Dog gravity

I was in Perth a week ago. It was hot. I stayed with a friend. We walked down the beach with her old dog. Slowly.

 The beach was crowded with dogs and people, all shapes and sizes and colours. Mostly walking. Dogs playing and splashing in the shadows. The calm water was nearly empty of people. 

Surprising. 

We watched big brown dogs collect together, then a group of small pale dogs sniffed as their humans chatted. They agglomerated then dispersed. A special dog gravity.

We walked around a lake in the evening, and watched birds feed in the receding summer shallows. Muddy edges closed in as the hot dry weather continued.

We stayed to watch the evening colours change. 

I loved the last light catching the tips of the pines. 

Low tide at Lights

Beach surprise

After an absence of several weeks I finally got to the beach today. Miske had been in season which meant we had been confined to walking in 'safe' locations: down to the dam and back or into the bush next door. Definitely not to the dog beach. Blake, the puppy we kept, had been taken to the beach a few times by friends when they took their dogs down to the beach, so he had at least had a bit of fun. Blake is now as big as his mum, much to her chagrin. She wants to be boss and he wants to be annoying. Now Blake just woofs at her to let her know he isn't happy about something. I have seen her give up a bone to him after one woof. Not a good precedent if she wants to stay boss.

The tide was way out exposing thin green slivers of water weed laying flat on the limestone rocks, the weeds occasionally raised up as an incoming wave lifted and swirled around and over then raced towards my feet tracing the moving edges of the water. Sooty oyster catchers with their distinctive red beaks and eyes took advantage of the low tide, and picked and probed a smorgasbord fresh from the rocks.

While I was photographing the ocean an immature Pacific Gull lazily drifted into my picture frame. 

It floated along the jagged limestone edge just in front of us before it flapped up and off further down the beach before commencing the lazy drift again. 

The last thing I expected to see down the beach this morning was a small flock of white tailed black cockatoos. They were feeding on the seeds of the wild geranium growing only metres from the sandy beach. The birds were half hidden on the ground, becoming visible as they flapped up and drifted a few metres along with the breeze, then dropped down to feed once more.

Look carefully there are five cockies in the image above.

Here they are much easier to pick out. They are probably Baudin's Cockatoo as they breed in karri country as opposed to Carnaby's Cockatoo which breed mainly in the wheatbelt. Their different bill shapes are rather difficult to determine from a distance. Baudin's has a long narrow upper bill and Carnaby's has a short thick upper bill. Their calls are different too, but these fellows were too busy eating to be calling.

Happiness is ...

Eight puppies at six and a half weeks

Butter wouldn't melt in their mouths

This morning Miske taught the puppies 'digging' and  'under the decking'. I watched as she jumped off the decking with a few puppies in tow and deliberately dug a few scrapes in the soft sand, nuzzling the puppies. She walked away then came back and did exactly the same thing again. Two of the puppies pawed the sand, following her example. 'Digging!! ... we could have lots of fun here ...' Next she led them into a bigggg hole she had dug earlier - 'this is what you can do with digging'. They rolled down the slope and kicked up sand as they scampered back up the sides. Minutes later Miske went to the end of the decking where the access to underneath is, again with puppies in tow and stuck her nose underneath as if to say, 'take a look in there its fun'. She was definitely on a mission this morning.

Under the deck has always been a place of fascination for the dogs. A few years ago we heard the sounds of digging, scraping and whining coming from under our deck. It was our neighbours dog going through the nesting digging stage of pregnancy.  There must have been some primal memory of a 'good den' that she locked away sometime during her 'holidays' here. We were so surprised. We hadn't looked after her since she was much younger and to get here she had to squeeze under our fence to get in to our yard. No mean feat when you have a belly full of puppies.

Miske did the same with her first pregnancy too - under the deck and digging for her life. Getting these pregnant diggers out was no easy task either - all they wanted to do was dig a lovely, well hidden den. It was a fight between their nesting instinct and obeying a higher ranking member of their 'pack' calling them out. Second time around we just didn't give Miske the chance to dig when she was in the nesting phase - we kept her indoors or closely supervised while outside.

Under is the newest game

The first excitement of 'under the deck' turned to squeals of panic as the puppies worked out how to get back out. Miske poked her head down where they were, while we had to cajole them out, digging even bigger holes for those that had ventured all the way under. Tiny tails waggled excitedly as they figured it out - then the intrepid pups went straight back under to test out their new found game.

By the end of the day the hole was a favoured sleeping spot.

