A (Windy) Day In The Life..

Poppies. Yeah, more poppies, but this time it's different. It's a day in the life of a clump of poppies in our yard. 10 hours reduced to a minute and twenty four seconds.. just for fun.

I'll do more of these; hopefully on a day less windy.

Wildflower Season

Wildflower season in the Desert Southwest is ramping up.  On Easter Sunday, we took a long drive into the hills, first to do some Geocaching Northeast of Deming.  The purpose of this was to work up an appetite for the huge buffet Albert Campos was laying out at his restaurant.  (It did not disappoint.. especially the Chicken Cordon Bleu with the surprise inside: Green Chiles).  The entire hillsides of the Goodsight mountains were yellow.. somewhat from the Mexican Poppies, but mostly the huge carpets of smaller yellow-green flowers which may or may not be mustardseed.

Following our huge dinner and desert, we needed more exercise, and drove the Mitsubishi up the power line "road" to a point about 3/4 mile from the big blankets of poppies.  Far from showing signs of fading away, new bunches of this beautiful flower are showing up every day.  Our yard is overrun!

In addition, we spotted many other flowers which are just beginning to pop up.  Most of them we've been unable to identify.  Some of them we think we've identified.  We're leaving it up to you, our loyal readers to look at the pictures in the slide show (below) and help us identify what we're seeing.  (It may be easier to click through to the album at Picasa Albums, and look at the larger versions).

Bubba's Story

A repost from 2007, (and one of my better efforts).  We had posted this picture of Bubba, and had a poll for people to guess his COO (Country of Origin):



The "Bubba Poll" is now closed. For those waiting breathlessly for the answer... It's Georgia. That's right, Georgia. And not the one over there in the old Soviet Union.. the one in the American South. Bubba is an
Appalachian Corn Hound;or rather he's descended from the Corn Hounds, which were first created in the North Georgia mountains at the turn of the last century by mountain men who needed sturdy guard animals to protect their "corn likker" stills. Borrowing heavily from the French Great Pyrenees, for size, American Pitbulls for tenacity, and an occasional greyhound for speed in pursuing the hated "Revenoors" out of the mountains, these ingenius mountain dwellers produced a hound whose only vice was a taste for fine French wines and cognacs. Alas, this was to lead to the ultimate demise of the breed, even though it guaranteed that they would stay out of the moonshine. Because of their expensive tastes, these poor hill folk were unable to afford to keep this handsome dog. Additionally, the Corn Hound was able to somehow maintain beautiful strong, white teeth throughout their lifespans, which led to poor self-esteem among the very people that created them.

The entire population was, therefore, shipped off to Texas during the Great Depression, where the somewhat-wealthy Sheep Barons were able employ them in their current capacity, as sheep guarding dogs. So that's Bubba's story.. so rare, you won't even find it in Wikipedia!

And not only that, but... what?
What's that?
What's today's date, you say?

Why.. It's April Fool's Day.

And Bubba's an Akbash. From Turkey.
Congratulations to all who got it right. Texas, Todd?? ;)

S'cuse Me While I Obsess..

"Follow the Yellow Brick Road...."  as far as the eye can see.  In this picture are the two things that are floating my boat these days.. (figuratively, of course, I am in a desert)..  These billions and billions of golden beauties, and the "Red Mr. Bitchy".. (yes, it now has a name).  Spotted some more car parts in an arroyo today.  Aboard Red Mr. Bitchy all is still intact.

In a few weeks when, either, the novelty wears off (unlikely), or the poppies vanish for an unknown number of seasons again, I'll get back to normal.  I foresee a slide show in your futures.

De-Natured

Yesterday, we posted a number of images of the spectacular, and interesting flora and fauna of Southwest New Mexico.  These images, taken during the same ramble around the area....  don't quite fall into that category...

"Wanna make out?"

Perhaps you shouldn't be out on the trails in your Crown Vic..

(bonus if this plate was ripped off of your vehicle trying to cross the arroyo)

A Day In Nature Pictures.

Why?  Because, that's just the kind of day it was.  It began right out the gate this morning, (literally), with this young fellow posing for a portrait.

After an uneventful trip to the bank, I decided to find a couple 

Geocaches out in the flats; a drive of about 10 miles.  Not long after turning off the main highway, I interrupted this immature

Harlan's Red Tail Hawk, who was opportunistically gobbling up a road-killed jackrabbit.  Sorry dude.

At the second cache, I felt I was being serenaded, looked up on the wire and saw this non-raptor meat eater.. a Loggerhead Shrike. 

