It had already been a busy morning. I’d gone outside
with Blue and a plastic bag, resigned to following behind
him and collecting a specimen for the vet. (Dogs have
physicals, too.) But we’d hardly cleared the screen door
when things got exciting.
Blue spotted four deer beyond the fence in our east
field and, too good to be true, a flock of wild turkeys in the
south field. He streaked away from me, woofing mightily,
and ran the length of the east field’s fence. That sent the
panicked deer streaking south and right into the turkeys,
who took off in their own clattering flurry to land in trees
outside the field. The deer raced on in arcing leaps down
the field, cleared the fence, and disappeared into the
woods.
What a show! And Blue enjoyed it too, especially as I
shouted ``Good dog!’’ repeatedly. He pranced a bit, paused,
turned thrice in a small circle, squatted, and provided the
perfect denouement. All that running did it, I guess. I
couldn’t have asked for more. I mean, anything else.
When he was done, Blue did his usual pawing, followed
by rocketing around the field in a victory lap, ears and
tongue flapping. He ended at my side, panting, with an
expression that clearly said, ``What a good dog am I!’’
As he certainly is. Witness his steadily more disciplined
approach toward the sheep, whom the loves. I’ve
told you how he used to enter the sheep’s paddock with
me, merge into the flock’s midst, and accompany them to
their food trough. But now, on his own, he’s realized that,
at that moment, he can’t pretend he’s a sheep; he’s a
working dog.
He enters the paddock with me and then stands by my
side as the baaing sheep, anticipating breakfast, come
thundering in from wherever they were grazing. An old
git shouldn’t block the way of six sheep at eighty pounds
each, and so I stand to the side and wave them toward
their inner yard and the trough, shouting, ``In!’’ Most go,
though a couple of dimwits always want to follow me to
the feed barrel instead of going to the trough. (Canny old
coot, I keep clear of those milling bodies by standing by
the barrel and throwing the feed over the fence and into
the trough, picking just the moment when all the bodies
and heads are out of the way.)
But even after hundreds of feedings, as I say, a couple
of dimwits still try to follow me to the barrel. And here’s
where the new, improved Blue moves into action. He trots
around behind the miscreants and woofs them to and
through the gateway to the inner paddock. And there,
wondrous to say, he stops and stands, with no attempt to
follow them and pretend he’s a sheep at the trough. What
a dog!
After Blue and I returned to the house, I carrying his
gift for the vet at arm’s length, I turned to the breakfast
dishes and Blue settled himself under the kitchen table.
Anne, upstairs dressing for a meeting, had left the ``Today’’
show on in the living room, and the principals were
yammering cheerily about upcoming guests.
One of guests must have been a baseball star, for as
they chattered, an engineer cut in with the opening bars
of ``Who Let the Dogs Out?’’ That’s an irresistible song,
and so, scrubbing egg yolk enamel off a plate, I sang the
repeat of the title line. ``WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?’’ I
bellowed lustily— and nearly dropped the plate when,
from under the table, my line was followed by ``Woof, woof!
Woof, woof!’’ And right on the beat, mind you!
What to make of a dog that can do that?
Blue has a few weeks off from his usual therapy-dog
visits to Bassett patients because of the run-up to the general
election. No, it’s not Blue that’s running this time,
though his celebrity might make him an apt candidate in
the future. After all, he can melt hearts with his soulful
eyes, especially because of the black streaks under them
that look so much like mascara smudged by tears.
It’s almost embarrassing to see Blue capitalizing on
those looks when we go to the Fly Creek General Store for
coffee. I tie him at the geezer bench outside, and he climbs
on the bench to watch my every move inside the big plate
glass window. My traditional seat is just beyond that
glass, and there he sits studying my every move, especially
if I bring something to my mouth.
As I return his gaze, I see many incomers pause to
scratch his head, and I see their mouths move as they say,
``Hello, Blue!’’ Then they come in and bawl me out for
leaving that lovely, sad dog outside and alone. If I don’t
watch carefully, some soft touch will buy a sausage muffin
and sneak it out to him.
