tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86854021802620674762024-03-13T03:56:51.906-07:00Blessed Little CreaturesThe Mockingbird outside my window, the lizard creeping down the tree, the dog sleeping in my arms—every blessed little creature that I see inspires me and brings me joy. I've seen bold, beautiful male cardinals pluck tiny seeds from a dish and feed them to their children, and baby raccoons, smaller than house cats, wrestle, play, then kiss their mother on the nose. I watch, listen, photograph and marvel at these precious gifts from God, then I write about them here.Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.comBlogger230125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-59488486198664692962022-10-01T23:00:00.002-07:002022-10-01T23:00:32.151-07:00Brown Pelicans at Corpus Christi<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJV4U-FYzSHLWYfIhBNsD7luB4ylg2x8-Q5qhxR3YXpNhs-oneH4MeRfPzXC346O_nacSPiR45CVX1WL1Rxd1XW5PpUqPmb_frPiq15AIGI3Woz4BztWMteWvTYWbQQ5_AOu1AxLMVEPmWSHNMkeRFMSKOoflfqUAgO4uLWNBPlYXwrRmSo5X5L77/s2119/brown%20pelican%20great.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2049" data-original-width="2119" height="309" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpJV4U-FYzSHLWYfIhBNsD7luB4ylg2x8-Q5qhxR3YXpNhs-oneH4MeRfPzXC346O_nacSPiR45CVX1WL1Rxd1XW5PpUqPmb_frPiq15AIGI3Woz4BztWMteWvTYWbQQ5_AOu1AxLMVEPmWSHNMkeRFMSKOoflfqUAgO4uLWNBPlYXwrRmSo5X5L77/s320/brown%20pelican%20great.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><br /><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p style="text-align: center;">We made a one-day trip to Corpus Christi. It's not that far from my house, but when I get there I don't want to leave. I love watching the birds!</p></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwkz2eoPlXURchzZSyksXHXaskdtxcPZEnwJspizIBDe-Q9pNYZJXhOWDTr1p1fb1Ag6KVnmQ_-z_VsG8Br8nfOmEG4iPXI14sFaDsa6oIMXM-jT75Rt-rXfKfQmQoez8jnYQl1VTXQjfaLxJ866643FdF3E3tpUa5Uu1E086N_ncw3DtSAUZz-0s/s2630/brown%20pelican%20great2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2045" data-original-width="2630" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqwkz2eoPlXURchzZSyksXHXaskdtxcPZEnwJspizIBDe-Q9pNYZJXhOWDTr1p1fb1Ag6KVnmQ_-z_VsG8Br8nfOmEG4iPXI14sFaDsa6oIMXM-jT75Rt-rXfKfQmQoez8jnYQl1VTXQjfaLxJ866643FdF3E3tpUa5Uu1E086N_ncw3DtSAUZz-0s/s320/brown%20pelican%20great2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Brown Pelicans are spectacular divers. I love watching them circle around then suddenly drop into the water. According to Texas Parks and Wildlife, " Brown Pelicans are found along the Texas coast from Chambers County on the upper coast to Cameron County on the lower coast. Most of the breed- ing birds nest on Pelican Island in Corpus Christi Bay and Sundown Island near Port O'Connor, both National Audubon Society Sanctuaries." I think my favorite spot is near Pelican Island. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismQvb9EpEkgp3bihLTERppq_H8RC3pVABNB1sIFxz9-F5QWFmbIlQmqXHlIvs0l5zmeOvrLktn2LL64-xGTe9EC51BMinB8AlZjjzXZIjGBepx3dGOP32c7W9_XXvqA0nO4dpFDLPQUpQfsY42v7mc8VJtkVTQHpaw535xsFGb0fAci3fl_klt8E-/s1559/pelican%20one.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1450" data-original-width="1559" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismQvb9EpEkgp3bihLTERppq_H8RC3pVABNB1sIFxz9-F5QWFmbIlQmqXHlIvs0l5zmeOvrLktn2LL64-xGTe9EC51BMinB8AlZjjzXZIjGBepx3dGOP32c7W9_XXvqA0nO4dpFDLPQUpQfsY42v7mc8VJtkVTQHpaw535xsFGb0fAci3fl_klt8E-/s320/pelican%20one.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">I was surprised to learn that only two species of pelicans plunge-dive for their food. The Brown Pelican is one of them. This is one of the diving poses. Their diving skill level is off the charts. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlUIPeFG_aFsmFGWNR6UQeFYHJtj4C6CK-j80vB-36s9AGN90FT818W3K3nwlxiHrUtNlYGjzj5LXL-abGp2VAAdRQ0FYVRcQpphPc2AW4oFlVlpshiPVnajIyYMWUK69wMJzWBhblyyvKekTRSwTDb56xCJIhVa3tsE6JTuYx2wqWZtwRACQRJxF/s2140/pelican3%20excellant.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1851" data-original-width="2140" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIlUIPeFG_aFsmFGWNR6UQeFYHJtj4C6CK-j80vB-36s9AGN90FT818W3K3nwlxiHrUtNlYGjzj5LXL-abGp2VAAdRQ0FYVRcQpphPc2AW4oFlVlpshiPVnajIyYMWUK69wMJzWBhblyyvKekTRSwTDb56xCJIhVa3tsE6JTuYx2wqWZtwRACQRJxF/s320/pelican3%20excellant.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brown Pelicans dive from great heights. Unlike other pelicans that scoop up the fish, Brown Pelicans trap the fish in their <span style="background-color: white; color: #4d5156; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; text-align: left;">large pouches. They don't store the fish in their pouches, they tilt their heads back and swallow the fish as the water drains out. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jUS34DzGRCvdqhiz-sBoqMFpjOkzfyWK76IDN1xUiJGqHt9ociaogX8CqrVkXfw3tRR9vwwd3nmeasSQL6bZqpN9MkphYCSeqYYhYzXgeApaXku-R4ZgiJXWlp4R3f2cxuCgKH7zxYd6CawI026uaO5E_IcIw1N02v5VVJfUMBGu9tB-jwAGhPf/s2089/pelican%20excellant.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1745" data-original-width="2089" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm8jUS34DzGRCvdqhiz-sBoqMFpjOkzfyWK76IDN1xUiJGqHt9ociaogX8CqrVkXfw3tRR9vwwd3nmeasSQL6bZqpN9MkphYCSeqYYhYzXgeApaXku-R4ZgiJXWlp4R3f2cxuCgKH7zxYd6CawI026uaO5E_IcIw1N02v5VVJfUMBGu9tB-jwAGhPf/s320/pelican%20excellant.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">These photos are actually of two different birds competing for fish in the same area. This one is winning the contest. Not this time, though. It's a hop, skip, and a jump. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Another missed opportunity. It was close, though! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rjDoWQls4jnrHUu5_Q-u7ITPlP0PwB_HUMTBBdpz6ZfsqJmrnNWxjg7XaJoA1oVgzjt3KIy3xT4iHd4PmqeVEGuIgRdzGXsN8ZSg-2vmt6u4WPv21V7iNN-CL-36Ho-oUdSgLNgQJVt6QPhXmZPf_yuwi0inWThTEKdgL3twr663srab7bRqRBne/s1605/pelican2%20excellant.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1417" data-original-width="1605" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5rjDoWQls4jnrHUu5_Q-u7ITPlP0PwB_HUMTBBdpz6ZfsqJmrnNWxjg7XaJoA1oVgzjt3KIy3xT4iHd4PmqeVEGuIgRdzGXsN8ZSg-2vmt6u4WPv21V7iNN-CL-36Ho-oUdSgLNgQJVt6QPhXmZPf_yuwi0inWThTEKdgL3twr663srab7bRqRBne/s320/pelican2%20excellant.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This one is taking a short break from the fishing. They really are beautiful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4JyLQcS4RGY_kaQ5Vxyz1SlZ420zo7wvAQ73E8JQr4biT23_kxGhPj1ZGPxu19ezoRnNRcEE7J8k0FO2tJkKx6GO6Eq8wxxslnyXJFf-NYe26iVPdAtk6-Wpsdg5YO-XEnG5uMa6jvbQUHqdO4dWNRzD6IGFOrAdu9MI0yFRwppu3GpDyderRgPE/s2869/pelican4%20excellant.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2369" data-original-width="2869" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl4JyLQcS4RGY_kaQ5Vxyz1SlZ420zo7wvAQ73E8JQr4biT23_kxGhPj1ZGPxu19ezoRnNRcEE7J8k0FO2tJkKx6GO6Eq8wxxslnyXJFf-NYe26iVPdAtk6-Wpsdg5YO-XEnG5uMa6jvbQUHqdO4dWNRzD6IGFOrAdu9MI0yFRwppu3GpDyderRgPE/s320/pelican4%20excellant.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Goodnight sweet bird. Time to go home. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p>Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-27656854557710047062022-06-18T16:22:00.002-07:002022-06-18T16:22:36.118-07:00Rattlesnake!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQNyYvNvPrG8U0IZ-wOC5y5xVvcpX8eommGAnghnha6gQPknVunvp7zOcLfG211oONw4iQA92M8MZce9dQQVv09XlHlrlMbPYpkaEFA2QBA_L9602Y9EN2H7f4AgHtWMKWKacYtSuUfek_G0QLhfMXwVCtocU6Q0RK7yFjvKr0P1YEXHImRhAU2v1d/s1415/rattlesnake%20Alice%20head%20good2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1120" data-original-width="1415" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQNyYvNvPrG8U0IZ-wOC5y5xVvcpX8eommGAnghnha6gQPknVunvp7zOcLfG211oONw4iQA92M8MZce9dQQVv09XlHlrlMbPYpkaEFA2QBA_L9602Y9EN2H7f4AgHtWMKWKacYtSuUfek_G0QLhfMXwVCtocU6Q0RK7yFjvKr0P1YEXHImRhAU2v1d/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20head%20good2.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Rattlesnake photo by Darla Sue Dollman taken in Alice, Texas 2022. </i></div><p></p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">We had an interesting visitor at the new house in South Texas. We have a long gravel drive leading to our house and this beauty was slithering up the driveway mid-morning, which seemed a bit odd for a snake. Snakes generally move around when it is cooler. Not when it's cold, but when it's cooler, like early morning or dusk. They are generally crepuscular, appearing at twilight. This can be a confusing topic because I also read that rattle</span><span style="text-align: center;">snakes are thermoregulators, which means they are able to change their own body temperature to suit their surroundings. </span><span style="text-align: left;">This one, however, was quite active when the temperature here in Texas was already 91 degrees. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLAulniaoaEbKgHx3XTlBTqvhmqbPie_Thx0j5e5RA_f5Y8HIRlbfx6yWwL-GF-jCrU3LUS0YJiIznCs9JfbtVMH8akt46HdeSf5PDmdhTcMpe6qFoq6QzbHOwMzBi5fuOIjk5q2dTF_z86otMMGZZUYk0mgqNugI1nlnxahDSx6uOeo_aRRNmTKB/s4703/rattlesnake%20Alice%20rattle.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3662" data-original-width="4703" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPLAulniaoaEbKgHx3XTlBTqvhmqbPie_Thx0j5e5RA_f5Y8HIRlbfx6yWwL-GF-jCrU3LUS0YJiIznCs9JfbtVMH8akt46HdeSf5PDmdhTcMpe6qFoq6QzbHOwMzBi5fuOIjk5q2dTF_z86otMMGZZUYk0mgqNugI1nlnxahDSx6uOeo_aRRNmTKB/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20rattle.JPG" width="320" /></a><i>T</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>The rattlesnake's rattle. Photo taken by Darla Sue Dollman taken in Alice, Texas in 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Do you recognize this snake? Can you identify this rattler? It's definitely a rattlesnake, as you can see in the picture. I'm still trying to come up with a definitive identification, but I suspect it is a Western Diamondback. All rattlesnakes are in the viper family, a type of venomous snake found almost worldwide, except in places like Hawaii and Australia, but they have their own venomous critters to deal with I suppose. If you can identify this snake please comment! </div><div><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OiR-5v3o__1eaH69Zd7951Dh-idGLoYeWVKk4Kq2g6-dlkvNx2bDtV5n9td6wXQ6eFUN3cru1bH42cJFmhgUYIr4IjLFdlDw8Iqud8dnFa5t2lGcrn4uo3QtESev7s9KptmwO8Y8jF5V5M_yBe7-m7_uxc9z7yiYzt9x4ATji46Fj69FbWi6JD9I/s3801/rattlesnake%20Alice%20great.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1873" data-original-width="3801" height="158" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8OiR-5v3o__1eaH69Zd7951Dh-idGLoYeWVKk4Kq2g6-dlkvNx2bDtV5n9td6wXQ6eFUN3cru1bH42cJFmhgUYIr4IjLFdlDw8Iqud8dnFa5t2lGcrn4uo3QtESev7s9KptmwO8Y8jF5V5M_yBe7-m7_uxc9z7yiYzt9x4ATji46Fj69FbWi6JD9I/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20great.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Rattlesnake photo taken by Darla Sue Dollman in Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div>This particular critter was moving a bit slow. It may have just finished a meal. There does appear to be a slight bulge in its mid-section and it occurred to me that I may have interrupted the snake while it was digesting a recent meal. Rattlesnakes are predators that hunt birds and small mammals and we have plenty of both on this property. The snake looks large enough to swallow a small rabbit, too. <br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1t-443ZXFp4J6crWEZNVActEAyC8FDes18Tbrmc0Tc09_ezbNKphnwghKev1qVXgRGbXhWD8CU-L0X4cTHMYkMrLQIcBxouLzKWF6pg-t6CM8x35kxf6t2hNJf0vzQ_pAO5GrNQSe3AyQacT9TOyfjvuOmLa4bPsM48qqt4yLyXOoIRdJyFUKxb1/s1311/rattlesnake%20head%20great.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1311" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ1t-443ZXFp4J6crWEZNVActEAyC8FDes18Tbrmc0Tc09_ezbNKphnwghKev1qVXgRGbXhWD8CU-L0X4cTHMYkMrLQIcBxouLzKWF6pg-t6CM8x35kxf6t2hNJf0vzQ_pAO5GrNQSe3AyQacT9TOyfjvuOmLa4bPsM48qqt4yLyXOoIRdJyFUKxb1/s320/rattlesnake%20head%20great.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div> <i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022. </i> </div></blockquote><p style="text-align: center;"> <span style="text-align: left;">As you can see, this snake has a triangular-shaped head, which is typical of venomous snakes.</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></div><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRj0f0A1al8zdla5O51Tjvt2Yv5OVv9Pkp6PxygeHru14NOvw8tX5PwCTWx41fqmSlwPwt6BTxdTPJh9Ey_vGsfnQuOEnEA0Wkm82DWAWaiRcOXSfgbE7SzVtF5OdSLKiQwlxsGwimWlDNe6Tf8TeLaVREubDepzqPXHRqsVEQk20BNZ-unNsQFDz6/s1783/rattlesnake%20Alice%20eye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="1783" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRj0f0A1al8zdla5O51Tjvt2Yv5OVv9Pkp6PxygeHru14NOvw8tX5PwCTWx41fqmSlwPwt6BTxdTPJh9Ey_vGsfnQuOEnEA0Wkm82DWAWaiRcOXSfgbE7SzVtF5OdSLKiQwlxsGwimWlDNe6Tf8TeLaVREubDepzqPXHRqsVEQk20BNZ-unNsQFDz6/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20eye.JPG" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">It is also a pit viper. I could tell by its eyes. Pit vipers have a "pit organ" between their eyes and nostrils to help them strike accurately at their target. They also have two movable fangs.</p></div><div> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8kW-nX4IeBMsUZd4Yn0nvLUW45lNv00D1X5b90ErzVoCzfb22SVYldumBCU_t5e-qOdHQTox7IcldvlirxKIRsgvh0zJKwKDDqiosoMwdbaz-e9r5Z_I0JQhJKy8m5_hC_46ZsLqyd1Gf9eMX71RY6EHSIMDUdBFN3yNTMo5DIbo68N0tblH-ZA0/s1354/rattlesnake%20head%20best.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1354" data-original-width="1064" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK8kW-nX4IeBMsUZd4Yn0nvLUW45lNv00D1X5b90ErzVoCzfb22SVYldumBCU_t5e-qOdHQTox7IcldvlirxKIRsgvh0zJKwKDDqiosoMwdbaz-e9r5Z_I0JQhJKy8m5_hC_46ZsLqyd1Gf9eMX71RY6EHSIMDUdBFN3yNTMo5DIbo68N0tblH-ZA0/s320/rattlesnake%20head%20best.JPG" width="251" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Photo taken by Darla Sue Dollman in Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">The snake took one look at my husband then made a mad dash--or, mad slither--for a few chopped branches near where my husband was working at the time. Once beneath the branches he curled up and posed for the picture above. Of course that wasn't going to continue. Although it seems like the perfect place for a snake to hang out, we would be unable to safely work on the property with a huge rattlesnake by the front porch. It would be fascinating to watch at dusk as it moved around looking for food, but still, a bit too dangerous. </span></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8dY-S3lBttEFIBIDrF7O8xz8CgNf-nBaQZMgVfbDv2LSQKvkYWt6CFtUT3kheElN2nyuOMMrWV7E7JJbdJpEFMqIWvOvRVQbR-ukJHSHqWGH_q4kDTWOEGrANgdhfB3BmefiNSxJ2WqN3t-ibHmTPIdEbiCJ0Ff17ViWPPB2SZ4azMKQPFFRgqgG/s1429/rattlesnake%20Alice%20head3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="1429" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8dY-S3lBttEFIBIDrF7O8xz8CgNf-nBaQZMgVfbDv2LSQKvkYWt6CFtUT3kheElN2nyuOMMrWV7E7JJbdJpEFMqIWvOvRVQbR-ukJHSHqWGH_q4kDTWOEGrANgdhfB3BmefiNSxJ2WqN3t-ibHmTPIdEbiCJ0Ff17ViWPPB2SZ4azMKQPFFRgqgG/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20head3.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i><br /><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9v7B_HYoMk8MBMuybVBU2jkMtKbVSVvKsisf9s7oiCpb1ro9geJtQ5DfOtGRNqL03wzOTJl3xHAW-L9_IqNq9AV2QB0XeaItPYmwfnjLPcr3lFfj0O9NbH3HJ84Q_AJl9vPJF5bP4XU39l50i2ygLEDPB3Zcrl0Z6M44hGddWRyDmsn9j-eh65IU/s4761/rattlesnake%20Alice%20truck.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2877" data-original-width="4761" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW9v7B_HYoMk8MBMuybVBU2jkMtKbVSVvKsisf9s7oiCpb1ro9geJtQ5DfOtGRNqL03wzOTJl3xHAW-L9_IqNq9AV2QB0XeaItPYmwfnjLPcr3lFfj0O9NbH3HJ84Q_AJl9vPJF5bP4XU39l50i2ygLEDPB3Zcrl0Z6M44hGddWRyDmsn9j-eh65IU/s320/rattlesnake%20Alice%20truck.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The snake finally decided to move out of the wood pile and my husband, who has done this many times before where he was raised in the California mountains, managed to lasso the snake and gently, gently, slowly and carefully, guide it to the back of his truck. I suspect the snake has done this before because he was surprisingly cooperative. (To be honest, I'm not sure if the snake was a male or female. Sexing a snake is a complicated process). </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBZ2WFvcOctML-bTY4FawG13u0negcHqyi7xnlATX7pgxj0AO-GBPUEchvVCsH_TZv9Z8XIOv2GrWYPANgsdwMW-2c1y6ymxaPm8z0gzup7c6T1OvS7Quc3E-Gbhafy2WbrKCq5GZ3E6BlIYOUmWF1Q_R2gnSON909sigpxF0U9dJtkc-oGbfwSzA/s4721/rattlesnake%20on%20truck%20Alice%20great.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4721" data-original-width="3665" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfBZ2WFvcOctML-bTY4FawG13u0negcHqyi7xnlATX7pgxj0AO-GBPUEchvVCsH_TZv9Z8XIOv2GrWYPANgsdwMW-2c1y6ymxaPm8z0gzup7c6T1OvS7Quc3E-Gbhafy2WbrKCq5GZ3E6BlIYOUmWF1Q_R2gnSON909sigpxF0U9dJtkc-oGbfwSzA/s320/rattlesnake%20on%20truck%20Alice%20great.JPG" width="248" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We drove out to a less-crowded area of our large property, stopped the truck, and my husband gently removed the lasso. The snake slowly slid down the side of the truck and onto the ground. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYI_5laPcGPZxXv_Nbjeraj7QsEmcDhqjcjVKT1gTAnWLle-tTRhbfpGPorra6eWNUwPqqzxwy6bhMmE3ZbfJ5uTE0hX4-cK6aRQQyq5LSz9aYZAASFrJQtvby1mnx6Tcj8shtRPWCUvD3MPJlskK_Tev0LbjjQBo01vsXN0CUGyxil14Q96K5Dqn7/s4593/rattlesnake%20goodbye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3586" data-original-width="4593" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYI_5laPcGPZxXv_Nbjeraj7QsEmcDhqjcjVKT1gTAnWLle-tTRhbfpGPorra6eWNUwPqqzxwy6bhMmE3ZbfJ5uTE0hX4-cK6aRQQyq5LSz9aYZAASFrJQtvby1mnx6Tcj8shtRPWCUvD3MPJlskK_Tev0LbjjQBo01vsXN0CUGyxil14Q96K5Dqn7/s320/rattlesnake%20goodbye.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Once on the ground, the snake took a second to look around and figure out where it wanted to go. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMlBDE9n-RdgnTYca1kXPa834TH06MfL8MhG9s1d50p3kIH5-v_UX8V_g_YYWdiyzHmXVcfHqlGM8h-Qr1s_M34A19032y89FOgdiy1grBAj0r9Kgvhe21z9TW0xbZyO-GDWXkTajLkATsKg18zuPrlns3S1cdUYyqbEMYCqEZn_40Dfzc7cA4A1i/s5520/rattlesnake%20tail.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3979" data-original-width="5520" height="231" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMlBDE9n-RdgnTYca1kXPa834TH06MfL8MhG9s1d50p3kIH5-v_UX8V_g_YYWdiyzHmXVcfHqlGM8h-Qr1s_M34A19032y89FOgdiy1grBAj0r9Kgvhe21z9TW0xbZyO-GDWXkTajLkATsKg18zuPrlns3S1cdUYyqbEMYCqEZn_40Dfzc7cA4A1i/s320/rattlesnake%20tail.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It found a nice spot in a patch of grass near some trees and started moving across the road. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRGYCyYJfMlk96T6aNL6h6_gZgKKn01CT1h0ob75Hmrb_d2etQggNErUpg50soeFK-hIrxnDOeiMvF8yQ97GEE4aaxZMgTaD76UgCF_ehfrO4Stteajncij622UyLOkJchAl828UZCQByiKqAUF_75mW3210JpQf3ABvAosilQKgwpvbqZEPvOv2v/s4092/rattlesnake%20tail%20goodbye.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3030" data-original-width="4092" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSRGYCyYJfMlk96T6aNL6h6_gZgKKn01CT1h0ob75Hmrb_d2etQggNErUpg50soeFK-hIrxnDOeiMvF8yQ97GEE4aaxZMgTaD76UgCF_ehfrO4Stteajncij622UyLOkJchAl828UZCQByiKqAUF_75mW3210JpQf3ABvAosilQKgwpvbqZEPvOv2v/s320/rattlesnake%20tail%20goodbye.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. Alice, Texas 2022.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And with a flick of its tail to say goodbye, it was gone.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br style="text-align: left;" /></div></div><br />Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-26396943703320952812022-03-30T09:08:00.002-07:002022-03-30T09:14:46.430-07:00Northern Cardinals in Alice, Texas<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0jerE9QjtNzw08MrX82F2n_XpIrJyKyReqtwnWa69ITYsIhiA3bFMTG4iGUa6f4MGUBfi4JOMeos1ffdu98vdieM-_bcP7DlwJhWNoEzEVTE6BGUZHl82SK4FAA569_ypq_Idcc5l853VRNblcP6oWMnaAlrEPYnUqLSl_XXCe5rEZLWVzYXCjXI/s720/female%20cardinal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="622" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0jerE9QjtNzw08MrX82F2n_XpIrJyKyReqtwnWa69ITYsIhiA3bFMTG4iGUa6f4MGUBfi4JOMeos1ffdu98vdieM-_bcP7DlwJhWNoEzEVTE6BGUZHl82SK4FAA569_ypq_Idcc5l853VRNblcP6oWMnaAlrEPYnUqLSl_XXCe5rEZLWVzYXCjXI/s320/female%20cardinal.jpg" width="276" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Female northern cardinal. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div></div><p>I am back in Texas. I just can't stay away. I love this place--the flowers, birds, wildlife, it's all so beautiful! After two years in the Arizona east valley dust bowl I sold my house, bought an adorable old farmhouse on two acres and moved to Alice, Texas. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg07qxdNTJgElhM48PfwX7Ene76PIB8ns4GnGfRVTdxT_a1fbq0eXCbgw-FCTVfUbyXucisb1hRediS_bUWtLUdsu9tsMX6b9gbLVxsfr9UZQ_5bOKUk6E7x2ONaDWGjvrlxPY8eXVDwnVplG_oKY0BMc7pQEpuySWeGawXw3G2sLXMJS6lnax3GKx5/s3188/fabio.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3188" data-original-width="3187" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg07qxdNTJgElhM48PfwX7Ene76PIB8ns4GnGfRVTdxT_a1fbq0eXCbgw-FCTVfUbyXucisb1hRediS_bUWtLUdsu9tsMX6b9gbLVxsfr9UZQ_5bOKUk6E7x2ONaDWGjvrlxPY8eXVDwnVplG_oKY0BMc7pQEpuySWeGawXw3G2sLXMJS6lnax3GKx5/s320/fabio.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><i>This is Fabio. It was a rough drive, but he loves Texas. I'd like to find a place that prints small dog t-shirts so I can order four of them that say, "I survived the move of 2022!</i></blockquote><p>It was a stressful move with 16 animals in cages in the back of my truck, but we all survived the drive. The six male ducks were divided into two large cages where they were able to stand and walk around. My single female Muscovy, Squeaky, was in her own cage, but also able to walk around. Penny the Peahen was also caged separately in a cage fit for a queen. The four dogs were seat-belted into the two trucks. The cats were in cages (large enough to move around) on the back seat of my truck and the two rabbits were also in separate cages where they could move around. When we arrived in Texas we discovered the sale of my house in Arizona was delayed for six days so we slept in a hotel room with the dogs and cats then changed the hay, water, and feed for the caged animals twice a day. It was a great relief to finally move into the house! </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhje01ph4f1qW7p_sZIxeI0cIz_yuAmHgMPwLtZAffYTvZl5RWJdRmLnIx4eZbmOHMx5jk8DsZ4-Ay1-nojM1C1aMfjs75H97sD3YfeWfEfvXU5MhaqeBl4r5ORmgFsG-bWrKHAZ0b-CuRdDd6fSfSB5BKIth5wKsVKAOBQxWF2Z5oC69kVu7LY05/s960/duck%20with%20reflection.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="960" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNhje01ph4f1qW7p_sZIxeI0cIz_yuAmHgMPwLtZAffYTvZl5RWJdRmLnIx4eZbmOHMx5jk8DsZ4-Ay1-nojM1C1aMfjs75H97sD3YfeWfEfvXU5MhaqeBl4r5ORmgFsG-bWrKHAZ0b-CuRdDd6fSfSB5BKIth5wKsVKAOBQxWF2Z5oC69kVu7LY05/s320/duck%20with%20reflection.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div><p>Last night, though, after only two weeks in Texas, we had a casualty. My lovely Mallard, Blackie, was killed by a weasel. We identified the killer by the tiny teeth marks in the neck and the fact that he somehow managed to squeeze through a small gap between boards. I am heartbroken. I love my ducks and was looking forward to another 18 years of quacking and waddling from him. He will be missed.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijskpdWL4fdQ4-zqO_XiC-nfz3Hkt4p3NgaM2h_vMHVUkjGq23dXNdURNmPJWghU4tmsjmiVbD5IghIgroL_RdXQWubHEkUygY88qRzo7SJjeZsc8EFk1cJ2FpBfK6Rez5-gyE7lUvXVCQ4vsEhDCrZPTCm4XTzhp_z_XoVQwCpOYSFBFhHwzq6ACG/s1741/male%20cardinal%20alice%20great.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1612" data-original-width="1741" height="296" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijskpdWL4fdQ4-zqO_XiC-nfz3Hkt4p3NgaM2h_vMHVUkjGq23dXNdURNmPJWghU4tmsjmiVbD5IghIgroL_RdXQWubHEkUygY88qRzo7SJjeZsc8EFk1cJ2FpBfK6Rez5-gyE7lUvXVCQ4vsEhDCrZPTCm4XTzhp_z_XoVQwCpOYSFBFhHwzq6ACG/s320/male%20cardinal%20alice%20great.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Male northern cardinal in Alice, Texas. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There are many other birds around the house to keep my ducks company, though. The birds I see and hear the most are the northern cardinals. They are quite vocal, and both male and females participate in the choir. According to <a href="https://www.birdsandblooms.com/birding/birding-basics/cardinal-bird-facts/">Birds and Blooms </a>the northern cardinals have 24 songs that they share. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlGZr9HWc94-EArYl0P67LNmkZ2COn-lAhjv-eX_rd74i3PtSqJC0c_kXfLp5S45ApYY5oKI1WL2H4W2rWrO5Stg255aYfIC6huGL3w5oF-ZR3ZVqGiKi6Bbkdq4cup-Q67DcxZCnhr_Kb3k2lGdLqzvVkVw6kL5Af7zl36ANzEGFoAwaPrDN6tk5/s720/female%20cardinal2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="720" height="279" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlGZr9HWc94-EArYl0P67LNmkZ2COn-lAhjv-eX_rd74i3PtSqJC0c_kXfLp5S45ApYY5oKI1WL2H4W2rWrO5Stg255aYfIC6huGL3w5oF-ZR3ZVqGiKi6Bbkdq4cup-Q67DcxZCnhr_Kb3k2lGdLqzvVkVw6kL5Af7zl36ANzEGFoAwaPrDN6tk5/s320/female%20cardinal2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Female northern cardinal. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The male and female partners communicate to each other through songs, as well, and the females have a specific song they use as a mating call. They are generally monogamous and form lifelong bonds. I love listening to their conversations. They also make a frantic "chirp chirp chirp" sound to alert others to danger, such as roaming cats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Fn6GRBKzw-1LuIBdjJHEPtsOXmxW6OFGblO82pRTgCeA_dfDf-iF1O-Qhdc_a_G2LO4GKE-gmxLerLxy_fbcIfnuV1_dpSD8qZYeIZjJVWDmgavrs7e91GWQlv6jeAksE5pPVmrDaZeSFfBlWpR9AOV80vZLuMbasWM8voCl27CS9kON4cTfeHza/s2200/juvenile%20male%20cardinal.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2200" data-original-width="2121" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6Fn6GRBKzw-1LuIBdjJHEPtsOXmxW6OFGblO82pRTgCeA_dfDf-iF1O-Qhdc_a_G2LO4GKE-gmxLerLxy_fbcIfnuV1_dpSD8qZYeIZjJVWDmgavrs7e91GWQlv6jeAksE5pPVmrDaZeSFfBlWpR9AOV80vZLuMbasWM8voCl27CS9kON4cTfeHza/s320/juvenile%20male%20cardinal.JPG" width="309" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Juvenile male northern cardinal in Alice, Texas. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Prior to 1918 it was legal to own northern cardinals and other songbirds as pets, but the Migratory Bird Act forbids their sale as caged birds. They don't migrate, though. At my house they appear to be nesting in the trees that run alongside the house. I can hear them calling to each other when they come into the feeding area. They like the brush and low trees for the shelter and nesting materials they provide. They will have multiple rounds of hatchlings throughout the year, from two to four during their brooding season, which runs from March through August. They have 1 inch speckled eggs that take a couple weeks to hatch. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuk4RcZGtAsMhawJ-B31YJC07xcRnK5mq5rOJUdjpK7sqBauBa41dspBTs21SqLyaK1S-lpM1o8UbTCI9kxlYhOvUgHJa2JeOvqgk52xXipBGC18RhvQDCFW-w_Qy9uu99bHhttqg3tg_9qSVEkP17y8fyPEY3adid92dcZwJY2HFnNVy-B21SbRt/s2576/male%20cardinal%20great2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2576" data-original-width="2341" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGuk4RcZGtAsMhawJ-B31YJC07xcRnK5mq5rOJUdjpK7sqBauBa41dspBTs21SqLyaK1S-lpM1o8UbTCI9kxlYhOvUgHJa2JeOvqgk52xXipBGC18RhvQDCFW-w_Qy9uu99bHhttqg3tg_9qSVEkP17y8fyPEY3adid92dcZwJY2HFnNVy-B21SbRt/s320/male%20cardinal%20great2.JPG" width="291" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>One of my favorite photos of a male northern cardinal. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">So here's a few fun facts about northern cardinals. First, these are busy birds! Once the eggs hatch, dad will feed the hatchlings regurgitated bugs up to eight times a day while mom searches for the next nesting sight. Second, northern cardinals are called "northern" even though they live in the east, central, southwestern United States, and Mexico, because they are the northernmost bird in the cardinal species. And finally, the northern cardinal is believed to have been named after the Catholic Cardinals who wear red robes, and a flock of northern cardinals is called a Vatican! </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShcNCj4uXjcXhNorcRHnjemfX5VUTAhvaXmJgFDkqHn8WS0WsgdwncRRMo8vc-X28_kwSqv2BcpaNOMaYw-gxSOYCW2PIm-ahCl_eZUhPAMRZHnB1ctL1yTGnLRE9El4VmC8ZZnhfd9HjPMq2xLVt9QF4HMq0YR8EV3Sn6NtUWNj1onF60cdSE8AE/s640/train%20and%20bluebonnets%202011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgShcNCj4uXjcXhNorcRHnjemfX5VUTAhvaXmJgFDkqHn8WS0WsgdwncRRMo8vc-X28_kwSqv2BcpaNOMaYw-gxSOYCW2PIm-ahCl_eZUhPAMRZHnB1ctL1yTGnLRE9El4VmC8ZZnhfd9HjPMq2xLVt9QF4HMq0YR8EV3Sn6NtUWNj1onF60cdSE8AE/s320/train%20and%20bluebonnets%202011.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i style="text-align: left;">Train tracks and bluebonnets in Fredericksburg, Texas. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman, 2010.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p> </p>Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-54393653486410801892020-08-05T18:02:00.006-07:002021-03-17T10:40:11.064-07:00Hello Arizona! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7Ln-T_wIKXznV8g_K1cFXuJx-4Oaekg1npo-JqvVZoRehZ5z_uWWjd6oyIZYIswLKsBJw3sffwrIW7FumDRnEOwirKVuMgyPGMu6A_YuARSpzFAkUB4UNeiEA2E_cJ6wRqioj9KH0Xk/s2556/DSC_0021+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2556" data-original-width="1791" height="603" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO7Ln-T_wIKXznV8g_K1cFXuJx-4Oaekg1npo-JqvVZoRehZ5z_uWWjd6oyIZYIswLKsBJw3sffwrIW7FumDRnEOwirKVuMgyPGMu6A_YuARSpzFAkUB4UNeiEA2E_cJ6wRqioj9KH0Xk/w429-h603/DSC_0021+%25282%2529.JPG" width="429" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>"Sometimes I feel like somebody's watching me!"</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman, 2020.</i> </div>