 I enjoyed the song for a while, then headed back north for another hide.  That's when I whizzed past a Coopers Hawk relaxing on a fence post.  I made a quick U-turn, and stuck the camera out of the window and snapped off a shot just as it was tensing to make it's escape from my intrusive scrutiny..

At that point, I gave up on the caching, because I needed to get up close to something very spectacular that was going on on the west foothills of the Florida Mountains.  I had to get here:

Yes, the Mexican Poppies are blooming great guns.  It looks impressive from here.  Up close it looks completely insane!

And if that impresses us as humans, imagine the effect it has on these guys:

Four Wheel Fun.

We've had a few opportunities to try out the Mitsubishi on the hundreds of miles of jeep trails in our little corner of New Mexico. I told Margaret to bring the video camera, but we were stuck with the cell phone. Don't get seasick!

Some road, eh? Well, in the strictest sense of the word. We'll be spending more and more time driving..... slooooow.

Hello There.

(Please cue soundtrack, below)

Hello there..

I'm Indiana Gauss.

I'm a famed dashing and handsome blog-cheologist.  I seem to have stumbled upon this ancient and neglected blog.  It appears to have been vacated by some early race of idealistic, energetic blogger.  I've seen this before.  You would think that these indigenous writers would have vanished mysteriously from the face of the earth, but that's not so.  In true nomadic fashion, they've become part of the diaspora to Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and other so-called "social networking" sights.  Their laziness had gotten the better of them, and they no longer wanted to make the effort to toil at their thankless blogging tasks.

Fortunately, the final history of bloggers in general, and this blog in particular is far from being written.  Enough empirical evidence exists to predict that this blogging malaise is reversible, and that this blog will become a hive of literary activity very soon, (in blog-cheologic time, that is).

In fact, I can pretty fairly predict that soon you will here be reading about such diverse topics as:

• Geocaching

• The Pack Hunt, and Desert Hare Classic

• Driving miles and miles of desert and mountain jeep trails

• Desert wildflower reports

And probably a whole lot more.  You would be wise to monitor this location closely.  That is my professional opinion.  Now, I must be off to kill some Nazis and eat monkey brains.

My Favorite Sociopath.

Joining his Aunt Camille in a long line of spectacular serial killers.  TSH Watermelonman@shotonsite (Sandia).

A New Plaything Tool.

I had my eye on this little buggy ever since it first showed up on D & D Auto's lot back in October.  If you live here, you need at least one 4 X 4 runabout.  Not for snow or ice, but for the mud that covers the roads out in the valley, and for the rocky roads you have to negotiate up in the hills, especially if you're going to a start point for a hike and climb, or geocaching. (It's parked on a "road" in the above photo).  There's no shortage here of Jeeps, Sidekicks, Trackers, Broncos and Bronco II.  It may not get driven as much as the Escape or even the van, but when it goes out, it will be because it's needed.

Or just for fun.

Facts: 1987 Mitsubishi Montero Sport 4 x 4.  105,000 miles (!)  It will be getting more serious tires early next week.  It's red! :-)

We Win!*

*One Third of Dutch Salmon's Pack Hunt. (Details to follow when we recover from the 12 mile forced march.  Click image to see all the winners.)

Combing The Fields.

We went out with the All Girl Hunt again on Sunday... me with Willow and Ashley, Dutch with Phyllis, Cinnamon, and the eunuch JRT cross, "Jack".  We went to a field that had been fairly barren of late, and we'd left it alone for several weeks.  Additionally, we decided to go north instead of our usual route south.  We hadn't gone north in almost two months, and on this day we were going to go further north than we ever had.  This would prove to be a pretty good idea, as the GPS track above indicates.

I was walking Willow on a slip, because she had shown more than a passing interest in Jack.. as potential prey, not as a hunting buddy.  I thought it would be a good idea for her to get used to him.  We jumped the first jack pretty quickly (start and finish point of the day's walk is the lower left corner).  Willow showed an impressive burst of speed initially, but after a minute was well behind the group, which ended up in the foothill rock and scrub which effectively ended the course.

We walked a good distance further north when all hell broke loose.  A hare popped up, and the dogs gave chase.  I slipped Willow, and she took off in the opposite direction!  I thought, "Oh, she doesn't see it".  Au Contraire... she was off on a different rabbit!  We'd jumped two at once, and Willow had exclusive use of the second one.  While Dutch watched the main group, I followed Willow's progress, as she worked it pretty well, until...

