Z is for zoo.

*I don't remember this, but it has been told to me several times.*

Mom and Dad took me to the Portland Zoo when I was, oh, a toddler.  They wanted me to experience all the wonderful animals that were there.  I toddled about, as toddlers do, when I spied a white rooster.

(I don't know if they do now, but they used to let small birds wander in the public areas of the zoo.) 

I fell in love with the white rooster, and proceeded to follow it unswervingly.  Mom and Dad tried to get me involved with the rest of the zoo animals.

"Look, honey, a bear!  A tiger!  Honey, look at the orangutan!"

No dice.

I saw the rooster, I liked the rooster, I was going to make a friend of that rooster.

Mom says to this day, that's why I can deal with them so well.  She was so frustrated, we'd made a special trip to the zoo, and I was more interested in a rooster, which I could have seen at Grandpa's.

Mom, look at it this way.  I have grown up to have my own zoo!  ; )

And thus ends my A to Z challenge with animals...  Hope you enjoyed the menagerie, and I will be going back to blogs that will be about 3 days a week... Thank you for your comments, and I appreciate all the blog readers, new and old!

Yak, yak, yak, YIPE!

(Yep, late, but still, it's up now... I guess I lost track of time...)

I love to go to fiber festivals.  I usually get my quota of spinning fiber, and yarn.  It's a cash only thing for me, when the $ is gone, I am finished.

Well, with the spending...  Not the looking.

So I've found that it's absolutely a great time for me to check out the animal barns...  I have found that I know several of the sheep owners, goat owners, and get to check out the rabbits, and some exotics...

Like- a yak that was there one year.  I walked up, just a bit shy of something that large.  It was bigger than most male cattle I'd been around, and was well armored with a set of horns that were wider than said yak.

I was watching the animal, when the owner of said yak showed up...  She was telling me all about it, that it was a friendly animal, and was not one to be aggressive, and the fiber was awesome!  Come and feel it!

Tentatively, I walked up to the stall, and stroked the back of the yak, to let it know I was there.  It turned to look at me, sniffed slightly, then went back to the hay bale it was mowing though.  I talked with the gal about the care and feeding of yaks, when the owner, realizing I hadn't felt the fiber (the part used on a yak is the protective undercoat), she patted, then said, "dig in, feel that wonderful fiber!"  (Not a bit of a salesman, no siree...)

But, I will admit, I was looking at it with some thoughts... And so I, indeed, "dug in", pushing the hair apart, and sticking my hand down in the soft warmth of the undercoat.  She was right, it was just lovely soft!  I rubbed it some more... And suddenly got a right cross of a slightly dirty yak tail in my face, knocking off my glasses!

Turns out, yaks can be tickled... My glasses were not damaged, and after a quick run to the restroom, my face was okay, but, I decided to let someone else raise yaks.

I think Husband probably appreciates that more than anyone.

*******

Had a busy day at the substation... I can't talk about the specifics, but I am glad I was able to help, but sad to know that the kind of help rendered was necessary.  

But, I did have one funny thing I can share.  The Sheriff's Office has Community (Compensatory) Service work crews that are picked up and dropped off there.  At the usual drop off time, I saw a trickle of folks jump out of the work van, and leave.  And a few that stood around talking, smoking, or getting bikes unlocked to leave.  I took no notice, until a gal came in asking to use the phone about 15 minutes later.

Not unusual either.  She called, checking if X was going to pick her up, sighed when she heard the beep, and went back out.  

I finished my day, and she was still out there, about a half hour later.  I went out the back, to my vehicle, and there was a car parked behind me.  This WAS unusual, and I kept my eye on the guy.  He waved, and then poked his head out the window, "Hey, was the crew truck here?"  

"Yes, about a half hour ago."

"Huh.  I guess I missed her."

"A gal, round faced, wearing this 'n that clothes, name Pickmeup?"

An awestruck look, if I ever saw one, and he said, "Uh, yeah... Do you know-"

I pointed, "She's out front, has been waiting for you-"

He made the fastest 3 point turn I've ever seen, and was out front at near warp speed... 

Oopsie!!!

V is for Da da da da da da, VAC MAN!

