Working with Shelter Dogs – Starting Over

One of the things about working with shelter dogs, and there are a lot of “things,” is that when I work with a dog for a while and they get adopted, I’ve gotten used to the behaviors they exhibited in our end game: a reliable sit, waiting at doors, no jumping on me, no trying to charge out the kennel door when I’m coming in or going out. I’ve helped them become a dog someone wants to bring home, and off they go.

Dorito, a deaf cattle dog, was alert and attentive from the first day I met him, pictured here. He also jumped, grabbed at clothing, went bonkers if you reached for him, spun and darted and dashed when he was on leash, and was earning the reputation of being an all-around brat. But over the course of 7 sessions in 4 weeks, he learned hand signals for sit, down, touch, come, look. And he made up a variant of kick-ball fetch that showed just how smart he was – he’d retrieve the ball, bring it to the top of a slope and let it roll down to me. If he saw it wasn’t going to get right to me, he’d run to it, correct its course and go back to the top of the slope. Over time, he went from a bundle of behavior problems to a joy and was adopted by a family who knew his breed. He went home with them to become part of a trio of family dogs.

While I was still working with Dorito, I began working with Mowgli. When I met him, Mowgli presented a big challenge at his kennel door – whether you were going in or trying to leave, he scrambled to get out. As it turns out, a big dog can get themselves into narrow spaces, and Mowgli was skilled at pushing his way through.

But out in the play yard, he chilled to the point of being aloof. It was clear that people were just his ticket to get outside – hanging out with you was not on his agenda at all. He didn’t play games, he didn’t sit or come when called, and “wait” wasn’t an idea he’d ever come across. But he learned it all, including stellar manners when you’d get him or return him to his kennel. After months at the shelter, he was adopted.

Even though I didn’t work with Dorito for nearly as long as I’ve worked with other shelter dogs, they were such intense sessions – and I spent so much time researching how to work with deaf dogs – that it seems we must have met for many more times. Mowgli I did work with many more times – 29 visits over 4 months.

Working with shelter dogs like this is a time commitment, it’s an emotional commitment, and it takes up a lot of mental bandwidth. After a year and a half and over thirty dogs, with about half that number being individuals I worked with at a pretty intense level, I’ve learned an essential truth about working with shelter dogs – there will always be another dog to work with. So the dog I’ve intentionally formed a bond with exits my life, and I start on building a bond with a new dog.

The contrast between the dog that just found a home and this new dog can be pretty stark. To be honest, it can be a challenge to make the shift – I need to set my expectations back to zero and build from there based on my observations. It can be discouraging when a new dog seems a very long way from showing the kind of behaviors that will help them get adopted. I have to remind myself what a whirling dervish Dorito could be, how aloof Mowgli was when I met him, how aggressive Gils’ greeting behavior could look, how timid Karen and Buddy were. It was work to get them to a good place, and it’s going to be work to get this new dog there, too. 

Sometimes when I’m starting up with a dog, I stand outside their kennel and look at them barking at me, or throwing themselves against the kennel door, or backing away as though I am one scary being, and for just a second, I think, “Seriously? From scratch, again?” And then I see this new dog as an individual. I watch them and start figuring out how we’ll start. I put my foot sideways in front of the kennel door to block it from swinging out and hitting me when I unlatch it, and head in. It is a new day, a new dog. Game on.

Hanging out with the Shelter Dogs

The Potsdam Humane Society finally opened up its training sessions for volunteers in April. To say I was ready to spend some quality time with the pups would be the understatement of the year. Almost every week since then I’ve spent a few hours hanging out with the dogs. Today I met Angel Joleen.

Angel heading back to get a few more butt rubs.

Angel spent lots of her time just standing next to me while I petted her. I sat on the ground and started at her shoulders and moved my way down. When she figured that was enough she’d turn around so I could do the other side. Occasionally she’d head off to investigate the rest of the enclosure, and she was glad enough to chase a tennis ball a few times, but it was never long before we got back to the real business – a full back massage followed by a butt rub. At six and a half years old, her age might make some people overlook her, but with that beautiful brindle coat and that sweet disposition, I’m hoping someone finds their perfect match when they meet her.

