Saturday in the Country - by Doreen

Dogs are like people. They have different temperaments and different expectations from their parent/owners. Each dog brings a unique way of looking at life to the world.

We had a black and white collie named Sport. We called him that because he loved to run and was so playful, but he didn’t fetch and he didn’t kill, he just was in it for the chase.

Saturdays we would take the stone-boat (a flat skid) and put pails on it and drive the horse to the slough for water than back to the pasture to drown out the gophers.
We had hundreds of gophers and they lived happily in the pasture all week long. When we arrived on the weekend we put stones in their backdoor hole and poured water down the front. The gopher would come out quickly and run while Sport went crazy chasing after them. If he ever was lucky enough to pass one he would stop and wait for it to catch up. He never bit at them, just barked and ran.

One Saturday my brother Dennis and I decided to fill the rain barrel to drown out a Badger. We had never tried that before as their holes are so large we would need a lot of water. It would be a full days venture as a Badger has a back door and a side door so it takes a lot of rocks to block the escape hatches.

After picking and hauling the stones and filling the exits we finally started pouring pails of water into the hole. Pail after pail went into the dry cavern with no sign of flooding out. We had almost emptied the barrel and thought our effort was for nothing when out came a wet and angry Badger. They are nocturnal animals and not pleased to come into the bright sunshine and to make the point he was hissing and clawing, scrambling around, until it laid its gaze on Sport who had been eagerly waiting a regular gopher.

Everything happened at once. The horse ran away with the near empty rain barrel clattering over the prairie. The dog howled at the sight of this oversized angry gopher meeting him at eye level while my brother and I were screaming in fear. We were in awe of this creature having never laid our eyes on a real badger before. The badger, which has very sharp teeth and long claws, chased Sport. The dog used his best running skill to get away from that beast.

No one was harmed but it hurt Sport's game. The next time we tried to coax him to the pasture he hid beneath the porch, slapping his tail in apology. I can only imagine what the dog thought but I can tell you he hated gophers after that. Our gopher hunting days were over. Nothing would ever come close to the excitement of drowning out a badger. We've told other farm kids about our adventure but have never met anyone who admitted they were foolish enough to try it.

Bird Tales - by Doreen

We had two budgie birds named, Mick and Paddy, since they fought like two stereotypical drunken Irishmen. These birds were incredible with their voices. They could imitate – a crying baby, a human cough, the security alarm – and they chose the times to imitate what would bring the most panic to the house.

For example, the crying baby would happen just after the grandchildren had left and I would search the house for this baby that had been left behind.

The cough occurred when I was in the house alone and usually on another floor. I can’t describe the petrified stance it placed me in thinking someone was lurking in the next room. They especially loved to do this when I returned from work to the empty house and involved in the process of pulling off my pantyhose.

The security alarm was the worst. They would pull that one off at 3 a.m. – usually on a Sunday morning when we had settled down late. We would awake to the unmistakable beep…beep… beep-beep-beep-beep-beep that happens just before the full-fledged alarm shrieks out.

One summer day we put the cage outside on the lawn in the shade of the trees and when we went to the yard later their cage was surrounded by dozens of birds. Sparrows, chickadees, wild canaries, blackbirds, robins, starlings, and blue jays. I know some of these birds dislike others yet they were sitting on the grass, trees, or fence, listening to the budgie birds as if they were hearing the lesson of salvation.

When we moved to our condo, the birds liked to sit (in their cage) on the glassed in deck and observe the golfers. They would watch them approach the 9th hole and when their club was half arced and coming down to hit the ball off the tee, they would shriek like mad African parrots. Of course, the golfer would lose his stance, fumble the ball, and then search the fare way for the strange bird that caused the panic.

Unfortunately for us we could not live in smaller quarters with this noisy duo and they found a new home with a 14 year-old twin boy who went on to study birds in university. As you can probably tell I still miss them. They lived together with their new owner for five years until Paddy passed away and Mick went into a quiet grief. A new bird was added, but it never was the same for Mick and he settled into old age molting like a pouty old man.

As a sideline, Mick and Paddy were both male, but in such living situations one becomes dominant and one subservient. Paddy agreed to do the first stint of subservience but somehow got his fill of being the underling and became dominant now and again. When he did, the cage was not the same for days on end. The birds would live on opposite perches and feed on different schedules. The same thing happens to my husband and me when we go on holiday and on about day five (laundry day I call it) we try to find our own space and avoid each other.

Wildlife Encounters by Doreen

When I was nine years old I lived on a farm near Regina. Our dogs and cats were not allowed indoors - they were considered farm animals. The farm cats had their diet supplemented at the front porch so they were tame and familiar with the family and often came for extra petting and affectionate words. The kids would haul them around until the cats tired of the game and went back to their own territory.

One night after dark the farm cat brushed against my legs. With persistent rotations she moved back and forth purring loudly. I knelt down and hoisted her to my shoulder and she nuzzled into my neck with her wet nose licking at my earlobe. I decided to share the moment with my family to show them how loving the old cat was feeling.

I walked from the dark into the bright living room where everyone had gathered to watch TV. When my mother saw me she turned white and I thought she was upset that I had brought the cat into the house. “Look how loving Mumsy is tonight,” I said. Dad said, “Take her outside and put her down.” I thought they were concerned because the cat was purring and kneading on my shoulder with her sharp claws and she might snag my sweater. Dad repeated, “Take her outside right now.” He was so stern I knew something serious was wrong. I glanced down at the black fur snuggled in my arms and saw the double white stripes of a wild Skunk.

I marched the Skunk outside and knelt on the step where she promptly leapt from my arms as an ordinary cat might do. Then she ambled leisurely into a patch of weeds near the house while my horrified Dad watched at a distance with a corn broom in hand concerned that the animal was rabid because of its unusual behavior. The skunk began the process of birthing her kits.

Apparently an animal in labour will purr to ease the pain and I had scooped up a self-sedated skunk in the latter stages of birthing. After giving the Skunk a lot of space to complete her delivery she managed to move her litter to another location and a few hours later she was gone without releasing her well known perfume.

 

 

 

Prairie Dreams

Saskatchewan skies are called living skies because they change so often and in a dramatic way. Most of these pictures are taken from my front window - facing west and through double panes of glass. Because the sky changes so dramatically and so often I never tire of the view. I hope the viewers enjoy the pictures I have posted.