The Pointer is at the veterinarian's for x-rays of his nose. The dog was ill with a respiratory infection two weeks ago and is still having an occasional violent sneezing fits. I mean bad enough we are afraid he is going to hit his chin on the floor and crack teeth or jaw. And he is not the happy little fellow he usually is - something is not quite right.
It is just the Big Dog in the Small House who was depressed as Daddy took Little Dog Somewhere and left Big Dog at home. Until I showed him my walking boots.
We went out to Uncle Joe's pasture land. The ridges are easy to walk as is along the creek. A chance for me to test my knee. Beautiful day and I was watching and listening for birds.
Actually was quiet along the creek. Usually we disturb a very large owl at it's rest, roust six or so very large white tail deer and irk the kingfishers who hunt the creek.
We did note the flock of quail we manage to flush twice and heard goldfinches. They never stay in the area for the breeding season. I did hear what I would swear was a white-throated song sparrow - which would be something indeed - perhaps it was a vesper sparrow.
We left Joe's pasture land and went further east along the creek, driving a distance of two miles to go a half mile down the creek. And there were small gulls along the creek. There are gulls on occasion this far inland - the large reservoirs play host to a variety of marine birds. Trying to identify gulls is like identifying sparrows. These were compact, short tailed, fat bullet shaped bodied birds with a clear dark eye and in a hurry to be somewhere else.
And we managed to bother several hawks. This time of year we see more of the lighter belly hawks - I think more Ferruginous hawks are in the area - and the sophisticated White Tail Kites show up for the winter. They wing over the fields at just a few feet off ground level. Elegant with their pointed wings and gray and white attire.
The call of the cranes can be heard at all hours of the day and night. I can not tell you which cranes as both species migrate through the area. The Platte River and Cheyenne Bottoms hosts thousands on thousands of the sandhill cranes during breeding season. The call I hear is a throaty purr of a call -
garrrill, rolling the r's.
The hundreds of geese have not started through the area. With the frosty mornings I should be hearing them at night but have not yet.
All is brown, beige, deep shades of rusts and brilliant, brilliant green in the area. The milo is the deep burnt rust-brown, the grasses are all beige, the weeds in the ditches are brown and the newly planted wheat is brilliant green in it's tender youth.
There are cows (and bulls to "serve" them) still out to pasture. We saw plenty of "fresh sign" of the bovines but thankfully did not come upon any. They will not be brought into closer pastures until late November.
By one o'clock it was warm. The Big Dog was getting hot and although it was a hard frost this morning I guessed the snakes would be headed to the rock ledges to sun. So we head home. The last thing the Labrador-mix did was find a huge muddy puddle to lay in. Didn't even bother to shake the water off.
A short walk around town this evening to help Big Dog with any tight muscles (and he had a buffered aspirin with supper). In the colder weather we have the night with the deep sky and dancing stars all to ourselves as we walk the town. We become voyeurs then and the flickering light of enclosed entertainment follow us around town, bouncing from one house to another.
Then we have the stray cats, the coyote call, Orion and his swinging sword as company in the sharp country air. And we are selfish and glad we are not sharing this with anyone else.
The reservoir at Curt Gowdy State Forest, Medicine Bow National Forest, Wyoming