I was pretty young when this happened, grade school, I think.

We had gone to bed, and it was pretty late, I know I'd been asleep for a while.  Something woke me.  Next thing I know, Mom was sounding upset, and I heard noises in the front room.

I got up, and started to go into the hallway to the front room.

Mom bellowed, "Get back in your room, and close the door!"

I did, but not before I got a glimpse of Dad's backside, naked, running around with the vacuum cleaner, randomly swatting the air.  No clue what was going on, and I was trying hard not to giggle.

As it turned out, we had a bat in the house, and Dad was using the vacuum to chase it down.  I heard thumps, some swearing, clanks, then a "swwwONK" noise from the vacuum.  Then, finally, quiet.

Dad said, "It's still alive, I'll go take it outside."

Mom's reply, "PUT SOME UNDERWEAR ON FIRST!"

Yeah, I lost the giggle battle at that point...

Our family seems to have a problem with males and bats.  My Grandpa was painting his house, and was leaning out to paint the trim, when something came out at him.  His first reaction was to swat at it.  Well, he looked up, and saw a Hunter Green bat flying away...

That animal, I must say, isn't one I have dealt with overmuch.  But I must say, it has made for some funny stories in our family...

U is for... UGH!!!

Poo...

So, with animals as the topic for my A to Z, there is one part of animals that is less that wonderful. Yeah...

Poo.  Some you can (hopefully) have take care of it in one spot, like a cat.  Getting it out, not so great, but most of the time the landmines are in the stink box, not hither and yon.

Our dog, well... He's not doing so great, since he's getting old, but we trained him where he needs to go.  He tries. I will give him that.

Then the llamas.  They, like cats, like to go in one particular area, which makes clean up a bit easier...

Lastly, chickens.

Chickens, while they are productive animals, useful for both egg, and meat, even feathers, if you like fly fishing... They can't, as far as I can tell, be trained to poo anywhere.  Or, more accurately, they poo EVERYWHERE!

So, if you visit my house, don't wear good shoes.

I try to keep the place clean, but you have been warned...

T is for Tiny Tiger.

Husband had taken me on a trip to the coast, and I saw the sign that said Animal Park.

Husband knew that was trouble... He stopped anyway.

We came into an area filled with all sorts of critters, tame enough to pet, (and feed, if you wanted to get some grain pellets).  I wandered around, petting deer, a sheep, and a few other critters, trying to avoid stepping on ducks and chickens, (or in, uh, other things left by same), when I saw the sign...

BABY TIGER

I had to go over and check that out, IMMEDIATELY.  I walked up, and the nice lady gave me a cub, probably about 10-15 pounds, and I was in love.  It was looking confused, but I was baby talking to it, and walking around, until the lady politely coughed, tapping me on the shoulder.

"Uh, ma'am?  We have other folks wanting to hold the tiger..."

I really liked holding the baby, and I saw a bit of a gleam in her eye, as she said I could hold another baby, if I wanted.  The tiger was taken back to the photo area, where a line had formed, while I was handed a cute little ball of fluff, sort of a whitish poof with a little black nose.  It hooked onto my shirt with fairly long claws, and promptly dropped off to sleep.  The lady said I could walk around as long as I wanted with that one...

I was fine with the little guy, but noticed he had a pronounced musky smell.  I knew it wasn't a cat, but couldn't quite figure out what it was.  Husband asked, and then looked sort of panicked.

"Soo, what is it?"

He kept about 5 feet from me when he answered. "An albino SKUNK."

I shrugged. "Hey, it's happy. I'm not too worried."

Other people had heard what I was holding, and boy, I had NO problem walking around the place after that...  It was a bit creative getting Baby Stinker off me at the end, not because of it 'spraying', but remember the claws?  They hook well, and the baby didn't WANT to let go!  The lady ended up un-hooking each claw, to get it loose!

Yes, I think that perhaps I should ask before I glom onto a baby critter...

But it was cute... :)

S is for sleeping...

Ah, such bliss, I am at one with the Universe, zzz...

zzz-Snrt... What's with the light?

Lady, this ain't a photo shoot, I am TRYING to nap... 

Now then, ignore the light and doze... zzzzzz. Silly human.