Here’s another girl at the shelter: Belle.

Belle at rest

Belle’s two year and a half years old. I’ve visited with her five or six times. At the beginning of the first session she did a bit of jumping up, but she gave that up when I simply turned my back on her. Two facts to know about Belle: 1) She is a dog that sees one of her missions in life as destroying any toy she can get her teeth into – at the shelter they’ve hung the laundry basket that’s full of balls of all sorts high up on the chain link fence of the outdoor exercise yard.The first time I brought her there, I unhooked her leash and she bolted to the other end of the yard, leapt, and bopped the basket from underneath. Half-inflated basketballs and soccer balls and a couple of tennis balls went flying.

So, how’d I get a photo of Belle sitting calmly when there was a basket of balls to destroy just a few feet away? Fortunately, here’s fact: 2) Belle’s other mission in life is to figure out how to get treats. A food-motivated dog can be a thing of joy, and Belle fits that bill.

When I met her she already knew how to do a perfect “sit.” We’ve been working on adding “wait” to her catalog of commands. The best case scenario of training a dog is frequent, short training sessions – ideally, training would be interspersed throughout the day. But Belle and I don’t have all day – just 20-30 minutes. Given that on the first day she’d sit perfectly and then stand right back up, I’m pretty happy with our progress. Now, after asking for some super short wait times to remind her of the game, I’m able to move up to taking a couple of steps away and returning to her – or calling her to come to me – without her breaking from the sit.

Belle waiting for the release word (come) or for me to return to her.

Today I started working with her on “back up.” I do this simply by stepping close in to her and when she scoots back, giving the command “back up” and giving her the treat while I say “yes.” She caught on to this very quickly, although I’m not sure how I’ll get a good photo of that.

At the end of any visit, I try to create a few moments of calm. After 20 minutes of figuring out how to get treats, Belle’s ready to lay down and hang out. But I can tell she hasn’t forgotten about the treats.

Belle’s pretty sure she knows where those treats are

Our shelter does a great job matching up good dogs with good people, and I know the dog I work with today might not be here the next time I visit. Of course, that’s more than okay – it’s always good news when a dog’s been adopted. So for today, hats off to Angel and Belle: two sweet girls trusting us to find them good homes.

On the Path to Learning about Wild Bees

I’ve been interested in insects for a long time. As a kid I worried over the ladybugs in the attic and whether they’d survive the winter up there. I rescued as many bugs as I could from the surface of our swimming pool. I dropped crumbs for ants and watched them investigate and haul away the treasure. But it wasn’t until years later, when I took a photo of a beetle that was stranded at the bottom of an empty water glass, that I began to get hooked on figuring out exactly what I was looking at. I had some insect guides on hand – more because I love guidebooks than because I loved insects, I admit – and took a look.

I discovered that what was circling the bottom of the glass was an America Carrion beetle, Necrophila americana. These beetles actually bury the small carcasses they come across for food for their offspring. When I paired the attractive beetle with its name and its burial and parental skills, I was hooked. I bought more guides and worked along on IDs in an entirely haphazard way. But in 2013, I discovered the Iowa State University site, BugGuide.Net. and posted my first photo to their ID Request page. That first posting of a caterpillar, the Dagger Moth Acronicta americana, looks pretty humble, but it was exciting for me.

The moth I posted later that month, the Tiger Moth, Apantesis parthenice, is a little showier.

I’ve been learning a lot from trying to figure out what things are before I post them, although I’m not nearly good enough to help out with the ID request part of the site. I’ve started binders of the critters I photograph. When I get an ID, I print out information about the critter and add it, with a photo or two, to the binders. I have about 200 critters with at least a partial id, and many are identified at the species level.