But I can’t fault him for his ways with the public. In
many ways, his performance on the geezer bench parallels
what he does at Bassett. There he pads up to a wheelchair,
puts his head on someone’s knee, and gazes up with
those soulful eyes. Patients laugh with delight, and sometimes
even cry, perhaps as Blue evokes memories of dogs
long past.
Good for him, I say! And, in his vernacular, ``Woof,
woof!’’
Read Jim Atwell’s new book, From Fly Creek--Celebrating
Life in Leatherstocking Country along with Anne Geddes-
Atwell’s charming illustrations. Books are for sale at
your local book seller. Anne’s prints from the book can be
purchased by contacting her by phone or e-mail.
Columns
Jim Atwell: "Woof, woof! Woof, woof!"
- Columns
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In These Otsego Hills: The losses are adding up ...
It is with sadness that we note the passing of long time friend, and distantrelative, Jane Patrick. Over the years we have worked with Jane in a number of organizations including Women’s Club and the Community Advisory Committee at Bassett. And, of course, in later years we joined her, along with the other Dinner Belles, for any number of delicious meals. But we do think that our favorite memory that we shared with Jane was when we discovered, having both married Cooperstown natives, that we shared Cooperstown Christmas plans.
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Up On Hawthorn Hill: Bird Feeder?
Bird feeder is a relative term. At least that is the case around here. A few mornings ago we spotted the first rabbit to visit the feeders. Normally, all we see during the winter are rabbit tracks crisscrossing the gardens.
Continued ... -
From Fly Creek: Cheers for the Blue Rabbit!
My handwriting’s always been an embarrassment. Way back in elementary school, while most of the others were developing a clear, sometimes graceful hand (especially the girls), my penmanship showed no improvement.
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In These Otsego Hills: This and that ...
We have found the weather so far this year to be on the unusual side. And while we have no problem with the fact that we have received very little snow, we are of the opinion that what we have had instead is not particularly to our liking either. In fact, we are very hesitant to venture out much as we live in fear that the rain will turn to mixed precipitation which will freeze into a sheet of ice. And we are definitely opposed to encountering a sheet of ice underfoot. In fact, we are so hesitant that we now have taken to canceling our participation in events based on what just might be a dubious forecast.
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Book Notes: Feinstein’s latest is sheer enjoyment
Most people who follow sports have probably heard of John Feinstein. As a nationally known author, sportswriter, pundit and broadcaster, he has brought a unique angle to sports journalism. His groundbreaking book on Bobby Knight’s 1986-87 Indiana University basketball team, “A Season on the Brink,” still resonates today as an all-time classic.
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Book Notes: No Trekkie should miss Shatner’s books
It would be hard to find a television phenomenon as popular as “Star Trek.” Even though it was only on television for three seasons and 79 episodes (1966-69) it attracted viewers and devotees that still follow it passionately 45 years later. The fanatical supportspawned several movies and television spinoffs. Star Trek conventions continue to this day. There has never been anything like it.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Making sense of things
A book I have been reading investigates the various ways over time that we have made sense of the world. It carries the reader through to the present via several seminal classical texts and ultimately aims to suggest a strategy for “ finding meaning in a secular age.”
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In These Otsego Hills: ‘Property must be secured or liberty cannot exist.’ − John Adams
Last week we were asked if we would be interested in previewing a documentary, “The Empire State Divide,”produced by the Foundation for Land & Liberty. And we were more than happy to do so as we understood the documentary dealt with the problems that continue to face family farms.
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From Fly Creek: Now wait a minute!
On the ninth day of Christmas, driving down Cooperstown’s Eagle Street, I saw something astounding! No, not “nineladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans” etc. I saw one jogger jogging. And puffing on a cigarette.