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I am in Arizona! Surprise! I didn't like the freezing temperatures in Wyoming; had limited access to wildlife. Between the wind and snow it was difficult to reach places where I could view the blessed little creatures! There are plenty here in Arizona, though. Not the big creatures I saw in Wyoming, like antelope and buffalo, but little creatures, like wasps, bees, beetles, scorpions...</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigD-NGydIYwTZokyvBJTx41_ospEFTE-pVsVeAZKlH_PWP1HFyC2LK29M7AvMqf-AJ5VHvk44MKfMWhjzd8GPiKbmr5bW64fMiAc_INQngCwg2fdESUOzarvO7Ck-8Xx5mRH3OWNGTSM/s1904/Derobrachus_geminatus.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1324" data-original-width="1904" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhigD-NGydIYwTZokyvBJTx41_ospEFTE-pVsVeAZKlH_PWP1HFyC2LK29M7AvMqf-AJ5VHvk44MKfMWhjzd8GPiKbmr5bW64fMiAc_INQngCwg2fdESUOzarvO7Ck-8Xx5mRH3OWNGTSM/s640/Derobrachus_geminatus.png" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-size: 16px; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><i>Palo Verde beetle, Derobrachus geminatus. Photo from Wikimedia Common, Public Domain. </i></span><br /></div>
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So here I am, once again in triple-digit heat and a high-desert region where I am surrounded by creepy crawlies, like the 3 1/2 inch long Palo Verdes beetle, Derobrachus geminatus, that was hiding beneath my pool deck. My dog, Emma, found the creature and pestered it so much that it snapped at her back leg..oh yes they do bite, and hard! I did a catch and release with the beast and set it free in the alley behind my house. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvk13Dmt3vXYoOL-7eAoFC5BKVnp0alAYKkKf1G_W1i1u5QTi68pHiNENl5RgnDWMs6q9Vi56NtEXd1hFwoWvoGSccHdLxVHw9DiYXaomc5_m1Ot6oj7semCvyX_SeqVGSl1GCYhQ9dI/s960/bee+on+yellow+flower.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="832" data-original-width="960" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrvk13Dmt3vXYoOL-7eAoFC5BKVnp0alAYKkKf1G_W1i1u5QTi68pHiNENl5RgnDWMs6q9Vi56NtEXd1hFwoWvoGSccHdLxVHw9DiYXaomc5_m1Ot6oj7semCvyX_SeqVGSl1GCYhQ9dI/s640/bee+on+yellow+flower.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Bee on Sunflower. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i></i><i></i><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I have a swimming pool, complete with all the critters, such as bees, wasps, dragonflies, mosquitos, ants, and every other little creature you can imagine. They do need water. My pool often fills up with bees, and it's heartbreaking. We need bees! In Arizona, however, 90% of the honey bees are now Africanized, and they have nasty tempers. As I swim around the pool I try to fish out all of the drowning bees and they often buzz me and occasionally reward me with a sting. Not particularly grateful. The wasps ignore me. I swim around them, and they swim around me. Wasps land on the water with all four legs spread then dip their heads down for a drink. Apparently the chlorine doesn't bother them. Bees, on the other hand, often end up with wet wings, splashing and floundering around until they drown. In the mornings, I use the net to retrieve dozens of drowned bees from my pool. It's sad, but I haven't found a solution yet. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0H9cPelphPhZodPbn_spROINh5OxcRRPmIM-F8tWRRDFxTZdwEfFZ7GONe_-EaCdk7n7Vw3Fu13jmHvTWl9R_wp6d5qer5FXKci_rpr_aU3OjB8yd2A_PGEHCpJW3ae4Cn7APiKPepMo/s3426/DSC_0822+%25283%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2937" data-original-width="3426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0H9cPelphPhZodPbn_spROINh5OxcRRPmIM-F8tWRRDFxTZdwEfFZ7GONe_-EaCdk7n7Vw3Fu13jmHvTWl9R_wp6d5qer5FXKci_rpr_aU3OjB8yd2A_PGEHCpJW3ae4Cn7APiKPepMo/s640/DSC_0822+%25283%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Darla's ducks. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i></i><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And I have ducks. Many, many ducks. This isn't the first time I've raised ducks. I had ducks when my children were young and although I am a vegetarian I do eat eggs. I love duck eggs. They are large and packed with protein. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUesSdOpGKQxtZphmsu0Rl0LtOFi3ql4SbDHw5-EXokcL45PT1jkld55q6Wh4vWLqMiSy1KgL5UoVMv7XbCq9_h8f7D8hrsaZT3BHDHeprYl5L66HXTuizkkbaZOSlrGJ-K0zojbuWYqo/s2203/DSC_0121+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1965" data-original-width="2203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUesSdOpGKQxtZphmsu0Rl0LtOFi3ql4SbDHw5-EXokcL45PT1jkld55q6Wh4vWLqMiSy1KgL5UoVMv7XbCq9_h8f7D8hrsaZT3BHDHeprYl5L66HXTuizkkbaZOSlrGJ-K0zojbuWYqo/s640/DSC_0121+%25282%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Cheesy, a Pekin duck. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i></i><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">I was actually excited about having ducks and eggs, so I followed my neighbor's advice and stopped at the local farm supply store. I was told I should adopt at least twice as many as I needed in case some died because they were weak, or they were attacked by cats or dogs. Hmm. Doesn't sound fair to the ducks! I wanted four, so I adopted seven, and all seven are now happy and healthy and living in the duck run I built for them on the side of my house, or sleeping beside my swimming pool. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkx94VtcVRY6a-wpyCWlhfmSV0OfPIJb00zgJic4lGUd_FwLuQk74bvmC0IHuYnfHpgArXn0cKafsmaOnIubIDUa8u6m-VMuZQzEddp6f-X5ZEO7YQwrEI1G2o-aBe8JTE0xQY-0nB15A/s1444/DSC_0126+%25282%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="1375" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkx94VtcVRY6a-wpyCWlhfmSV0OfPIJb00zgJic4lGUd_FwLuQk74bvmC0IHuYnfHpgArXn0cKafsmaOnIubIDUa8u6m-VMuZQzEddp6f-X5ZEO7YQwrEI1G2o-aBe8JTE0xQY-0nB15A/s640/DSC_0126+%25282%2529.JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Flippy duck tails. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman, 2020. </i></div><i></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There's only one problem with my plan--six of the seven now have flippy feathers on their tails. According to my neighbor, that means I have at least six male ducks, possibly seven. I still don't have any eggs and stopped hoping for them, but I have many duck friends! </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><i></i><i></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div>
Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-43227005149604156052019-08-09T12:10:00.001-07:002019-08-09T12:10:12.809-07:00Possible Black-crowned Night Heron and Cormorants at Cheyenne's Holliday Park<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgqw8iNJKBYZBseU6ZghQO1FUZDip2zebZrVu68Yr8CK3UlMXTXe14t_hDaXqO8x2QpM_J0FQWCkBuZ8jQhzUt8Tyg3EMBi2R4W1sGIr7FKX-rdTZAuXufh3UfqEWJmrEVosJiyjlwHg/s1600/DSC_0360+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1376" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgqw8iNJKBYZBseU6ZghQO1FUZDip2zebZrVu68Yr8CK3UlMXTXe14t_hDaXqO8x2QpM_J0FQWCkBuZ8jQhzUt8Tyg3EMBi2R4W1sGIr7FKX-rdTZAuXufh3UfqEWJmrEVosJiyjlwHg/s320/DSC_0360+%25282%2529.JPG" width="275" /></a></div>
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<i>The Mystery Bird at Cheyenne, Wyoming's Holliday Park. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I was photographing Cormorants at Cheyenne, Wyoming's Holliday Park when a woman walking behind me called out, "Hey, look what's beside you!" I turned to my right and just a few feet away I spotted this bird. I have never seen one before.</div>
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The woman stopped walking and told me she thought it resembled a penguin, and I agreed. We both stood and watched the bird in awe for a few minutes as it slowly turned its head to look at us. I suspected it was preparing to leave. I carefully took a picture, trying not to disturb it. I wanted it to stay as long as possible I wanted to "see" it more than photograph it so I could try and identify it later, but I am still trying to identify this bird!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6eP38JZ8OTHDXHbzlu_53SMVDPOspml81Gc9aTXEd4w_cAuw1avC3MMFWI1egt-8fETul93KamTLhMPZ53MD8sQhkLOsIa7YJuZigIEfE5gebMrjpZ_xK0YzgeXIGyczWAYn4KgdSUI/s1600/DSC_0361+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="1600" height="215" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6eP38JZ8OTHDXHbzlu_53SMVDPOspml81Gc9aTXEd4w_cAuw1avC3MMFWI1egt-8fETul93KamTLhMPZ53MD8sQhkLOsIa7YJuZigIEfE5gebMrjpZ_xK0YzgeXIGyczWAYn4KgdSUI/s320/DSC_0361+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Although blurry, it is my hope that this photo of the bird in flight might help in its identification. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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I believe it may be a Black-crowned Night Heron, but then again, this would be highly unlikely as according to Wyoming's wildlife resources and other bird pages the Black-crowned Night Heron is rarely seen in Wyoming. And yet, it does look very much like the photos online. These birds are found in many parts of the world, but some of the sources I found said they are rarely seen in Wyoming, while others said they are seen everywhere! </div>
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<i>A bit fuzzy due to distance, but this is a damselfly. The difference between a dragonfly and a damselfly is damselflies close their wings and dragonflies keep them spread open. They also have very different head shapes. Damselflies often resemble robots in my opinion. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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After it flew past me it circled the lake at Holliday Park then returned to perch on some rocks on the opposite side of the lake from me. It didn't seem to be in a big hurry to leave, so I suspect it may live there, or it may have been hunting. These birds sit very still at the edge of the water to search for prey and I did notice an unusual number of dragonflies and damselflies. I tried to photograph them, but couldn't get close enough because of the large rocks on the bank. </div>
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<i>Mute Swans at Veteran's Park in Greeley, Colorado. (Yes, they're real!) Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I've photographed birds that seemed "out of place" before and sometimes, when you ask for help online, you will receive strange replies. I photographed a pair of swans in Greeley, Colorado once and two women who live in Colorado wrote to accuse me of faking the photographs because "Swans are never seen in Greeley!" And yet, they were there in 2018, enjoyed for a brief time by nearby residents before they moved on. </div>
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Perhaps this was a rare sighting of a Black-crowned Night Heron. Or maybe I have misidentified the bird and it is a more common and still spectacular local resident. Regardless, if you have any suggestions or identification information on the featured bird in the top photo, please leave a comment! I would love to hear from you! </div>
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<i>Cormorants at Cheyenne's Holliday Park. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I wasn't at the park with camera in hand to photograph the mystery bird. In fact, I was taking photos for nearly half an hour before I was told it was there. I was actually driving past the park when I noticed a large group of Cormorants sitting on a floating device in the center of the lake. They were too far away for "perfect" photos with the camera I had with me, but close enough for identification. I recognized them immediately because I've only seen them once before, again in Greeley, Colorado, at the same park where I photographed the swans. </div>
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<i>Cormorant taking off at Holliday Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I first learned about Cormorants when I photographed them from the movie <i>Master and Commander: Far Side of the World.</i> In the film, the doctor is constantly trying to find the opportunity to capture a rare, flightless Cormorant on the Gallapagos Islands. The birds I photographed in Cheyenne were skilled flyers! </div>
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<i>Cormorant at Holliday Park in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Believe it or not, there are 40 species of birds known as Cormorants. They have a wing span of three feet and range in size from 18 inches to 40 inches. They use their tails to prop themselves up, have hooked bills, and I've seen them perching on the very top branches of trees, so those webbed feet must be rather powerful! </div>
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<i>Cormorant in flight in Cheyenne, Wyoming. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Cormorants are both freshwater and seawater birds and are found all the way up into Alaska and Quebec in North America. They are not monogamous. The male builds a nest then puts on quite a show to attract females. They do migrate and are considered endangered in the State of Wisconsin due to the use of DDT. </div>
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I have no idea why I haven't seen them more often. They're hard to miss. They are a bit goofy-looking! Those who fish for their livelihood would notice their presence because they are considered a good luck charm. </div>
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Sad as this sounds, many states allow people to shoot Cormorants if they are feeding on private lakes and ponds. You probably know what I have to say about that by now--if you don't want the wildlife, don't build the pond! Set out food and water and they will come. Shooting God's beautiful creatures for trying to stay alive is just wrong. If we limit our world to only allow the "pretty creatures" we will destroy that same world. </div>
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<i>A family of ducks at the park. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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There was also a family of ducks at the park, which oddly included babies of two different age groups. Perhaps this is common in Wyoming where the weather changes rapidly, spring is skipped completely, and summer is just a few months (we had our last snow in June). </div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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This one doesn't appear to be as young as its siblings, nor does it appear to be an adult. And the young ones seemed small considering the time of year. But I can never resist taking pictures of ducks! Interesting note: At Holliday Park they have signs all over (and all over the City of Cheyenne, Wyoming website) warning people not to feed the ducks or geese. Wise advice. </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-83653472377521576552019-05-27T20:31:00.002-07:002019-05-27T22:13:52.351-07:00New Places, New Blessed Little Animal Faces!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLDy5A9Y1tkMNQR1kKrXq1Fzctn8LszaVTag_jcu4h8aHiX8WwPzT1NRqqD_-n8F8LIpU8xS51oZwkVS4iDvKr8CaLK3JcFaQsbMoP5y90Ex-DKnG9ACEiQv0iSSQwj4ajkbDiGydSY1A/s1600/dove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="789" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLDy5A9Y1tkMNQR1kKrXq1Fzctn8LszaVTag_jcu4h8aHiX8WwPzT1NRqqD_-n8F8LIpU8xS51oZwkVS4iDvKr8CaLK3JcFaQsbMoP5y90Ex-DKnG9ACEiQv0iSSQwj4ajkbDiGydSY1A/s320/dove.jpg" width="263" /></a></div>
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<i>I think I see more doves than any other bird in Wyoming, but I really haven't had a chance to get out of the house and look--it's been snowing since I moved in around the end of February! </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</i></div>
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<i>I don't know how to say this anymore--it was a shocking, painful year. I lost family members, most of my animal pack (I still have all four bunnies) and was forced to sell my house and move after having to replace the roof three times due to freak hailstorms in Colorado. </i></div>
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<i>So, this blog has traveled from my house in Texas, to New Mexico, back to my home state of Colorado, and now I am in Cheyenne, Wyoming! </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBLj-jMbQeYXTTz6g8ydReiOGc_2LX0dz7Wc3zy3PjAS2Ptk0U3oPjuaAyMcRXmiSd8The_ChDfJXFiRD6G1kwpLIXV6VFqNzPBuoW6C1hpqODzxrKfy-9qgF0CEXzR2wjrOmeMnQGz4/s1600/DSC_0864+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1065" data-original-width="1600" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijBLj-jMbQeYXTTz6g8ydReiOGc_2LX0dz7Wc3zy3PjAS2Ptk0U3oPjuaAyMcRXmiSd8The_ChDfJXFiRD6G1kwpLIXV6VFqNzPBuoW6C1hpqODzxrKfy-9qgF0CEXzR2wjrOmeMnQGz4/s320/DSC_0864+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Yep, I'm in Cheyenne! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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There is plenty to see here, too. My yard is filled with squirrels--always popular on this blog--and doves, finches, there's a few hawks who have territories nearby (I keep my chihuahua, Emma, inside!) Canadian Geese, of course, and I'm just getting started here!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJVNJmLi6Ifd4gU6zkWZtW8UMwbwkINCO5PuFw8On6-eEDFuTjeefNJmxFlKMo6A2r__xJg0mh0VSa8__xhKU0BPBX3859ucd6TWRok0Sgwr8H7PJxGyRkMRe_GL2xoXRf4SCOZlc68c/s1600/DSC_0999+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="931" data-original-width="1282" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcJVNJmLi6Ifd4gU6zkWZtW8UMwbwkINCO5PuFw8On6-eEDFuTjeefNJmxFlKMo6A2r__xJg0mh0VSa8__xhKU0BPBX3859ucd6TWRok0Sgwr8H7PJxGyRkMRe_GL2xoXRf4SCOZlc68c/s320/DSC_0999+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I photographed these two birds in my neighborhood. They gather in large flocks, but are a bit shy. I thought they were starlings, but now I'm not sure. If you know, please leave a comment! </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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One of the first things I noticed about Wyoming is the amount of Pronghorn Antelope. My neighbors are fond of saying, "There's more antelope in Wyoming than people!" That could be true. Wyoming is among the largest states in the country (I checked five different websites and they all gave different answers. Sigh. I know it's big country here, though!) However, it also has the fourth lowest population...and plenty of antelope. </div>
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<i>Pronghorn Antelope near the F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne, Wyoming. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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The first trip I made with my truck full of boxes I was stopped on the road near my home by two baby antelope meandering in front of my truck. The vehicles behind me couldn't see the little critters, it was rush hour traffic, and people were getting angry. I didn't know what to do, so I called the local police. The dispatcher told me not to do anything, just sit in my truck and wait because, if I wave my arms or try to coax them out of the road they will run into traffic. It's apparently the law--you call the police and they take care of the animals roaming down the middle of the street. Fine with me! </div>
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<i>This may be a pregnant female, but I'm not an expert. I photographed this Pronghorn Antelope near the F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne around February. Apparently, the Air Force base is a popular hangout for Pronghorn Antelope. Photograph by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The moving process--buying, selling, packing, etc.--took over a year, which is another reason this blog has been a bit quiet, in addition to the grieving process. I chose Wyoming because it's so close to my home state of Colorado--Cheyenne is, I think, five minutes from the Colorado border. </div>
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<i>I've noticed this buffalo silhouette outside Cheyenne for years and thought it was a symbol of our Great American West. It's actually hiding cell phone towers, lol! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Not surprisingly, the weather here is nearly the same as what I encountered at my former home in Greeley, Colorado--wild and crazy! The first week I was here my furnace broke down. Thankfully, I was forced to stay with a friend in Colorado because there was one blizzard after another. I had already moved my house plants and lost all but a few of them. My four foot rosemary is now a bonsai. I finally had a new furnace installed and what happens? A Bombocyclone! That's right--a snow cyclone on land. That was an experience! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46h8rLI2PEbdFanUhkx2CSLnFAiRUPQXqJ4qYVfZfpKw8d6Vl9vZcK9ANwiNFPTAp2mtHAWKq_e722rI26nvNqaQypOONNTFAjgGtLqOuN0MqX1bGhl5mK3sooAMqqaXCBXGFio0ifNs/s1600/DSC_0902+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1134" data-original-width="1600" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi46h8rLI2PEbdFanUhkx2CSLnFAiRUPQXqJ4qYVfZfpKw8d6Vl9vZcK9ANwiNFPTAp2mtHAWKq_e722rI26nvNqaQypOONNTFAjgGtLqOuN0MqX1bGhl5mK3sooAMqqaXCBXGFio0ifNs/s320/DSC_0902+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The Bombocyclone was insane! I'll write more on this on my<a href="http://www.wildwestweather.com/"> Wild West Weather</a> blog. </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Just when we thought it was finally over, another storm hit. Ten inches of sloppy, heavy snow. It was so heavy that when I woke up at four in the morning to check on my trees I noticed one was bent over completely and touching the ground. I was certain it would snap in half before I could hit the snow off with a broom, and the snow kept coming. Like everyone else, I already had plants in the ground and covered them with clay pots when I heard about this last snow storm--five days ago--and surprisingly, all of the plants lived! </div>
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<i>Last week's snowstorm. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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So the snow started to slow down, the birds appeared, the trees were blooming, and I discovered I have a hummingbird living in a tree in my yard! I was prepared. I had a feeder. I filled it up and ran out to the covered porch, hung it on a hook, and she is a happy bird! </div>
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<i>Like squirrels, I seem to attract these little birds. This was our "house Hummingbird" when we lived at Carter Lake in Colorado. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The hummingbird feeder is still beneath the covered porch because now we are in hail/tornado season. </div>
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<i>I was shopping with my granddaughter in Greeley, Colorado, when we walked outside and realized the clouds were rotating madly! We made it to safety and I prepared to drive back to Cheyenne. I checked the weather, and it was fine in Cheyenne. It was NOT fine at the border between Wyoming and Colorado! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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We've had tornadoes, funnel clouds, watches, warnings, and massive amounts of hail for the past week. I hope that the next time I check in I'll be able to share more photos of little critters because right now, everyone is taking cover! I was writing these past few lines and the house shook with thunder! It's back!!!</div>
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<i>Another snowstorm? No, this is HAIL!! This is actually my back porch, and there's so much hail that when I walked to the garage to check on the rabbits I left footprints on the porch! </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-81493192902392180102018-06-12T23:53:00.004-07:002018-09-14T18:29:46.876-07:00Cormorants in Greeley, Colorado<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NTHszCC-VZQR3vued_a0Yq7conmdJuVQBP1gghpuRdtMQFsFRAkhRVGGGcX_it6FoRXtwDE8K1-0S6xQ95MZ8rZvSABH8glhCOEYfD3usdoJmgwMWJXsA3CeyXqpuQB6xxDti_QHlVw/s1600/DSC_0050+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="852" data-original-width="932" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6NTHszCC-VZQR3vued_a0Yq7conmdJuVQBP1gghpuRdtMQFsFRAkhRVGGGcX_it6FoRXtwDE8K1-0S6xQ95MZ8rZvSABH8glhCOEYfD3usdoJmgwMWJXsA3CeyXqpuQB6xxDti_QHlVw/s320/DSC_0050+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Cormorant at Greeley's Veteran's Park in Sherwood. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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My two oldest grandchildren and I had a wonderful surprise while visitng the park recently. None of us had ever seen a Cormorant before other than in pictures, and there was five or six of them in the lake! There are approximately 40 species of cormorants, and we were blessed to have a small flock at Bittersweet, our local park in Greeley, Colorado. </div>
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When I first saw them drifting across the lake I thought they were the strangest gathering of ducks I'd ever seen. The Cornell Lab of Ornithology website describes them as "gangly" and "prehistoric looking," and I'd say that's an accurate description. </div>
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I was watching them from a distance, so I still thought they were ducks. It wasn't until one flew into a nearby tree that I realized they were not ducks at all. The flight into the tree was odd, as well. The bird chose a tall three with then branches that bent beneath its weight and swung back and forth in the breeze. If I was a bird that size I would have chosen a much larger, sturdier branch, but this bird was perfectly content to sit at the very top of this thin-branched tree, perhaps because it provided the bird with a better view of the neighborhood. </div>
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<i>Cormorant. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Judging from the photos, I believe these birds were Double-Crested Cormorants. They have a wingspan of approximately 3 1/2 feet--not quite the width of a hawk or eagle, which may explain why I thought they were ducks in spite of their size. </div>