Eight

Once again we have tiny black and white bundles of warm furriness and squeals and mewling to fill our idle moments. Miske produced eight tiny puppies on Tuesday morning. She insisted I was up all night with her - going so far as to follow me into another room to drop the last pup.  We thought that seven was surely all there was to be. No. Eight.

So we are back into the routine of mewling, baby barks, and the silence of contented sleep, occasionally punctuated by loud cries of distress if a puppy finds itself too far away from its comfort zone.

It also means I've seen a few more sunrises than has been usual as I'm up early to give Miske her morning feed. She is ravenous.

I'd been promising myself I would tromp through the bush next door to get  a better view of the inlet in the morning light and finally I did, with Miske in tow. The sky had an extra reddish glow because the autumn burning off of the bush is in full swing. During the fine days there is always a smoky haze somewhere on the horizon - taking advantage of the cool and damp sweet spot between the too hot and dry of summer and the too wet of winter.

Wilson's Inlet - there is a town down there somewhere below the trees

 
Miske was a little sidetracked by all the delicious scents on the dewy bush trails. All I could see was the intermittent flash of her white tail as she snuffled off through the thick undergrowth. After taking my photos I called her back and reminded her about her puppies. Then she was off and racing back to her brood. Spoilsport.

Snake tails

Molly eyeing the chooks

Strolling down the path in the early morning drizzle to let out the chooks I was confronted with the vision of a tiger snake sliding in front of me and the flying black and white legs of a border collie speeding across the top. Yikes! Molly was fleet and keen for the excitement of  watching chooks bursting out of their house. She didn't see the snake - I'm not sure if the snake saw or felt her - it disappeared behind some weeds without changing pace. The vision reminded me of comic strips with multi feet spinning on the spot - except it didn't feel funny. The last thing I wanted was a snake bitten dog.

Mille fleur hen and her chickens

We are  looking after Molly, one of Miske's puppies, over this long weekend. Once the dogs were safely back in the house I let out the chooks and checked beside the path for the snake. It was curled up just a couple of metres further down the path. With the day overcast and damp I figured we could safely call the ranger out to catch the snake, as the snake was likely stay put for a while. The ranger turned up after breakfast, duly caught the snake with his U-beaut catcher, popped it in a big calico bag with wired opening and drawstrings and took it away. His grand daughter had waited in his car during the catching as she wasn't wearing long trousers. Safety first demands leg and foot protection. She wants to be a ranger and she took a good look at the tiger snake once it was in the bag. It was about sixty centimetres long with a rich golden belly and the gold stripes just peaking around the sides, and dark blackish on top.

I remember when we were teenagers, catching the snakes with our bare hands by grabbing them behind the head, popping them in calico bags which we then put in the fridge for a while to slow the snakes down, before tipping them out on the ground to take photographs. The big ones were very strong and twisty, so you had to be confident when holding them. Putting them in the bag was the trickiest bit as I recall. You had to put the head with one hand, and with the other hand hold the head from the outside of the bag before letting go with the inside hand, then get the rest of the snake in the bag as you let go and let it fall in. I wouldn't want to try that now.

I had seen the tiger snake only two days ago on our verandah, sliding past the dog's bed then poking its head past our main sliding door. That was just too close for comfort. I called the dogs inside, put on some thick shoes then went stomping around the house to encourage it to move on. I found it curled up under the dog's bed. I imagined Miske or Molly sleeping on the bed with a tiger snake sleeping underneath. No..! I stomped and banged some more and the snake unwound and disappeared under our decking. I stomped the decking, and then stomped the decking some more. I stomped the decking the next day just to make sure. We didn't see it again till it turned up today. I'm glad it allowed itself to be quietly caught and taken away. And I'm glad neither of the dogs were bitten in their gallivanting around the garden.

Molly diving in the dam

As I have no photos of dogs running on top of tiger snakes, I give you dogs gallivanting in the dam instead. It is summer after all. 

Savouring summer

For me, summer is soporific. The heat and humidity lull me into a space of relaxation despite wanting to do a heap of things. Outside in the middle of the day the sun burns within minutes. Even if it is hazy or cloudy. We always have UV index figures in the extreme category; today it is 14.  I blame it on the ozone hole above Antarctica. According to NASA it is not expected to return to its pre 1980's size till about 2060.

However there was nothing like nearly stepping on a tiger snake while out walking with Miske to get the heart racing. The snake was very dark black, very very fat and ended with a short narrow tail. She disappeared quickly off the trail, flattening her body behind her head as she went, to look bigger and scarier. That wasn't necessary - trust me, I got a heck of a shock she was so close. Bear in mind I was out walking bare footed ... and Miske was happily sniffing and investigating scents and sounds just ahead of me.