Overtime, I realized that my collection of identified photos was building along the lines of True Bugs and Beetles. Although I’ve spent happy hours taking photos of bees as they feed on flowers, I haven’t spent the time to tell one bee from another.

Thistle visitor

For one thing, some of the insects that I thought were bees out in the field turned out to be, when I looked at the photographs, not bees at all, but flies.

Bee? No, Drone Fly

At this point, I have only two bees in my collection of photographs, both of them are Sweat bees: the Augochlora pura (Pure Green-Sweat bee) pictured at the top of the post, and Agapostemon virescens (BiColored Striped Sweat bee).

My bee deficiency is about to change. Yesterday I took part in the first of seven sessions of The Bee Short Course for Community Scientists: Building wild bee conservation skills together. This webinar series has been developed by the Ohio State University Department of Entomology and The Chadwick Arboretum and Learning Gardens. I connected with this effort first through an interest in The U.S. National Native Bee Monitoring Research Coordination Network (RCN). Here’s a link that describes their work: https://www.nytimes.com/2020/12/07/science/native-bees-census.html

The first session is titled “Bee Botany.” I was surprised that most of the time was devoted to flower anatomy, but I shouldn’t have been. After all, bees and flowers depend on each other for essentials of life: food and reproduction. The presenter, Randy Mitchell of the University of Akron, is an engaging speaker – even in an online session, his delight in studying the relationship between bees and flowers is obvious. He mentioned several sources of information that sounded promising. As I take a look at them, I’ll share them here.

Welcome to Spring!

Crocuses coming up through the fallen leaves

Last year at this time I was getting in early peas in the vegetable garden behind our rented house. Over the summer, we found a house of our own and moved in at the end of July. From that day on, I’ve gotten to know what late summer, fall, and winter can be like in this new yard: wild grape and Virginia Creeper reaching into the trees in the small stretch of brush and trees along the back of the yard, the mid-sized maple tree shading much of the narrow backyard and then turning a golden hue that seems to be illuminated from within. When that tree rained down its leaves, I set up a temporary leaf bin with the only length of fencing I could find at the hardware store and raked up pile after pile of leaves. Where I didn’t rake, the leaves settled into a thick layer.

Early this week, I got a glimpse of color among those unraked leaves and went to find out what it could be. A lovely line of crocuses had made its way to the open air. I freed the few that hadn’t quite broken through, but resisted the temptation to peel back more leaves and hurry any other spring bulbs along. We’ve had unusually warm weather, but the forecast was calling for nights below freezing. Crocuses are tough, but I’ll leave them insulated from the swings in temperature of a North Country spring for a while longer. The arrival of these few has been a balm to my spirit – I can wait to discover the full extent of the spring flowers that call this new yard “home.”

Why Write?

It’s been many months of adapting to changes, good and sad. One of the good changes is that we’ve landed in a new living space. We’re moved in and are settled enough that I can work into a new writing routine.

But all the shakeup of endings and beginnings has taken its toll – I come into moments where I find myself stranded – what, after all, is the point of all this writing? This morning, after considering this point for longer than might be healthy, I came to a heartening thought when I considered the writing vocation of my mother. She wrote novels while she raised her seven children, and she wrote poetry always. She didn’t ever try to publish her work: her family were her only readers. So, why did she do it? Why does anyone do it? Because, the answer came to me, story matters. I’ve had this declaration come to me before; it does motivate me, and I clearly need to ‘hear’ it more often. With that need for repetition in mind, I took a detour on my way to getting back to writing and made myself the gift of a reminder. Using one of my photos, I created a new background, “lock screen,” to greet me each time I open my computer. Maybe it will help inspire you, too. . .

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Car Show Fever

Years ago my car broke down when I was far from home, and I bought an old 55 Chevy to get me back. What a car – all I have left of it is the hood ornament, but I’ve had a soft spot in my heart for the 55 Chevy ever since. I cruised around the local annual car show today till I found one -with that great airplane riding the hood.