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They looked dark. Actually, I thought they were large, black birds. When one flew into a tree and I was able to see it up close I realized it was actually wearing some fine, fancy feathers! It had orange on its face, too, and shimmering blue eyes. </div>
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<i>Cormorants in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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It's possible they were looking for a nesting spot. It is that time of year! Cormorants also have an interesting home life. According to <i><a href="https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Double-crested_Cormorant/overview">The Cornell Lab of Ornithology</a></i>, Double-crested Cormorants often build their nests where they can reach direct sunlight. When the chicks break out of their eggs, the parents provide them with shade and a cool drink of wather that they pour from their own mouths into the mouths of their chicks. Then, when the chicks are big enough to leave home, they hang out in groups, like little cormorant chick cliques, but they always return home for dinner, though. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TBJE1X74CyV4N6onLVW-xpSPtSDqscXYTLhAQV1MVyHPQoay3oUFtwqc-HBsg9u6u0nAmeCMFOD0_kWHjjSAd207DOrx4-fFxkxJiRaO0lAQN_ASOE1YUXrVn3ohUQzzwJpMYpDpB2g/s1600/DSC_0037+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1098" data-original-width="1600" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3TBJE1X74CyV4N6onLVW-xpSPtSDqscXYTLhAQV1MVyHPQoay3oUFtwqc-HBsg9u6u0nAmeCMFOD0_kWHjjSAd207DOrx4-fFxkxJiRaO0lAQN_ASOE1YUXrVn3ohUQzzwJpMYpDpB2g/s320/DSC_0037+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Cormorant taking off across the water. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>Sources: </i></div>
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<li>"Double-Crested Cormorants." <a href="https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Double-crested_Cormorant/overview">Cornell Lab of Ornithology</a>. Accessed June 12, 2018. </li>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-71381243842164660352018-06-12T00:24:00.000-07:002018-06-12T00:24:16.252-07:00Summertime, and the Living is Easy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Love Lies Bleeding, I was also told it is called Bleeding Heart. It's one of the first flowers to start blooming beside my backyard pond and hangs over the stream, flowers dripping into the water. </i></div>
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In Colorado the last snow comes anytime between April and even the first of June, so it's difficult to say when spring starts and summer begins. I usually go by the temperature. It's been in the high 90s this past week, so I think we can safely say we skipped spring and went straight into summer! </div>
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<i>I've missed my wisteria from Texas so very much and talk about the flowers so often that when I took my 12 year old granddaughter, Layla, flower shopping this spring she recognized them on sight. I now have three large, healthy vines on my sun porch waiting to be planted. I may try to grow one on the sun porch, see if I can create a jungle atmosphere. </i></div>
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And June is here. My birthday month, and the birthday month that I share with one of my grandsons who calls me his "Birthday Buddy" It's a great honor to be remembered by a young child who first shared his "big day" with you when he was a year old. I still remember that warm afternoon by the pool in Texas, watching him splash in the water, later returning to the river near our home. It was like a dream, like a song.<i> Summertime, and the living is easy. Hush, little baby don't you cry. </i></div>
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<i>And as the weather gets hot the babies come out of their nests. Our local momma squirrel was once again blessed by God with twin males. They chase each other around the large tree in my front yard for hours. It's great fun to watch. </i></div>
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The peanut eaters. There's always some controversy over squirrels. I wish people could understand that all of God's creatures have a role to play, but listening to the complains, one sometimes wonders if humans believe the earth was created only for them. Sometimes, it's best not to listen. </div>
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<i>Pansies. Photos by Darla Sue Dollman.</i> </div>
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My grandchildren call these "Happy Face Flowers." I have one granddaughter in my collection of grandchildren and these are her favorites. It's already getting too hot for them, though. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIINwy-ZRmKMk876yTGsUQ4DIUblo6sdoSHDAZJXBebSfBvQqnSxVeeosKY13PlB1Jfvq5OAtLLRe2eoSCdmE2xRYtfN-o4dEODKVpQnCOsmZbkkWesiHCuC6_CFXCZy3DL-Fo_7vkxfI/s1600/DSC_0160+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1221" data-original-width="1600" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIINwy-ZRmKMk876yTGsUQ4DIUblo6sdoSHDAZJXBebSfBvQqnSxVeeosKY13PlB1Jfvq5OAtLLRe2eoSCdmE2xRYtfN-o4dEODKVpQnCOsmZbkkWesiHCuC6_CFXCZy3DL-Fo_7vkxfI/s320/DSC_0160+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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And the warm, summer colors are already making their appearance, preparing for the bright Fourth of July red white and blue arrangements. I've thought of planting a Fourth of July garden before, but I like the natural arrangements best. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj811zmOeL8OvKc_mT-PiReru57epMdM9c-f_yZ6Ew-5vQisuCt-QBkSxWGkB6uS1N66G-pIzmutPBuzGQhS8ReB7vwQhyC2tSSuL8Lw3SB51_ff2YyUDGxmkV_LQIPnt_vOM3MzN4pjN0/s1600/DSC_0157+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1162" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj811zmOeL8OvKc_mT-PiReru57epMdM9c-f_yZ6Ew-5vQisuCt-QBkSxWGkB6uS1N66G-pIzmutPBuzGQhS8ReB7vwQhyC2tSSuL8Lw3SB51_ff2YyUDGxmkV_LQIPnt_vOM3MzN4pjN0/s320/DSC_0157+%25282%2529.JPG" width="232" /></a></div>
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<i>Whie Iris. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQiD6tt3xTDlk6LEW2Msr5AUnnMiaLMJI0vi1fBBUqdT2oVaH5tHZquhrqR4wIvOTCwIya0U_tGm4YajoUEPWu7zkm__xrWOxmODLChR699t62ihA8hjAg0By7TwiOfxJpXTOSQZgy3I/s1600/DSC_0177+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1357" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjQiD6tt3xTDlk6LEW2Msr5AUnnMiaLMJI0vi1fBBUqdT2oVaH5tHZquhrqR4wIvOTCwIya0U_tGm4YajoUEPWu7zkm__xrWOxmODLChR699t62ihA8hjAg0By7TwiOfxJpXTOSQZgy3I/s320/DSC_0177+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Scarlet Iris. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>Blue Iris. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucal6RbrhlaFaizNIaCbjBOLw368SSYthqTbyCAJ_7fgXj5R5wb7hz96HGMhutjLiVjRAiv2ZxAKq1c22uc3qgyvZiC6xRaCYmXW7Pgj3HRrr0DtIqUOm9FzpRXmDY2fFMYmQh9DBDM4/s1600/DSC_0173+%25283%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1475" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjucal6RbrhlaFaizNIaCbjBOLw368SSYthqTbyCAJ_7fgXj5R5wb7hz96HGMhutjLiVjRAiv2ZxAKq1c22uc3qgyvZiC6xRaCYmXW7Pgj3HRrr0DtIqUOm9FzpRXmDY2fFMYmQh9DBDM4/s320/DSC_0173+%25283%2529.JPG" width="294" /></a></div>
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<i>Purple Iris. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIksxDesEOO0sarBO7ZHvzo6zeokEtrzkkEM2hF6hO8UzsXPDQf1O_P9MUKd-Nt_ncPDsVovt0-T9NDSdBEwc_2MnebDkYpI3jXEQizS0-ZYzJD9nmjlwmEZ91-u53rTqgu2nNm37Na4U/s1600/DSC_0190+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1497" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIksxDesEOO0sarBO7ZHvzo6zeokEtrzkkEM2hF6hO8UzsXPDQf1O_P9MUKd-Nt_ncPDsVovt0-T9NDSdBEwc_2MnebDkYpI3jXEQizS0-ZYzJD9nmjlwmEZ91-u53rTqgu2nNm37Na4U/s320/DSC_0190+%25282%2529.JPG" width="298" /></a></div>
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<i>White Iris in the Rain. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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The surprise blessing in our neighborhood this year and such a wonderful gift from God was the wide variety and abundance of iris blooms. It's been spectacular, and they're still going. My neighbors and I have been exchanging gifts of flowers for months now--flowers are best when shared. </div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman\</i></div>
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Two of my favorite colors. 'Feel free to share with us if you know the name of this flower. I have a wide variety of colors growing alongside my backyard pond.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GhBtqt29iGMEJELPocxOteXZbpngJtbt-0HPbIF_3FaTPvOzYt1MhiyFHdbRdECcmhu5uX5w7Y41aOaCistZugrwQ1StDdrBRli4fQBrxPr_JeepwcMfuhDOd_JHMANtdxt1wL53IcU/s1600/DSC_0221+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1521" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9GhBtqt29iGMEJELPocxOteXZbpngJtbt-0HPbIF_3FaTPvOzYt1MhiyFHdbRdECcmhu5uX5w7Y41aOaCistZugrwQ1StDdrBRli4fQBrxPr_JeepwcMfuhDOd_JHMANtdxt1wL53IcU/s320/DSC_0221+%25282%2529.JPG" width="304" /></a></div>
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<i>Blue Iris in bloom. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Another view of the many blue iris in our neighborhood. This beauty made its appearance next to my mailbox--as I said, flowers are best when shared! </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-31141811017897604762018-04-18T23:54:00.005-07:002018-04-18T23:54:44.872-07:00Black-Billed Magpies, Dark-Eyed Juncos, and Woodpeckers in Colorado<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlIYv2sCVB0G3381CdConRI9uQH6pVMas73rspXmEsbBZA6Hw6h9wZ4z7R2H2vVm9l1TySJt4BIP609YZ_vPHiin3wA7fdj0kjet3bKTKy8LVfeEnItZUdINyhfZWZux_w_hTdKNl2mE/s1600/DSC_0739+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1255" data-original-width="1279" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnlIYv2sCVB0G3381CdConRI9uQH6pVMas73rspXmEsbBZA6Hw6h9wZ4z7R2H2vVm9l1TySJt4BIP609YZ_vPHiin3wA7fdj0kjet3bKTKy8LVfeEnItZUdINyhfZWZux_w_hTdKNl2mE/s320/DSC_0739+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Black-Billed Magpie in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i> </div>
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It was a lovely Easter weekend. I spent hours watching the children search for eggs on the large property of a family member, but I also had the opportunity to watch the spring birds hovering around her porch, seeking snacks and singing songs. </div>
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<i>Black-Billed Magpie in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I'll never forget the first time I saw a magpie. It was at Carter Lake in Colorado. There was a family of them, and the father was feeding one of the children, practically sticking his entire head inside the youngster's mouth. I was fascinated. When my granddaughter, Layla, saw the Black-Billed Magpie fly overhead on Easter she was ecstatic. I knew I would have to wait, patiently, for the bird to return so I could take a photograph for Layla, and the bird not only returned, but posed for the photograph! </div>
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<i>Black-Billed Magpie in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</i>. </div>
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This handsome fella has a beautiful tail, but it's so long it's difficult to see. It reminded me of the Scissor-Tail Flycatchers I used to try so hard to photograph in Texas (they are a bit shy). Flycatcher's have tails so long that the have to land on thin branches or wires. The older the bird, the longer the tail. They are called the Birds of Paradise of Texas. I would say the same of our Magpies! </div>
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<i>Dark-Eyed Junco in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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There were many beautiful birds hopping around the porch on Easter and they were surprisingly comfortable with the large flock of children running around! There was about a dozen Dark-Eyed Juncos fluttering around the porch. They were slate-colored and quite lovely. </div>
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<i>Dark-Eyed Junco in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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In Oregon there are Dark-Eyed Juncos with black heads and brown bodies, but in Colorado we have the slate-colored Dark-Eyed Juncos. Both are in the sparrow family. They have white outer tail feathers that are very attractive when they're in flight. </div>
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<i>Dark-Eyed Junco cracking a seed in its beak. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Juncos like forest areas, and we were in a forested area on Easter. The Dark-Eyed Junco also builds its nest on or near the ground, which explains why the photos show them on piles of pine needles. They are also friendly with many other bird species. The Juncos were hopping about with the woodpecker moving freely through their flock--I saw none of the aggression that is so prevelant in some bird species like Cardinals and Hummingbirds. </div>
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<i>This lovely creature was photographed in Drake, Colorado on Easter. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I live in Greeley, Colorado, in a highly-populated area near busy streets and noisy shopping centers, so I am always surprised by the large number of beautiful creatures that I see every day. There is at least two woodpeckers living in the trees near my home, and I can hear them every time I step outside, tap, tap, tapping on the trees. To me, a country girl trapped in a city home, the sound is not at all irritating. It is like music to my soul.</div>
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<i>Woodpecker in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I had the opportunity to photograph a woodpecker up-close over the Easter weekend while visiting family in Drake, Colorado. There was two of them hopping around trees near the porch where I was sitting. One appeared to be looking for food, while the other was busy drillling a hole in a tree. </div>
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<i>Woodpecker in Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i> </div>
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The exact identity of this beauty still alludes me. I thought I was photographing a red-headed woodpecker, but the red, as you can see, is only in a band across the back of its head, which could mean it is a White-Headed Woodpecker. These birds also hang out in the forest, but nest in holes in dead trees. The tapping of a woodpecker does not have one meaning. It sometimes means the bird is creating a home in a hollow tree, but it is also the way the male and female communicate with each other during mating season, and their communication style when incubating their eggs, a task they take on equally. </div>
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<i>The view from Drake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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There was a snowstorm just a few days earlier, so it was a cool morning and everyone was bundled up in coats and hats for the Easter Egg hunts, but the birds didn't seem to mind the cold. They are ready for spring! </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-37407963727310112102018-03-07T07:49:00.001-08:002018-03-08T06:58:17.295-08:00Mute Swans in Greeley, Colorado<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>I believe we have a pair of Mute Swans at the Bittersweet Park lake in Greeley, Colorado. I've been walking the trail around the park six times a week for over two years now and this is the first time I've seen them. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</i></div>
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I walk the trail at the park near my home five to six times a week. It is rather exciting--the park is filled, daily, with hundreds of Canadian Geese; squirrels; hawks; red-winged blackbirds perched on the cattails; children walking home from school; walkers; runners; parents pushing baby strollers; children on the playground and neighbors of all ages playing basketball. </div>
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<i>A small gathering of Canadian Geese at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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<i>Hawk watching my chihuahua from a tree at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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I wrote about this park before--it is one of the most beautiful neighborhood parks I've had the pleasure of visiting. Besides the many neighbors who use the park and the never-ending sound of laughing, giggling children, there is a surprising amount of wildlife in the park and great views of the sunrise and sunset. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiMp9iXcATy-xUOslyPaV5MQJvgQ6l8o3a_3OV41iAtDhJhj7iSHZm3-eupDDWVsLdcubp8o6_n_0Nufd8yDXqXaqldtE6_loWC1McKJiFXyvZb0fstG0UusuYV9JG6-_Gz8Eku2mTQw/s1600/DSC_0362+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="964" data-original-width="1600" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiMp9iXcATy-xUOslyPaV5MQJvgQ6l8o3a_3OV41iAtDhJhj7iSHZm3-eupDDWVsLdcubp8o6_n_0Nufd8yDXqXaqldtE6_loWC1McKJiFXyvZb0fstG0UusuYV9JG6-_Gz8Eku2mTQw/s320/DSC_0362+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i> A parting glance at Bittersweet Park in the evening. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The park also has a heart-wrenching memorial to Weld County Veterans that is absolutely beautiful. I believe it is important to honor our heroes. In addition to the Veteran's Memorial there is also a memorial to officers who died in the line of duty in Weld County. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJPzXn8pf7d0xWbgdnJOHWsFjnOgtkYYB81m1oxWlouu2woPExI6f3lZW24f9yi_inBlg01w7DrztFLOLQ9rDOkQQFkTYcfDoUhczfxW8tkKSMlmWzQ-LgQZrYSr9QPbD5xAlNkCkUMc/s1600/DSC_0392+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="753" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrJPzXn8pf7d0xWbgdnJOHWsFjnOgtkYYB81m1oxWlouu2woPExI6f3lZW24f9yi_inBlg01w7DrztFLOLQ9rDOkQQFkTYcfDoUhczfxW8tkKSMlmWzQ-LgQZrYSr9QPbD5xAlNkCkUMc/s320/DSC_0392+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a>'<br />
<i>Veteran's Memorial at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i><br />
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And, as I stated at the beginning (apologies for the digression, but I felt I had to set the scene) as a recent added attraction we now have two Mute Swans, and what appears to be two baby cygnets. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTEkZ_W3uPLbbCNOQHF61UEVIAad0gEAsiVLXVcejf1az0bSUa8cO3NzKzRrH6msqNYGT-V8rX-PfUHoHCJrgeSm-JVTcxj7Qed8W0nTMtWtwZVjZOOHObS5wnHKioq9UJ3tCBnYXWUU/s1600/DSC_0176+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1244" data-original-width="1600" height="247" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpTEkZ_W3uPLbbCNOQHF61UEVIAad0gEAsiVLXVcejf1az0bSUa8cO3NzKzRrH6msqNYGT-V8rX-PfUHoHCJrgeSm-JVTcxj7Qed8W0nTMtWtwZVjZOOHObS5wnHKioq9UJ3tCBnYXWUU/s320/DSC_0176+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<i>Mute Swans (feel free to correct my identification) at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. </i><br />
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<i>All photos by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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I was surprised when I first saw them. I've never seen them at the park before, and as you can imagine I use the park often, walking the trails nearly every day. My neighbors told me they've never seen the swans. But I was walking the park with my granddaughter a few weeks ago and there they were!<br />
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The evening I first saw the swans it was near dusk, which is why some of the photos have a colored tint to the water and on the birds, but they are always just gorgeous. Such graceful creatures. </div>
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<i>Okay, this is not a swan, but she's mentioned in my story. My chihuahua puppy, Emma adores children and attracts a lot of attention when we take her for walks, but she is surprisingly well-behaved for a puppy. Even though she can't do much damage at only four pounds, she is always walked on a leash. </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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The evening we first saw the swans my granddaughter had my chihuahua puppy, Emma, and Emma was attracting more attention than the swans, running up to strangers, rolling onto her back, begging for belly rubs. My granddaughter tried to tell me there were swans in the lake, but I was busy trying to retrieve the dog who was literally rolling around the shoulders of a runner who stopped to pick her up and say hello.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbTbhz4uZWEM9315RD8kuByDt-Yc1guypyJ0auIvOsaw4LXFm6tk_MA-s-cfmpIu3Z0y0Ia-itDPji63Zn6ahiVMF53ep4KK6sNshA2IH6ZKYsM6gZK4xNf7RfERuGk7fE299NvTtwO0/s1600/DSC_0271+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="906" data-original-width="1600" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhbTbhz4uZWEM9315RD8kuByDt-Yc1guypyJ0auIvOsaw4LXFm6tk_MA-s-cfmpIu3Z0y0Ia-itDPji63Zn6ahiVMF53ep4KK6sNshA2IH6ZKYsM6gZK4xNf7RfERuGk7fE299NvTtwO0/s320/DSC_0271+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Mute Swans at Bittersweet Park Lake, Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</i>. </div>
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"Grandma, did you hear me?" Layla asked. "Yes, I told her. You said he's sending a text." Where on earth that came from I have no idea. The man standing before me finally managed to unhinge Emma, who was climbing all over his shoulders like a chihuahua coat collar, and hand her back to me, then he pointed at the lake and laughed as he told me Layla had actually said there were swans nearby. </div>
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"They arrived a few weeks ago," he said. "Everyone in the neighborhood is talking about them." He pointed at the water. I followed my granddaughter down to the water's edge and sure enough, there was two large Mute Swans and two babies following behind. </div>
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<i>Mute Swans at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Swans are a somewhat rare sighting in Northern Colorado. I tried to do some research and found a news article stating that a black swan was spotted in 2008 near Loveland, and swans have also been seen in Boulder and Longmont, but they're generally found in lakes and ponds at hotels where they were purchased for display. I've asked many people about the swans, including quite a few lifelong residents of Greeley, and they said they could not remember ever seeing swans in Greeley, and never at Bittersweet Park. </div>
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<i>Mute Swans at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i> </div>
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Mute Swans are large birds, considered among the largest waterfowl, slightly smaller than the popular Trumpeter Swans. I think they are lovely. They have a wingspread of up to 7.9 feet. The males weigh around 26 pounds and the females weigh 20 pounds. Males are identied from females by a knob on their bills. Mute Swans are also a protected species in most states, but for some strange reason, they are considered an <a href="http://www.michigan.gov/invasives/0,5664,7-324-68002_73846-369897--,00.html">invasive species</a> in Michigan!<br />
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<i>Bottoms up! Two swans fishing in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Fossils of swans have been found in four states in the U.S.--California, Arizona, Idaho and Oregon--and their ancestry is believed to be at least 6000 years old. Mute Swans are also thought to be most <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mute_swan">closely related </a>to Black Swans of Australia.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_81YVg6UGmDg1dgwq-Zi9JwMiyh5LWV_Fi7DwSdHgMydWcGIFjGQPhPv7CLJuwGtL-dlvn6cbe67C7x4GKKYg6GQCdrqY2H5g5Y6wxvo4ISc7gXC7o0DrFG7p57Bl9UV8oFakWRnijTQ/s1600/DSC_0267+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="874" data-original-width="1037" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_81YVg6UGmDg1dgwq-Zi9JwMiyh5LWV_Fi7DwSdHgMydWcGIFjGQPhPv7CLJuwGtL-dlvn6cbe67C7x4GKKYg6GQCdrqY2H5g5Y6wxvo4ISc7gXC7o0DrFG7p57Bl9UV8oFakWRnijTQ/s320/DSC_0267+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I believe these may be their babies based on the curve of their long necks. Photo taken at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Baby Mute Swans are called Cygnets, and they are a gray color until they reach maturity at around a year old. It is shocking to watch their speed of travel--the babies can cross the lake in a matter of minutes. Surprisingly, they reach mature size at around three months old, but retain their gray feathers until they are closer to a year.<br />
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Mute Swans lay four to ten eggs and it's possible these swans are carrying more on their back, but I walk this park nearly every day and have only seen two.<br />
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The back of a parent swan is flat like a boat. Their wings rise up like doors on hinges and the babies climb onto their backs, then the adult lowers its wing, protecting the babies from rain, hail, cold, and the view of predators so they can sleep.<br />
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<i>Hawk at Bittersweet Park picking at a bird wing. I don't think it killed the bird, which appears to be considerably larger than the hawk. It most likely scavenged the remains after dogs attacked the bird. Photo taken in Greeley, Colorado by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Sadly, many people bring dogs to this park without leashes (I am all for dog-walking and enjoy seeing the many dogs at the park, but unleashed dogs kill the wildlife) and I have found feathers near the water's edge. I've also seen hawks that appeared to be cleaning up after a kill. I took a walk around the park this afternoon and couldn't see the swans, but the cattail patch has grown huge over the past few years. I have prayed for their safety and the safety of their young ones, hoping they are resting safely and peacefully in the cattails.<br />
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<i style="text-align: left;">Mute Swans in their nest at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Mute Swans build their nest at the water's edge and these swans are too close to the walking trail for my comfort, but they are large birds and hopefully will be safe.</div>