Checking with Dad, he suspected the snake was gravid. She was so fat there could have been quite a few baby snakes packed inside her. Female tiger snakes can produce litters of up to forty live young. Tiger snakes are one of the group of  viviparous snakes (those that give birth to live young), mostly found in the cooler regions of Australia. Their venom is dangerous, containing chemicals that cause presynaptic and post synaptic paralysis, coagulopathy (reduced ability to clot blood) and muscle destruction. Sounds like they have all the bases covered.  However, people usually only get bitten if they try to interfere with the snake - or accidentally tread on one.

Only a few paces further along the trail I heard another slithery rustle slipping away from the trail. Miske heard it too and she wanted to investigate - but I said no. On the way back, she again wanted to check out the slithery rustle bushes. No way! I think I will avoid that part of the trail for a while - the mind boggles at the thought of dodging dozens of diminutive tigers, let alone the adults!

It was only a couple of days ago that I was surprised by another tiger snake coiled in a figure of eight beside a track down by the creek. It quickly slipped off into the bush when it heard me. Again Miske was ahead and oblivious to it's presence. The day before that, Mark was surprised by a dugite that was surprised by Mark, right beside our carport. The large brown snake quickly slithered up the bank, and disappeared into the ground cover there, but for a moment they were almost eyeball to eyeball. Fright to flight.

Summer is also the season for making jams and chutneys. While waiting for the first apricots to ripen I was reminded of my friend's apricot orchard. She always said in the week before Christmas she heard the 'plop, plop, plop' of ripe apricots falling to the ground. Down here it is the week after the new year that the apricots ripen and fall to the ground, but without the "plop, plop, plop' as here they fall onto soft green grass, not the dry gravelly ground of the Perth hills.

It is now a week into the new year and I am picking and eating apricots. Yesterday I made my first batch of apricot jam. I love the fragrance of cooking apricots and the sight of jars full of translucent apricotness. Today I made apricot chutney. I'll leave the snakes to savour the summer sun, while I savour the summer fruits. And maybe, just maybe, put my shoes on for my walks with Miske.

Hanging in there

Last night I dreamt that one of Miske's puppies was washed off the rocks at Lights Beach. I jumped in to save her in the heavy swell. A big storm was coming in, in fact the first rains at the edge of the front have hit us now. I was swimming her in steadily, kicking on my back, a tiny bit at a time, as the choppy waves rolled in one after the other and the undertow tried to suck me back out. I just concentrated on staying afloat-alive until my feet touched the sand, and we raced into shore before we were sucked out again. Just after I returned with the first, the second puppy dived in and was sucked out and I had to do it all over again. I really didn't want to go back in, the water was so cold, but I had to.

That dream seems to mirror my current state as I try to finish my last piece of assessment work for uni. Just when I thought I had nearly finished, there is more to do. Then, when checking some facts, I found more images  and maps that need to be added, and the whole document has to be re-indexed etc. One hundred pages is now one hundred and fifteen ... and there is still an essay to finish. Perhaps I need to listen to my dream, ignore the 'cold water' and just do it bit by bit, till I finally get there.

Which brings me to the cockatoos, who also are just 'hanging in there'

Female Long-billed Black Cockatoo (or Baudin's Cockatoo) - grey eye ring

So much of their habitat has been cleared over the last one hundred years that they have trouble breeding successfully - both from the point of view of adequate nesting sites and adequate food in the vicinity of the nesting sites. Their favoured habitat is in the high rainfall forests of the south west. They are listed as vulnerable and rare or likely to become extinct, which is a terrible thought. I remember when we lived in Perth, at Men of the Trees (where I was a volunteer) we grew plant species for mass planting in the wheat-belt, specifically as future food and habitat for all the cockatoos. Those plants should now be maturing and paying dividends for the birds.

Male Long-billed Black-Cockatoo - red eye ring

Their favoured food are the seeds in the  honkey nuts of the Marri and sometimes the blossom. They also eat the seeds of  other Eucalyptus and  Proteaceae plants. Six years after planting Hakeas we have black cockies visiting to feast on the semi mature seeds. Not only do the hakeas provide seeds for cockies, but they are a haven for little birds that feed on insects and nectar from the flowers. Occasionally the prickly leaved shrub has been a safe nesting site for small honeyeaters.