R is for Racoons, rabbits, and... No, not happening...

My reputation as a country kid followed me when I went to college.  I suppose it was when I tried to raise corn on the window sill that it was cemented in that I liked nature.  (Or that I was a nutcase, but I like to think the other...)

This was a two-edged sword, as I was then the "expert" for any animals roaming about.  Especially those that managed to get in people's apartments.  We had a period of time when the landlord was working on people's bathrooms, thereby leaving holes that would lead outside.  At least if you were four footed.  Or not...

Also, quite a few folks, during the spring and summer, would leave the front door, or the back window open during the day.  This lead to my helping someone get a bird to leave... This one was pretty easy, had them turn off all the lights, then open door and window.  Then walk toward bird.  Bird took off, pooping as it went, which upset the person.  I shrugged, explaining, it's what birds do.  I found out she started telling others that I was some sort of  'animal expert'.

I went on to help someone remove: a cat, a couple rabbits, and one opposum.  (You'd be amazed what you can do with a cookie pan and a large blanket.)  A raccoon was a bit more tricky, we managed to do that by closing the door to the bathroom where it came up, and getting some stinky food, (cheese?  I don't remember, but it smelled...) and putting it by the vent nearest that bathroom.  Sure enough, about 10 or so minutes later, the furry bandit's nose was twitching 'round the corner.  After a nice lunch for the critter, we started blocking vents.

Thought we had blocked them all...

I was doing some homework, when there was a knock on my door.  A tiny lady that lived at the end apartment asked if I would help her with an animal in her tub.

Uh, sure...

We walked back to her apartment, one of the last ones to be repaired, and in the tub, nearly as long AS the tub, was a boa constrictor!  Please note, I am not afraid of snakes.  However, this critter was big, and I don't know how to handle large snakes.  I turned, and told her that this was a time to call the police.

I kid you not, she looked at me like I was nuts, and said, it's a snake, not a burglar.  Nonplussed, I replied, yes, but the police know who to contact for animal control.

Oh...

It was rather a good thing we did call the police, as someone a few houses away had called that their pet snake had wandered off while sunbathing.  (!!!)  So, I waited with the lady, who WAS afraid of snakes, and didn't want to be alone, if it got out.  We waited by her front door, until the police, and animal control arrived, soon to be followed by the owner.  This parade went in, the owner came out with said animal.

That's when I decided to tell the landlord I was going to start charging him for animal removal if he didn't get all the holes plugged up in the apartments!

Q is for Queen...

I had this really neat kitty, big old longish haired, grey striped cat, bright yellow eyes.  It walked just like John Wayne, from the back.

So, I named him Duke.

Duke lived up to his name, he'd eat, and fight, and be the biggest, most aggressive cat.  Ran most everyone else off.  He loved me, though.  I would feed him on the bin where we kept the food, and he would purr so loudly, you'd thought his Mom was a Peterbilt.

We'd had him for about a year or two, where he came from was anyone's guess, people were unduly fond of dumping cats out near our place, since we were in the country.  (Snarl...)

But then I couldn't find him.  He was gone for about 3 days or so.  I was really worried, and Mom and Dad even checked the road, a definite danger to our animals there.

Then I saw Duke jump up on the bin like always, purring.  However, this time, I heard little squeaks...

Huh?

I peeked behind the bin, and there, by an engine block, were 4 tiny kittens.  This wasn't a real safe place for them, so we moved the kittens, and Duke, giving them a spot with a bit more warmth, and a bit less mechanical decor.

Oh, and I renamed her Duchess...

P is for People...

Ok, yes, this will date me, but I keep wondering if they should have made a Mutual of Omaha's "Wild Kingdom" about humans.

Explaining the rash outbursts, displays of power, the amazing plumage, mating rituals and how they vary by location, (or not).  Show the tool using capabilities, and how it might help the creature survive.

Jim Fowler could dart one of the herd, and tag and collar it to track its movements.

Or, you know, just give it a hacked cell phone...