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<i>Mute Swan at Bittersweet Park in Greeley, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I am a little concerned about this bird. I've seen it with its leg raised in the air a few times now and will call the wildlife rehabilitation center in a nearby county to see if they can check it out and make sure it wasn't injured by other animals. If you go back to the photo showing the two swans fishing you can see that one of them appears to be holding one leg at an odd angle behind it when it is upside down in the water. That's what happens when people walk their dogs without leashes!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJYZm3KPkdWaIkpel5706y-PQEj7rZVFk1rLNCMViT0C8ux8_yYGMDT3otLT9ZrRpOw1LemS6ohWXy4HgfxNqukDk9ZZRvm4b1XcRtEJXkbyRzFi2-apYZSRARlvkF12dOvO1wgZs5XA/s1600/DSC_0351+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1174" data-original-width="1600" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJJYZm3KPkdWaIkpel5706y-PQEj7rZVFk1rLNCMViT0C8ux8_yYGMDT3otLT9ZrRpOw1LemS6ohWXy4HgfxNqukDk9ZZRvm4b1XcRtEJXkbyRzFi2-apYZSRARlvkF12dOvO1wgZs5XA/s320/DSC_0351+%25282%2529.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Mute Swan at sunset. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The swans are beautiful and I hope that local residents respect their great beauty and help protect them. They mate for life and return to the same nest every year, even though they migrate, so they will be a lovely addition to this gorgeous neighborhood park in Northern Colorado. </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-43776135590198518642018-01-05T23:48:00.002-08:002018-01-10T17:06:04.392-08:00Emma, the Universal Healer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMHJKsBq5H5F0Fwm3qNI6KAA_ezed6iS4yDL38CSAfHsNsGMmxgzdJH2EoxKdh2do9yjpjq8CT2FK7w7lHJmOZrjWmOm9SxM9tTDN0KgYNQVqpopQMbO4lzquw-Zb5TvieRikkfPhzAs/s1600/DSC_0695+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1516" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaMHJKsBq5H5F0Fwm3qNI6KAA_ezed6iS4yDL38CSAfHsNsGMmxgzdJH2EoxKdh2do9yjpjq8CT2FK7w7lHJmOZrjWmOm9SxM9tTDN0KgYNQVqpopQMbO4lzquw-Zb5TvieRikkfPhzAs/s400/DSC_0695+%25282%2529.JPG" width="374" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma is a universal healer. Her name means "Universal Healer." Look closely--see her smile? She's saying, "You love me! You know you love me!"<br /> Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>Meet Emma. Emma was adopted while I was grieving. In my family, everyone has worked with animals during some--or many--times in their lives. We have so many people in my family who are trained to work with animals that I've lost count. </i></div>
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<i>The expert advice comes in handy, but I have experience, as well. </i></div>
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<i>Through the years I've had various jobs working at dude ranches, race tracks, shelters, pet stores, and other places that taught me the good and bad sides of the "business" of animals. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzFYa7jwAGEFHrieHK7yVXCL-3O7ov-URP6OM8hIrUNOZ278CbOJHKsaL9Kpe-HKwtLIN36tZBoPhPhhg1av7NmmY5Zk0KHT27CazEcZY3MVSaYZ1pKlkPYLOIpIShFTeWpgVA2laR7A/s1600/DSC_0587+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1537" data-original-width="1600" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmzFYa7jwAGEFHrieHK7yVXCL-3O7ov-URP6OM8hIrUNOZ278CbOJHKsaL9Kpe-HKwtLIN36tZBoPhPhhg1av7NmmY5Zk0KHT27CazEcZY3MVSaYZ1pKlkPYLOIpIShFTeWpgVA2laR7A/s400/DSC_0587+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma loves to snuggle. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>When I was trying to recover from the sudden loss of my elderly fur friends I volunteered to work at the local Humane Society, taking photos and writing descriptions of the animals because I wanted to do my part to help the animals find homes. Emma came in while I was introducing myself and my first thought when I saw her was, "She's too small." </i></div>
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<i>I didn't want to think or say that I was afraid she wouldn't make it, but it was clear she'd been on her own for too long. She was just a baby. She had all of her baby teeth, didn't know how to hunt or defend herself, and weighed a little over three pounds. She still doesn't have fur growing on her belly.</i></div>
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<i>But she was smiling. Just like my chihuahua, Chewy, who died months ago from heart disease, Emma smiles all the time, even when she's sleeping. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3zh8EWAakwBCuTH1yp5xIfLb3Q1zUfFHoKxRF7lxIZcWGV1d7nhqJa5JQd-5y4LDkRbfUGRVlOvgQBfUt99ggukFMuAJXmD4UKfLkqfX7mIYKUc0LwZt0G_0F72ce1WMFdWa91w_n2k/s1600/chewy+and+elvis2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="975" data-original-width="1600" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3zh8EWAakwBCuTH1yp5xIfLb3Q1zUfFHoKxRF7lxIZcWGV1d7nhqJa5JQd-5y4LDkRbfUGRVlOvgQBfUt99ggukFMuAJXmD4UKfLkqfX7mIYKUc0LwZt0G_0F72ce1WMFdWa91w_n2k/s400/chewy+and+elvis2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy, who has now joined his fur pack over the Rainbow Bridge to wait for me, is shown cuddling with Elvis. When I brought Elvis home she immediately sensed that Chewy had health issues. She would follow him around and snuggle up near him, then slowly place her paw on his shoulder as if to comfort him. She cried for weeks when Chewy died, pacing the house, searching for him. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</i></div>
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<i>I wasn't looking for a dog. Although I'd just lost all but one of my "pack" in a little over a year, I was still grieving painfully, but when I looked at her tag it said her name was Foo Foo. I knew it wasn't Foo Foo. Her name is Emma. I knew it the moment I saw her, and when I looked it up I knew her name with absolute certainty because Emma means Universal Healer. I also knew that some day, Emma would be with me. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGOorMIuivlnN4KXkc_M2albznj3q3ouT-bIdHKxjlXu2-ZXxNK9bqypytc1gMk7vBjm1hjHnUajTdhMjR6EXXf76aLYfjlZd_p7V0__9nps7FdF7abv7CqqE5z-tBynXcFJQivnuFBo/s1600/DSC_0657+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1302" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkGOorMIuivlnN4KXkc_M2albznj3q3ouT-bIdHKxjlXu2-ZXxNK9bqypytc1gMk7vBjm1hjHnUajTdhMjR6EXXf76aLYfjlZd_p7V0__9nps7FdF7abv7CqqE5z-tBynXcFJQivnuFBo/s400/DSC_0657+%25282%2529.JPG" width="325" /></a></div>
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<i>Peek-a-boo! Emma with my granddaughter. Emma adores children. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>When I received the call informing me that she was strong enough for adoption and two couples had already tried to take her home and returned her, I knew she was the dog for me. She has felt loss and abandonment. Confusion and fear. She needs a family, and a forever home, and I am in the position to offer her that and everything else she will need, including love, patience, and compassion.</i></div>
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<i>So, this is Emma.</i></div>
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<b>Emma is...elegant.</b></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTLNJWEORlzhm_lLFfEsGks_4LWgVj0ziNv3hd4UD3dNw67Em3wMLrw4L9HYnkm62Im7Mr54YB8r-iV8gsuw9rL6AZDbJDKdnewbOnuAiMjekIxnmpISW2VfghQ4xRFF0QcftZ2lHxsI/s1600/DSC_0698+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1276" data-original-width="1600" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyTLNJWEORlzhm_lLFfEsGks_4LWgVj0ziNv3hd4UD3dNw67Em3wMLrw4L9HYnkm62Im7Mr54YB8r-iV8gsuw9rL6AZDbJDKdnewbOnuAiMjekIxnmpISW2VfghQ4xRFF0QcftZ2lHxsI/s400/DSC_0698+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma in her holiday dress. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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When it comes to party dresses, Emma rocks it! She has two sweaters and a pale green snuggie that looks like a robe, but she loves her red dress.</div>
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<b style="text-align: left;">Emma is...a haunted chihuahua.</b></div>
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Emma's favorite toy is a stuffed chihuahua named "Chewy" after my blessed little creature I discussed above who died just a few months ago. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyzzuG1UB-piIUZ71-dskAahlbexkjk1xYiX7uYERY4xiN4rq0M3PLdmV0CQ8mnAaV5_peXlaDFyLd9Wzi_w83BtLmHyHoDGXp-NEEt2e_WuOx2J51kYyZloANak__89-OYS9c0PgyqA/s1600/DSC_0696+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1451" data-original-width="1600" height="362" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOyzzuG1UB-piIUZ71-dskAahlbexkjk1xYiX7uYERY4xiN4rq0M3PLdmV0CQ8mnAaV5_peXlaDFyLd9Wzi_w83BtLmHyHoDGXp-NEEt2e_WuOx2J51kYyZloANak__89-OYS9c0PgyqA/s400/DSC_0696+%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma with her Chewy toy. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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When she sees her Chewy she leaps on him, grabs him by the ears, shakes him back and forth and growls fiercely as if she is playing with another dog. She also snuggles with her Chewy toys, sleeps with them, plays with them, and appears to be trying to convince them to chase her. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydzFJYic8xTlxVF3YZ8CzoURhmAtXfK8Mmbr5v4DgTPBRyIZ786m-Pd6lJ1BTOAy4HCDU-5Bx10xKmut9AJQxd_3Qbx8mzTdaMUK7rku1zpVFLtjj9PrBAfClia8FqdfxQ-saGeN0OGQ/s1600/DSC_0702+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1393" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydzFJYic8xTlxVF3YZ8CzoURhmAtXfK8Mmbr5v4DgTPBRyIZ786m-Pd6lJ1BTOAy4HCDU-5Bx10xKmut9AJQxd_3Qbx8mzTdaMUK7rku1zpVFLtjj9PrBAfClia8FqdfxQ-saGeN0OGQ/s400/DSC_0702+%25282%2529.JPG" width="346" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma snuggling with her Chewy. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Then there are times when she holds her Chewy tight to her cheek as if they are having secret conversations. I suppose it's possible that Chewy has returned to teach her all those sneaky chihuahua habits that made him so endearing because she loves her Chewy! </div>
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<b>Emma is...a cat. </b></div>
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I used to tell my children that they could be anything they wanted, and it appears as though Emma also follows my advice. She chases the ring of light from a flashlight when you shine it on the floor. She even runs in circles chasing that flashlight until she trips over her little paws and rolls around on the ground. I'm careful not to spin her around too much--she would run in circles until she puked, she is that nutty. She leaps from one piece of furniture to another. She runs up and down the stairs like the cats and is not the least bit afraid of the dark, chasing my two black sister cats around the basement as if she, too, could see better in the night! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgk1gbc9oBCB9VJ3Gg5gajaOMQ3L-z58EVKt401DkMS90mM2nWsyb3sYpfhow6cGJfeYq7_CmmxE-iNtDwSlvfVVd7noRmXtuXp_kokr8pTXgSHhn41kY6gZugQKreTcAQB2DHVxaaedE/s1600/DSC_0121+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1570" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgk1gbc9oBCB9VJ3Gg5gajaOMQ3L-z58EVKt401DkMS90mM2nWsyb3sYpfhow6cGJfeYq7_CmmxE-iNtDwSlvfVVd7noRmXtuXp_kokr8pTXgSHhn41kY6gZugQKreTcAQB2DHVxaaedE/s400/DSC_0121+%25282%2529.JPG" width="392" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma on the prowl. Emma is fiercesome. She will attack anything, including shadows! </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Emma also does that strange thing cats do, chasing shadows to try and freak out their owners and make them believe there's something in the room! Emma chases the shadow from my braid when I bend over to pick her up and the light is above my head. She chases the shadows of the cats when the lights shine in the window and the cats walk across the room. </div>
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And when it's time for bed, Emma curls up into a ball, just like a cat (but burrowed beneath the comforter in typical chihuahua fashion). </div>
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<b>Emma is...a sand kicker! That's right--she's the beach bully from the Charles Atlas ads! </b></div>
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No, really! When she's feeling playful, fiesty, protecting her food dish from the dogs, responding to the sound of a doorbell on television, or if I tell her to go to bed and she wants to play with the cats instead, she turns into Charles Atlas, the body building celebrity from the 1940s--she puffs up her chest, holds her chin high, and kicks out her back feet as if she's the humiliated "Mac on the beach" getting even with the bully by kicking sand in his face. "I may be small, but you will respect me" she seems to say as she hops from side to side, tossing imaginary grains of sand behind her. </div>
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<i>Emma may be one of the smaller creatures in the house (the African Dwarf Frog and hermit crabs haver her beat in that category) but she holds her own. She is creative in her defense. One of the cats loves to tease her by sliding her paw near Emma's food dish. The cat doesn't want the food, she just likes to tease Emma. A few days ago, Emma responded by dragging all of her stuffed animals to fhe food dish and stuffing them one by one on top of her food. She could no longer reach her food, and her toys were covered with kibble, but when she was done she was so proud of her accomplishment that she turned her back on the cat (who you can see in the background to the left) and kicked imaginary sand in her face! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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I was on the phone yesterday, removed something from my purse and dropped my purse on the floor. In a matter of minutes she had pawed through my wallet and shredded two checks and a deposit slip I was supposed to take to the bank along with $40 in bills. I picked her up and put her on the bed and told her she was naughty and, yep, you guessed it--she turned her back on me and kicked her hind legs at me as if she was kicking sand in my face! It's oddly intimidating! Let's put it this way--I wouldn't want to meet her in a dark alley! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-VRKlwaSh_bSgKtd8XqgxKp7sloYaF0qAfFVW7Ww7lC2yXiHrIlmCql1grd9pG2PdLUD1C8Lfg2SgfX5wfhNwmVEwGQ8dgclwTVb3J2ltR8L19dmmo4GZLMiB8rZW4pEJ3tQDUbIRcs/s1600/DSC_0662.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi-VRKlwaSh_bSgKtd8XqgxKp7sloYaF0qAfFVW7Ww7lC2yXiHrIlmCql1grd9pG2PdLUD1C8Lfg2SgfX5wfhNwmVEwGQ8dgclwTVb3J2ltR8L19dmmo4GZLMiB8rZW4pEJ3tQDUbIRcs/s400/DSC_0662.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Pixie crept around Emma's kennel and actually stole two of Emma's Chewy toys. (Emma has four Chewy toys). Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Sometimes Pixie Dust will try to steal the Chewy toy and Emma kicks imaginary sand in her face. Elvis, Pixie's sister, will wait until Emma is snuggled deep beneath the comforter sleeping soundly then carefully slide her paw beneath the comforter and poke Emma to wake her up. Emma jumps up--which isn't easy to do when you're beneath a layer of down comforters--shoves her way out from beneath the comforters, chases Elvis off the bed then turns around and kicks imaginary sand in her face. Elvis licks her paw, pretending not to notice. She looks at the ceiling, at the floor, at her sister. When Emma is satisfied that Elvis is sufficiently covered in imaginary sand she will go back to bed...and Elvis will jump back up onto the bed, creep over to the lump beneath the comforter, slide her paw...</div>
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<i>Emma's kitty companions. Elvis is on the left and her sister, Pixie Dust, is on the right. </i><i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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The Chewy toy originally belonged to Elvis, who cuddled with the toy after Chewy died to help her cope with the grieving process (true story) and oddly, Emma leaves Chewy alone if Elvis is cuddling with the Chewy toy. The animal politics in this house are mind-boggling </div>
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<b>Emma is...confusing!</b></div>
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She is not the only troublemaker in the house. All of the animals tease her, including Big Baby Dog, and Emma holds her own. Baby, however, also treats Emma like a baby! He's so careful around her that he refuses to walk when she's nearby because he's afraid of stepping on her and she moves so quickly he can't see her. </div>
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<i>Baby's not sure what to think of Emma! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I think the cats find her amusing. She's only 1/4 their size, but she chases them through the house, up and down the stairs, leaps on their backs, chews on their ears, and they do nothing to stop her. I tell them not to encourage her, but who listens in this nutty house! </div>
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Baby is a different story. Baby is an innocent in this situation. He recently had a surgery to remove a strange fatty tumor that developed right in the center of his armpit preventing him from walking. Now he exercises, but it wears him out as he's still recovering. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAfs5u6arhEsD947v4-H8K-jr2Ahva7UPFb5Xa0A6c_ExRLihzZapj_w7Ypeo4K-Dtcae8kiXjkwPxWt-biLUfKka33NTv4BDMRCgk818rA-1be8m_L2HDoQx0-Wvc-GBEyogYJtmbi4/s1600/DSC_0163+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1520" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhAfs5u6arhEsD947v4-H8K-jr2Ahva7UPFb5Xa0A6c_ExRLihzZapj_w7Ypeo4K-Dtcae8kiXjkwPxWt-biLUfKka33NTv4BDMRCgk818rA-1be8m_L2HDoQx0-Wvc-GBEyogYJtmbi4/s400/DSC_0163+%25282%2529.JPG" width="380" /></a></div>
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<i>When I first brought Emma home Baby just stared at her. He couldn't figure out if she was a dog or a fruit bat! Emma loves him, though. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Baby is a happy fella, though, and loves to wag his wide, thick tail, and when he wags that tail Emma latches on with those teeth and flops up and down. Sometimes he growls at her, sometimes he snaps at her, but most of the time he ignores her. </div>
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<i>Baby had a tumor beneath his armpit and could not walk for months. He literally hopped on three paws and gained weight because he couldn't do anything. He is recovering well with the love and support of little Emma. She keeps him busy, but she also loves to snuggle up to his big belly. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I suspect this situation will change as soon as she loses those baby teeth! When she doesn't get the attention she wants she will leap onto his side and pounce on his belly, just as she does on the cats. That doesn't work, either. A four pound dog leaping on top of a 100 pound belly is like a fly landing on a horse. </div>
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<b>Emma is...confused!</b></div>
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If she hears someone whistle on television she comes running, but she doesn't understand the word "come." She understands "go to bed," and will do so obediently, but when I tell her to "come" she runs in circles around the house. The whistling situation would seem to be helpful, but I don't know how to whistle! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB633iGCQsXj2XGT7UcEINo1W7Q4SD0WmfaUCzWESzrioMwcwuXcI-DhUDSRyhcF8rvTavyQWBhtzL1JGuXxa_IM8pQzuOPskUztZGZCuE1sdHFzbgASOtrHfKqTpBCLwokHtvDgW2yU/s1600/DSC_0149+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1488" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxB633iGCQsXj2XGT7UcEINo1W7Q4SD0WmfaUCzWESzrioMwcwuXcI-DhUDSRyhcF8rvTavyQWBhtzL1JGuXxa_IM8pQzuOPskUztZGZCuE1sdHFzbgASOtrHfKqTpBCLwokHtvDgW2yU/s400/DSC_0149+%25282%2529.JPG" width="368" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma responding to someone whistling on television. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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<b>Emma is...addicted to television.</b></div>
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It's true. She will sit at the end of the bed and watch an entire movie with me. I have to be careful, though. If there are children in the movie and the children are upset or cry, Emma cries, too. If someone is fighting, she jumps up and kicks sand at them. </div>
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I once wrote a post about rescuing animals, how we never know what they've been through. Emma intrigues me. I can't imagine what her previous life was like--why would she spend so much time watching television? She was only three months old when I brought her home. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jkmWps3ISR_GnjnihtWDecGs0xY-NmYIrBwg15u2x_aPfunj7uNO48WWncpMARew3LyJYIEg9vU5-Unh6HhTrOsEv8Ax9XJ4K0aJHBZ3o_HN3LNz2pV3Pr6P1B2ZvRGI6WVICt4FAs8/s1600/DSC_0706+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1004" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6jkmWps3ISR_GnjnihtWDecGs0xY-NmYIrBwg15u2x_aPfunj7uNO48WWncpMARew3LyJYIEg9vU5-Unh6HhTrOsEv8Ax9XJ4K0aJHBZ3o_HN3LNz2pV3Pr6P1B2ZvRGI6WVICt4FAs8/s400/DSC_0706+%25282%2529.JPG" width="250" /></a></div>
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<i>Emma waiting for a holiday visit from the grandchildren. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<b>Emma is...madly in love with children!</b></div>
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The day I brought Emma to her forever home we stopped took to visit my grandchildren. As soon as Emma saw my granddaughter walk out of the house she went so crazy I thought she would dig a hole right through the passenger window. When my grandchildren are at my home, I do not exist. She follows them everywhere, and when they leave, she cries for hours. She literally walks around the house searching for them, crying. It's heartbreaking. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4Um6IqOORBjO68DFQN79Qz06x1MMv7soKFi6mQo5k-142r3KkxyMvdYDXQ0FqJL18LWKgzy8vA8rggPnNEgQteV2Kg2NkMoG-b95SeScAYa3D0F49RRqUjz5Xx9pj6J1P4tCTbMznD8/s1600/DSC_0167+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1349" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiF4Um6IqOORBjO68DFQN79Qz06x1MMv7soKFi6mQo5k-142r3KkxyMvdYDXQ0FqJL18LWKgzy8vA8rggPnNEgQteV2Kg2NkMoG-b95SeScAYa3D0F49RRqUjz5Xx9pj6J1P4tCTbMznD8/s400/DSC_0167+%25282%2529.JPG" width="333" /></a></div>
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<b>Emma is...loved. </b></div>
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With all of my heart. </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-36814226550460232712017-12-15T14:55:00.001-08:002017-12-15T14:55:32.723-08:00A Year of Loss and Grieving<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3zxTYUjDFQUTSeGq-LSBFxmERc6qhYcXoD6W8BEomC0nIZDok61BqfVo9fDpmm5JE7nU0f5GL0nnM1lr2DvkNmyVfCjV2dcTrCiZv0En17BqNaknOTlsBu-XVBdSjgyFYb4QoS691ew/s1600/buddy+and+holly+cuddling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="206" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL3zxTYUjDFQUTSeGq-LSBFxmERc6qhYcXoD6W8BEomC0nIZDok61BqfVo9fDpmm5JE7nU0f5GL0nnM1lr2DvkNmyVfCjV2dcTrCiZv0En17BqNaknOTlsBu-XVBdSjgyFYb4QoS691ew/s400/buddy+and+holly+cuddling.jpg" width="342" /></a></div>
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<i>Buddy and his sister, Holly, cuddling. They were always wrapped up beside each other. </i></div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">I don't know how to explain it. </span><span style="text-align: left;">I can't. </span></div>
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It's been a year of loss. But why it happened this way I'll never know. </div>
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It started with a divorce. Niblet, my ex-husband's 19-year-old cat started pacing the house, howling. He wouldn't eat or sleep, he just kept...searching. Animals don't understand divorce and I've learned that cats have a unique way of grieving, which I will write about at a later time. </div>
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My nephew and his wife died in a horrible accident. I was his nanny while I was in college. They died before I could meet his lovely young wife. </div>
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My 15 year old chocolate lab, Buddy, was poisoned by the neighbors who parked in front of my driveway, barking at my granddaughter and I, taunting us as Buddy died in my granddaughter's arms. He was my service dog. He was gentle, goofy, fun. He never barked. It was an act of cruelty beyond comprehension and it was made clear to me that it was all done because I told my neighbor I would not hire him to mow my lawn. (When we moved my boxes out of the house we found my lawnmower in pieces with the gas tank filled up with water.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpL630Esdk9wS-ctqOSME8ijXNOuGnUuxb7j56MHTsl2KZiSNuTHKBJGfpjGuXlEm-kgRDvgC_vcixUl57kj26h7POXVqHptNE02BR83XaLNYf67uWedcO1SCQViYv1T2-lUHvKXha0c/s1600/buddys+goofy+look.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSpL630Esdk9wS-ctqOSME8ijXNOuGnUuxb7j56MHTsl2KZiSNuTHKBJGfpjGuXlEm-kgRDvgC_vcixUl57kj26h7POXVqHptNE02BR83XaLNYf67uWedcO1SCQViYv1T2-lUHvKXha0c/s400/buddys+goofy+look.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Silly old Bud. He was the leader of the pack. So playful and funny, but always protective and he never left my side--until that one night when I left my home.</i></div>
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Yes, I do believe cruelty to animals should be a felony offense. </div>
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A week later, my Flemish Giant rabbit, Katie, was dead in her hutch, paralyzed, with antifreeze all over her paws (I don't keep any chemicals anywhere near my animals). She was so deeply loved and adored by everyone. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_TCnwv3Xow7jCsLDEE8QmgZjILxs-Fbk_Gx-HCzOXigiHwa1x6vuw8VrWkxfdPJ98ZFrcP_X5F-E2R8IeC7NA6O8rR-A9Q7zLziJjUDkYecmn9M-RJ1VIFXEUemxeO6i9z4c74s5a_8/s1600/katie+and+layla+black+and+white.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1352" data-original-width="1600" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI_TCnwv3Xow7jCsLDEE8QmgZjILxs-Fbk_Gx-HCzOXigiHwa1x6vuw8VrWkxfdPJ98ZFrcP_X5F-E2R8IeC7NA6O8rR-A9Q7zLziJjUDkYecmn9M-RJ1VIFXEUemxeO6i9z4c74s5a_8/s320/katie+and+layla+black+and+white.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Katie with her friend, Layla Lou.</i></div>
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She had been to the vet for her checkup the day before. The vet was angry. She knew something was wrong in my neighborhood and said so in her sympathy card, but you cannot force the police to respond when they choose to look the other way. </div>
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<i>Such a loving creature. Katie, you are beautiful.</i> </div>
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My family and friends arrived in the middle of the night, packed their trucks and moved me out of my new home. I had only been in the home three months. I didn't even have time to unpack because I was still painting and redoing the floors. According to a speech made by the local sheriff, crime has increased in this county 90% over the past two years. It would have been nice to have that information before I moved to that neighborhood.</div>
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Holly, Buddy's sister, was diagnosed with cancer four years ago. Chewy, my chihuahua, was fine. Then we moved again and everyone became sick. Chewy suddenly developed a previously undiagnosed heart murmur, which turned into previously undiagnosed heart disease. </div>
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Niblet was lighter than he was as a kitten. He was dying. We raced through a hailstorm to get him to the vet and ease his pain. Lightning hit a tree and started a fire. A tornado touched down nearby, but we made it to the vet and my granddaughter and I held him in our arms as he died. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV03iAY8bJiaK1oUZfiSmw6oQMhiUivpQKCTZI7m6iYL9a9WNJ5tVEgLVALUNEZ-DOaeWFAZJskaJBS5IDbSXjv1p0Xb0Zp21Nwe1AMDjbo9vYMPySZgap9Pfmd_4Ia6iTgIg4tV6BQLQ/s1600/Niblet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiV03iAY8bJiaK1oUZfiSmw6oQMhiUivpQKCTZI7m6iYL9a9WNJ5tVEgLVALUNEZ-DOaeWFAZJskaJBS5IDbSXjv1p0Xb0Zp21Nwe1AMDjbo9vYMPySZgap9Pfmd_4Ia6iTgIg4tV6BQLQ/s320/Niblet.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Niblet was handsome, playful, and huge! He loved his humans. The vet never did figure out why he died in spite of all the tests. He just stopped eating. </i></div>
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Mama dog, who belonged to my grandchildren, was acting strange after they moved, too. She seemed traumatized. She was also chasing the cats. I had a dream that if she stayed in that house she would die. I asked permission to adopt her since I didn't have a cat any longer. I found a new house and moved. I left the movers with a family member and returned home to pick up Mama dog. There had been a horrible thunderstorm and the animals were already wound up from the moving. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmISnEWgAPUAGRdOvqqzc1LngyzpWnW_af9Uwl30_kp_i-8hW5npUzYlEHf_TPuR-cZ3Y3dLoYzFmUBdSRqaAgyyHtDBH1oIgSe7VrkxFvAA9q1gmcxp81sYs-zIkJfXK75rKkUF8Fl4/s1600/mama+dog.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQmISnEWgAPUAGRdOvqqzc1LngyzpWnW_af9Uwl30_kp_i-8hW5npUzYlEHf_TPuR-cZ3Y3dLoYzFmUBdSRqaAgyyHtDBH1oIgSe7VrkxFvAA9q1gmcxp81sYs-zIkJfXK75rKkUF8Fl4/s320/mama+dog.JPG" width="320" /></a>\</div>
