The Elysian Fields

Follow up to the kennel explosion here.

For those who don't want to read the details, there is this bit of relatively good news:

Meanwhile, the condition of Timothy Kleinhagen of Summit Hill, the truck delivery driver who was badly burned in the explosion, was upgraded to stable today, a hospital spokeswoman said.

Co-owner Karen Tracy tearfully described Kleinhagen as a "hero."

Kleinhagen managed to first toss a cairn terrier named Chilli over the fence to safety before getting himself out of harm's way.

"That man is a hero," Tracy said. "My heart goes out to his family."

And I mentioned in a comment yesterday that Martha Stewart had bought two dogs from this kennel; unfortunately I was only half-right, and the second transaction hadn't been completed:

Among those that died was a chow chow puppy named Ghengis Khan that was promised to Martha Stewart. Tracy said that Stewart, during a phone conversation Saturday morning, offered her sympathy and seemed more worried about how she and her mother were doing.

Okay, by feeding these turkeys (pun quite intended, thank you), we've trained Canadian geese to forget how to migrate and to sit around beautiful parks, ponds, and streams, where they can aggressively attack toddlers who aren't feeding them bread fast enough. Not to mention the mess they make.

So, what's it going to take before hunting restrictions on this over-population are removed, and the Kissmas goose can cease being a thing of the past?

Maybe when the kamikaze tendencies become more apparent?

(For the record, I've never dined on goose, to my knowledge, I'm just curious. And often annoyed at the mess they make. And I still haven't forgiven them for attacking aequitaslevitas when he was four years old. Poor kid was so traumatized, he never asked me to take him to feed the geese again. Although we did have to admire the father with the pickup truck, who hoisted his equally assailed son into the back of his pickup truck, safe from snapping beaks of death, to continue the distribution process.)

Well, they actually do have something in common: my yard.

In no particular order, I discovered a second of the winterberries is, in fact, a she and not a he. Luckily, the one in a prominent position in the center of the Stone Stream island is, and she had two potential offspring that grew bright red - and then were hacked off, along with a bit of twig and a mouthful of leaves, by one of our white tailed rodents. The other, just discovered today, has only one fruit, but it has thus far evaded the hooved herbivore Hoovers.

The katsura tree has lived up to its expectations - as soon as the leaves go from green to yellow, it gives off a smell somewhere between cotton candy and caramel. Of course, since it's still just a twig, there's less than two dozen leaves, so you have to lean over and sniff. I've caught the scent at a distance once or twice; faint, but it shows promise. Which reminds me, I tried to convince Justin to get me some cotton candy while we were at Fair in the Square in Watertown last weekend, but he didn't...

Justin thinks a bear ran by him while he was down getting the trash barrels earlier today. He says it was the size, shape, and ran like the one we had seen last week. Only it was white.

So. Looks like I might be able to get some ammunition for that RPPB that was discussed on TH last year some time. Of course, stuffing a polar bear - even a smallish one - into the rocket shell is always the challenge, and it's best to buy the stuff fully loaded. Or just to stay away from the whole dubious concept.

Deb is of the opinion that it was a wolf; I suggested coyote at first, as they're known to frequent, well, everywhere. White, however, isn't a likely color for either one or the other, although I suppose it's more likely than an albino black bear.

Even more likely, is that it was a large white dog. Think I might even have seen one somewhere in the neighborhood before, which makes it even more likely.

A few days ago, I was standing out on the porch, and I suffered grievous abuse, berated up and down with language that would make a sailor blush.

No, it wasn't Deb, why do you ask?

You see, I stepped out on to the porch, and saw movement under the swinging chair. As I started to investigate, a chipmunk ran out from that area and dived into one of the cat beds. I flipped it over, but before I could get the other one on top to capture the little booger, it darted up and out, ran along the porch edge, hidden by the ferns, and proceeded to rip me a new one, as only a foul-mouthed little rodent can.

I took a step towards it, and it ran down along the foundation and into one of the cellar window wells, where it continued its verbal abuse.

And where were the cats when all this happened? Down at the end of the driveway, lounging in the azaleas. Oy.

The Animal In You Quiz

Apparently I am either an Owl or a Penguin.

I'm supposed to pick one - from the descriptions, I could be one, the other, or both. You decide.

( W O L spells Owl )

( It's enough to strike fear in the heart of TH'ers everywhere! )