***********

For my regular readers, I apologize for not writing much "personal" stuff, I have written most of the A to Z blogs ahead of time.  I am hoping to catch up on everyone's blog on Tuesday, if all goes well, (blog binging?), so I can see what everyone else is doing.  Mostly, I have been on the go, and not near a computer all that much.  (I even have a newsletter that I need to get out, aaaaand, well, I have to actually park tooshy and do it, if it's to get out... eep.)

O is for oink, hiccup... Snore...

Grandpa used to raise pigs.  I wasn't allowed anywhere NEAR said pigs, as Grandpa was afraid that they would knock me down, or hurt me.  I liked to watch when he fed them, though, I always thought the wiggly noses looked amazingly funny.

Grandpa would also make beer and wine.

One time, he'd made a huge batch of the stuff, and it had been raining.

A lot.

We'd come over to visit, and Grandpa was feeding the mash to the hogs.  One big, aggressive male ate most of it.  Grandpa didn't think too much of it at the time...

Well, a bit later, he went to check on things out in the back, and came in hollering for Daddy to help him.

That great big hog was drunk.  So drunk he couldn't stand, and kept falling into the now soupy muck, and trying to sleep.  The wiggly nose was barely quivering.

Dad and Grandpa tried to roll the hog, lift the hog, several different things, that silly hog was just blissfully blasted, I think you could have set a firecracker off in his left ear, and he might have yawned...  So, Grandpa got a board, and between his lifting, and Daddy shoving the board, they managed to make a high spot under the pig's chin so he wouldn't drown.

A pig's snore is actually quite loud!

Grandpa was admonished to feed the mash in much smaller quantities to the pigs, after that.

N is for NOT natural.

I just read about people putting lights under their skin.  I must say, that sounds odd.

Then I considered.  I think people are just jealous of the skills, tools, and adornments that animals have.

Tattoos?  Tigers, chameleons, in fact, most animals are rather more decorated than we are.

I have heard some geeks put magnets in, to be able to 'sense' magnetic fields.  Birds do this, I gather, to migrate.

Mechanical sniffers?  Dogs got ya covered.

Mouse traps?  Cats would sneer in contempt. (Again.)

Swim fins, the fish would count as baby steps, so to speak.

We have the ability to mimic a lot of different creatures, for our own use.

So, lights?  Hmm...  I think fireflies and angler fish would consider us posers...

M is for Monkey

I mentioned earlier that I am not a great fan of horses.  Ok, there is one animal I don't like.
Monkeys.  They are creepy, nasty, things that spook the **** out of me.

Auntie had a monkey.  Why, I don't know, but she kept it in a cage in the kitchen.  I really didn't think much about it, until one time I walked in, and for some reason, the little demon was angry with me.  I started to go to the table, when something flew past my face.  I jumped back, looked, and realized there was a turd stuck to the wall.  That was followed by another, and screeching that wouldn't be out of place in a horror movie.  I grabbed what I needed on the table, and ran out, while poo missiles were zinging around me.

I didn't go back into the kitchen...

I think Auntie finally got rid of the monkey.  I don't know if it died, she sold it, gave it away, what.  But I think the little monster probably would still be flinging poo, if it were still around...

I wish I could say that my opinion has eased over the years, but no.  I hope that they are happy and free in the jungles or where ever they are supposed to naturally be, (especially the ones that hot tub when it snows), but pets?  Not for me...  (shudder!)

L is for Lazy day.

During the summer, my animals seem to luxuriate in the weather.  This is Buzz, my outdoor kitty, enjoying the sun.  The llamas, and even the chickens will lie down, spread out and enjoy the warmth of a good sunny day.

We just had some 80 degree weather, and the animals were turning into organic solar collectors, trying to cover as much area as possible.  Since this kind of weather normally doesn't happen this time of year, I think they enjoyed it even more.  

Then, there is my dog, Rudee, who will lay on his back, feet in the air, snoring.  If someone didn't know what had happened, I wouldn't be surprised that the mistake would be made he was having some severe problem, or had crash landed somehow...

K is for Killdeer

We have Killdeer around, they like to lay eggs in gravel.  This can lead to some odd occurrences.

I was in first or second grade, when we had a Killdeer lay an egg just on the far side of the playground, right near the parking lot.  We all wanted to see the bird, which was made easier by the janitor, who had painted a bright red circle around the nest, so people could avoid it when parking.