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<i>I tried, Mama dog. I heard you. I really did try.</i></div>
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When I walked through the door I felt as if I had entered a war zone. I couldn't find one of our living animals, but Samson, my daughter's giant cat, was dead. Samson was featured in a post about the "mystery drawer." I tried to take care of him before my daughter saw him. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HJer9nDEjWcPLdARFkDl1r89xudl-KvD07Y1yPKMFdZaYpFblscZatm0lUEqBeBR_C4K_XrGy-1usYD3wAOh9zyT22f_vaWdt_ksAsuMWctNrhAvIp8xrNa9WTbqo3K1vBmzZNYvJjo/s1600/Samson+and+Layla.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="819" data-original-width="960" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9HJer9nDEjWcPLdARFkDl1r89xudl-KvD07Y1yPKMFdZaYpFblscZatm0lUEqBeBR_C4K_XrGy-1usYD3wAOh9zyT22f_vaWdt_ksAsuMWctNrhAvIp8xrNa9WTbqo3K1vBmzZNYvJjo/s320/Samson+and+Layla.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>We will always love and miss you, Samson.</i></div>
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My son-in-law found Mama dog. I never had the chance to say goodbye to her. He returned and we buried Samson's remains together. </div>
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Then I had a dream. My granddaughter was spending the night, and as she cuddled in my arms we fell asleep watching a funny movie...and I had a dream. I had a dream of a woman on a hospital bed with tape on her eyes. There was a wheelchair beside the bed. I was walking through the room trying to comfort the family. I woke up screaming. </div>
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It seemed like only days later when Chewy died. It was painful and traumatic. I gave him Rieki every night, but could not relieve his pain. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGbtWz0wYZB6sQi98PPBvK-j_-4qZaHhZ0vFwSt-_1ilUYQMPggEuTyGSOyQ3vy62CpDjhmnCQCH6-HpocsplBSnhnuii5wV20v1WDpRFYfyiAMZyaMBxzG8ZDl1TQSL-zEuk9BGPDcq0/s1600/chewy+in+the+desert.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a></div>
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<i>Chewy was a fighter. He wanted to live. He was also so loving and kind. He could sense when another animal was sick just by smelling their bodies. </i></div>
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Two weeks later, my younger sister died. As I walked through the hospital room trying to comfort her family I realized I was living my dream. She had tape on her eyes. Her husband was in a wheelchair beside her bed. I cannot explain. The words are in a knot in my throat. </div>
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Two weeks after that, Holly died in my home. She collapsed in my granddaughter's arms. I pulled her onto my lap and she died there. I held her in my arms. </div>
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The vet warned me it would happen that quickly, without warning. She was tired. She had lost her pack. She felt alone. I think she just gave up when Chewy died. She loved him so much. She loved them all. She needed them, and she knew how much they needed her. </div>
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<i>My favorite picture. I love your gray haired face my Holly. So beautiful. Love you forever. </i></div>
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Some day I will write about my blessed little creatures and say goodbye, one by one. I will write about animals and grieving--I have learned so much about animals and grieving. </div>
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But not now. It's too painful. Too much. </div>
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I still dream about them, though. Nice dreams. I see them together, running through fields, running through the New Mexico desert, chasing each other. I see Chewy smiling in his sleep. I see the dogs following Katie around the backyard, sniffing her, wondering how a rabbit could possibly be so big, then sleeping by her side. I see them all in my dreams sleeping side by side. </div>
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I will revisit them when it's time, but I've been writing this blog since 2007 and it's time to continue on with my stories of the mountains and the birds, the insects, the buffalo, antelope, deer, elk, and everyone else who crosses my path. </div>
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All of my love Christina, Erik, Holly, Buddy, Holly, Niblet, Chewy, Katie, Mama dog and Samson. I cannot say goodbye. I won't do it. Until we meet again I will see you in my dreams. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRytK6WUtZ549-NrO0xltAX8D8LMiWPRRl7rMn6NugwScP1Nbinn9OrTdLrdlVS10HDn7MWKv4xU5rSa3DNd9SlXuTYoyAl8dAKepiNkqr_zsqiH-S4UqXzJ9tRs4vZCNdQDFDR4gZtA4/s1600/buddy+holly+chewy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="230" data-original-width="720" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRytK6WUtZ549-NrO0xltAX8D8LMiWPRRl7rMn6NugwScP1Nbinn9OrTdLrdlVS10HDn7MWKv4xU5rSa3DNd9SlXuTYoyAl8dAKepiNkqr_zsqiH-S4UqXzJ9tRs4vZCNdQDFDR4gZtA4/s640/buddy+holly+chewy.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i>Buddy, Holly and Chewy soaking up the Texas sunshine. </i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-54562481273265734452017-05-07T19:26:00.000-07:002017-05-12T14:18:55.002-07:00Help Baby Dog Walk Again <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipn2hIRmZ1h7vSlF-O609oIBm1r07dVsUAPHrrfn5hlGh6mZk6n9TZQRaFNGgZ396QSt82VfcKLLz-jxqdu1VDHPGHoMM_-4F7Xzszst-tm_rUobT63qhIsZVWkHgZOK_QyXww_paIC2o/s1600/baby2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipn2hIRmZ1h7vSlF-O609oIBm1r07dVsUAPHrrfn5hlGh6mZk6n9TZQRaFNGgZ396QSt82VfcKLLz-jxqdu1VDHPGHoMM_-4F7Xzszst-tm_rUobT63qhIsZVWkHgZOK_QyXww_paIC2o/s320/baby2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Baby the night I brought him home. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>Baby was rescued from the New Mexico desert, and like all rescue animals, he rescued me during a frightening, painful time in my life he stayed by my side. His loyalty has cost him the ability to walk. This is his story. At the bottom of the page there is a link to a campaign to help Baby walk.</i></div>
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<i> </i><b style="background-color: #d4f3c9; font-family: "Trebuchet MS", Trebuchet, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><i> <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/help-save-my-aging-furfriends" style="color: #77cd28;">https://www.gofundme.com/help-save-my-aging-furfriends</a></i></b></div>
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When I lived in New Mexico I drove Buddy and Holly (my two chocolate labs) and my chihuahua, Chewy, out into the New Mexico desert so they could run free. There was a reason why we went to the desert, which I will explain in a moment. One day I kept seeing this image in my mind, the word "dog." I don't pretend to be a psychic. I have no idea why I saw this word, but I had run-ins with coyotes recently and my first thought was that this was a warning that my dogs were in danger.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaGKFg8b_Zv6LKLuHArlbEV9k6LFN4QTp4Xd0SOnlt_dHKrC8qb-rc4p92RsHKGWMJeI8prcr3w13bQXutiPcpj1VfYUCh8WkdbMePPFzVf6m864svZjOvoqzDs6WVIN9FwwTXCwgB3Y/s1600/coyote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkaGKFg8b_Zv6LKLuHArlbEV9k6LFN4QTp4Xd0SOnlt_dHKrC8qb-rc4p92RsHKGWMJeI8prcr3w13bQXutiPcpj1VfYUCh8WkdbMePPFzVf6m864svZjOvoqzDs6WVIN9FwwTXCwgB3Y/s320/coyote.jpg" width="305" /></a></div>
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<i>Coyote watching us from a distance when I was walking one of my dogs on a street near the desert in New Mexico. </i></div>
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When I pulled up to our usual spot the image in my mind was so strong that I panicked. I apologized to my dogs and started to turn the truck around. That's when Baby crawled out from beneath a sage brush. He was covered in sage. His ribs were showing, and he could barely stand.</div>
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I left the other dogs in the truck, grabbed their water dish and a water bottle and walked over to Baby. I poured water into the dish. He looked up at me as if he was afraid I was going to hit him, then he slowly approached the dish and began to drink. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Baby</b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAP7QXnupDnr6JWDfxgSUV6HdGGGZzfuy_HyffIPZg6LlVB2UwQvCNEAeolworUSAtPQBDKuwbPXkhndwKaUKLkjpuo_6ZFDwshWtbkAe4-C16ysBiZ9lkYd3UP7KProy3nAWOJ73XBw/s1600/baby2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFAP7QXnupDnr6JWDfxgSUV6HdGGGZzfuy_HyffIPZg6LlVB2UwQvCNEAeolworUSAtPQBDKuwbPXkhndwKaUKLkjpuo_6ZFDwshWtbkAe4-C16ysBiZ9lkYd3UP7KProy3nAWOJ73XBw/s1600/baby2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Baby the day I found him in the New Mexico desert. So beautiful. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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There is a city ordinance in the town where I lived in New Mexico and people cannot have lawns due to constant drought, so they often take their dogs into the desert for walks. We watched out for each other, keeping our animals in separate territories, picking up "runners" that strayed from their owners and returning them. The desert holds many dangers for dogs, including humans. There was a section of the desert that we always avoided because hunters would go there and I was certain I'd heard them shooting and shouting about trying to hit a "dog" a few days earlier. (Baby has scars on his arm that look like he was whipped, or tied and tried to get away). </div>
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The night I met Baby another dog walker came by and asked if Baby belonged to me. He said he was watching from a nearby hill as Baby approached me and he wasn't sure if Baby was an abandoned animal because he appeared to be familiar with me. </div>
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Abandonment is another problem in New Mexico. Most towns kill animals after two days in the shelter, but it is also against the law to surrender your pet. I once interviewed the employees at the local Humane Society and they said it was an ongoing issue they had fought with the counties for years, begging for more time, trying different ways to discourage animal abandonment, which happens often when the economy goes down and people can't afford to feed their pets--they take them out to the desert and leave them to the coyotes. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaRn7mNX-mWfTMAu_bvNLoOj-_RJ5lh-qD-bBIhQ-ODKleGXZJXfoIrIg9LKRix9c4zkhoCV9-e0LKhyphenhyphenumNSAkkJpnqVNwKKe-iQVNv9ToYQvEzsZTbDftcraYDrrlJy_BMOIUf8fL5M/s1600/baby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSaRn7mNX-mWfTMAu_bvNLoOj-_RJ5lh-qD-bBIhQ-ODKleGXZJXfoIrIg9LKRix9c4zkhoCV9-e0LKhyphenhyphenumNSAkkJpnqVNwKKe-iQVNv9ToYQvEzsZTbDftcraYDrrlJy_BMOIUf8fL5M/s320/baby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Baby playing in the sand in the desert. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The other dog walker told me he saw Baby the day before and was fairly certain Baby was abandoned. He felt relieved when he saw me. Then, of course, as he came closer he realized I was trying to help Baby, so we spent the next four hours making phone calls, trying to earn Baby's trust, and discussing different ways we could convince him to climb into the back of my truck--I already had three dogs in my back seat and he had four.</div>
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<i>It was growing dark in the desert, but I refusesd to leave Baby there alone! </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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We stood in the desert debating our options. No one likes to make decisions about strays in New Mexico. There are so many illogical laws when it comes to animals. For instance, if a dog even looks at you in a strange way you have the right to shoot it in self defense. In many states, compassion, caring, and random acts of kindness toward animals are discouraged.</div>
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We decided to call the Humane Society and find out if Baby was reported missing, and if he wasn't, then one of us would take him home and try to find his owner to avoid having him killed. I discussed this policy in depth with employees at the local humane society once and they disagree with it completely. They said it is heartbreaking for them to collect animals because they know that most of them will be dead within a few days, and the employees will be the ones doing the killing. Most humane society employees in New Mexico are actively fighting for more "humane" treatment of animals in shelters.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghR-8_X2XnwHhUTir38pQmGL9PF7BE-lKBsM9kjSYn5G7Fm8604AeDc7ws6ZKfMt9TMSXcwlZUmOtmY3yidZ0ZZuzWMVtF3m2uDDXD3yesv4au7LGTzR03iyZE3zYfnW0aP0ToLJrJ5wc/s1600/coyote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghR-8_X2XnwHhUTir38pQmGL9PF7BE-lKBsM9kjSYn5G7Fm8604AeDc7ws6ZKfMt9TMSXcwlZUmOtmY3yidZ0ZZuzWMVtF3m2uDDXD3yesv4au7LGTzR03iyZE3zYfnW0aP0ToLJrJ5wc/s320/coyote.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Do you see the coyotes? I didn't, either, until I downloaded the photo onto my computer. There were four coyote standing in the sage brush, watching me take this photograph. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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The man in the desert tried to convince Baby to jump into the back of his truck and Baby refused. I had a spare collar and leash in my truck that I slipped around Baby and the man drove slowly to the road where the desert meets the city roads with his arm out the window leading Baby along as Baby walked beside his car. We finally reached the road where we were told to wait, and we waited. </div>
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The man had to leave for work so I volunteered to stay. I called animal control again. Dispatch said they were still coming and I should wait. I explained that I was now alone, in the desert, in the dark. I waited until 11 p.m. They never arrived, leaving a woman and four dogs alone on a street corner across from where the open desert begins. </div>
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I finally opened the door to grab my phone and check in again and when I did Baby jumped into my truck and sat down on the back seat between Buddy and Holly, my chocolate labs. Buddy looked down at Baby and Baby looked up at him then they both looked at me as if to say, "What are you waiting for?" I knew then that they would be best friends, and they were best friends to the day Buddy died. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMPgIkwxhSDWwExCJD2y0ugvOhOBsOEvE18JkkVxZzSCLqDM6fQFqyfMrEOJSWJSEMoiiZ8-WgkpBZ3wQVPNhq3oGyI7_ci_cpohsl_ERkpiW8f4ubJbgb_YeB1BL-LyuCSHjy3rOYpA/s1600/934114_10151578498709407_1017895614_n.jpg"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAMPgIkwxhSDWwExCJD2y0ugvOhOBsOEvE18JkkVxZzSCLqDM6fQFqyfMrEOJSWJSEMoiiZ8-WgkpBZ3wQVPNhq3oGyI7_ci_cpohsl_ERkpiW8f4ubJbgb_YeB1BL-LyuCSHjy3rOYpA/s320/934114_10151578498709407_1017895614_n.jpg" /></a></div>
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<i>Holly and Buddy. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Buddy</span></b></div>
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So, this is where Buddy enters this story. Baby saw Buddy as his protector. Every animal in the house considered Buddy their protector. All of the animals considered Buddy their protector. When he got into trouble, Baby would actually run for Buddy and try to hide behind him. </div>
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I took Baby home that night and he climbed onto the dog beds. He later moved closer to Buddy and Holly and slept by their sides. I went to my room and turned on the television confident that the dogs would be just fine until I found Baby's owner. Needless to say, I never did find his owner. He is still my fella. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrQAIrtdUaGuT1BmEZ5cE3FItG5dKj1OELa8PQxSkzMz-IwPI5pflULA3zjwRx8UCrB21Jv03L81N7Vgq1akJfUsPlvw7nYBMT3XhKNNYh-7YbSM2V3fY6aAxjeMc2u56ACnQ705qZdw/s1600/424015_10151334227639407_97041151_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="185" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglrQAIrtdUaGuT1BmEZ5cE3FItG5dKj1OELa8PQxSkzMz-IwPI5pflULA3zjwRx8UCrB21Jv03L81N7Vgq1akJfUsPlvw7nYBMT3XhKNNYh-7YbSM2V3fY6aAxjeMc2u56ACnQ705qZdw/s320/424015_10151334227639407_97041151_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Buddy, Baby, and Holly. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>Evan Almighty</i></span></b></div>
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That night,<i> Evan Almighty</i> was on television. If you haven't seen the film--spoiler alert--at the beginning, Morgan Freeman, who plays God, is trying to convince Steve Carell, who plays Congressman Evan Baxter, to build an ark. At the beginning of the movie, Carrell moves his family into a new home and a stray dog walks onto the lawn and pees. </div>
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As I watched the dog I thought of Baby lying on my lvivngroom floor, and how he so confidently walked into my home as if he had been a part of our pack for years. <i>What would I do if I couldn't find his owner? </i>I thought. I already had the two labs that we rescued from a farmer that had nearly a dozen dogs in the back of a hot pickup truck, and a chihuahua that someone abandoned on our property in Texas. As my ex-husband used to say, I don't rescue animals, they literally seek me down, and on that night I was already one animal away from my limit. I walked each animal every day, paid the vet bills, licensing, vaccinations and insurance on my own--it wouldn't be easy! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDnnbD7t9foZbEJbYyfmq-vIQMjPDuqCHMZVieOuzIiyrL9FGx3mt93k4MdoGyFcVeIgP9fAZl2AMoDS1BDEgOXz3TS1lL2O8XH-Xgszeat-wUAW0XKYTDIfqEMpcHq2PHX-dGNSp2AA/s1600/morgan+freeman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDnnbD7t9foZbEJbYyfmq-vIQMjPDuqCHMZVieOuzIiyrL9FGx3mt93k4MdoGyFcVeIgP9fAZl2AMoDS1BDEgOXz3TS1lL2O8XH-Xgszeat-wUAW0XKYTDIfqEMpcHq2PHX-dGNSp2AA/s320/morgan+freeman.jpg" width="282" /></a></div>
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<i>Morgan Freeman, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Morgan_Freeman#/media/File:Academy_Award-winning_actor_Morgan_Freeman_narrates_for_the_opening_ceremony_(26904746425)_(cropped).jpg">Photo </a>by EJ Hersom. 2016. Public domain. </i></div>
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I was still watching the movie, Steve Carrell tells his children repeatedly to ignore the dog and refuses to even offer the dog a drink. Finally, Freeman, or God, appears and convinces Carrel that he is truly God and that Carrel must build an ark. Carrel refuses. Finally, God pours water into a dish for the stray dog and the dog begins to drink, just like Baby in the desert.</div>
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Well, that was it for me--no more questions. I left the room to check on the animals. They were huddled up as if they'd spent years together. I stood and watched them for awhile. They were so comfortable together. Baby acted as if he hadn't slept for weeks, which may be true. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHxqblNzpzYzMBi4ki-GMaLnl9GjcxNUK7Yx_D00d3_oMU-QlsNrdWOynX926Ngx0E7xord_gGrslPQVa4FEsctqptyOBLUyDMMQU6LtmyldoDVx1Qst2VXrbuvzL3VP58L4X9Pi60_8/s1600/20418_10151242892439407_1735874408_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVHxqblNzpzYzMBi4ki-GMaLnl9GjcxNUK7Yx_D00d3_oMU-QlsNrdWOynX926Ngx0E7xord_gGrslPQVa4FEsctqptyOBLUyDMMQU6LtmyldoDVx1Qst2VXrbuvzL3VP58L4X9Pi60_8/s320/20418_10151242892439407_1735874408_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Dog pile. Buddy, Holly and Baby snuggling up for the night. Photo by D.S. Dollman. </i></div>
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The veterinarian told me later he was amazed that Baby survived the coyotes in the desert. I asked the vet why Baby insisted on relieving himself on my scented herbs. It didn't make sense--his stomach and the inside of his thighs were scratched and bleeding. The vet said Baby used the scented herbs, like sage brush, while he was abandoned in the desert to hide his scent from the coyotes. He is a very intelligent dog.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">A Bowl of Water as an Act of Random Kindness</span></b></div>
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I returned to the movie. I was in the living room much longer than I thought. The film was almost over. Toward the end of the film, God prepares to say goodbye to Evan, and of course he leaves Evan with a message. The entire conversation suddenly became a metaphor for my situation. </div>
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God: How do we change the world?</div>
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Evan Baxter: One single act of random kindness at a time.<br />
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God: [spoken while writing A-R-K on ground with a stick] One Act, of, Random, Kindness.<br />
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At that moment, I knew Baby was mine for life. With a bowl of water and a simple act of random kindness I changed his world forever and he changed mine. He is sleeping at my feet now with Holly. They sleep together every night, cuddled up tight the way Buddy and Holly used to sleep as puppies. Holly lost her brother, and gained a new protector. Perhaps it was all part of God's plan.</div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Still too Painful to Explain, but I'll try... </span></b></div>
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I recently experienced extreme, organized harassment, or what is also called "mobbing" in my neighborhood. Tyrants always lose eventually, but this one man and his friends, who psychologists refer to as "flying monkeys,"(<i>a reference to The Wizard of Oz and the flying monkeys who don't think for themselves and do what they're told)</i>, became bored by the fact that I continued to ignore them, refused to make eye contact or speak to them, kept a smile on my face to show they could not change me and instructed my grandchildren--who knew what was happening and refused to leave my side--to do the same. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5ZwOTsF3tRIlqm_5VnJasuY9IPDF9e-MOXTYVVxi28KtaDxTsFCMBXxvDyNqPCfH-Xudcs_HADXJk7EECO9_MHr3eV1BVJmIS7izMQOd_u9t24f982KpMiHmu8lerOiqaCL2qD9BLhI/s1600/BauW170B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha5ZwOTsF3tRIlqm_5VnJasuY9IPDF9e-MOXTYVVxi28KtaDxTsFCMBXxvDyNqPCfH-Xudcs_HADXJk7EECO9_MHr3eV1BVJmIS7izMQOd_u9t24f982KpMiHmu8lerOiqaCL2qD9BLhI/s320/BauW170B.jpg" width="262" /></a></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><i>"The monkeys caught Dorothy in their arms and flew away with her"—illustration by W. W. Denslow in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (1900).</i></span></span></div>
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The instigator was violent from the start, pouring toxin all over my garden and the children's playset when I told him I would not hire him to mow my lawn (I wasn't trying to be mean. I owned a lawnmower and the day after he asked me my daughter arrived at my house to mow my lawn. The instigator spent the day drinking in his garage and kicking the walls--our driveways were connected--then pounded on my door that night, accusing me of hiring someone else for "his job." Then he suddenely stopped in the middle of his tirade and asked if my animals ever eat my plants. I told him that was a very strange question and he left. The next morning, my plants--over $200 in garden plants-- and the playset were covered with orange toxin. </div>
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The night Buddy died my granddaughter and I came home and a group of young men, including the son of the instigator, were parked in front of my house barking at us, shouting "How's your dog?" and calling me "Dead Dog Darla!" a phrase the instigator's youngest son continued to shout at me until the day I moved out, three months after I moved in, and all because I said I would not hire him. </div>
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That night, as they shouted at us, I wasn't sure exactly what they meant, but I knew it wasn't good. My granddaughter and I ran inside the house. Buddy was sick. My granddaughter held him in her arms whil I called the local emergency clinic. I was unable to convince the vet tech to wake up the veterinarian. I called every half hour until around four in the morning when the veterinarian arrived for her shift. She chastised me for not bringing him in earlier and forcing her staff to call her. "Seriously?" I asked her. "If I stormed into your office your staff would have called the police and had me arrested in front of my grandchild!" </div>
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I called everyone I could think of to try and get help lifting Buddy into my truck--I have a spine injury and Buddy was huge. My granddaughter and I together could not lift him. Buddy raised his head and looked at us, and all the animals around him, let out a loud sigh, and as he did so the animals became frantic. He closed his eyes, dropped his head onto his bed and died. I later verified through his records that he was 15 years old when he died. He gave me 15 years of love, affection, complete dedication, never left my side, and died a slow, painful death at the hands of my neighbors because I politely explained that I couldn't afford to pay someone 160 dollars a month to mow my lawn and could mow my lawn myself. </div>
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When we took Buddy into the vet, the veterinarian claimed I only called their office once, but I had a list of the times I called on my phone. She finally admitted that she had refused to come in because she didn't realize it was serious. She said, "It's always hard on staff when an animal dies." It was hard on her? It was hell on Buddy. </div>
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When I brought Buddy in I told the vet I wanted an autopsy and she agreed, then she had me sign a paper for his cremation. When my daughter and I returned for the results of the autopsy the veterinarian claimed I "signed away the rights to an autopsy by agreeing to a cremation." Did she think we were going to take Buddy home after the autopsy? It was one lie after another and the stress was unbearable, knowing these sick, cruel people got away with murder, literally, over a lawnmower. </div>
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There is so much more to this story, but it's stuck like a ball in my throat.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXNF6VLWjy0Ihg3zw9a0e-_ersLa7X-WIEqtzNYXW96HfN6BpRlh9dopz_0pt_Hi_rNZcuvGdoMUaEw5DhyURmX4dK7ztkntI1toar5WiWiBbqqHowUhfkhJgTPESeucAxp2PlUZVaBE/s1600/1522084_10152085935909407_1820092106_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFXNF6VLWjy0Ihg3zw9a0e-_ersLa7X-WIEqtzNYXW96HfN6BpRlh9dopz_0pt_Hi_rNZcuvGdoMUaEw5DhyURmX4dK7ztkntI1toar5WiWiBbqqHowUhfkhJgTPESeucAxp2PlUZVaBE/s320/1522084_10152085935909407_1820092106_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The "pack" waiting at the door when they heard my ex-husband's truck. They were all surrounding Buddy when he died, along with the cat. </i><i>Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Since that night I've read many articles about animals and grieving. When Buddy died, Chewy the chihuahua howled and jumped on Buddy's chest. Holly lay down beside him and wrapped her paws around Buddy's, the cat curled up against his back, but Baby was in a panic, frantically butting Buddy on the head, trying to wake him up, crying, crying real tears. After Buddy died, the cat developed a strange disease (the vet never could figure out why he died), Holly developed cancer, Chewy developed heart disease (now there's a metaphor) and Baby, who was afraid to go outside again, developed a tumor beneath his arm preventing him from walking. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2RvGW0ngWXLHh0vTzaKnShIVMvcx1xsxQ1XJzWMWJBZ-JswkYM4p4idgkoOrH6quIfRVuZ4lBZVh8MZwYubHU8DXOOzrhcuSA5tWfMLWMmX7q302ideOcALGXZ9zDJGoclivxBSOJYU/s1600/baby+tumor.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgx2RvGW0ngWXLHh0vTzaKnShIVMvcx1xsxQ1XJzWMWJBZ-JswkYM4p4idgkoOrH6quIfRVuZ4lBZVh8MZwYubHU8DXOOzrhcuSA5tWfMLWMmX7q302ideOcALGXZ9zDJGoclivxBSOJYU/s320/baby+tumor.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Baby's tumor. The link for the fundraiser to have Baby's tumor removed is at the end of this post.</i> </div>