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In These Otsego Hills: Goals of the past and goals of the future
We have long subscribed to the concept that we are always more successful if we, number one, set a goal and then, number two, meet it. And this was our thinking when we decided before Christmas to watch at least part of every college football bowl game. It was perhaps an odd, if not completely nonsensical, goal.
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In These Otsego Hills: Not to our liking ...
It is with sadness that we note the recent death of Steve Nagel. The son-inlaw of our late husband’s cousins, Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek, Steve was married to the Ecklers’ oldest daughter, Gail. We had the pleasure of spending Christmas Eve with the Nagels and the Ecklers in Fly Creek, greatly enjoying the delicious food and delightful conversation.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Of birds and faith
I watch birds quite a bit. Every five days or so I send in a report to Cornell as partof its annual Project Feeder Watch program. The data, collected from volunteers from all over the country, enables scientists to track population trends. I would spend quite a bit of time checking out the visitors to our feeders anyway. Participating in the feeder program makes a personal pleasure that much more meaningful. It is rare that aesthetical and scientific endeavors work in tandem.
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Book Notes: Biography captures the real Stephen Colbert
It would be hard to find a comedian as unique as Stephen Colbert. As the host of “The Colbert Report” on Comedy Central he hasmanaged to leave his mark on the nation’s consciousness in both a serious and humorous sort of way. His unusual wit has allowed him to become American icon. It would be difficult to find another entertainer quite like him.
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From Fly Creek: Christmas and varied blessings
I’m still astounded! The last farmers’ market before Christmas, I was sitting up front, directly under the ceiling heater, shmoozing with the hoi-polloi. (That’s an awkward linguistic mix,but let’s let it go.) As I sipped my hot coffee, a gloved hand came to rest on my shoulder and a warm voice said, “Merry Christmas, Jim.” I looked to my left—it was Santa Claus!
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In These Otsego Hills: Always a learning experience ...
We must admit that we thoroughly enjoyed our 2011 Christmas celebration. We partook of Christmas Eve dinner at the home of Alice and Harvey Eckler of Fly Creek and Christmas Day dinner at the home of Sandy and Al Bullard of Milford. We had our usual Christmas Day brunch at home on Pioneer Street, although we must admit it was a tad bit later than usual as, what we enjoyed most about Christmas, namely our granddaughter Abby, took a great deal of time opening her Christmas presents.
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In These Otsego Hills: Coming up ... 2012
Difficult as it seems, 2011 is fast coming to an end. And it is always our hope that as a year draws to a close, the issues which have been in the forefront during the year will be resolved. Unfortunately, we suspect that will not be the case this year. Instead, we are fairly certain that many of the issues that plagued this year, will continue to plague next year. Thus we will find ourselves still musing about the same issues we have spent time with already. And while we have not come toany conclusions about many of the issues, we do think they would all likely benefit from both sides thinking critically about perspective, risk assessment and possible solutions.
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Up on Hawthorn Hill: Circularity
When she was a puppy my dog Gabby would run in what I described then as “circles of joy.” She celebrated her15th birthday a few weeks ago and despite the inevitable frailties that old age imposes upon all of us, she is doing pretty well.
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Book Notes: Grisham doesn’t disappoint
John Grisham is one of this country’s most popular authors. Every time he publishes a book it’s an instant best-seller. He appeared on the scene about 20 years ago with his tense legal thrillers, “A Time to Kill” and “The Firm,”and hasn’t stopped producing top-notch novels since.
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From Fly Creek: Still singing, beyond our hearing
This column from Christmas 2001 still speaks deeply to me, and perhaps will to you, too. Take it, please, as my Christmas gift.
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In These Otsego Hills: The 2011 Cooperstown Carol
Since 1984, with the exception of one year, 1999, we have looked forward at the end of the year to going through all the issues of the paper in order to glean those news items which have been worthy of note throughout the year and which should make their way into our annual Cooperstown Carol.
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In These Otsego Hills: The losses are adding up ...