... it went under the fence, which is how Willow learned the "fence lesson".  Go under it like the jack does.. and like the Pronhorn does:  the bottom strand is not barbed.  They usually only make this mistake once, and fortunaely, there were no matching lacerations under the blanket.  Margaret will  have an opportunity to try out the brand new, in-the-box Singer she got at last weekend's auction for $30!

Shortly after the fun with JR's 9A and 9B, I spotted another, who stayed out of everyone's sight, scooting low to the west.  The dogs didn't see it, thus "JR10nc" as in "no course".

Our day wasn't quite done as we made one more north-south sweep, and just as we were approaching the road that runs through the the middle of the fields, we found one more to chase.  By this time, I felt comfortable enough with Willow's ability to find her way back that I was letting her free course.  She was still showing some interest in Jack, but it was more curiosity now, than something like lunch.  This course was short, as the rabbit made straight for the brush.  After four good chases, one which ended up with the rare instance of the rabbit jumping into a hole, we decided to head back for the vehicles.

I called this post "Combing the Fields" because I thought the track was going to look like the teeth of a comb, (which it does.. a very small comb), and I thought we were going to to go up and down a few more times than we actually did.  Making only 4 sweeps, the track looks like something completely different, doesn't it?  Can you see the rabbit?  And not just any rabbit...  Maybe I should have named the post: "Frank"

Maybe the Best Course I Ever Never Saw!

Dutch couldn't make it out with us yesterday, but that was OK.  Our guys have been running well lately, and with a fair amount of success.  It was time to see if they could duplicate that success without the help from Dutch's dogs.. particularly Angie and Phyllis.  It was time to do a Pack Hunt "pre test" on Sandia and Ashley.

So Mrs. Shotonsite and I rounded up the two, and threw in Willow for the exercise, and headed out to a field we've left alone for several weeks in the hopes it would produce some jackrabbits.

As is our usual habit when not meeting Dutch, we were running quite late; by a few hours.  It was almost Noon.  Fortunately, there was a decent breeze from the North, so it was not as warm- at least initially- as it was forecast to be.  

We headed south, following a draw that's been known to hide rabbits in the past, but not this time.  We had Sandia and Ashley offlead, free coursing.  Sandia is very, very good at finding the hares.  But they were running around like maniacs, which isn't their normal style.  You'd have thought they hadn't been in the field in weeks, when it was only two days.  

Somewhere around 3/4 mile, we began to lose our breeze, and it started to get warm.  I decided if one of them was on a slip, the other would slow down and stay close.  I grabbed Ashley, got her slipped up, and as soon as we started walking again, wouldn't you know it, Sandia jumped a jack!

Away they went,  heading south. The rabbit got on the road with Sandia within inches of it, and Ashley catching up quickly.  Willow was bringing up the rear and getting good exercise!  Soon, Sandia wrenched the rabbit to the left, over a berm, and down from the high ground we were standing on.

In a field known for giving hunters unobstructed views of entire courses, no matter how long they run, we were standing in absolutely the worst place we could be.  Once they dropped out of sight , we didn't see them again.  We walked toward the edge, looking out on the flat, but they weren't there.  We couldn't see them anywhere.

About the time we were approaching the edge, Willow came back.  I don't think she ran very far, and being a black dog with a fairly heavy coat, I didn't mind.  She seemed fine, and we continued to look for the other two dogs.  I was blowing the Fox 40 continuously.  This was very unlike them, especially Sandia, who hustles back very quickly at the end of each course.  We even looked behind us in case they returned via the great circle route.  Not there.

Finally, I spotted two specs approaching from the south.  They had run a very, very great distance.  When they had been out of sight for such a long time, I shut off my stopwatch.  It registered 2:51.  I'm thinking now I may have been premature.  They probably ran close to 3:30, and maybe even more.  When they finally got back to us they were really beat.  Both were in a froth, and more exhausted than I've seen them this season, and they are in very good shape, sometimes running as many as 5 hares in a day.

Then I took a good look at Sandia..

,,,and his beard showed me everything I needed to know.  Blood.  They'd run that sucker down.  Ashley had blood on her, too.  It looks like they tried to carry it back, but it was too far, and they were too bushed.  

We decided they were done for this day, and headed back to the van, our little experiment successfully completed

Wolfman.

I know, it's a movie opening soon.  This has nothing to do with that, but will attract traffic to the blog from Google searches for the movie.