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Buddy died in his bed surrounded by his family. He was the gentlest, kindest animal I have ever known. He lived a good life, a happy life, never barked or growled or showed a mean moment toward anyone, but no animal deserves to die at the hands of an abusive bully and his flying monkeys.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesSUoUQ8EGxEorTEGwCDvc86k97V5A16mBoLpSB_91x3yC17QSMbPhYz67sU2PfFt4B8CPp5BeSb24aSGbx2jp7Rc__3tEt34xt0obx-_S4UwtY1KMARd6CBQ49qqqCEfBgnAFiy-JKg/s1600/1525272_10152058886244407_1801735075_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesSUoUQ8EGxEorTEGwCDvc86k97V5A16mBoLpSB_91x3yC17QSMbPhYz67sU2PfFt4B8CPp5BeSb24aSGbx2jp7Rc__3tEt34xt0obx-_S4UwtY1KMARd6CBQ49qqqCEfBgnAFiy-JKg/s320/1525272_10152058886244407_1801735075_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Buddy a few days before his death. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Veterinarians will claim that dogs do not cry real tears. They will also admit that they learn they are wrong about one assumption or another every day. Dogs cry real tears. My dogs cried that night. They changed that night. They were all deeply traumatized. </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The Mental Illness of Bullies</b></span></div>
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Sadly, the person who poisoned Buddy will never shed a tear. People who kill animals are psychopathic or sociopathic. They are mentally ill and studies conducted at the <a href="http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2008/11/081107-bully-brain.html">University of Chicago</a> have shown their brains are wired differently. They feel pleasure when others feel pain. I pity their families--they will never know true compassion or love, and the people who pretend to be their friends, their flying monkeys, are friends of fear--they already know the instigator is mentally ill, but they're afraid to admit it, and even more afraid to stand up to him. They know he is capable of doing anything to harm others.</div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Big-Nosed Kate, the Leader of the Bunny Pack</b></span></div>
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A few weeks later my rabbit, Katie, was also poisoned. She had seen the vet the day before and that night my granddaughter woke me up to tell me she was certain someone was walking around in my garage. The lid to her hutch was open--something I'd noticed often in the last few weeks before her death--but I knew that if I called the local police to ask for help they would do nothing. The dogs alerted me to Katie's death by howling and scratching at my legs. Chewy jumped on my chest, crying. Katie was paralyzed and there was a green, gooey substance in her cage--antifreeze, something I never keep in my garage. </div>
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<i>Katie and Layla Lou. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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All of the animals adored Big-Nose Kate. She was the bunny version of Buddy. My rabbits, dogs and cat all get along and spend warm summer afternoons together in my yard. I had moved the rabbits inside when I became aware that a neighbor was watching me through the slats in my fence. There was a mysterious fire in the garage and I took the rabbits in to the vet to make certain they were okay. The vet ran a series of tests and took x-rays, so we know she was fine when I took her home that night. All night long we heard banging sounds on the walls and doors of the garage--typical flying monkey mobbing behavior according to psychologists. </div>
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After Buddy and Katie died, when I took the animals outside they walked around in circles as if they were looking around for Buddy and Katie. They knew, and they were afraid. Baby was afraid. He was already traumatized and suddenly his place of rescue was no longer safe. My family and friends arrived late at night and packed everything I had in their trucks, then moved us to a safe house. It didn't take long--the mobbing started so quickly after I arrived that I never even unpacked. Everything I owned--exvept my clothes and bed--was still in the garage. </div>
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<i>Katie, my Flemish Giant, was also poisoned according to the vet. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">Recovering From the Loss of a Friend</span></b></div>
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We moved into a new home temporarily. Baby slept snuggled up with Holly and Chewy every night, but he was afraid to go outside anymore and would cry when I made him go out after eating. He just wanted to sleep. We noticed that when we talked about Buddy the animals would wake up and start wagging their tails, so we stopped talking. We didn't want them to hurt anymore. </div>
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One night, my granddaughter and I noticed Baby had developed a fatty tumor beneath his armpit. I repeatedly took him to vets--four times--and they all diagnosed a fatty tumor and told me his leg would eventually deform and he wouldn't be able to walk, but he couldn't lose weight if he didn't walk, and he couldn't walk because his foot was curving inward due to the tumor. </div>
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Finally, I called a vet and asked if he could do a surgery to remove the tumor. He said yes. I then asked why Baby had to go to four different vets before someone suggested helping him--I could have used the money I spent on Baby's vet appointments and x-rays and tests to pay for the surgery! He agreed this was very wrong and offered to do the surgery at a discount. I lost so much, moving three times in a year, so much damage to my house and property from the mobbing, so much money on vet bills, and Baby is still waiting to walk again. I am praying for the day that I once again see him dance for his food. </div>
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<i>Baby sunbathing. I know Baby misses Buddy, but he'll be okay. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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I think Buddy would have wanted Baby, his sister, Chewy, the cat, me--everyone to feel safe and happy, and every day Baby finds some way to show me that he is, indeed, a happy dog in spite of his inability to move much further than his bed. </div>
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And it all started with one act of random kindness--a bowl of water offered on a hot summer day in the New Mexico desert. </div>
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<i>Baby always finds some way to let me know he is a happy boy. He was playing with his blanket one day, tore a hole in the middle then stuck his head through the hole so it looked like he was wearing a poncho, then he curled up for a nap. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<b><i>On the recommendation of my veterinarian, and with the help of a friend, I now have a campaign set up to help pay for Baby's surger and help with Holly's cancer medication and Chewy's heart medication until Baby recovers: <a href="https://www.gofundme.com/help-save-my-aging-furfriends">https://www.gofundme.com/help-save-my-aging-furfriends</a></i></b></div>
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<i><b> "The indifference, callousness and contempt that so many people exhibit toward animals is evil first because it results in great suffering in animals, and second because it results in an incalculably great impoverishment of the human spirit." --Ashley Montagu</b></i><br />
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-91152966104909445082016-11-25T13:16:00.002-08:002016-11-25T13:16:46.419-08:00Snow Leopards: Beautiful Big Cats!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Snow Leopard at the Albuquerque Zoo. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div>
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My granddaughter loves snow leopards, so this post is for Layla Marie. The first time I saw a live snow leopard was at the Albuquerque Zoo in New Mexico. I fell in love--they are beautiful big cats! However, I did wonder why I didn't see them more often, which is most likely because they are an endangered species. </div>
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Snow Leopard at the Albuquerque Zoo. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div>
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They are fascinating animals, though. As far as scientists can tell, they are not particularly aggressive toward humans unless threatened. They generally travel alone, and raise their cubs alone until the cub is 18 months. Like most predators they travel at dusk and dawn. They live in the mountains and live Ibex and Blue Sheep--I've only seen an Ibex in the zoo and I've never seen Blue Sheep! They are found in 12 countries, including Tibet. </div>
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According to the World Wildlife Federation, they are endangered because they are killed for their lovely coats. They are also killed by farmers who believe they are preying on their farm animals. </div>
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If you want to support the Snow Leopard they can be "adopted" through the World Wildlife Federation: https://donate.wwf.org.au/campaigns/adopt-a-snow-leopard/?&gclid=CIKblITpxNACFQ6CaQodwi8LeQ</div>
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and the Snow Leopard Trust: https://www.snowleopard.org/snow-leopard-facts/</div>
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Juvenile Snow Leopard Twins at the Albuquerque Zoo. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman</div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-39341399977659883542016-05-21T23:29:00.000-07:002016-08-16T14:04:57.506-07:00The Haunted Sliding Cabinet Drawer<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>What appears to be a lump of fur lying on the top cabinets beneath a ten-foot ceiling is actually a very mysterious cat who somehow manages to leap onto the kitchen counter, then the top of the refrigerator, then the top counter where he hangs his tail over the edge and flips it back and forth, taunting the many dogs in this house. </i></div>
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I first noticed Chewy the Chihuahua staring at the kitchen cabinet drawers shortly after we moved into the house. He wasn't barking or growling. He was staring, as if he was confused, or perhaps even frightened. We were new to the house, and I have read that animals are very perceptive to paranormal activity. The children suggested that perhaps there was a ghost in the kitchen. Then I saw the drawer slowly slide open then close again and I began to wonder...</div>
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I tried to push the drawers closed, but they seemed to be pushing against something soft. Chewy was even more confused. He checked the floor for clues. We were both at a loss, and it was very late, so I decided to go to bed. </div>
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Later that night I walked upstairs for a bottle of water and noticed Chewy was still guarding the drawer. I finally convinced him to come to bed and as we left the room I heard the drawer slam. I glanced around the corner and noticed to drawer was completely open now, but the room was empty. </div>
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I decided it was time for a stakeout. I left the dog in the basement and crept up the stairs. I discovered my daughter's monster cat, Samson, also standing near the drawer. I wasn't sure if he was searching for clues or involved in the mystery. I decided to stand quietly in the doorway, camera in hand, and watch to see what happened next. </div>
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Samson heard the click of the camera and my cover was blown. However, I did notice he was standing suspiciously close to the drawer. I ducked around the corner and crept through the hall to another doorway.</div>
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I could only assume that Samson was also searching for clues to the mystery of the sliding drawer. Considering his massive size, I didn't expect that he would be capable of finding anything in or behind the drawer. </div>
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Was he still searching? I couldn't tell! I will say this--I was NOT expecting to see him climb into the drawer! How could this massive 25 pound cat possibly fit the front half of that body in such a small space? I was stunned...but Samson had even more surprises in store, or, um, drawer!</div>
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Samson started nudging at the top drawer, then sliding into the bottom drawer, working on both drawers at the same time to create space--this is one clever cat!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3VwGbciaj-vi2KIZWnXV_s_LfN4IYGzzZtv4-oWdQGQF_Gb2rcGsFvUhjeY0ZxiP6sXpCrvZr2m4pgIg4u7oJewHyRIZJL4FFZOHfoGZYesJydN42MRaKdu32SbVCm5KJxceMdUO7Go/s1600/DSC_1292.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM3VwGbciaj-vi2KIZWnXV_s_LfN4IYGzzZtv4-oWdQGQF_Gb2rcGsFvUhjeY0ZxiP6sXpCrvZr2m4pgIg4u7oJewHyRIZJL4FFZOHfoGZYesJydN42MRaKdu32SbVCm5KJxceMdUO7Go/s320/DSC_1292.JPG" width="204" /></a></div>
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So, he was in the drawer. Or, partially in the drawer. Could he possibly stuff that huge bottom into the drawer?</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cNGN_dLVkflEvfIdvFQtPprXtre4P5ZY2xWDgUKWyWp6dq4fJ3BYcjh9DLPwXa5B9_EaBn7Wk21MXzcUZks9A5EnXR1S-sXjl0clKHsxZ20ieq2SVNVe2iskmqQ_dq8FXEkZzV0obmE/s1600/DSC_1293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cNGN_dLVkflEvfIdvFQtPprXtre4P5ZY2xWDgUKWyWp6dq4fJ3BYcjh9DLPwXa5B9_EaBn7Wk21MXzcUZks9A5EnXR1S-sXjl0clKHsxZ20ieq2SVNVe2iskmqQ_dq8FXEkZzV0obmE/s320/DSC_1293.JPG" width="228" /></a></div>
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He was trying! He seemed to know exactly what needed to be done. He didn't hesitate, he knew where to place his paws, when to move the top drawer out, when to push it in. I still don't know how the drawer above him works with this trick, but it does seem to be necessary for him to move the second drawer while sliding his body into the first. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThKUfnhdiG8jwcAgU0Qc_aaDnMlC9JUQOeeKRVuoYp-fth0G_h43yr9eP2ydZXymCUasm3fUIjQEd8cNsyyMEW1kY9ppb6xmqfSTPg1-epfumdmEgGxcdfiIB7bPGpKbXsIczHTqXq4M/s1600/DSC_1296.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiThKUfnhdiG8jwcAgU0Qc_aaDnMlC9JUQOeeKRVuoYp-fth0G_h43yr9eP2ydZXymCUasm3fUIjQEd8cNsyyMEW1kY9ppb6xmqfSTPg1-epfumdmEgGxcdfiIB7bPGpKbXsIczHTqXq4M/s320/DSC_1296.JPG" width="228" /></a></div>
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He did it! I almost wanted to clap, but I still couldn't figure out why the empty drawer would slide in and out! I had to figure this out. It was after midnight and I'd already wasted two hours watching this sneaky creature. There wasn't a chance that I would go to bed before figuring out the mystery.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EffvulTNnlHxttBLw-7a9uTVPQNOcl19xCE-nfYS6KNw6GMhVxN93YJl6ULnlh7oNx9jNc5G53sO14GbVzC3IY0_3Rh2CsFaToFexL5lZciZcUmLsTHkb7auLdhoPQtRJT5vZJC-w20/s1600/DSC_1213.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_EffvulTNnlHxttBLw-7a9uTVPQNOcl19xCE-nfYS6KNw6GMhVxN93YJl6ULnlh7oNx9jNc5G53sO14GbVzC3IY0_3Rh2CsFaToFexL5lZciZcUmLsTHkb7auLdhoPQtRJT5vZJC-w20/s320/DSC_1213.JPG" width="304" /></a></div>
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And like the snap of my fingers, the drawer was empty. I didn't even see it happen. One second I was staring at his huge bottom stuffed in the drawer, the next he had completely disappeared...and the bottom drawer was slowly sliding in and out. I pushed it in, he pushed it back out. </div>
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So, part of the mystery was solved--this gigantic feline somehow manages to climb behind the drawer and taunt the other animals by pushing the drawer in and out. I still don't know how he gets back out of the drawer, or even why he does this, but anyone who is owned by a cat knows that there is no explanation for their behavior. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8gbIR4r7coW-LvNgnl3oO9ZIMmMfJstVJfN1g1HqJxZQ5WmTj47L9IqG4z__jDYUqyuhHJRdJWin__gXLPLGa1nKogDAExiAZtTYBwN22kteYHDonXx_8-0L-EX2r5NGpbZeF_lz_1E/s1600/chewy12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhn8gbIR4r7coW-LvNgnl3oO9ZIMmMfJstVJfN1g1HqJxZQ5WmTj47L9IqG4z__jDYUqyuhHJRdJWin__gXLPLGa1nKogDAExiAZtTYBwN22kteYHDonXx_8-0L-EX2r5NGpbZeF_lz_1E/s320/chewy12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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However, I did show the pictures to Chewy and explained to him that the kitchen is not haunted. When I told him he was being tricked by a cat, well, let's just say he was not amused...</div>
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<i>In memory of Samson. You will always be a part of our family and your playful soul will always be a part of my treasured memories. May you rest in peace. </i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-74064723789661484522015-12-15T18:55:00.000-08:002015-12-16T04:25:27.472-08:00Chihuahuas in Winter<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXHx6nqTH80zn4Dr4U0Rqi6lrkviTo6ZOLP61e7IA1DoIneH4VswcxAhx7sUtC9o1SYL1dwZCX31ZdgG4z5fHCmh5xx9oyc2lwd8e3EKSYCnbIjVBMEScsgveVeunxaJ8SHp2JHfShjk/s1600/chewincoat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBXHx6nqTH80zn4Dr4U0Rqi6lrkviTo6ZOLP61e7IA1DoIneH4VswcxAhx7sUtC9o1SYL1dwZCX31ZdgG4z5fHCmh5xx9oyc2lwd8e3EKSYCnbIjVBMEScsgveVeunxaJ8SHp2JHfShjk/s320/chewincoat.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua in his cool-weather sweater. Photo by D.S. Dollman. </i></div>
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Chihuahuas are one of the oldest and smallest dog breeds known to man. They are believed to have originated in Mexico and are named after the State of Chihuahua in Mexico. Even when they are born and raised in northern parts of the world, chihuahuas still require special care during the cold. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hM0tFZc-JbvUzzYVeTsgBUag55sjeq7D3KBm8Qkp_DWMe1HOhXikh2Y9rSbEoGirjXvoJgzFrB-QEGIV0LQEWD9IhyphenhyphenfHP1sr3cEXaQpIZefPsn1mXQqKQ7YOlk-ypP9d2ZbIpJvU_3w/s1600/chewy11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6hM0tFZc-JbvUzzYVeTsgBUag55sjeq7D3KBm8Qkp_DWMe1HOhXikh2Y9rSbEoGirjXvoJgzFrB-QEGIV0LQEWD9IhyphenhyphenfHP1sr3cEXaQpIZefPsn1mXQqKQ7YOlk-ypP9d2ZbIpJvU_3w/s320/chewy11.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the chihuahua participating in his favorite pastime--sleeping. Note the size of his paws--they are dangerously small. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Keeping in mind that their paws are the size of bird feet, it's important to keep those tiny chihuahua paws warm and dry. If you live in a cold weather state, try to find little booties for your chihuahua. You may need to search for these online--to be honest, I've never found them in a store. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNNhz-oPadgTtGaWcHsF5sHU_2ert8em-wXmjjM6ZFEvhUXmwri__hW63Q2FRwPN-S-Lz27X53jxUy1ugGR0Ap_UnDSUeRBYpNeIepgp8kTZv21uGNsPLH8ZIQ_7ix7nRaxzIRaUh7cw/s1600/chew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWNNhz-oPadgTtGaWcHsF5sHU_2ert8em-wXmjjM6ZFEvhUXmwri__hW63Q2FRwPN-S-Lz27X53jxUy1ugGR0Ap_UnDSUeRBYpNeIepgp8kTZv21uGNsPLH8ZIQ_7ix7nRaxzIRaUh7cw/s320/chew.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua in his "Born to be Bad" hoodie. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Chewy the Chihuahua spent most of his life in Texas and the desert of New Mexico, but now that he lives in Colorado he always wears a sweater or jacket and is carried outside when he needs to go. If possible, he is placed on a dry or cleared spot for just a minute so he can get the job done, then carried back inside and wrapped in a blanket until he is warm again. </div>
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Sweaters and jackets, like the one Chewy the Chihuahua is wearing in the above photo, are very important, even when the weather is slightly cold. It doesn't matter if the chihuahua is only outside for a short period of time. Even a few minutes in the snow and ice is too much for a chihuahua. It is much easier to find sweaters and jackets for chihuahuas than it is to find booties, but if you know of a source for small dog boots or shoes, please share the information in the comments section. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9lQEAiPfoxNJ3URAotP8yT-lp3xJPCM3KBGERiyb5K1n6c-6zG39nTWEADxcl-z_Kr4XGCpJPd4CcecSR1NbBZQfAcuExtYl-38qB1znwXw3ps5gcLsVlNVy7WxZjv1GoUJwopel4ng/s1600/chewy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik9lQEAiPfoxNJ3URAotP8yT-lp3xJPCM3KBGERiyb5K1n6c-6zG39nTWEADxcl-z_Kr4XGCpJPd4CcecSR1NbBZQfAcuExtYl-38qB1znwXw3ps5gcLsVlNVy7WxZjv1GoUJwopel4ng/s320/chewy.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua in his Pink Cadillac. Photo by D.S. Dollman. </i></div>
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When walking your chihuahua during the winter season, you can also wrap him or her in a dog blanket as shown above. If you already own a chihuahua, you know they can be a bit stubborn. For instance, although Chewy the Chihuahua is sporting his favorite blue leash, he has refused for six years now to learn how to walk by my side. When I try to walk him on a leash he falls onto his back and makes pitiful howling sounds, drawing a huge crowd of neighbors who stare at the poor creature as if he is being abused. So, Chewy takes his walks in my granddaughter's old pink stroller, and in the wintertime he "walks" with a sweater or jacket and double blankets. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyVStsGYPEnS-8oOl58F_IKR2ofB2y5-Tz__xWVoJYnLML_iH3Z_0h2vb6bf2z-dcAUkHQIuw1zeIYdsTkRAazlEpHikku9Th3qTPpVkOj4dlSroeRz32it2Nj9ZybYvTBzRnvpTSAXQ/s1600/chewy9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzyVStsGYPEnS-8oOl58F_IKR2ofB2y5-Tz__xWVoJYnLML_iH3Z_0h2vb6bf2z-dcAUkHQIuw1zeIYdsTkRAazlEpHikku9Th3qTPpVkOj4dlSroeRz32it2Nj9ZybYvTBzRnvpTSAXQ/s320/chewy9.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua tucked in for his afternoon nap. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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If you keep your house at a temperature lower than the recommended 68 degrees your dog will burrow beneath the blankets. You may want to consider providing your chihuahua with his or her own blankets if you're uncomfortable having a mouth full of dog hair. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALiXw5uO_rJHAxrKWs5F1hZElko0lfu9jMyFliQ9DlB5c-kb1G_IEfjmbuJ20Phr1Yt5WCAnrxyZT2sjaYiWoT95kUl6a7W9ttML9O414lztgpWV32q__uDtTx0X88vVCAETIkRiqWWY/s1600/chewy5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjALiXw5uO_rJHAxrKWs5F1hZElko0lfu9jMyFliQ9DlB5c-kb1G_IEfjmbuJ20Phr1Yt5WCAnrxyZT2sjaYiWoT95kUl6a7W9ttML9O414lztgpWV32q__uDtTx0X88vVCAETIkRiqWWY/s320/chewy5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua in his favorite blanket, which I purchased in Cancun, Mexico. Although it is doubtful that Chewy ever vacationed in Cancun, he does prefer this blanket. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Chewy prefers the warm, heavy blankets from Mexico--his country of origin--as shown above, but if there's a warm blanket available he will burrow all the way to the foot of the bed, regardless of where it was made.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoDYXy_vss3_LjsBDbKzuHW-oyhNR7RWGX4s1zgJtWAULgqclaJOydHoGGZ3EicaQDOjBYQC6sNpp6GXL4JaIcdeZyN3_-CXyTmpI1LdylKhnqfgGujOBOiIJTBhc6oPH-uR6BS8HfbI/s1600/chewy6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoDYXy_vss3_LjsBDbKzuHW-oyhNR7RWGX4s1zgJtWAULgqclaJOydHoGGZ3EicaQDOjBYQC6sNpp6GXL4JaIcdeZyN3_-CXyTmpI1LdylKhnqfgGujOBOiIJTBhc6oPH-uR6BS8HfbI/s320/chewy6.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the chihuahua burrowing. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAoX9dZqAcMEL0E3E9xHVcwgK2oJt9JdKvoiuyNAFyHgcnmYZiEcZYi1-WTa8_aMbqS5bBRhXQGC2kOl3gtmoNjQw9azzQH2PDdkGzmRhcENsRlwBwUiBEQscLHxEz9xZc783rPU_pSE/s1600/chewy2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAoX9dZqAcMEL0E3E9xHVcwgK2oJt9JdKvoiuyNAFyHgcnmYZiEcZYi1-WTa8_aMbqS5bBRhXQGC2kOl3gtmoNjQw9azzQH2PDdkGzmRhcENsRlwBwUiBEQscLHxEz9xZc783rPU_pSE/s320/chewy2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua demonstrating the Chewito. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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In the above photos, Chewy the Chihuahua demonstrates what is known as "burrowing," or in my family, what is know as creating a Chewy Burrito, or Chewito. Burrowing is part of their nature. They were bred to burrow and kill rodents. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj2OeA3cESmDX0Hi_cPn2FtTWJUBXpEV4KutFqsBc6RBU4nACXYtsqK-PXBEbJZQGrxBmo50-IVySkQJtJzNehOhFFP-bDaTXwtwhzDfWKmOMPXyZg4e5K1eTMSsG6P66o8V2t7IoXN0/s1600/chewy10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="269" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBj2OeA3cESmDX0Hi_cPn2FtTWJUBXpEV4KutFqsBc6RBU4nACXYtsqK-PXBEbJZQGrxBmo50-IVySkQJtJzNehOhFFP-bDaTXwtwhzDfWKmOMPXyZg4e5K1eTMSsG6P66o8V2t7IoXN0/s320/chewy10.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy wrapped in a matching yellow sheet ensemble. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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It is pretty much impossible to keep chihuahuas off the bed unless they are kenneled, and they do train to kennel quite easily. I prefer to use my chihuahua as a foot warmer, but he does have a habit of stealing my warm spot on the bed--as shown above--as soon as I stand up. </div>
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Keep in mind that there are other odd habits that may develop from allowing your chihuahua on the bed. Chewy will only eat at night, after I have gone to bed, and he will only eat on my bed--gross as that sounds, I think this is because the larger dogs in my house tend to eat his share of the food. I've tried feeding him on the floor, but he is not the Alpha animal in our pack and will he walk away from his food to allow my female chocolate lab, Holly, to eat it instead (I think he has a crush, but that's another story). </div>
