick. I think I'll organize a protest march; get on th' web <<(:{)-- and alla' that; have every spider in the whole world go on half-rations for a year and then we'll see who's so high and mighty.
"Looka' here, Mrs. Spider. In th' immortal words of "Slick Willie", 'I feel yo' pain.' " "And also in th' immortal words of th' same "Slick Willie", I caused mosta' yo' pain." "Now just a cotton pickin' minute, Mrs Spider, you talkin' about my main man here. If alla' those women hadda' just left my main man alone, there ain't no tellin' what all he coulda' done." "Yeah, I understand. Just like-and rest her departed soul--my deceased cousin's husband. Bailed out right after the last of those three hundred offspring hatched. Ya' just can't trust a male politician or a male spider from Arkansas. Not yet you can't. If that old goat just hadn't hitched that ride down here from Arkansas in that load of produce, my cousin would have live a lot better and died a whole lot happier.
THE END

....

Attack of The Killer Hornet

The roar was gradually getting louder. I could not imagine what could be making such a racket. It sounded like a cross between a Huie helicopter and a giant hornet. That's when I first spotted this creature. Unbelievable! This creature was big! I first spotted it flying between the trees in a dense wood near our horse stalls. The creature apparently spotted me at about the same time. It came toward me for a few feet, hovered, and then rapidly disappeared through the trees. But next I could hear that oppressive roar getting closer. It flew up over our hay barn, hovered a minute, banked left in a barrel roll and headed skyward. Well, I hope that's the last of that. Luckily, I had my camera with me. I wouldn't even believe this myself if someone else had told me about it, but there it was and I have the pictures to prove it.
The creature appeared to look like a gigantic hornet with a shiny black abdomen, two large eyes, and a yellow cape on its back. This creature was impressive to say the least. What was it? Where did it come from? I've heard the rumors about radiation causing mutants, but this exceeded even my wildest imagination. Unbelievably, this creature did a course reversal and headed back in my direction. I stood there frozen, too scared to even move. I snapped one last shot before the attack.
Obviously, I survived because I'm telling this tale. But it was touch-and-go for a while. It really was touch-and-go. This creature skidded across the top of my head and resumed flying. He next came face to face with me and just hovered there, hate and mayhem in his multi-faceted eyes. What to do? Scream, run, fall down and play dead? What? I just stood there frozen in indecision.
Forget all of the above. This was and is a real creature. But now the rest of the story. This isn't a hornet after all. It's really a Carpenter Bee. Many people mistakenly think this is a Bumblebee, but the Bumblebee has yellow stripes across its abdomen and lives in leaf piles and other similar places. The Carpenter Bee lives in holes it bores in wood. And why did this giant bee treat me so kindly? Not one sting, not even close. The male Carpenter Bee has only its physical size to use for intimidation. It hopes you don't know that it doesn't come equipped with a sting. Threat and bluster are its only weapons. The female can sting but does so only rarely. One has to sorely provoke the female before she brings out her only weapon. The male acts the way it does in an attempt to drive off any intruder from its nest site.
But what about those photographs? It's all fast film (800), a fast shutter speed (1/1000), a wide aperture, and patience over several days. Plus slightly out of focus shots and dumb luck. I bet that male bee is as glad to see me gone as I was to see him there. Live long and prosper, my friend.

END

Fred & Sandy-A friend is someone you feel safe sleeping near.

Does this excerpt from this week's edition of Time mean to say that tuna and swordfish are large marine predators, or that sharks aren't large marine predators but can get caught on the same line as those vicious tuna and swordfish, or what?
Biologist Ransom Myers of Dalhousie University in Nova Scotia led a team of researchers in examining the logbooks of U.S. fishing boats operating in the northwestern Atlantic from 1986 to 2000. The fleets were hunting swordfish and tuna using what are known as longlines, cables stretching as long as 20 miles that are equipped with more than 500 baited hooks. Toss a line overboard, and up should come your desired prey - plus a lot of other hungry fish that you didn't mean to snag. "Longlines are designed to collect large marine predators," says biologist Julia Baum, lead author of the Science paper. "But sharks often swim in the same area as tuna and swordfish, and that means they can get caught too." 1-21-03