Well, we kids were all ringed around this bird, who was probably panic stricken, but studiously sat, guarding her egg.  The teachers noticed the play time mobbing of the poor bird, and so the janitor sprayed a NEW circle, about 10 or so feet around the bird, and we were given the rule that if anyone was caught inside of that second circle, they would have no recess.

So, we all stood, toes on the circle, to watch and see if Mama would have a chick during one of our play times.  One day, there was a chick, so I assume it hatched of an evening or morning, before we showed up... I think that the bird, and the teachers, were glad when the bird moved on.

This same kind of event happened at the volunteer fire station, and someone used orange paint to mark around the nest.   I would have thought the poor bird would have been terrified of huge, red, screaming-siren trucks going by her, but that one survived to have a chick, too.

Then, in a nearby town, we have a road named Killdeer Avenue.  The name?  It was proposed after construction had to be delayed because one of these goofy birds laid an egg in a spot where a mega store was to be built.  Again, silly bird had a chick, they left, and all was restored to 'normal'.

They may not be smart, those Killdeer, but they have more courage than they know what to do with!

J is for, well, Jay.

I like watching birds.  I especially like watching them at campgrounds.  They seem to figure out so quickly that food is for the taking, if they are quick, or if the humans are dumb enough to leave things out for them. (Even if they didn't mean if for said bird.)

I guess that jays are, in general, some what of a thieving bunch, I looked up "Camp Robber Bird", and this came up, proving that several species of bird can be profiled...

So, this couple leave out a loaf of bread in a plastic bag.  Husband and I tell them they should not leave it unattended.  They laugh it off, saying that it's too heavy for the birds to mess with.  Husband snorts, I roll my eyes, and the couple go off on a walk around the campground.

We watch as a rather large crow, and a jay land within seconds.  The jay pecks at the bag.  I start to rise, and Husband, with a mischievous look, says, "Let 'em.  Remember, it's too heavy for the birds to mess with."  The jay had nearly pecked a hole in the plastic, and the crow was watching, and tugging on the tied end of the loaf.

The crow soon tired of tugging, and started flapping his wings furiously, lifting the loaf to a 45 degree angle, and dragging it across the table.  Just as it was about to fall off, the jay dug in and tried to pull out a slice, succeeding in tearing out a crust to take with it.

The couple shows up and realizes that the bread is just about to do a disappearing act, and take panicked action, whereupon the crow drops the loaf, and the crow and jay land in a nearby tree, screaming avian obscenities at the couple.

They pick up the bread, look at the significant hole, rather mangled center slices, and then glare at us.

"Why didn't you STOP them?"

Husband looks innocently at them, and quotes,"It's too heavy for the birds to mess with."

They glare at us for a minute, pull out the "dirty" slices, and throw them in the trash, and go into their motor home, slamming the door.

And we watch as the crow and jay swoop down, grab a slice each, and land on the now vacated table for lunch.  I was quiet about it, but I said, "Good going, guys..."

Husband just chuckled.

I is for interruptions.

Animals, like small children, can be uniquely suited to causing a simple task to be, well, not as simple.  I think of trying to sweep the floor with the cat around. Or make the bed.  Or do pretty much anything, when said cat is around.

But, this can work with other animals...

Like getting feed from the bin.  I reach in, and there is a chicken on my shoulder, looking in, too.  I carefully stand, so she will jump off.  Not a chance, she just walks up, 'til she is sitting upright on my shoulder, clucking in my ear.  I shoo her, ineffectively, then realize I am hearing munching.  I turn to see the llama has her head in the bin, sampling the chicken feed.  I then shoo HER out, unnerving the chicken, who then flies off.  Meanwhile, I am bumped from behind by the dog, who is feeling very left out of all the "fun".

I manage not to end up on the ground, I get the llama back into the main pasture, remove at least one chicken from the bin, before closing it, throw the chicken food out to feed, pet the dog, then walk back to the house.

Whereupon, Husband casually mentions I have bird crap on my shoulder...

Yep, gotta love the interruptions...

H is for Holy Crap, I am late...