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When Chewy does eat, he picks one kibble out at a time out of the bowl and drops it on the bed. Then he attacks the kibble; sometimes growls at it and scratches at it until it starts to roll on the comforter, then chases it or jumps on the bed so it pops up in the air so he can attack it again. If he loses that one kibble during the process, in spite of the fact that there's still 20 more kibbles waiting patiently to play in his bowl, he will desperately search the bed; or the floor; or nudge me out of the way to search beneath my pillow or dodge the slap of the cat and nudge the cat out of the way to search beneath the cat until he finds that one precious missing kibble. There's a lesson in there somewhere about gratitude.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBBwsDVbPAzNNvXDScTyIAEQOnJwHAQqbV-lR4f4trchnbPW5M2Dop-W1QKipbNeuh5rnvNrRPFa-cfczgY8OOj2nC0hdAJc-14Qnx1bA8FHg9hXIM0oMFUCGtHQ6ElNXChRryKRIjVQ/s1600/chewy3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaBBwsDVbPAzNNvXDScTyIAEQOnJwHAQqbV-lR4f4trchnbPW5M2Dop-W1QKipbNeuh5rnvNrRPFa-cfczgY8OOj2nC0hdAJc-14Qnx1bA8FHg9hXIM0oMFUCGtHQ6ElNXChRryKRIjVQ/s320/chewy3.jpg" width="315" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy showing his smile of gratitude. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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This is one grateful dog. As a child, when I refused to eat my liver and onions my mother often reminded me of the starving people in foreign countries. One of the interesting aspects of rescuing an animal is you don't know anything about its past, but it is highly probable that Chewy's mother was equally conscientious about the hungry pups wandering the streets of this world--Chewy knows the value of those tiny pieces of kibble!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KzcYBxEc8Fm8JMdlwjNbiLow6SdmT3foeAI2K-qYAlVRMiejH9R_3XUILws8cKucXEyz31yhr_RJh9aaA6L0MAbS4aqU9algI3nFta_sZ5VI3q0ScP3UGCxA9sTSB6FsRCblst6PWPM/s1600/chewy4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6KzcYBxEc8Fm8JMdlwjNbiLow6SdmT3foeAI2K-qYAlVRMiejH9R_3XUILws8cKucXEyz31yhr_RJh9aaA6L0MAbS4aqU9algI3nFta_sZ5VI3q0ScP3UGCxA9sTSB6FsRCblst6PWPM/s320/chewy4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua napping. Again. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Once the chihuahua learns he or she is allowed on the bed you may find it difficult to get the dog back off the bed. They are territorial animals and they love to sleep. In spite of his small size, and my king size bed, I often wake up in the middle of the night to find Chewy comfortably ensconced on my pillow while I am clinging to the mattress with my fingernails so I don't fall on the floor. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SRDhQmHjR6EO80qILlcWsF4YyOTOC6P83iQQaR5TptVWzmK_OmyjM1PFGiChlmVj_NkI7Xk8AeahOs-FeBpqbXxuu8La1Xa1XR1QiUEW4_Qp8NOkyEzawMbEZVOPjfMLeo1US5tcxtg/s1600/chewy7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1SRDhQmHjR6EO80qILlcWsF4YyOTOC6P83iQQaR5TptVWzmK_OmyjM1PFGiChlmVj_NkI7Xk8AeahOs-FeBpqbXxuu8La1Xa1XR1QiUEW4_Qp8NOkyEzawMbEZVOPjfMLeo1US5tcxtg/s320/chewy7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua responding to a polite request to move over. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Of course, you could politely request more bed space from the chihuahua, but don't expect an immediate response. As I said before, they do love to sleep. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijlt0gwJ7r8yIgAFGb339r4MUHkHz1otfrNZyucSVVPrOwea8LxhazUciGWLw_KkmOASE2DGfHiotPDXIPJDwIX6OZDv1Hl2uEnU8mm2D6WguWlafocRfcrUFQjLwxtBOaJiHYzyEFGg/s1600/chewy8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhijlt0gwJ7r8yIgAFGb339r4MUHkHz1otfrNZyucSVVPrOwea8LxhazUciGWLw_KkmOASE2DGfHiotPDXIPJDwIX6OZDv1Hl2uEnU8mm2D6WguWlafocRfcrUFQjLwxtBOaJiHYzyEFGg/s320/chewy8.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua still contemplating the request to move over. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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No matter how much your chihuahua may love you--and I'm certain he or she loves you deeply--when it comes to getting out of bed, especially during cold weather, they are rarely responsive. Chewy the Chihuahua has been known to spend the entire day and night in bed when it is snowing or when the harsh spring winds blow, and he must be lifted and carried outside at appropriate times. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyPoAUZITBWBgVyMOsSHe8DB2Lk1KS2lqlfXMJspz8zUwfswcjpnVPTUnFxT2nqWmV3MxjeYoO6GQupqeqX0OzRbJurNg05Qv_4CG6DXA-klvz-9rjRv5_sWNb_SoLmqLIniw3_-Y-xo/s1600/chewy12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipyPoAUZITBWBgVyMOsSHe8DB2Lk1KS2lqlfXMJspz8zUwfswcjpnVPTUnFxT2nqWmV3MxjeYoO6GQupqeqX0OzRbJurNg05Qv_4CG6DXA-klvz-9rjRv5_sWNb_SoLmqLIniw3_-Y-xo/s320/chewy12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua responding to a third request to get out of bed. Photo by D.S. Dollman.</i></div>
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Depending on how cold it is outside, as the pet of a chihuahua one must always be prepared for the response shown in the photo above when repeated requests are made to move from the bed during cold weather. Sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-62746176222877326582015-11-16T12:37:00.000-08:002015-11-16T12:38:16.109-08:00Buddy<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUZCM1cRQbqTTA5cVfR5xgJ-fqtSgQbxh-az3GJ2NPNnOc6oH1ZZrI_z7hhbISMQuSbEe5Ix7-QT06cqFtS0h5RX7KmFJe8qz8laM8FVFcBcpwDw_PdGGk62-2bzTxxgf4EHJfhq30pw/s1600/1525272_10152058886244407_1801735075_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUZCM1cRQbqTTA5cVfR5xgJ-fqtSgQbxh-az3GJ2NPNnOc6oH1ZZrI_z7hhbISMQuSbEe5Ix7-QT06cqFtS0h5RX7KmFJe8qz8laM8FVFcBcpwDw_PdGGk62-2bzTxxgf4EHJfhq30pw/s320/1525272_10152058886244407_1801735075_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Buddy, the most compassionate animal I've ever known. </i></div>
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<i>It has taken me forever to write this, and I still don't know what to say. </i></div>
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<i>Two months ago I started working on a very long post about Buddy, the most compassionate animal I've ever known. Three weeks ago, around bedtime, Buddy started acting strange. </i></div>
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<i>I Googled his symptoms and the only posts that came up, time after time, were poisoning. I called the vet and the vet tech agreed that he most likely was poisoned--accidentally or intentionally--but without the poison there was no way to test him and find out how it happened or how to help him. The vet tech repeatedly told me--every hour until 4:20 a.m.--that she did not want to wake up the vet, and that Buddy would most likely vomit the toxin and "he will be just find in the morning" due to his large size. Finally, at 4:02 a.m. another vet tech told me that there would be little they could do for him, that he would most likely be fine in the morning, that "everyone likes to think of their animals as family, Honey," which naturally rubbed me the wrong way as I am a educated, intelligent grandmother who was watching my best friend die in my granddaughter's arms, then he told me that if I insisted I "could" bring Buddy in, but it would be up to the vet whether or not she would do anything to help him. </i></div>
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<i>Twenty minutes later he fell asleep, sighed deeply, then died. He was in his bed, at home, surrounded by his pack who all ran to his side. His sister licked his face and cried. The chihuahua nudged his back. Baby, the desert dog, head-butted him, trying to wake him up. </i></div>
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<i>This is all I can say for now. Buddy remains in my heart, and right now, everything I have to say about him is twisted in a tight ball of pain in my throat. I am working on his story, which I will share at a later date when I can bear the pain. </i></div>
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<i>Buddy's sister, Holly, is still fighting off cancer after two years, which is fantastic for a 17 year old dog, and the pack is comforting each other in their loss. </i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-86214292925623025092015-09-24T01:28:00.001-07:002015-09-24T09:34:15.850-07:00Small Blessings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJEPM9MS0jP92LQ-b-hez1Zlq6NniTIziMb2auN3FrV-I950XdILNpqzMvBnY3HTKcfm7KS3DrKo3Xm2x-284OakcHumwGsZY3pRmEriukwBxvJGIix2gdg2npe95OgiJnD_4PgbNTIc/s1600/_DSC0505.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfJEPM9MS0jP92LQ-b-hez1Zlq6NniTIziMb2auN3FrV-I950XdILNpqzMvBnY3HTKcfm7KS3DrKo3Xm2x-284OakcHumwGsZY3pRmEriukwBxvJGIix2gdg2npe95OgiJnD_4PgbNTIc/s320/_DSC0505.JPG" width="289" /></a></div>
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<i>Layla Lou, the queen of my bunny herd, has a broken leg, but she's fat and sassy and happy as can be hanging out with the rest of the bunny family. (Yes, a group of bunnies is called a herd!) </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0B1Od6uAmXlPBYj6BlVSUE2M6P4JcbcDN0VH8dZM2hUYsc34E7mVcgW3EN6sJysPiWM9jJwcO6FXIpKE_bBItsxths3SWtbdLtv1rCJXEfW-71BOB9orhrKuk5TSWy7Ol8TJDXlONlU/s1600/_DSC0215.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc0B1Od6uAmXlPBYj6BlVSUE2M6P4JcbcDN0VH8dZM2hUYsc34E7mVcgW3EN6sJysPiWM9jJwcO6FXIpKE_bBItsxths3SWtbdLtv1rCJXEfW-71BOB9orhrKuk5TSWy7Ol8TJDXlONlU/s320/_DSC0215.JPG" width="268" /></a></div>
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<i>Chewy the chihuahua loves posing for pictures...when he's not barking at squirrels, neighbors, the neighbor's dogs, fire engines...</i></div>
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I'm in Loveland now. It's been a long three months with many trials and tests of faith, but I'm learning who my true friends are and who to turn to in my family when I need help the most, and that's an important lesson. </div>
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I've also learned there is great value in having a house full of little creatures. While it may be true that they're a lot of work, and they certainly can do damage sometimes, they greet me each day with unconditional love and what I believe is a deep-felt compassion. </div>
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<i>Skipper is the trouble maker in my bunny herd. His adorable looks are deceiving! He likes to make me chase him around the yard. I know he enjoys the chase because he occasionally pauses to leap into the air and smack his two hind legs together, which is rather comical to watch. This is his "Who, me?" expression, which is the one he uses the most. </i></div>
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Each day I find myself growing closer to these animals who share my home. They have unique personalities, but they are all so loving toward me and each other. </div>
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Late in the evening when the sun begins to set is now my favorite part of the day because the animals become more active and I love to spend this time sitting in the backyard watching them at play. For some people this may seem like a waste of time, but those of us who are spiritual find tremendous joy in small blessings such as time to sit and watch the world around us. Watching my animals at play is a peaceful way to end the day and it gives me the opportunity to remind myself of how truly grateful I am to have these blessed little creatures in my life. </div>
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<i>Buddy and Holly cuddling on the floor after Holly's cancer surgery. It may be difficult to see, but Holly is actually smiling. She is happy to be home with her brother and always smiles when she's around him. Dogs often smile, and it's such a loving expression. </i></div>
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I've recently found myself researching the topic of animals and emotions (which I will discuss in my next post) even though I know in my heart that they do feel emotions, and that no amount of scientific research can ever truly determine the depth of their emotions or the many ways they express emotions because we speak a different language. It's like the age-old argument over translations of the books of the Bible and which books were included and why and how we'll never really know because we live in different times and even if we do believe we know how to interpret the languages of long ago these interpretations can never be exact. </div>
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I choose to believe that whatever we are missing in translations of ancient writings are actually far more profound than we could ever imagine, and believe the same about the emotions of animals--they feel, think, and express themselves in ways that if we were ever able to discover the exact truth of what they are feeling and saying we would be stunned and amazed. </div>
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<i>When Baby puts his head down like this it may appear to someone who doe</i><i>sn't know him as if he is depressed, but this is actually how he lies down when he is feeling sleepy and content. In fact, after I took this photo I walked up to scratch behind his ears and he flipped over onto his back and started rolling on his bed, then held still with his paws in the air--his signal that he wants a belly rub.</i><br />
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I've also spent much more time with my rabbits. I deliberately rearranged my home so this could happen--I've always believed it is senseless and somewhat mean to have pets in your home if you don't intend to spend time with them. So, I moved the rabbit hutches into a shed in my backyard so it would be easier to clean their living spaces and so they could play outside then jump back into their cages if they feel uncomfortable for any reason. I also had them each spayed and neutered so they could play together without fighting and the result is amazing.<br />
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The only problem animal is the smallest animal, my grandson's rabbit, Black Bat. He is the father of the two bunnies pictured below. He is a Netherland Dwarf and absolutely adorable. He is smart and easily trained and the grandchildren love to set him in the middle of a line of stuffed animals because he holds very still and it's difficult to tell which animal is the live one. Unfortunately, his two sons, Skippy (the white rabbit) and Hoppy (the black and white) attack him whenever he is outside. I still put him outside, but I remove one of the cages from the top of the hutches and keep him enclosed so his sons cannot get to him. They are shockingly aggressive toward him and I wish I could figure out why because it's so much fun to watch the rabbits run and play in the yard, but poor little Black Bat has to sit and watch, too, from his enclosure. <br />
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<i>Brothers Skippy (white) and Hoppy (black and white) spend most of their day together or with their mother, Layla Lou. They enjoy lying around in the grass and when the sun begins to set they will return to the rabbit barn and jump into their own cages. However, if I am running errands and try to put them in their hutches early, they make me run around the yard for at least half an hour chasing them down. I call them my personal trainers. </i></div>
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Pet care can be expensive. I have three animals over 16 years old--my cat, Niblet, and the chocolate lab twins, Buddy and Holly. My pets cost me nearly three thousand dollars in vet bills this year, mainly because I have two with cancer, one with severe arthritis, and I had all five rabbits spayed and neutered at the same time. However, I recently found a vet in Loveland, Colorado called Twin Peaks Veterinary Clinic that has an insurance plan. When I added up the cost of the required one year agreement I realized it was less than the cost of the last vet appointment for only one of my dogs. I have decided to insure the three oldest dogs because I know they will require the most care over the next few years, but I am grateful to have found the clinic and the vets who work there because they not only will save me a tremendous amount of money, they are also kind, compassionate, and honest when it comes to making decisions about my pets. I highly recommend pet insurance. When I discussed the options with the receptionist she told me they had many clients who were forced to deny procedures or tests, etc., for their animals because they couldn't afford them, but the insurance plan makes a huge difference. </div>
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<i>This is Big Nose Kate (You may recognize the name if you read my Wild West History blog--Big Nose Kate was a famous prostitute in the Old West!) Holly is standing behind her. I'm not sure why, but Holly has decided Big Nose Kate is a fun companion and the two spend a surprising amount of time together. When she is inside, Holly cuddles with her brother, Buddy, but in the daytime she prefers to spend her time in the yard with Kate, following her around or just lying in the grass watching the other rabbits play. Kate is a very large rabbit, larger than Chewy the chihuahua, and I think Holly was originally intrigued by Kate's size and unique appearance, but Holly has slowed down a bit due to her cancer, and Kate moves slower than the other rabbits, too, so perhaps they enjoy spending time together because they both like to lie around in the shady section of the lawn where the grass is cool and soft and they can relax away from the more active animals. </i></div>
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Animals are small blessings that leave big paw prints on the heart, but those who care for animals and understand that our pets are part of the family are blessings, as well. </div>
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<i>(All photos were taken by Darla Sue Dollman and are the property of Darla Sue Dollman. Do not use without permission. Thank you.) </i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-73609517807952401702015-09-02T11:52:00.004-07:002015-09-02T11:52:55.070-07:00There's Always a Rainbow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Bumble Bees on Sunflower.</i></div>
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It's been a difficult year. I lost three family members, two who were just starting out in their loving marriage, and the grieving process was painful. Feeling a deep connection with nature and the cycle of life and death did help, but in this case the losses were so close together and so severe that all I could do was hold onto my grandchildren and animals and remind myself daily to breathe. Just breathe. </div>
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<i>I believe this is an Oriole. Photographed by D.S. Dollman near Carter Lake, Colorado. </i></div>
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I loved living at the lake. My grandchildren and I spent many hours at the lake. We took my two chocolate labs to the dock and they would jump into the freezing water, swim to shore, then jump in again. I was certain they would grow tired of shivering, but they loved the water play and considering they are now 16 years old it really was amazing to watch. </div>
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<i>Buddy and Holly are 16 years old now and Holly is battling cancer, but they still play and love like little puppies. </i></div>
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The Colorado mountains are filled with wildlife, lovely creatures that leave you breathless, and when they finally tired of leaping into the water and allowed me to wrap them in warm towels, the dogs would join us watching the birds sitting on fence posts and the fish leaping from the lake and the small herd of deer that roams among the yards and gardens and in the park. </div>
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<i>Deer photobomb. Photo taken by Darla Sue Dollman near Carter Lake, Colorado.</i></div>
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Eventually, I moved into town so I could live closer to my family. It is a small house, but a cozy fit for cuddling with the grandchildren, four dogs, five rabbits and my cat. </div>
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<i>Chewy the Chihuahua tries to take a selfie while cuddling with me on the couch. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman taken in Loveland, Colorado.</i></div>
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However, I still carried that dream in my heart, the dream of paying it forward to the community to all those people who helped me when I was a single mother by raising goats for goats' milk and chickens for fresh eggs and growing vegetables and herbs to donate to needy families. The yard is small so I decided to work with raised gardens and experiment with vertical gardening. Within a week of moving into the house I planted the seedlings I started up in the mountains, then someone poured an egg and cheese mixture on my plants and the children's playhouse and I had to throw everything away and sterilize the wood. It was yet another blow in a long, painful year. However, as the saying goes, when life gives you lemons make lemonade. I filled the gardens with rabbit droppings and planted sunflowers, which are now 12 or more feet high. I have never in my life seen sunflowers so high and they tower over the six foot fence staring across the neighborhood like guards for my garden. </div>
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<i>Sunflowers tower over my house in Loveland.</i></div>
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In my heart, there is always hope. Sometimes life is so hard that I have to search and search to find that speck of hope, but it is always there. I began to think I would never be able to fulfill my dream of starting a garden and raising animals to help needy families. I tried fund-raising options and they were useless--I was told people prefer to donate to money-making businesses, not charities. Times have changed, but I haven't. I kept praying, seeking an answer for my dream...and it has come. I now have a small farm in a nearby town and will move within the week. It has fruit trees and raised gardens and is fenced and cross fenced for animals. It has a brick barn with electricity and a space where I can build an American Ninja workout gym for the grandchildren. Once again I received help from an unexpected source, and I will show my gratitude by growing food and raising animals and helping others. There is always a rainbow after the rain. </div>
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<i>Rainbow near Carter Lake, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-1726683866799423442014-11-12T00:25:00.001-08:002014-11-12T00:36:45.257-08:00Forecast: Snow<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Does in snow near Carter Lake, Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I'm certain we reached temperatures below zero last night up here by the lake. I was up off and on throughout the night adding firewood to the wood burning stove--it was just so cold! I lived in Colorado 43 years before moving to Texas then New Mexico. I remember, as a child, wondering what the birds and animals do when it's cold outside. Apparently, they do just fine. This handsome buck was lying in a snow bank covered in snow when I drove back up the mountain this afternoon and he seemed perfectly comfortable. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Doe in the snow. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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This is unusually cold weather for this time of year in Colorado, but my neighbors warned me it was coming a few months ago. They said they could tell by the behavior of the wildlife that it would be a cold, early winter. Apparently, they were right! </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Does in snow. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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I think it would be a bit stressful being a deer or elk because they are prey animals--they are vegetarians and do not prey on other animals, but spend their lives looking over their shoulder, trying to keep themselves and their families safe. Humans can be prey animals, too. This can be a dangerous world and I know I've spent far too many years as a prey animal, allowing others to take advantage of me, depending on people to protect me when I know I cannot trust them. When I saw that buck lying in the snow I slowly held my camera to my eye and took his photograph, but when I took the shot I remember thinking--wishing, really--that he should stand up and run because that camera could just as easily have been a gun. He was too trusting. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Buck and Doe in the snow. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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I can't really explain why this bothered me, but it did. I sensed that I could have taken a few steps closer to get even better photos, but I didn't want these lovely creatures to feel comfortable around me because humans prey on others and I wanted these animals to fear me. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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This isn't really a hunting area. Not many people live in the valley and it's empty during the off-season when the lake freezes and the snow falls, but I hear gun shots all the time when my neighbors stand outside their homes and practice. I don't know why the deer and elk come to this valley seeking shelter and safety, but I pray they find it. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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It was cold and windy this afternoon and I almost skipped the firewood run, concerned for my safety on the icy roads. The water moved in strong waves across the lake, but I was fascinated by what looked like clouds coming up from the water, straight up into the air then moving sideways across the road and into the surrounding fields. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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I've always found it interesting how a change in season can create a change in mood in a place such as a field or a lake. A few months earlier I photographed this same piece of land and it looked peaceful, warm, full of life. Now it looks dangerous and foreboding, and considering the forecast of below zero nighttime temperatures and snow that will continue throughout the week I suppose the lake is dangerous right now. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTIQ4pQcizIvxLDerRPUxzjkK6d0cG3So8ysuhtMN3moan7-LdkxPa4FJfvTo0yUwwt1BWRpYbCF8sErrHHgY-y886glAdeeUC8QASrmLKtzbIAH59UPCvVpv65zOThq8qkixWW_UnEw/s1600/the+lake+spooky.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOTIQ4pQcizIvxLDerRPUxzjkK6d0cG3So8ysuhtMN3moan7-LdkxPa4FJfvTo0yUwwt1BWRpYbCF8sErrHHgY-y886glAdeeUC8QASrmLKtzbIAH59UPCvVpv65zOThq8qkixWW_UnEw/s1600/the+lake+spooky.JPG" height="221" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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And yet, there are also times when the darkness and the cold create scenes of great beauty. Colors do not clash in nature, they compliment each other. Humans and animals do both--clash and compliment, especially in relationships. Scenery such as this can be a great metaphor for life.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8Awz5JhpGTji7OHjQGPHZuB0vc8tXTcfGcXvYowLb0SBd3VMYSexhCi258X2Bc6B0OU5H4hI53xjgbV7kOLxRQiI9Px69-HN6srao90jtBFqd7Af74sA_mR5TRniz1yPN2Eq95wRnfk/s1600/dark+eyed+junco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8Awz5JhpGTji7OHjQGPHZuB0vc8tXTcfGcXvYowLb0SBd3VMYSexhCi258X2Bc6B0OU5H4hI53xjgbV7kOLxRQiI9Px69-HN6srao90jtBFqd7Af74sA_mR5TRniz1yPN2Eq95wRnfk/s1600/dark+eyed+junco.JPG" height="241" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dark-Eyed Junco. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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By the time I arrived at my little dome-shaped house it was even darker and colder, but the tiny flock of birds outside my house was still busy searching for the seeds I left out earlier. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwn0pRkXSTUDRDW1eql2KIwKs26mLvXutGVPuF3aFFR3-cxYBOjHQ538KwsWf1Erf9R8a9DE8huZ8V3HYjWLAn_vmKRy2Veh04DJs6ALpGBMuVmD3riAlVDRECYdzBC5FF5uqT6Zxbkss/s1600/chubby+junco.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwn0pRkXSTUDRDW1eql2KIwKs26mLvXutGVPuF3aFFR3-cxYBOjHQ538KwsWf1Erf9R8a9DE8huZ8V3HYjWLAn_vmKRy2Veh04DJs6ALpGBMuVmD3riAlVDRECYdzBC5FF5uqT6Zxbkss/s1600/chubby+junco.JPG" height="291" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Chubby Junco. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></span></div>