This is actually about Sandia.  We went out hunting today, as we do a couple of times a week.  This was a particularly rewarding day, with 4 long courses, culminating in a take on the mile+ fourth chase.  And as always, I took lots of pictures.  Many of them were pretty good, but it was a detail I noticed on one that caught my attention.

That's Sandia.  Looking scary.  And he looks so skinny when he's standing still!  Looking at it, I was reminded of something else:

Yeah.  That's what I thought.

First Hare

It was quite the color palette of girl dogs that hit the far reaches of the local public land yesterday.  All girls, because Dutch's girls are in season.  I joked we should have let Margaret and Cherie bring them out and we could just wait for them at Campos'.

There was the blue girl Ashley, the red girl Cinnamon, the red and white girl Phyllis, and the new star (we hope) Willow; in the yellow blanket.  This was, according to those who should know best, the first jackrabbit  she chased.  Fortuitously, it popped up right in front of us as I walked her on a slip.  She took off after it with great enthusiasm!

Then reality hit, as she fell behind the other dogs, and brought up the rear as they circled, and caught the jack a little over a minute later.  See, she's been in shelters, and foster homes, and on lead at our house for well over 2 months.  She's not even close to being in the shape the other dogs are in.  What she needs is time.  She may be competitive by the end of he cold weather season, (and I'll have to watch her more closely than the other dogs when it starts to warm up), but more likely it will be next Fall and Winter that she'll begin to really shine.  She's built for speed, and eventually I'm sure she'll show it.   Meanwhile...

...she'll just have to get by on her (considerable) looks.

Willow - Bella - Nessie - Willow

Think this would ever happen before the advent of the internet?


I received a phone call this morning.  Early.  As in, I had just gotten up and let the dogs out.  It was from a very nice gentleman in a place called Porcupine, South Dakota.  Being fairly geographically-competent, I kinda knew where this conversation was going.


It seems, this man does some coyote hunting every year around Thanksgiving near Casper, Wyoming.  This past Thanksgiving, his favorite dog.. a black and white 3/4 coyote hound x 1/4 Scottish Deerhound named "Willow", escaped from her truck box, and was last seen chasing Pronghorn.  Though they stayed in the area for 3 days looking for her, even going back at night time with spotlights, she was gone.  They made the assumption that she was dead.. either run to death by the Pronghorn, or a collision with an embankment or some other immovable object.


The scene now shifts to somewhat later.  Early in December, a stray, fitting the same description is picked up by Casper Animal Control, and at some point is adopted out under the name "Bella".  Apparently the person adopting this dog expected some drooling, happy, jump-in-your-lap-and-lick-your-face black lab-type dog.  After 6 days, she was returned to the Casper shelter.


I don't know the details of how the rest of this tale gets to the present, but I can probably construct a plausible scenario.  After a certain amount of time, with no more potential adopters, "Bella" was scheduled for euthanasia.  Which is where, apparently, Black Dog Animal Rescue, being a "no kill" shelter, comes into the picture.. , and therefore, where Margaret and I come into the picture, as recorded in the previous post.


So, back to the phone call.  The gentleman from Porcupine wasn't trying to get his dog back, as I initially feared. He "thought (I'd) like to know something about (my) new dog."  And this is her story:  She comes from some very accomplished coyote hunting stock.   Her father is a large, black coyote hound named "Tippy".  Why "Tippy"?  I'm not sure, but it might be because he has three legs, and despite this handicap, was still capable of chasing and killing coyotes.  Her mother, "Sting", is half Deerhound, half coyote hound.  Willow was his favorite dog, and he just wanted me to know he was happy that she ended up in a good home.  So just as we will with the Black Dog people, we'll be touching base periodically with this Mr Vaughn in South Dakota.  (it's kinda like your adopted kid being able to finally find his birth parents)..  I think we're going to go back to the name, Willow.  She seems to respond to it, and it's easier to call loudly.


We've been exceptionally lucky with all of the dogs who have come into our lives from varied and sundry sources.  Randir, the deerhound who outlived all his mates and contemporaries, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, who had an unofficial national fan club, and her sister, Fanny.  We're still learning about the talents, practical and comedic, of little Miss Ashley.  Even Rally the broken, epeliptic coldblood greyhound had her moments  I see no reason for our luck to change now  Timing, it seems, really is everything.

Nessie.

These things seem to come out of the blue.  Last month we were a 4-dog household, but with only one dog young enough or sound enough to run competitively.  Apparently Dutch got tired of hearing me bitch about it, and offered us Ashley, who has fit in perfectly here.  Not only does she hunt expertly in tandem with Sandia, but her vocalizations are a source of constant hilarity around the house.