I thought I'd written an "H", and one reader (Hi, Mom) noticed it wasn't up. And I got busy, and STILL didn't put it up.  So, very late, I have an H blog.

Unlike most of my gal friends in grade school, and a few of my friends now, I have never had a love of horses.  I like horses.  I think they are beautiful animals, and depending on what they are used for, quite useful as well, like say, logging, riding, that sort of thing.  But I like them, as some one else's animal...

Having grown up with horses that were determined to see me DIE, STOMP THE HUMAN, DIE!  I guess it made me more than a little hinky around equine-y beings.  Which is unique, when I went to talk to my neighbor.

You guessed, she has horses.  She, in fact, trains them.  So, I needed to discuss some little thing with her, and she has this HUGE brown horse, that kept looking at me oddly.  Then, he drops a hoof on the cement. CLOP.  I jump.  The neighbor laughs, pets the horse, and says, "You need to be patient, I'm talking right now."  The horse sniffed slightly.  We finished our conversation, and I left.

The next day, I was walking on the road, and she has the horse out exercising with a cart.  I wasn't paying any attention.  Next thing I notice, the horse is watching me, and pacing the pace I was going.  The neighbor was talking with the student, and didn't notice, I guess.

I kept walking, walking a bit slower, to see if the horse was really pacing me, and sure enough, it matched my pace again.  I sped up a little, it twitched ears, then sped up.

About this time, neighbor looks up, and realized the doings.  She shook the leads, and called out, "You need to move, she is walking just fine on her own."  Another shake of the leads, and the horse lets out an unmistakable snort. And no faster.  The horse was wanting to walk with me!  And not in a malicious, I want to stomp you to dust thing, in that, Hi, I want to be friends way.

I still am a bit timid with horses. But I must say, that was a very pleasant change!

G is for GO AWAY, GOPHERS!!

In this area, we have been having a problem with rodents, gophers and voles, moles, that sort of riff raff.  SO, there have been lots of different ideas on how to deal with them... 

There is the gum in the hole of said rodent run.  Didn't work, that I saw, but maybe I chewed the gum too long...

The cats are somewhat effective, but Mom and Dad don't have a cat, and well, they go off duty at least part of the day...

Husband smoked them out with propane.  I think that actually worked.  But, really, I get more than a bit freaked out when he decided to LIGHT it, and FLAMES and SMOKE come from the ground, like we are living near an active volcano.  

A pistol works.  However, when spouse A uses said pistol, (or shotgun, in one case), spouse B really should know, so that screaming and panic do not ensue when some unwanted rodent is dispatched... 

(Dad, next time, let Mom know, pleeease?)

Then there is the little windmill thingy... It has such good reviews.  Mom bought it, it is supposed to drive the little monsters off because the vibrations annoy them. 

Ahem.

Well, the one my Mom bought must have been tuned by the Beach Boys for Good Vibrations, because when I came over about 3 days later, there were little mole hills all over, right by the windmill!  It was attracting them!  

Anyone want to buy a Pied Piper Windmill?

F is for Fur 'n Feathers.

Furry and fuzzy,

Feathers and fur,

Farm and free,

Look at all the animals I see.

Finny, fluffy, 

fat, or fleet,

I love my friends the animals, 

and they love me!

(Ok, the llamas are ambivalent, but the rest do...) 

The poetry is sort of wonky, but you get the idea...

So, what is YOUR favorite animal?

E is for Early Bird. Not...

Mon Ami was a rescue, from a family that had hand raised him.  He didn't know how to do the poultry thing, when he first came here.  He was even afraid of the other chickens, and the lawn.  He watched the other birds, though, and figured out, wow, I can do this.  And then he figured out he was a rooster, and seems to have been a happy bird since.

The one thing he doesn't do, is crow early.  Most of the roosters I've had, 3 to 4 a.m., they would  be starting crowing, jumping down from the roost to stretch, flap wings, and bellow hello to the morning.  

Mon Ami takes a rather more casual approach.  He will let the day know he's awake, eventually.  He does crow, but I have more than once heard him crow, oh, at the crack of 7ish...  He will crow at other times of the day, if he's happy, if he's angry, or when he is high up on a perch.

But greeting the day, he's happy to let someone else be an 'early bird'!