I happened to be about 100 feet away, and with a fast-action camera, while police personnel were training a Police dog. Those trained dogs are amazing creatures. They’re able to team with humans, to warn, protect, and sniff-out contraband. This in-training dog, a Shepherd type, wearing a “Police” vest, was learning to attack on command.
In these series of photos, the dog is practicing the capture of a weapon. It’s also being directed to capture multiple perpetrators (the target opponents wore heavily padded clothing).
Here the dog is instructed to go after a human’s weapon. It does so accurately and hangs on until ordered to release.
Responding to a “Go!” command
Restraining a weapon
The next time out, the dog is following instructions to capture two humans.
First capture
Human is restrained, dog is called off
Directed to 2nd perpetrator
Dog captures
Is released
Good Dog!
This cool series reminds us how remarkable that since time immemorial, dogs and horses successfully have teamed with humans to perform tasks that would have been impossible for humans alone. These collaborative animals have helped humans eat better, move better, and have protection. Without their help, civilizations would have developed more slowly, and certainly, very differently.
Dear Friends: It’s a thrill to have uninvited photos of that event. Diana
Whenever I cross the mountains to attend sessions with our driving trainer, I stop for a while to explore Sweet Home, an old community, or pause at its nearby Foster Lake. This lovely lake, which though popular often is quiet, greets drivers entering the community. Sighting it is an invite to a welcome respite after an hour of grappling with Tombstone Canyon’s narrow, twisty roads.
Foster Lake is an area with easy-entry and ample parking for a truck and horse trailer. It offers picnic tables for weary travelers and locals who have time to sit awhile in sunshine.
Across the Lake
Down the Lake
It’s a beautiful spot in which to lose oneself. A walk along its banks means strolling alongside stretches of thick Blackberry bushes. Right right they’re heavy with baby berries, almost mouth-watering, but immature. According to my plant identification app, these correctly are “Armenian Blackberry” bushes.
Berries Framing the Lake
Immature Berries
As if it’s not enough to hang out beside the lake itself, there’s a larger landscape with lots of opportunistic pop-ups. Among others, there are blackberry sprouts mingled with wildflowers. Here’s a closeup of one of the larger berry sprouts surrounded by tiny wildflowers, and beside it a generic closeup of those lil’ wildflowers
Blackberry sprouts and Filaree blossoms
Wild Filaree (public domain photo)
While studying the field’s plants, I didn’t recall previously having seen the widespread pink wild flower, but of course, my phone app identified the little pinks as filaree. A bit more research revealed that filaree is an invasive plant, and a member of the geranium family–no wonder I liked it! Reportedly, filaree is one of the first flowers to appear after winter rains–and the Foster Lake area, west of the Cascades and near Oregon’s western side, receives many rains.
Foster Lake Shelter
After checking on the horses and rewarding their patience over the long haul with chunks of banana, I took pictures. Afterward, I parked on a bench beside the shelter, munched on a turkey sandwich, and contemplated small waves.
It’s characteristic of bodies of water surrounded by flowering greenery to magically erase any worries and stresses we might bring to them. They offer a sense of “lost in this moment” that becomes everything meaningful.
This is short and sweet as today I’m traveling over the mountains with horses for a training session. It’ll be much like last week’s. Rosie will circle on the long lines while we assess progress in strengthening her injured muscle. Sunni will be hitched and trotting in nearly-endless circles while I practice using the reins correctly to keep her balanced during our turns.
Yesterday was a transition in our weather. The day began looking sunny and bright, but by the time I left work was overcast and humid. Later, it started looking hopeful again. I was fascinated by the sky’s cloud activity.
Early on and for the first time in days, the mountains were visible. The clouds were interesting, low and active, creating nearly abstract, magical mountain- and air-scapes.
Here’s one of the mountains taken just a little later than the lead photo, still showing low clouds but with the sky less active.
Broken Top & South Sister
During the day I took “sky photos” to capture differences in cloud formations. As the hours progressed, cumulus clouds gave way to a cirrus-like, heavy overcast.