Last weekend, someone posted on the Deerhound discussion list about a "Deerhound" in a shelter in Cheyenne, WY.  Sometimes I follow these links to see what's out there.  This was one of those times.  Obviously, not 100% deerhound, but there's parts that are.  Most likely greyhound x deerhound, but whether 50/50 or some other ratio will forever be unknown.

Regardless, after looking at the pictures, I think I was hooked.  Sent the link to Margaret's computer and she was also hooked.  There was only one thing to do, and I did it.  I emailed the shelter, said I was interested, and asked about the adoption procedure. I already knew someone would be coming to New Mexico from Wyoming, and would be passing through Cheyenne, and was pretty sure I could get her here without having to drive all the way up there.

I got a nice email from the director of  Black Dog Animal Rescue.  She spelled out the routine, and mentioned they usually do a home visit, but because of the distance, she would accept 3 references and our veterinarian. No problem. As you probably know, I could come up with a hundred references, and 2 dozen veterinarians if I needed to.  People all around the country know our dogs live the life of Reilly, or if not Reilly, at least Snoopy.

Then the oddness happened.  While I was lining up my five references, I got another email from the shelter director.  It began, "I've looked at your blog....".  Uh Oh, I thought.  You know what's on this blog.  Dogs chasing jackrabbits.  Dead jackrabbits. Liberal politics.  I'm in trouble.

No such thing, as it turned out.  She decided, after reading the blog, that Margaret and I would be the perfect home for Nessie!  This was definitely not a California shelter!

So, in less than a week, we got the paperwork done, we got the contract sent out, we coordinated with Heather Minnich, who would be doing the delivery as far as Socorro, and last night we made the exchange at the Socorro Motel 6.  We were home by 10:15,  where I attempted a photo with my phone for Facebook.  Not easily done in a dimly lit room and a black dog.  The photos, which you see here, were taken in the bright sunlight.  They'll get more artistic when she becomes more comfortable and we can let her off lead.

Of course, all the dogs gathered around when we arrived, and of course they all sniffed a bit, and accepted her.  All but one, that is.  The resident male.  The legend in his own mind, Sandia who still hasn't stopped barking every time he sees her, and does his best to make sure she knows he's the boss of the pack.  What a jerk.  He did this with Ashley, too, and he'll eventually get over it.  Especially if she works with him in the field as well as Ashley does.  Dutch's Pack Hunt is coming up, after all.

*************************

Now there's irrefutable proof there's a Scottish Deerhound in there.  Only dog on the planet with a nose like that!

It Rains. It Pours.... Dogs.

Gosh.  It seems like just last month we picked up Ashley, the greyhound/lurcher girl from Dutch.  Wait.  It was just last month.

Now.  (Now?)... well, just watch this space.  I'll be making a road trip tomorrow.

"...All the Way Home"

When you take your dogs out into the field, you just never know what you're going to see.  Some (most!) days it's Golden Eagles, or rattlesnakes, or tarantulas, or coyotes.  Gila Monsters have even been seen locally, although happily, not by me.  The list (in the Desert Southwest at any rate) seems endless.  So, it was really no surprise to see this solitary Javelina crossing the road as I pulled out of some ranch land after running Sandia and Ashley.  What is surprising, is that their paths (fortunately) did not cross while they were all out and loose in the same plot of land!

A Changed Perspective.

I did something different this weekend.  There was a hunt locally, and I left the dogs at home, opting instead to carry about ten pounds of photographic equipment around the desert instead.  The results were, modestly speaking, fantastic.

Usually when I shoot, either at a hunt, or just out free coursing with friends, I'm with the gallery, and all the shots look the same.  You get a jackrabbit butt, and you get hound butts, as they disappear  into the distance.  This time, I got some separation from the group, and either hung out with the judge, or got off by myself, sometimes getting shots from the side, like this attached slideshow of the Saturday Greyhound final, or way out in front as I did for this second run from Sunday's preliminary Greyhound run.

In the slideshow above, I think I captured the feel of one of the best courses I think I've ever witnessed.  All three hounds in the chase took at least one shot at one of the most badassed jackrabbits I've ever seen. He even slipped away from a near fatal tactical error, where he turned left to avoid one dog not realizing the other two were waiting about 6 feet further left.  He finally created enough space to scamper over the hill and get into the rougher 

vegetation, and made his escape.

It was pretty obvious he'd experienced the hot breath of other predators in his brief life as a prey animal, and used all of his tricks.  Hats off to you, Mr. Hare!