May 20, 2008
This morning, Sanctuary was as beautiful as it can possibly be, with newly mown paths making the whole walk have the appearance of a well-manicured park. At the brow of the hill, on the north edge of the forest, a sharp-shinned hawk has her nest high in a tree not far from the path.
It is constructed of rough sticks, and without binoculars, her tail looks like one more large piece of nesting. Some mornings she is sitting out watching the sun come up but this morning she was dutifully on her eggs. As we walked on around the acrage, a brisk breeze from the north moved through the trees in the forest, making me think of other forests on mountain slopes and in other places. Going down the hill toward the wetland stream, the colors were clear and bright in the pasture, and the birds were unusually entertaining. There is a grove of tall deciduous trees just south of the neighbor’s house and in this season, the canopy is new green and full of life – an oriole was singing loudly enough to echo around us, and nearby, a catbird was very evidently working on learning the song. It followed, about a beat later, singing in the same cadence as the oriole, but quite off-pitched and not nearly as full and rich sounding. Then, a gathering of blue jays began to carry on, so I followed them with the binoculars and found a beautiful barred owl sitting on some bare branches and looking right back at me. In the big bird’s momentary distraction, a blue jay actually flung itself into the side of its head and went on, screaming insults. The owl lifted off to seek a more sheltered spot. Many mornings, our walk is less filled with sound and action, but this one was exceptional in every way.
Because we’ve had lovely rain, the inevitable crop of mosquitos is sure to follow soon. With this in mind, I got out the heart worm pill that has been waiting for Alphie, and approached him as I had in the past, holding it out expecting him to gobble it up as before. This time he closed his great mouth and quite literally turned up his nose. It was such a classic move I had to laugh out loud, though I still had the pill in my hand. I got some very fine ham, cut a small chunk, buried the pill, and tried again. This time Alphie graciously accepted the offering, and swallowed it down whole. This was the very first time I have been faced with rejection of any sort because here is a dog whose taste includes old deer bones, decaying creature bits found in odd places in the pasture, and of course, toilet paper.
Tuesday’s have become “Blood Day” here because I go to the local clinic for my CBC reading. A record of the number and condition of the blood cells keeps us abreast of what is happening with the disease; it appears that there is some change occurring now after a splendid hiatus of six months. In the last several weeks, my energy is flagging and the bone pain is increasing while the white blood cells continue their slow decrease in count. The word “slow” is key. . . each week of life without facing the inevitable outcomes of the MDS is a happy one. Time moves forward with alarming speed when one is aware of the gift of another good and beautiful day, and this year’s springtime has brought forth more good and beautiful days than I can remember.