Total Confidence

After only a brief association with horses, I've become convinced that horses are creatures of habit, to an extreme. You approach each individual horse in the usual manner or you have one more skittish horse to deal with. Our two mares are no exception. They've worked out a routine whereby the Quarter horse leaves the pen first to go to her evening feed in her stall, even though the Tennessee Walker is dominant mare. If the Quarter horse doesn't go first, the Tennessee Walker tries to kick the Quarter horse in the chops. Every time. She always misses but they finally tacitly agreed that to lessen the need for useless kicks and misses, it would be better for both if the Quarter horse went first.
Duty called me elsewhere and wife Kathy picked up the slack as stable hand; change-in-routine number one. Once this starts, things go down-hill from there. The Tennessee Walker arbitrarily decided to go first this time; change-in-routine number two. This change made the Quarter horse mad and she showed it. She shouldered her way past the lead mare and spotted our Beagle hound sitting about 20 feet away from her stall entrance, minding his own business. She hates dogs, whether they're minding their own business or not. She charged this unfortunate canine and tried to stomp him into the ground. Innocent canine, this time, got a bruised hind leg and a lot of pain and the fright of his life. Kathy said she was glad I wasn't there. I would have been crying right along with the Beagle. A couple of pain pills and time passed and the dog seems none-the-worse for wear. Good.
But there's more. The next morning, I went out to tend to the horses' needs. It looked like rain so I decided to give the horses run of the place and leave hay in their stalls with the stall doors open. At least they would have the option of coming in out of the rain. Of course, they would also have dry hay in their stalls. So far so good. That Beagle came under the wire and approached the horses and me. I yelled for Sam the Beagle to get out of there. He went back under the wire but as soon as I started out in the woods, he came back under the wire to go with me. This dog is unusually bright. I would have anticipated that one lesson would have been enough. Then, a little light bulb upstairs started to slowly flicker. This Beagle hound has accepted me as leader and has total confidence in me. If I'd been there the day before, he would never have gotten hurt. I have total control of a ton of horse flesh, no question. This dog's actions indicated this louder than the spoken word. An awesome responsibility, this. No one is 100% dependable. Except for me as far as Sam The Beagle is concerned. Wish us both luck.

END

MIKEY
We'd purchased mood music for a story I was writing.
Many jungle sounds to set the story's tone;
Most sounded like fierce jungle fighting.
When the sounds started, I was soon all alone.
All but for one courageous cat reconnoitering.
How wrong I was; I thought he was just loitering.

Our Walker coon hound, that fierce Beagle too,
Our Poodle whose ancestors were trained for Lion tracking,
All ran and hid. Mikey, it's all up to you.
You'll have to go with no backing.
"Chicken feathers" where the dog's courage sat.
You brave dogs willing to leave this all up to a cat?

With that Howler monkey sounding worse than a lion's roar;
His instinct born of ages and no holding back;
This brave young cat raced across the floor.
Then Mikey launched one fierce attack.
He went to work and with courage to spare,
That brave cat had done what none other would dare.

When the smoke cleared; when the dust settled out,
Thank goodness the master was still there.
But that Howler monkey was no where about;
The enemy had vanished into thin air.
There was no way to explain;
I was the one in agony, the one left in pain?

A basic mistake, forgiven to be sure.
My brogans and blue-jeans had caught the onslaught.
Yes, Mikey had made a mistake but his motives were pure.
My boots and pants leg were the things Mikey'd fought.
If this house ever comes under attack,
I want that brave cat Mikey guarding my back.

SAHIB

Sandy is one of God's creatures who instinctively knew her place in the grand scheme of things right from the very beginning. She was brought home as a little puppy and immediately started laying down the ground rules. She could be subtle. Her humans invariably came around to her way of thinking. It might take a day or two, but her reasoning was invariably flawless. Growing impatient was not one of her flaws but she did exhibit a single-mindedness-of-purpose. One could just start off by getting with her program or suffer a day or two under her gentle tutelage and then get with her program.

Sandy designated herself as guardian and protector of the homestead. Woe be unto any neighborhood dog, or cat too, who had the temerity to step foot on the homestead uninvited. Sandy would give a brief warning to passers-by but a chase and a thrashing to any trespasser. Her ferocity displayed in attack mode has been known to put German Shepherds twice her size to flight. She's always known her position and part-to-play in life. We should all be so lucky.

My first experience with Sandy came later in her life. I'd heard about her but had never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance. She came on in, crawled up in the middle of my chest, and took a 45-minute nap. She'd never before treated anyone else in this manner. I gradually came to realize what an honor had been bestowed upon me.

Sandy may have lacked a Great Dane's size, a Greyhound's speed, a Pit Bull's ferociousness (then again, perhaps not) but in all of the ways expected of a Golden Retriever, she stood ten feet tall. Independent, fiercely loyal to the home, physically courageous, she possesses all of these desirable K-9 attributes and then some. But Sandy has started hanging around closer than has been her usual. She gets her shots and vet visits. Only thing even slightly out of the ordinary is a blue cast to her eyes.

