Bottle Calf

"you see" The Calf told Taw as the black bitch waited patiently for me to shudder the gates open. The Ewes were standing in the snow at the door of the barn.

"You see.....Tea is my Mother." The calf stated.

Taw looked at her. Little brown and white heifer standing in the straw of her stall. A few milk bubbles still dampened her pink muzzle.

Taw spoke in her soft southern voice, "You are mistaken, honey. You are a calf."

The calf tossed her head the way she would when her horns grew in.

Taw sighed, "I reckon you doubt me, well....Tea is many things but a cow ain't one of them."

"Why then does she feed me and take care of me. See scratches me and places me here in this ......warm place." The calf sounded rather superior.

Taw thought a moment, "Honey, it is the partnership......not motherhood that brought you here. Ask the old ewes......partnership....."

Then Taw slunk out to move the ewes back inside the barn.

hike home

Kipmik

The snow was deep, but crusted thick

the hiss of the runners and sounds of panting

The trail was long.
tough steep hills

Some easy places with snow glittering so bright it made your eyes water
Or is that my tears for you?

Dear old Wheel dog.

Thank you



Hike home



Tell Grandpa

Here is his white dog

Pensions

I was 89 when I asked my Grandson, Mario, to take me down to the dog shelter.

He was surprised at my asking.
'Granny, here you use a cane how are you going to clean up after a dog?'

I knew I still could. something deep was pulling me

A heartache like the tides

So we drove down and as Mario helped me out of the truck, bits of hay sticking to my sweatshirt. I could hear the barking.

I stopped. Then went on inside.

I walked down the asiles of dogs. Some strong young pups. Some confused middle aged dogs then I saw her.

She was black and old and a scar on one ear. She limped to the front and laid down and reguarded me.

Mario helped me sit in a chair. And I talked to her.

'I owe part of my life to my dogs. And they are all gone now into the dust. But I can still use a dog. Maybe a steer someday will run by my house, though unlikely. And then you and I will round him up.'

The old Lady thumped her tail. I could see, like myself she is a dreamer.

For Bob at Christmas

I mop the floor
the turkey is in

Pete is out doing livestock chores.

And I stare at the photo.
Of you and your dog.

then I sit where you sat last
As you delicately coughed crimson into your hankerchief.

And you told me

I am not ready to go. I am not ready.

And all I could do, dear friend, was hold your hand.

You had come out and helped with my sheep in the very beggining.
Your little bitch gripped the black ram on the nose when he threatened her.
And you were so proud of her standing her ground.


And you Robert, had told me about the sheep dog trials


I am doing it, Bob.

I am running my dogs.

Because you told me something.


Never look back

Learn from your mistakes

Live in great joy

Don't stay angry.

And Tea, run your dogs.

for fun, for love, for old friends


I am running them Bob!

For old friends

Sweep told me......no

As I walked to the post yesterday it was bright brilliant sunshine and cold with no breeze to stir the grass tips.

Sweep had spotted the sheep.

I patted my left leg to tell him I was sending him from the left. He jumped a bit circled around and lay down by my right leg.

I patted my left again.

He then crawled around both my legs ending up at my right.

Then I said, 'Sweep...here....' And patted my left leg and he did not move but turned his head to the right.

Now almost all the handlers had sent left as the exhaust pulled them and that seemed the logical way to correct this to go straight through the fetch panals. And a number of runs had the dratted bannana shape.

I had seen one run sent right, but could not remember how it turned out as I was then setting sheep at the top.

But I knew I could not/would not force Sweep to do something he obviously thought was an error. And I wondered at his wisdom in the fields and forests of home where he was rarely wrong and often out of my sight. So I whispered to him, aware that the judge and the rest of the handlers were waiting.

'Ok Sweep run this way if you must!'

And I sent him.

He was not wrong

as he ran out againest the green grass and lifted the sheep- of course in dashing young dog- Sweep- manner 'get going you brash things and don't dare to swerve.' He brought them straight to the fetch panels where I through well meaning whistling advice bobbled his work.


But this always makes me think.

They are very wise.

And they can speak

If we listen.

Boy with a torch

The light flickered on the walls of a cave
Maybe frightening to you

At least awe inspiring
As here were the bones of the bear

And the paintings drawn by your people

Of Deer
and bison
horses
and the mammoth.


How strong your people were

How talented living here

And with grace and wisdom

pulled up by the blood and bone of those you hunted

that gave you life.

you honored them by drawing their forms

on these walls of living stone.

But not you

Young boy with a torch

Did you hold the torch for your father to draw his spirit helpers and tell of the giveaway?

You are gone now

30,000 years that speed you away from all but the poets falcon sight.

And son,

I can see by the torchlight that near your footprints in the mud now turned to rock.

another's track

that lit your way as efficently as the torch

The paw print

Of our first partner

And as you walked out back towards your world

you left a trail for mine.

Do you see 'em

Do you see 'em
Standing there
in the trees

On the hill?

Do you see 'em
Little dog
Black and white

Heart as strong
As Salmon swimming
Back to water they know.

And I send you

My old feet and tired breath
Wait on your young blood and swift black paws

Do you see 'em, Taw my girl?

You always do

You always do.