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Of course, there were many, many pretty cars to see today. The way they are lined up, sometimes the best photo ops at car shows are the rear end shots . . .

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And sometimes the line up makes for quirky, fun match ups. I like to think of these two at a stop light together, revving engines . . .

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I’ve had a couple of great cars myself – a Dodge Dart (pre-1976: that engine would still be going if the body hadn’t rusted off), a 55 Chevy (with that airplane!) and a car whose make I can’t remember, but it was sporty and fast and lasted more years than anyone guessed it would. When it went, it left me high and dry and I bought an old Lincoln Town Car in a pinch. But that’s more stories than I counted on for a quick post, I’ll end there.

What about you? What cars are you fond of?

What does Spring look like?

When I signed up in January to take two online writing classes back-to-back, 10 weeks straight of weekly reading and writing deadlines, I thought, “This will take me right through Winter and into Spring!” The last due date was yesterday, and here’s this morning’s view of the path through the backfield. Blog_March 26 2018 Snowy walk

That black dog in the first photo is Gudgeon. He doesn’t much like the very cold temperatures, but this version of snow is a favorite. It has softened during the sunny days, then firmed up over night: he can walk on top of it and flop for a good back rub.

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Then he’s ready for a walk . . .

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The Meadow

DSC_1031The quarry man bought the old house and its acreage, scraped the topsoil off the meadow, and sold off the house with two acres of the meadow and its partial border of trees and shrub. In the house, a bathroom went in, and in a child’s room, a fat rainbow – floor to ceiling to floor – was sketched out and painted.

For thirty years, owners kept the meadow mowed. Between mowings, grasses grew, and golden rod, oyster plants, milkweed, and asters. Each late fall the meadow’s summer growth lay itself down, and in that flattened landscape the old disc harrow, stranded in its long-gone farmer’s field, reappeared.

Twenty years ago the clothes line, built with sturdy wooden posts and cross beams, stood on the far side of the cedar tree. Now its northern post is engulfed in branches. The outhouse, still visible in its pile of moldered lumber when I arrived, has long since joined the remains of the wildflowers that grew up between the boards, fell over, and decomposed. It is almost twelve years since the meadow was cut, and it is only in the last two that wild cherry bushes have spread from individuals to patches of isolated mini-woodlands that shelter bird and spider nurseries.

Each winter I cover the rain barrels and shovel the long driveway; each spring I listen for the voice of the wood frog and try to avoid the black flies’ bite. Every other summer or so I get to the task of clearing the meadow, cutting all the box elders’ sprouts to the ground. In the fall I greet the disc harrow and Orion on their return to my view, and wonder which Turkey Vulture sighting will be my last of the year.

Eventually, I will leave this place. The meadow will give way to box elder trees, or not. As I sleep beneath the child’s rainbow, my window open to the night, what is sure for me is the Little Dipper, pinned at its tail by the North Star, circling overhead. What is almost as sure is the topsoil, building. Slowly, slowly.

 

First Frost

First Frost Grapes

Last night’s light frost held no danger for the gardens; even the dahlias took no notice. By 7:30 in the morning it was only slight water dripping off the roof gutters into the rain barrel, and a puddle of fragile light the shape of the shadow cast by a berm on the far side of the barn. The fall-bearing raspberries, just thinking of coming into ripeness, were untouched, and the grapes offered no signs that they had noticed the chill that in the house had us bringing out blankets and talking about which day we’ll finally turn the heat back on.

A Micro-Memoir: The “Peent” Call of the Woodcock Returns

In this first week of April, the snow pack that illuminated the fields even on cloudy nights has at last given way to the incessant rain. Last night when I stepped out into the yard with my dog on our last venture of the evening, it was a misty rain that greeted us. I stood a moment to feel the mist, acknowledge the shift in seasons. And was rewarded with the buzzy “peent” call of the woodcock sounding from the field beyond the barn. There has been no return of the spring-warmth that visited us in February, but the woodcock’s arrival assures me – spring has arrived within its beating heart.