This has gone on for some months. Advancing age? Some unknown malady? We just didn't know. Why would this fiercely independent, self-contained animal gradually start hanging on our heels? She scratches at the front door for "out" and scratches again for "back in". It took her a while to get my attention but she persevered. When she scratches for "out" and stands there staring at the open door and one has to put a gentle hand on her rump and start her toward the door, she has been trying to tell me for months that she is almost totally blind. Sandy, honey, you hang as close on my heels as you feel like you need to. I'm proud, finally, to be your seeing-eye person. Be patient with me. I'm still on the upside of the learning curve.

------

For information about the Northern Lights go to http://www.geo.mtu.edu/weather/aurora/

THE HEROES - BALTO THE SLED DOG
BY BILL JOHNS

With two children down, the doctor already knew:
He'd seen this all before;
There'll be many a death before this scourge's through.
Doc also knew to fight diphtheria like a war!
A radio call to Anchorage Hospital 800 miles away;
"Snowdrift 100 Miles Out Stops Medicine Train Very First Day"

The whole town, to-a-man scared, but each had his say;
"What can we do, Doc? We can't just let our children go?"
Wise old doc said, "There's got to be a way."
Back in th' crowd, a voice spoke up, "Huskies can handle snow."
A 700-mile dog team relay?
Doc had it all arranged that very same day.

Doc fought for life but pondered death;
"Seven hundred miles; that'll take fifteen days!
I'll fight for these lives with my very last breath;
I've oft'seen The Lord work in mysterious ways."
Doc told the town, "Courage people, courage; try to be brave."
But Doc knew, within 2 weeks time, there'd be little left to save.

Jan. 27th, the first team pulled away from that snow-bound train;
Twenty more teams were pledged to run;
But one team quickly lost two dogs to freezing rain;
That heroic driver wasn't even close to being "done".
He harnessed himself to that big sled,
And had his huskies follow as he led.

Gunnar and Balto took the next-to-last run:
From Bluff to Point Safety was thirty one miles.
But this team's troubles had just begun:
Sled dumped over on glare ice; cargo scattered for a while;
Gunnar dug wildly in th' snow for that most-precious load;
And soon's the serum's back aboard, it's "on down the road".

Musher's mortal nightmare: a white-out!
This can lead to sudden death;
But Balto's unerring instincts left ne'er a doubt;
Gunnar let Balto run and held on with bated breath.
"You did it, dog! That's Point Safety straight ahead!"
No lights, no relief, nothing, the place was dead.

With the northern lights a runnin' wild
They mushed on thru' the snow;
But Balto's chore was really mild
Compared to that horrible diphtheria foe.
With Wolf and Husky instincts from prehistoric mists of time;
Failure ne'er once entered that courageous wolf-dog's mind.

53 miles and 20 hours straight, they'd been constantly on the go.
As wolf-dog mushed into Nome, too tired to even bark,
'Twas 5:30 am, February 2nd, 1925, and thirty below.
800 miles, Anchorage to Nome, man 'n dog both left their mark!
Those brave teams made in just a little over 5 days straight,
A normal 15-day mush, because Nome could not survive the wait.

Addendum:
The failure of that relief team to be at Point Safety was easily explained by the rigors of weather. Remember the glare ice and the white-out Gunnar & Balto had experienced? And, as I suspect, there has never been another lead dog the equal of Balto. This poem was written for a ten-year-old child who has sustained a six-year-long fascination for this brave animal. Julia hopes to eventually visit Nome, Alaska. And I've often seen children worship much-less-worthy heroes.

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/nature/sleddogs/balto.html

ARACHNOPHOBIA !!!

Black Widow spiders make their babies and devour the mate;
All too often the male, American style, shares the same fate.
(If this has your attention, there is a more-serious side)


Marvel at gossamer webs of early morn, one of life's great thrills;
See sunlight glistening off of captured dew drops.
And displayed for all to see: Marvelous engineering skills.
But the underlying purpose here? Insect's traffic cops.
Spiders watch over man's food supplies.
Should spiders go on strike, humanity dies.

Creator gave the spider a job: protect humanity's food crops;
"Impossible! Impossible!", rang out the spider's cry;
"Much too many insects for us to ever stop."
"Trust me," came Creator's swift reply;
With insects two eyes, you shall have eight;
And with eight legs, you'll control insect's fate.