I’ve been complaining about seemingly unending rains, and yesterday’s sky gave me little reason to think today might be different (weather is on my mind when I contemplate driving over the mountains). To my delight, this morning has dawned clear and bright.
The horses were shocked to see me out so early and bringing their feed. Eat well, good ponies, for we’ve a long ride ahead.
Dear Friends, enjoy what appears to be a dry and beautiful day. Diana
Yes, another day of on and off rains, some pouring and daunting. The occasional sunshine was weak. I managed to exercise the horses and do some work around the barn. Toward evening, during a break in the rain, I ventured into the dim with a camera to consider the clouds and what they might be saying. The western clouds seemed confused but were clearing, and those toward the east were dark and intimidating.
While focusing on various skies, I began thinking about art photography. Now, friends, I’m the most amateur of photographers, don’t know a thing about f-stops and such, but my eye is fairly dependable. Wanting to take pictures in yet another cloudy, damp day, made thinking creatively a sensible choice. So, using what was most easily available, here’s my start at art.
I rather like the outcomes from using a prop, and maybe it’s worth expanding to create innovative scenes. Meanwhile out there, and as usual in the background, lots of Robins were sounding off, noisy and defending. Since their uproars had been continuing for several evenings, I moved to another position to view the birds, and in a moment was witnessing territory arguments, with birds fluttering up, kicking out, and driving away offenders. Way up, a Robin stood stock-still and on guard, while on the ground its or some other bird’s mate gathered nesting material.
The sky, the ball, the birds, in the last lights of that damp and cloudy day. If those captures don’t appropriately enough represent closure, check out this of Pimmy in mud, after one of yesterday’s early rains.
Pimmy
Dear Friends, I must work today and that’s okay, for more rain is forecast. Diana
My complaining yesterday morning about all the rains we’ve had didn’t do a bit of good, as for most of that day the wet stuff continued on and off. Plus, the sunless and chilly day made me unable to force myself outside to exercise the horses. Now, I struggle to remember what I did all day, before the approach of early evening when I finally ventured outside with two goals: (1) feed animals, and (2) take pictures with a new zoom lens to decide if it’s worth keeping.
Yesterday afternoon’s clouds were incredibly huge and pillowy clusters, but they mostly disappeared after a brief and intense rainstorm. By the time I wandered outside the sky had softened, with its remaining and still attractive clouds far less dramatic.
Whatever caused it–cloud action or rain activity–the Robins were different. Some stayed put in very visible positions, guarding their nests while singing communications and warnings. The pair that first caught my eye stayed locked in place for a surprisingly long while, during the ten minutes or so that I stood watching them.
Robin Pair
While marveling at their beauty, I could hear another bird’s continuing calls from a distance. I decided to trek around the house, to its other side where there are other large trees, hoping to learn the kind of bird calling and maybe spotting it. Its sounds were rather like a Solitaire’s, but so had been the sounds of those two Robins. I was confused.
Solitary Robin
That noisy bird turned out to be–another Robin!–atop a tall juniper and highly visible. Perhaps it’s not so weird that Robins can sound somewhat like Solitaires, for the species are close relatives in the thrush family. I’ve become accustomed to listening to Robins, they’re among the noisiest and most communicative of birds, and of watching many as they hunt day after day. Yesterday, those normally busy birds seemed a little different, I’ll mostly attribute this to stormy weather.
Before ending my little journey in an early dim outside, I’ll post a capture that for some reason fascinates me enough to make a note of it.
Branches Against Sky
Today is beginning like yesterday (moments ago, we had an intense brief rainstorm). I’ll plan to venture outside later, hopefully to find various conditions of natural lighting, and explore again with my trial lens. So far, it’s delivered beyond my expectations.
Dear Friends, Memorial Day is our group reminder of loved ones forever dear. Diana
After yet another rainy night, here’s a shot of my equines holed up in their loafing shed during an early dry moment.
It’s begun to feel like I’m living in the Portland or Seattle areas instead of in Central Oregon’s high desert. This spring in my area has been the rainest during the near-fifteen years that I’ve lived in Central Oregon. By keeping abreast of predictions in The Old Farmer’s Almanac, I’d have been prepared for this May, which was expected to be rainier than normal and with cooler temperatures. In fact right now and still early this morning, rain again has begun tapping on my roof.