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As I watched the tiny birds flying back and forth from beneath my porch it occurred to me that every house I've lived in has had a flock of birds. In Texas it was a mixed flock, but mostly Cardinals and White-Winged Doves. In New Mexico the shrub beside my house was filled with House Sparrows and a variety of Finches. This summer we had Magpies and White-Winged Doves, House Sparrows and Finches.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Dark-Eyed Junco. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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but the Dark-Eyed Juncos arrived late in the fall and they seem to have settled in, living beneath my porch at night where it is warm and safe and sitting in the trees in the daytime, often fluffing up their feathers to keep warm like the one in the photo above. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Dark-Eyed Junco. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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I'm enjoying these little creatures. They are not particularly noisy like House Sparrows, but they are playful, chasing each other around the porch and trees. They seem a bit friendlier, too. I walk past them often on my way to the barn or my truck and they will sit on the fence and stare at me. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dark-Eyed Junco. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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I am not a snow-sports person, but I do love the snow. I love how it looks when it is fresh, untouched, and when it is still falling. I love the quiet, the peaceful feeling that comes over me when I gaze out my window at a flock of birds sitting very still on tree branches as the snow falls around them. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dark-Eyed Juncos. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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I live alone now, but I am not lonely. I feel blessed by the peace and magnificent beauty of this place and I know I will be happy here. </div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Sagebrush in the snow. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-7375512009647394862014-11-10T21:03:00.002-08:002014-11-10T21:03:36.946-08:00Blizzard, Elk, Mountains at Dusk<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokQKK_hUfIVeofclb4EEA6PBdJuCoUDkhNTpnOfMsPWDPaTDCrYqRtf1L6V0_zDhYDqM22dZA_49rr_iZxAiY7WvogboLIbp1eYznhEYhz71qDAQw19Wff8GNHHkrOL2HMLkxL36oCso/s1600/bird+in+tree.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhokQKK_hUfIVeofclb4EEA6PBdJuCoUDkhNTpnOfMsPWDPaTDCrYqRtf1L6V0_zDhYDqM22dZA_49rr_iZxAiY7WvogboLIbp1eYznhEYhz71qDAQw19Wff8GNHHkrOL2HMLkxL36oCso/s1600/bird+in+tree.JPG" height="259" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>I believe this is a Dark-Eyed Junco. Photo taken by Darla Sue Dollman in Berthoud, CO</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">They are lovely little creatures, playful and quick. I believe they are Dark-Eyed Juncos. We had a few of them in our yard in Texas, but never as many as this! They are everywhere in the valley in the mountains near Carter Lake in Colorado.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nloCSweQqoa7g-4L6XH_K9cp-fZ0tzqbjP_bV5h2SmB39XUWxmJ_6Qtzsl3hgo08GsDagefwcl17oy7HWXj05HpXw2EApKajkr6sPf9YpyYivserczb1IoDwNFz6DlAnXVmYKEChg7Y/s1600/bird+in+blizzard.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6nloCSweQqoa7g-4L6XH_K9cp-fZ0tzqbjP_bV5h2SmB39XUWxmJ_6Qtzsl3hgo08GsDagefwcl17oy7HWXj05HpXw2EApKajkr6sPf9YpyYivserczb1IoDwNFz6DlAnXVmYKEChg7Y/s1600/bird+in+blizzard.JPG" height="320" width="298" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Battling the blizzard. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I had to sneak up on this one because the snowfall was so heavy I could not see past my back porch. It is </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">partially brown and its eyes are so dark it is difficult to see them. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEili0XVAE_Re4LvXMOcZl_85D_-_iKD9M8Q1PMIO8RrgOIpyPLxfOHitQi2YVhDq2l5trSZUUOuSokpSMaLFNwXycB8bzK8SJhi9Fg9ntdqn8dWR1uwc22GiysPe0zqCWJKoq4tE_vbFNM/s1600/birds+in+feeder+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEili0XVAE_Re4LvXMOcZl_85D_-_iKD9M8Q1PMIO8RrgOIpyPLxfOHitQi2YVhDq2l5trSZUUOuSokpSMaLFNwXycB8bzK8SJhi9Fg9ntdqn8dWR1uwc22GiysPe0zqCWJKoq4tE_vbFNM/s1600/birds+in+feeder+(2).JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Dark-Eyed Juncos in Feeder. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, but</span><span style="font-size: x-small;"> they are so much fun to watch! They chase each other through the snow and fly between the slats on the back porch. They sit in small groups on my fence, in the two trees that shade my back porch, and when it is not snowing they gather on the roof of the barn. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Dark-Eyed Junco on tree branch. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I hope they find shelter tonight. I turned my canoe on its side in the barn and there are numerous bird houses outside, but I've seen them flying out from beneath the porch and suspect they are finding shelter there for now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Napping in a field near Loveland, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I spotted these three beauties in a field in Loveland, Colorado last night on my way home from buying firewood. </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Elk sunbathing in Loveland, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">I think they are elk, but their antlers look unfamiliar to me. It's difficult to tell when they're lying down! There are many hunting ranches in Texas with animals imported from around the world and killed for sport. Sometimes they escape and it's hard to tell the natives from the fortunate escapees. This is Colorado, though, and I do not believe there are hunting ranches in this area. There are many wildlife rescue facilities, though! </span></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Elk in Loveland, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Elk within city limits can be controversial at times. Tourists and visitors don't always understand that these are not pets, they are wild animals and can be dangerous.</span></div>
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Near Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div>
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I took this photo on the way home last night. It was terribly windy and all of the bird feeders were knocked down from the trees. My welcome mats were scattered as far as the dirt road leading to my home. The wind gusts were 45 to 60 mph. <a href="http://blogs.denverpost.com/weather/2011/12/29/high-wind-a-frequent-guest-in-colorado/98/">Colorado</a> is known for its fierce winds. In fact, Longs Peak holds the record in Colorado for a wind gust of 201 mph that occurred during the winter of 1981, a particularly fierce winter as I recall. Boulder, which is only about half an hour's drive from my home is also one of the windiest cities in the US with wind gusts clocked at 147 mph in 1971.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Near Carter Lake in Berthoud, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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I could tell it would be cold today when I looked at the mountains last night. The sky was filled with thin, wispy clouds and it looked like there were fast winds in the higher elevations. The mountains had a purple tint and already looked cold.</div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><i>Luminescence in the clouds above Lake Loveland, CO. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></span></div>
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It's going to be a chilly winter, but I'm prepared. I've lived in Colorado most of my life and whenever I leave I am homesick. When I lived in Texas and drove home to visit family, as I passed through the Sangre de Christos and into the Colorado Rocky Mountains the sight always brought tears to my eyes. Such magnificent beauty! </div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-75357585953748689302014-07-04T10:34:00.001-07:002014-07-04T10:34:31.523-07:00Colorado: Home at Last<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Deer standing by the road near Carter Lake in Berthoud, Colorado. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I am home. I've now been in Colorado a little over two weeks, spending most of my time unpacking and exploring my new home with my two oldest grandchildren. The house is dome-shaped and reminds me of the house in the movie <i>Tangled</i>--I would love to paint pictures of suns, moons, stars, trees and animals on the triangle-shapes walls. For the moment, though, my energy is all spent on organization and exploring.<br />
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Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</div>
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I was thrilled to discover the neighborhood hawk that lives near my daughter's home is still on his same perch a few blocks from her street. Unfortunately someone is building a subdivision behind my granddaughter's school and I suspect that is where his habitat is, but they are at the base of a mountain so perhaps he has already moved his home to a safer place. </div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I have a barn, and I will need it to complete my dream of raising goats and chickens because there is a mountain lion that has built its den on one of the two mountainsides that line this valley. The valley is packed with deer, rabbits, prairie dogs, and just about every type of bird and bug you can imagine. The deer at the top of the page was crossing the dirt road when I came home with my grandchildren one evening.<br />
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I am intrigued by these orange birds, who seem to be intrigued by me. They flock to the trees when I am planting seeds and bulbs in the backyard and chatter like children, but I can rarely see them as they generally like to hide among the leaves.<br />
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<i>Butterfly Moth. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The Butterfly Moth is a regular visitor. It likes to sit on the screen door in the cool morning hours, disappears when the sun shines down on the top of the house, then returns at some point in the evening. I'm not sure why it likes our screen so much, but I'm fairly certain it is the same Butterfly Moth returning night after night.<br />
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<i>Carter Lake in Berthoud, Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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The grandchildren and I walked down to Carter Lake this afternoon for a picnic. We played in the water, which is very deep and cold from spring run-off so we didn't do much more than stand on the rocks on the water's edge. I can't wait to get my canoe up here, or a sailboat. The lake is perfect for sailing.<br />
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<i>One of my garden visitors. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I was planting sunflowers this afternoon when I heard the sound of pounding feet. I know most of my neighbors already and quite a few of them walk early in the morning, but this sounded like running so I assumed it was animals.<br />
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I slowly turned around and the running stopped. I found myself facing two young deer with fuzz still on their antlers. I was told there are no squirrels because the mountain lion eats them, but I have plenty of corn that I will now set out for the deer. Unfortunately, they had wandered into a neighbor's pasture by the time I grabbed my camera, but I did manage to get a few photos of the pair. I also took a great picture of the neighborhood Turkey Vulture flying past my house!<br />
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<i>The neighborhood Turkey Vulture. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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It's been cool and breezy since I came here, except inside where it is hot in the daytime and cool at night, typical of Colorado. At last, I am home.<br />
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-27626535679482079192014-06-08T12:27:00.001-07:002014-06-08T12:27:34.780-07:00Colorado, Here I Come! <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Horsetooth Mountain, one of the most famous landmarks in Northern Colorado. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Just a short note to let you know I am moving, which explains the long delay in posts--selling, buying, and moving to another state is a time-consuming process, but by the end of the week I will be living in a small town in Northern Colorado</div>
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I will be living closer to my family and friends and where I also attended and taught at the local universities. I lived in Colorado most of my life. I love Colorado and I am fascinated by its wildlife, landscape, weather and history. If you notice a change in my posts, a few more focusing on Pronghorn Antelope; hawks; American Bald Eagles, and the wild and crazy weather of Colorado, now you know why! You've seen them before when I visit my family. You will see more. </div>
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I'm going home. </div>
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If you study a particular topic regarding the little creatures of Colorado that you'd like to suggest, or if you would like to guest blog or trade guest blogs, please contact me at dsdollman@yahoo.com.</div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-5389836102664409422014-05-20T12:40:00.003-07:002014-05-20T12:47:38.950-07:00Roadrunner Revisited: Local Couple Fetching Dinner<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Roadrunner in Rio Rancho, New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Shortly after I posted on roadrunners my husband and I were driving down our street and spotted a roadrunner couple hunting for food. This time of year they most likely have a small brood waiting in their nest for some food. (Actually, by the time I post this they are probably teaching their three to six babies how to hunt.</div>
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<i>Roadrunner behind tall grass in Rio Rancho, New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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As I discussed before, I refer to the roadrunner as a "humane" hunter because it captures its prey so quickly the creature doesn't even know what happened, then it smacks the head of its prey on the ground, killing it instantly or at least knocking it unconscious before eating it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAI_DmuFQlzIUFqDseQxZXSGfuCfj20T7MfuMAliKByzyvQDfLaQOEn2c_z80GcIy608iEHlrTjPjClwWaLGcgsvcZYuWR5oZq-5c2FybY-8JqznmMBEmDHrfYrsnCsLPVc8bmJQnYFM/s1600/roadrunner7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAI_DmuFQlzIUFqDseQxZXSGfuCfj20T7MfuMAliKByzyvQDfLaQOEn2c_z80GcIy608iEHlrTjPjClwWaLGcgsvcZYuWR5oZq-5c2FybY-8JqznmMBEmDHrfYrsnCsLPVc8bmJQnYFM/s1600/roadrunner7.jpg" height="254" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>In this picture you see the Roadrunner leaping from a wall to catch a bug. This is how its wings and tail appear from behind. They can fly, but generally only fly short distances to escape a predator or catch prey. They can leap six feet in the air to capture hummingbirds. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Roadrunners eat just about anything, including scorpions, which we greatly appreciated when we lived in Texas as we had a horrible infestation of Tree Bark Scorpions in our house. I often found two or more each day scampering across the floor and our last night in the house before moving to New Mexico, one climbed into my pajamas and stung me four times. Although I knew they were hunting our precious lizards and hummingbirds, as well, Roadrunners were always a welcome sight around our home. Here in New Mexico I generally see them eating lizards and small birds, like finches and sparrows. </div>
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<i>Roadrunner siting on brick wall with lizard in its mouth. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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On this day, both the male and female Roadrunner were lucky--they both caught a lizard within minutes of each other. In New Mexico they seem more comfortable with people so they did not run off when they saw me taking their picture. In fact, this one seemed to be posing with his catch. </div>
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<i>In this photo you can see the Roadrunners beautiful green tail. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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After years of drought we did have severe flooding in the Rio Grande Valley this past year, which I think is why we have so many baby lizards, swallowtails, baby house finches, swallows and sparrows, and bees. Oddly, we've also been swarmed with tan camo-colored grasshoppers. I generally associate grasshoppers with drought. The grasshopper timing is perfect for the birds, though, as they have plenty to eat! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfnciDoJHcG7HIO8EuqanuU7wZALZDrMvn1EJ4GY12HM-T9jAQrNZloRM-Rjk6DWDexKhyphenhyphensre7okmV1ncZatvpcbTJdJUMX6acVCYQF_E62amwRvCdxA5qqRLXu4iU4pG5NPX_wjOrsE/s1600/roadrunner8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQfnciDoJHcG7HIO8EuqanuU7wZALZDrMvn1EJ4GY12HM-T9jAQrNZloRM-Rjk6DWDexKhyphenhyphensre7okmV1ncZatvpcbTJdJUMX6acVCYQF_E62amwRvCdxA5qqRLXu4iU4pG5NPX_wjOrsE/s1600/roadrunner8.jpg" height="276" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>I like this photo (so I saved it for last) because it shows the magnificent colors of the Roadrunner. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8685402180262067476.post-75441475907550966232014-05-03T13:25:00.002-07:002014-05-05T15:30:18.765-07:00Roadrunner: Beep Beep!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0-SgcBJ-4Eb5sDEG9MQsGDZV6RNbwxaXZLRtqT4aGaKCqgY13mtpemXeRci_TPP5a9gy0mxutb92JCemG_bFa2RB2hPL-CYmnMg2dlliMIZajfUg9J4MDEts7tTPoCqlUZNaahb0saY/s1600/road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM0-SgcBJ-4Eb5sDEG9MQsGDZV6RNbwxaXZLRtqT4aGaKCqgY13mtpemXeRci_TPP5a9gy0mxutb92JCemG_bFa2RB2hPL-CYmnMg2dlliMIZajfUg9J4MDEts7tTPoCqlUZNaahb0saY/s1600/road.jpg" height="315" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Our neighborhood Roadrunner. He's a funny little critter, bold and ambitious. He often jumps the wall, runs right behind me, snags a bird and leaps back over the wall before the dogs and I even have a chance to think of moving. I suspect he is a teenager, hides out in the arroyos in the morning playing chicken with his friends. "I'll bet I can run past all four dogs in that yard over the wall and snag a sparrow!" Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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<i>This post is dedicated to my grandson, Timothy Jack. He's a bit young to have a favorite animal, so I chose one that I thought would make him laugh, since T.J. is always smiling!</i></div>
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I fell in love with Roadrunners the first time I saw one standing in front of our house looking for lizards. It moved its head slowly, carefully, as if it was trying to be invisible through lack of movement, but everyone in the front of the house knew he was there--it was completely silent. Not even a flit of a hummingbird--Road Runners can leap six feet in the air and catch a hummingbird in mid-flight. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUyEbS3jFRbFivNJLdW9n02TVVD9It3t60UfYPSXGl3sWbZX7LbnLPnXGihMkrNZUutBpMcLWQuE8dj9qgwdcOnbjBR7UTMhWAuh35mTQj_XuV_BHGVnIMySUKR1pfEFWs15mmBAtG0U/s1600/roadrunner3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTUyEbS3jFRbFivNJLdW9n02TVVD9It3t60UfYPSXGl3sWbZX7LbnLPnXGihMkrNZUutBpMcLWQuE8dj9qgwdcOnbjBR7UTMhWAuh35mTQj_XuV_BHGVnIMySUKR1pfEFWs15mmBAtG0U/s1600/roadrunner3.jpg" height="250" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Roadrunner in Albuquerque. New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Suddenly it darted straight forward, literally with lightning speed, and snagged an anole lizard off the front of our house. Just as quickly, the bird slammed the lizard's head onto the cement, killing it instantly. </div>
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<i>Roadrunner in New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I call Roadfunners "humane Hunters." It must be terrifying to find yourself in the beak of a predator knowing you're about to be eaten, but Roadrunners are not into torture. They quickly release their prey from that misery with a swift smack on the head. </div>
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<i>This bird likes to meet my husband for lunch. He knows when my husband has his break and shows up in the parking lot begging for scraps. Roadrunners are opportunistic eaters and apparently enjoyed peanut butter and jelly. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Roadrunners are in the Cuckoo family. There are two kinds, the Greater Roadrunner and Lesser Roadrunner. The Greater Road Runner lives in the American Southwest. The Lesser Roadrunner can be found in Mexico and Central America. The Roadrunner (Geococcyx) is also known as a Chaparral Bird and a Chaparral Cock. </div>
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<i>Roadrunner in Kingsland, Texas. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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According to the Cornell Lab of Ornithology Roadrunners can "can outrace a human [they've been clocked at 20 mph], kill a rattlesnake, and thrive in the harsh landscapes of the Desert Southwest." I've seen them do all of these things, although I've also noticed that the Roadrunners that came out of the forest near our home in Texas were much more shy than the Roadrunners living near our home in New Mexico. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQAXMy_olfr4vpRYG1QQDvMP9hSLGgGuiioHbMdmxyvpprYQjztyfpS0i_eDgO3Z3Po49qqa6eiYTR4zCv6O4TW3D2xbYzvefBwrGAbagTziGSq40ibOO6gFFdFJaGjFTQDPHKJHJMcM/s1600/road7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipQAXMy_olfr4vpRYG1QQDvMP9hSLGgGuiioHbMdmxyvpprYQjztyfpS0i_eDgO3Z3Po49qqa6eiYTR4zCv6O4TW3D2xbYzvefBwrGAbagTziGSq40ibOO6gFFdFJaGjFTQDPHKJHJMcM/s1600/road7.jpg" height="318" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Road runner in Kingsland, Texas. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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One day, a few years back, I was having a garage sale and it was packed! Most of the shoppers were in my driveway. I was talking to a neighbor when we suddenly noticed everyone was stepping back and to the side and laughing. That's when I saw the Roadrunner strolling between the shoppers, looking for food. He must have thought it was a party! </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxGfBB0nBFR9TMB_BNNDXc9lGcywazVtsdGA8g3a3VfcG8SKPaQlyTIzexVaXHJwM-Gi9EdCc0zwg2xaIpH_bdwPDB7DH3Id9aScZoU0WruXyX1dg4AHoNHBH4NhWSOUTuAdRxbxeuEA/s1600/roadrunner4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaxGfBB0nBFR9TMB_BNNDXc9lGcywazVtsdGA8g3a3VfcG8SKPaQlyTIzexVaXHJwM-Gi9EdCc0zwg2xaIpH_bdwPDB7DH3Id9aScZoU0WruXyX1dg4AHoNHBH4NhWSOUTuAdRxbxeuEA/s1600/roadrunner4.jpg" height="320" width="234" /></a></div>
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<i>Roadrunner stopping by the garage sale in Rio Rancho New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Our neighborhood Roadrunner also enjoys sitting in my shrub. He resembles a child hiding his head under a pillow with his bottom sticking up in the air shouting "You can't see me!" </div>
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<i>Roadrunner hiding in the shrub beside our house. He is surprisingly successful at snagging small birds and I have no idea why as he is clearly seen! Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. </i></div>
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Yes, he is very obvious when he sits in our shrub! Lol! </div>
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<i>Roadrunner hiding in our shrub. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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I think the best experience we had with roadrunners was one spring in Texas when our house roadrunner showed up in the forest section in front of our house with his mate and a juvenile. They were teaching the baby to hunt, and they were diligent, firm, cautious--they will fly, but prefer to sprint to avoid predators, and do this well. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZFoF23z2iqhTVlnTw-l5qKA-xDq2OXGx4fB95BxpHmeJq2ILQ2VfAXcMfyU2rNEST5lTVMMQVBaCpe209mnyOna0sqPK8AsnLhOWTGw4yIeOMP0t_Kz4Xv5X_rmiO-RZx7UNuDCMVSs/s1600/roadrunner2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilZFoF23z2iqhTVlnTw-l5qKA-xDq2OXGx4fB95BxpHmeJq2ILQ2VfAXcMfyU2rNEST5lTVMMQVBaCpe209mnyOna0sqPK8AsnLhOWTGw4yIeOMP0t_Kz4Xv5X_rmiO-RZx7UNuDCMVSs/s1600/roadrunner2.jpg" height="303" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Roadrunner in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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They moved slowly so the baby could keep up and this gave me the perfect opportunity to study them. I watched them from the window, admiring their fancy head dress, long legs and strong feet, and their beak that resembles that of the curve-billed thrashers that live in our yard here in New Mexico. I could see a patch behind each eye with shades of blue and red. Most of the time their tails were closed, but once the smaller bird opened its tail that had white tips.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjS0H2Jk8SBP2kr05HMZ7YtqReMyU6zLSbk3jlSWZEmm-G2hqhFgXTswZjwDgDN3qELrr9WI3F3lEsIuWrPQ-7zhL7VuC_wpAPGeR3utZzUOOwMGHHyNnG6wLBevoeZrq3lxM5l5yTBw/s1600/roadrunner4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqjS0H2Jk8SBP2kr05HMZ7YtqReMyU6zLSbk3jlSWZEmm-G2hqhFgXTswZjwDgDN3qELrr9WI3F3lEsIuWrPQ-7zhL7VuC_wpAPGeR3utZzUOOwMGHHyNnG6wLBevoeZrq3lxM5l5yTBw/s1600/roadrunner4.jpg" height="271" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Roadrunner in Albuquerque, New Mexico. This spoiled little creature lives next to a chiropractor's office and the employees in the building bring snacks every day for his brood. </i></div>
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<i>Photo by Darla Sue Dollman.</i></div>
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Roadrunners live year round in the same place where they breed and raise their young, so when I speak possessively of these birds, there is a reason. It really is "the neighborhood bird" or "my backyard bird." They have an elaborate courtship display of dipping and bowing, then mate for life. They build their nests on a platform of sticks on a low tree or cactus. They have two to six eggs in a clutch and take turns keeping them warm. Their young leave the nest at two to three weeks old for hunting lessons. Watching that hunting lesson was one of the greatest animal experiences I had in Texas. The parents were so loving and careful. They are beautiful creatures. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYItQDws1npYlddBq2zZ0rw1U0Mmwa2cMsjPzTMxc97-O5cBe0qeqpKPvH0EH8Idx3h09Vo44X467jxuVX55IWKTeSUA6cUU5kzde20-g1WEUIYF8dezqeoWY21Se7wH5RX-IJ-OIFT0/s1600/road4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrYItQDws1npYlddBq2zZ0rw1U0Mmwa2cMsjPzTMxc97-O5cBe0qeqpKPvH0EH8Idx3h09Vo44X467jxuVX55IWKTeSUA6cUU5kzde20-g1WEUIYF8dezqeoWY21Se7wH5RX-IJ-OIFT0/s1600/road4.jpg" height="320" width="270" /></a></div>
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<i>Road Runner in Kingsland, Texas saying "Adios!" Photo by Darla Sue Dollman. I think what surprises me the most, now that I've finished this post, is I still have dozens of photos to choose from, which is amazing considering they run at 20 mph! Lol! </i></div>
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<i>In the A to Z Bloggers Challenge R is for Roadrunner!</i></div>
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Darla Sue Dollmanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15295727215740074345noreply@blogger.com2