"Come quickly! Come quickly! Hurry! Hurry!
It's huge, it's horrible, It's too big to stomp!"
You answer a call like that every time, not to worry.
'Twas only a Plain Jane house spider on her daily romp.
That pitiful lady spider was terrified;
I picked her up swiftly and carried her outside.

A spider fearing imminent demise will draw her legs in;
That giant house spider responded in kind, in fear for her life,
To kill a spider only lets the bugs win;
So I rescued that lady, safe from daughter and wife.
Much better to kill bugs and let spiders be,
Than to kill spiders and allow bugs to roam free.

Our Big Blue Marble's been here over four billion years;
We can choose to work with nature or not, but nature dominates;
Mankind's a relative newcomer to this vale of tears.
While we mess things up, nature waits.
We're each allotted only three score and ten,
Nature's got plenty of time, nature'll always win.

SCOOBY DOO

He climbed up my arm, stood on my shoulder;
Looked all around, his mewing really loud;
I've never seen a kitten any bolder.
Taking it all in, he stood acting proud!
"This one's my cat," I said with a grin,
But with a young child, you don't always win.

A pretty little female was of daughter's choosing;
And with wife's help, I was soon out-voted.
Negotiations quickly ensued; and I don't like losing.
On that stalwart young tom I'd really doted.
Wife's common sense came to the fore:
"We'll take them both; there's room for one more."

Good choice, those two young kittens;
Both from the same litter, they settled right in;
Their charms had the whole house quickly smitten.
With pets also, you don't always win;
But considering those two kittens' spirit and spunk,
It wasn't a simple basket; it was more of a "slam-dunk".

Scooby's now sixteen pounds of pure hell on a hunt,
But with little kittens, he's an exquisitely gentle mother;
He can leap five feet straight up and with never a grunt,
Land atop a small fence post--athletic like none other.
Over a year ago sister Daphne crawled under the fence,
Strolled inside and hasn't left since.

Daphne's home was a trailer, all she'd ever known;
With our new house finished, Daphne was nowhere about.
We moved into the house and painted that trailer "gone".
In this wild country, Daphne's survival was in doubt.
Days later, the mystery's all over, finished, and done;
'Twas under a neighbor's trailer our scaredy-cat'd run.

A traumatic experience to be sure;
Our Daphne's still wide-eyed, afraid of every noise,
But with her many quirks, we've learned to endure;
With Scooby, it's all "boys will be boys."
To the rest of the pets, Scooby's "The Man";
And us humans every one, a Scooby Doo fan.

Only once Scooby took an angry stance;
Our Rickie, the brainless wonder-dog,
While doing her "feed-me-now" dance,
Walked all over Scooby, then in a sleepy fog.
Just as soon as Rickie trampled,
'Twas the flat of Scoobie's paw Rickie's butt sampled.

With Scooby's gentle nature, patience and strength;
A beautiful example he's set for us all.
This we should all strive for at great length;
But sister Daphne's more like a big doll;
Terrorizing the neighborhood's no longer her bag.
She keeps her tail home and with it she plays tag.

END

Wiley And The Two Raccoons
Neither wolf nor fox,
And oft misunderstood,
My den is in rocks,
Or prairie, or wood.
Wolf--my better at strengths,
And the fox, more adept at hi-jinks.

But for banditos extra-ordinaire,
Those masked Raccoon friends of mine
Steal way more than their share.
But with me, that's fine;
Better safe than sorry.
I'll not be hound dog quarry.

Scientifically known as Canis latrans,
I prefer the name of Coyote.
But to all of my fans,
And this you may quote:
Before I grow thinner,
Jerry Burdett, don't call me, "Late for Dinner."

I can howl, yelp, bark, and huff.
But my favorite of all,
When I'm really strutting my stuff;
This will be any friendly female's call:
At howling I'm best,
Known all over, north, south, east and west.

We yelp to celebrate and criticize.
When a grownup makes this sound,
For a pup to ignore isn't wise.
But this call is often found
With young pups at play.
Perhaps mimicking a grownups way?

My name Canis latrans means "Barking dog."
Not to be confused with howl, yelp, or huff.
The bark means back off or I'll flog.
I'm protecting my den or my kill, my "stuff".
Tho I'm usually ready for play,
The bark means, "Not now, no way."

When calling our pups, we huff.
We use this call nightly,
This makes the pups come soon enough.
This call we use quietly,
Our predators can go where we've been,
We just don't want them locating our den.

And why this sudden interest in Wiley Coyote?
Just yesterday driving down Route 66
Running across, I saw what? Gray fox was my vote.
I'll 'fess up and take my licks.
With a little research on the computer,
I'll never see another coyote looking cuter.