The Almanac adds reassuringly that the upcoming summer temperatures and rainfall will be “near normal”. This publication has been around, it seems to me, since time immemorial. What first struck me about the Almanac was that three years ago it predicted we’d have unusually huge snowfalls. And truly, we had some dozies! That’s when I decided to keep an eye on the publication, but alas, I forgot. Until the rains and now.
Of course, if we can see ahead that the Almanac predicts something like unusual spring rains, there’s nothing that can be done to change that potential. But at least we could be prepared mentally. We would know to avoid waking every morning, expecting to see sunshine because it’s May, and more realistically would know to anticipate the likelihood of a day of drear and clouds.
The daily pattern so far suggests we can look for breaks in the rain. In such a quiet period, I’ll be at the ready. I’ll dash out, get the horses exercised, note the wellness of my resident Bluebirds, and assess the widening spreads of weeds. At least on days like this, there’s no need to worry about house plants that can’t take much sunlight. They can be set outside beside the hardier plants for a healthy infusion of fresh air and moisture.
Maxwell is a 12-year-old, grey striped tabby whose territories include my small acreage and the fields of several neighbors. He came to me about 10 years ago soon after showing up at a friend’s barn and deciding to stay there. She gave him to a couple who took him to their home as a barn cat. A couple of days later, Max showed up in my friend’s barn, and she thought the folks she’d given him to had decided to return him. But, nope, he’d done it on his own–covered a return distance of five miles. I liked this fellow and brought him home, sequestering him in my barn for weeks before allowing freedom. He’s been with me since.
For years, Max was outside-0nly. He looked for mice in the barn, played with and let them go–a so-so mouser, and much better at preying on critters I didn’t want him bothering. He’s a sweet guy, happy to see me, and often follows like a puppy. One evening, seeing his face swollen, I took him to a vet. “Looks like he’s had a cat bite,” he said, “he’ll need antibiotics, and in a couple of months testing for kitty aids.”
I didn’t known Max to be a fighter, but in case he was, it made sense to keep him inside until his face healed and he was retested; for if that bite did infect him with kitty aids, he could spread that disease. The eventual upshot was that Max retested clean. Also, he had become accustomed to “insider’s comforts”, with safety, warmth, and food-begging opportunities. He became an inside-outside cat.
Fast-forward, to a week ago, when I glanced outside at a small deck where Max hangs out, and saw a strange gray cat sneaking around, sniffing everything, and paying special attention to the dog house, inside which Max has a bed. That very beefy cat didn’t have a tail, a Manx! He looked over, spotted me and stared. His surprising face looked like one that had been dipped in milk. So much dark grey, with the sudden white, and such light eyes! In another moment, he slipped away.
Manx (stock photo)
I texted a neighbor who’s a “cat person” asking if she knew that Manx, but she’d never seen him. I figured that was the end of it, until earlier this week when he again appeared on my small deck, sniffed around, hung out a few minutes exchanging looks through the glass door with Max, who was inside. And yesterday, there was the Manx, asleep on my small deck and for all the world looking as if he belonged there. Max wasn’t to be seen anywhere, and luckily so far, no squabbles.
In all Maxwell’s years here, it’s been his place. Now so interesting, this intruder. I’ll look for him hoping to get a photo of that beautiful kitty. If there’s such a thing as luck, Manx might find my barn, and those mice that Maxwell ignores. Word has it that Manx are great hunters.
This beautiful morning has neither rain nor wind gusts. The lead photo, which I was outside early capturing, doesn’t show enough the beauty of those interesting clouds. It does reflect that rising of red in the east, which is what drew me outside and into the surprise of this really warm morning.
Even nearing the end of May we’re wearing sweaters, and sometimes winter jackets. Early this month, after a tiny bit of warm weather, a series of rains began with frequent high winds that created a downright-cold spring. This seems our wettest spring, for I recall annual rains that lasted a day, or two, or even three, but not weeks of daily rains ranging from sprinkles to downpours. Attesting to this onslaught, widespread grasses and about-to-flower plants have multiplied over my normally desert-like property.