Cocky feeding on Hakea protrata seeds

Mad dogs and winter flowers

This morning we were working out on the Nullaki Peninsular, slowly freezing in the slushy hail and wind. It is totally exposed to the elements having panaramic views to the ocean and inlet - pretty to look at but just plain cold on days like today. Unfortunately a shed had its back blown off in a previous storm so it needed to be fixed. Miske very wisely stayed in the car - no mad dogs going out, only a mad Englishman and his wife!

Eucalyptus sp

I thought a little colour would be in order to counter the dark skies. I have been meaning to share some more images from the Pilbara, so here are some of the flowers we saw in July. The pale pink Eucalypt was growing in a gully - one pink among a number of creamy ones.

Many of these images show the special adaptations plants have made to the arid environment - silvery, hairy, waxy, reduced, protective and reflective from the heat and drying winds. Sometimes the flowers are tiny like the hairy Ptilotus below.

Ptilotus sp

The flowers themselves are quite happy to be colourful, and the birds and the butterflies love them.

Cassia sp

Solanum sp

Grevillea wickhamii

Acacia sp

Alogyne sp

Lesser Wanderer butterfly

Dam adventures

Well here I am its 3am in the morning, I'm wide awake, my mind won't sleep so I may as well get up and type. My last (and only) exam for this semester was yesterday so I'm in that strange post study state where one slowly adjusts to another life that has been on hold for the semester. I finished a couple of jobs yesterday afternoon that had been waiting for that post exam state. The next two days are booked for helping to set up an exhibition here in town. Then its the Festival of Voice over the June long weekend. There are a few events that I am planning on experiencing.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch ... well here at home. The puppies are eight weeks old on Thursday and head off to their new homes this coming weekend. I have been observing how rapidly they grow and develop their independence. When locking up the chooks this evening with Miske and her tribe tearing along, while closing the bottom gate, they decided they needed to venture into the bottom paddock and slipped through the gate. Fine. But before you knew it they were tearing down the hill to the dam for one last paddle and play before sundown. Five black and white beasties gallivanting on the steep white slope of the dam. The water fascinates them. They reminded me of haggises ( I don't know if that is how it is spelt) those lop sided mythological animals that frequent the steep hillsides of Scotland. Even with all their rough and tumble they do no more than half a roll before they regain their footing. I think they enjoy the challenge.

I've been trying to teach them to fetch sticks out of the water - yes I know - they are young. They intensely watch Miske fetching her big stick after it splashes into the dam when thrown. Zoe has done a dive into the water just like Miske - but she hasn't repeated her effort. Angus has collected some little sticks from the water and brought them out, but only those bits within reach without actually swimming. Although he has accidentally gone swimming when he suddenly found he'd lost his footing. They try to pick up stones from under the water on the edge but baulk at the sensation of a submerged nose.

Whereas when they were younger as soon as they were called they'd come tearing after you, now they are just as likely to stay put if they are still having fun - though as soon as they realise they are the last one left behind they high tail it home. That independent spirit tells me they are ready to go, but it will be a sadness, it always is, each one of them is a lovely little personality. And they are so loving. Yesterday morning Mark let them out of their pen before I'd got up to do their breakfast. They all came tearing into the bedroom, tails wagging furiously, bouncing up and down, trying to jump onto the bed where I was. Lift them up and you are buried under an avalanche of wriggling puppy all trying to get a piece of your attention.

Early mornings

One of the disadvantages of puppies is broken sleep in the transitory stage as the mother Miske weans the puppies and they wake up hungry in the middle of the night. Sharp puppy teeth are a big deterrent to feeding on demand so Miske feeds them intermittently. So it is up to me to provide a 3am feed of yogurt and soaked nibbles. Once sufficiently fed, they readily fall back to sleep until dawn light wakes them. Dragging myself out of bed, bleary eyed, was repaid this morning with a colourful sunrise.

The puppies are just over four weeks old now. Their vocalisations are still squeaks mainly expressing various forms of distress being lost, alone, or wanting out from wherever they are. The squeak for food is much softer.  They still rely more on their sense of smell for finding food, sniffing rather than looking for their food bowl. As Miske has been weaning them she has changed their focal point to her head, discouraging them from feeding. She is in the process of transforming their idea of her from mother/food source to a dog just like them, but the boss dog. She loves to play with them, charging up and down the verandah with a torrent of puppies in tow. The puppies have been play fighting for some time; if they get too aggro Miske intervenes and bosses both of them. However their sense of sight and sound is used fully when I call them and they come racing toward me. They are rapidly extending their boundaries, exploring, playing, chewing, then sleeping soundly in a bundle of black and white fluffiness.