(Sorry raccoons, maybe later)

FOR THE BIRDS

Loved the story with the moral of: always eat your vegetables and don't play with your food. This reminded me of a story about an infestation of birds. The community on this seacoast community in New England really did like birds but this season, the birds had proliferated to the extent that traffic had almost ground to a standstill; commerce was hampered; people could not go outside without being bombarded with all things bird. The Chamber-of-Commerce held meetings and hearings about this problem. A decision had to be made. Finally, the young men and boys of the community were employed to, and as much as everyone hated this, stone all of these birds to death. The birds were determined to be Least Terns. These lads were cautioned to leave none of the birds alive.
These stalwart young lads set to work. For days on end the slaughter continued. Late into the evening and early in the morning and all throughout the day, the slaughter continued. Finally, progress was being made. The Tern population dwindled dramatically. Late one afternoon, the last Tern alive was observed flying away. The lads went to report on the success of their most-unwelcome mission. When asked if all of the birds were dead, the lads answered honestly, "all, save one. And this bird was seen leaving town." The mayor made the decision to announce the success of the mission. People paraded up and down the main street of town for days in celebration, sad as the necessary mission had been. Late on a Friday evening, this one remaining Tern flew back over the town with a large oyster in its beak. Due to the Tern's diminutive size and the oyster's weight, the Tern dropped the oyster right in the middle of the town's celebration. The mayor, who had announced the success of the Tern extermination mission, was struck on the head and killed. During the service for the town's late mayor, eulogies were delivered, impassioned speeches were given in the mayor's honor. But when all was said and done, the realization came upon these good folks: When you set out to stone Terns, never announce the success of the mission, at Least until you've left no Tern un-stoned.
So sorry about that. I just had to.
Uncle Bill

ALL OF GOD'S CREATURES

Just this morning, a years-long dream was fulfilled. After years of observations I felt fairly confident that this creature would permit me to hold it; my assumption proved correct. To have been wrong would have brought me a very painful sting. This scorpion had somehow managed to get into my daughter's bathroom and was lethargic, probably due to the cold floor. With the aid of two sheets of paper, this critter was scooped up off the floor and allowed to slide off the paper and into my hand. After a minute or so, the critter "told" me that it'd had enough and wanted down. I took it outside and let it go in the shrubbery at the edge of the yard. Why did I do this? Bravado, stupidity, curiosity run wild, what? Actually, after much study of this creature was made, I had made the observation that as long as its tail was horizontal, or nearly so, the scorpion was as safe as a butterfly. But just as soon as that tail comes up, the scorpion is ready to aggress. And if the tail raises up and curls over the scorpion's back, this should be considered full battle dress. This fellow merely got warmed up, lifted the tip of its tail slightly and seemed to want to be somewhere else. I cooperated fully.

When this property was acquired about six and a half years ago, the previous owner talked to me with tears in his eyes. He said he just loved it here but needed more room. He'd put forth a lot of effort cutting walking trails that meandered throughout the property. He'd obviously cared about the place, but I only came to understand the depth of his love slowly over the next several years.

When Kathy, my wife, first brought her golden haired dog here, this older dog walked in, crawled up in the middle of my chest and stomach and took about a 45 minute nap. Kathy swears she'd never seen her act this way with anyone before, friend or stranger. As time wore on I slowly started noticing other strange animal behaviors. The wildcat who scratched in my yard about twelve feet from where I was sleeping. The wasp who flew down and tapped me on the head as if to let me know where it and its nest were.. The swarm of wasps who fogged all around me when I disturbed their nest while mowing, but not a single one of them offered to do me harm. The wasp who tapped me on the arm as I mowed past a tree in the yard but didn't offer to sting. I've never been stung by anything here but fire ants

I saw our Beagle dog disturb a rabbit as we were going out to feed the horses, and this natural rabbit hound didn't offer to pursue the rabbit. The large Walker Coon Hound who moves over and lets our cats help themselves out of his bowl while he eats. Any one of these things by themselves would be a mere curiosity. But instance after instance all lumped together gives me pause.

I've become compelled to consider the possibility of a peaceful spirit inhabiting this place. I've seen the strange case of the plant that bloomed profusely on the very day its previous owner's son died. The plant had never bloomed before, and has never even offered to bloom since. And this profusion of blooms came during a drought after one single rain in the middle of this drought. One must believe as one's convictions lead them. We love company. Come by if you're ever in the neighborhood. We'd love to have you. But if you have a problem with anyone else, please leave it up the street and come on by and enjoy this spirit with us. I believe I also speak for the spirit when I say this.

END