What’s reassuringly typical is sharing my barn with a family of Mountain Bluebirds. As cavity-nesters they build in a rafter’s tiny crevice. Right now, this pair might have hatchlings making lots of demands. Or this little fellow with a mouthful to deliver is feeding his still-incubating mate. He’s unafraid and waiting for me to get out of his way.
Daddy bird, waiting for me to leave the barn
For years, I’ve enjoyed those little birds. They’re either a returning pair or a now-mated offspring wanting to nest at the old home site. Mountain Bluebirds are related closely to robins, and like them love fruit; they’re also good at diving while in flight to capture prey. They’re devoted family members, and a pair’s mature offspring may stick around and help to feed their parents’ newest babies. The male bird’s feathers are a gorgeous blue, and those of the females duller, almost tan, until a good light reveals their true azure.
I work regularly in the barn near where they’re nesting, for that’s where my horse hay is stored. A caretaker bird on seeing me waits nearby, until I accommodate its need to fly past closely and feed. Other times, one of these birds is guarding the nest and watching from high in a tree. On spotting me, it sounds little warnings.
Soon, each in this pair will start busily flying and feeding, and I’ll try to stay out of their way. Their annual presence makes for lovely springs, despite rains and winds.
Yesterday, I hauled the horses to Oregon’s west side over the mountains to visit our trainer. From my perspective in Central Oregon, after days of rainy weather, there was a worrisome possibility of running into rain while traveling to Lebanon through the passes, but aside from a running into a few sprinkles, the drive as usual was uneventful, and of course, curvy and slow.
I always plan and try to arrive at the trainer’s before our lessons, early enough for the horses to enjoy a little grazing time after their long trip. The lead photo above shows Rosie as a happy pig in tall grass–and best of all she’s not alone. My friend, Elaine, while recently visiting Bend, suggested tying Pimmy to a breakable collar on Sunni’s neck in order to lead all three equines at once. Well yesterday, the sight of that tall grass motivated me to try Elaine’s suggestion. I rigged up a collar for Sunni, and to it, hitched Pimmy, and Presto! The three followed me quietly, without separation anxieties, and grazed peacefully.
Later, the work with our trainer became an enlightening experience. First with Rosie, I learned more about how to exercise her, using long ropes. The ropes, handled correctly, can control the speed and directions of her trotting. I learned about bringing her closer to apply more control, or closer to regain control when she does as she wishes, changing gaits so that the ropes become loose and sloppy. As she trotted, I practiced handling the lines, alternately bringing her closer and then sending her out farther. Our trainer had me practice having the horse reverse in direction, as I adjusted my hands on the ropes, in a way to control her action and speed.
During Sunni’s session, we hitched this pony, a push-button, she has it together and is a dream to drive. Yesterday, I practiced handling the reins and turning her correctly while she’s trotting. The focus was to keep her body and head in balance while approaching and making a turn, and completing it still in balance. It’s striking how the action of driving a horse–applying the reins–is similar to the use of long lines in exercising a horse.
Later, driving home was challenging because we ran into rain, and in some places downright downpours. The windshield wipers swung to and fro at full-speed while we went through the highest reaches of Santiam Pass. A bit later again, the wipers returned to high action through the town of Sisters. Thankfully, beyond Sisters the rain eased, and prior to reaching Bend became a light sprinkle.
Dear Friends, it’s good to be home safely, and with elevated training goals. Diana
A short hello today, as I’m about to hit the road with horses and donkey, traveling over the mountains for sessions with our driving trainer. My truck has gasoline, is loaded with horse-related equipment, and all else is at-the-ready. My biggest concerns are possibilities of heavy rain in the mountains, or once over them in the Valley. I’ll give myself enough time to drive slowly, and if necessary, will take the “longer route” through Scio and avoid the narrow and curvy Tombstone Pass.
Today’s training goals are to strengthen and expand my skills with Rosie on long-lines. And then, seated in a carriage and driving Sunni, to practice the discipline of dressage.
Diana's Morning Blog 