Memories of Pixie

Hello Readers,

This is Kim, a guest contributor to Robin's Rural Rides. Both of us have been really saddened by the loss of our dear Chihuahua, Pixie, two weeks ago today. As Robin said, "There was an enormous amount of character, loyalty, and affection in that little body of hers. We are really going to miss her."  

We wanted to capture some of our happy memories of Pixie over the past three years, and there were many. Here is what we came up with.

Pixie came to us on April 2, 2010. She had been found as a stray on the streets of Worcester in February. She went through Worcester Animal Control, the Worcester Animal Rescue League, and then Great Dog Rescue New England, who asked us to foster her. By the time we got her medical issues sorted out, we couldn't give her up.

She had three surgeries the first year with us: spaying, tooth extraction, and eye removal. The latter was a tough decision but was so right, as it ended her pain and she adjusted beautifully. After those surgeries, she was in good health, although we still cared for her like a baby and spoiled her rotten. In the spring of 2013 she started suffering from IBD, which daily Metronidazole miraculously cleared up. Her last week she was slowing down, but her death was unexpected and sudden.

Cutest one-eyed dog

Pixie lived life to the fullest right up to her final day. She died on July 7, 2013 of congestive heart failure. Her clay paw print is buried next to our crab apple tree under a white azalea bush we planted in her memory.

Pixie was full of life and personality. She greeted us with furious tail wagging when we came home, and waited until we acknowledged her and petted her before she went back to her spot. She loved to come on errands, and followed me around the house to make sure she wasn't missing anything.

She had a furious little bark and afterwards made little motions with her mouth like she was adjusting it back into normal position. She always barked at our dog walker, Amy, even after she’d been taking care of Pixie for months and years.

We sometimes described her as ornery since she didn't like strangers. During her past, she must have had trouble with a tall man wearing a baseball cap, as she could be quite aggressive towards that type. She once lunged and bit a plumber matching that description on his way out. (Fortunately, she did no serious damage.) After that we learned to keep her separated from service men visiting the house. However, she accepted many of our friends and relatives by sitting in their laps on the sofa.

Mt. Kearsarge 2011

She participated in hikes and walks in the woods with us and our other dogs. She gave us a scare the first year by taking the wrong trail and getting lost in Pisgah State park – she could be a little too independent! Sometimes she would go on ahead (especially on the way home). But more often, she would trail behind, sniffing, and we would have to call her to come trotting back.  She could put on quite a show of speed when she wanted to. Her longest hikes were 6 miles, up Mounts Percival/Morgan in New Hampshire and Mount Ascutney in Vermont – both steep, rocky climbs. Her only reservation was crossing any stream or watery spot, so we had to pick her up and carry her over. Otherwise, she loved the woods and the outdoors like any dog.

We got an Agility set for Christmas one year. During the months I had the weave poles set up in the basement, Pixie was just as proficient on them, if not more so, than the other dogs!

She made an endearing little grunting, throaty sound when she settled herself down.

She shed like a year-round blizzard going on in our house.

She loved her heated dog bed, especially in winter. She also sought out any spots where sunbeams came through our windows.

Pixie loved when Robin and I were close together on the sofa or in bed, and insisted on snuggling between us. She showed her contentment by licking our hands, arms, and legs.  She was quite a “licker.” A true lap dog, she spent many, many hours in Robin’s lap while he worked at his computer.

She was a faithful sleeping companion. In the winter she would sleep cuddled up against our knees under the blankets. In the summer, she would sleep right next to us or on top of us. She spent the winter nights of 2010-11 with Miranda, who lived here during her last year of vet school. 

Pix, as we often called her, impressed many in our circle of friends, who told us of their affection for her, most notably Miranda's friends Jenni and Sarah. She did not win over everyone, but those who were won over often told us how much they adored Pixie.

In the morning when Pixie woke up, she would come lie on my stomach and gaze into my eyes, and I would massage her and she would half close her eye and stay there for as long as I would pet her. Her ears would go horizontal and she reminded me of Yoda. She always welcomed a tummy rub too.

Pix was part of the group that drove to Memphis and back in 2012. On long car rides she would stay in my lap with her head in the crook of my arm, wrapped in a blanket, and snooze the journey away.

She loved coffee with cream and sugar.  She had a special bark for coffee, and would come into my lap and try to get at it. I usually gave her the last few sips from the cup.

During her last two springs and summers, she discovered joyriding with her head out the car window. She loved this with a passion. Thanks to the stern warnings of Cousin Jeff, she was harnessed and tethered while she did this. She would follow me around in the warmer seasons, hoping for a car ride each day. During her last few months she got in a lot of joyriding, including on her way to the vet the day she died. She especially enjoyed the trips to Kimball’s and getting a spoonful of ice cream.

Pixie was ingrained into the fabric of our lives and was a daily bright spot. She loved us, and we loved her, with all our hearts.

Thanks for all the love, our little Pix.

Dambusters

A recent trip to England has re-awakened in me my interest in the "Dambusters raid" of 1943, officially known as Operation Chastise. First, we (Kim, Mia and I) decided to go and see the new statue of Barnes Wallis at Herne Bay while we were on our day out to Howlett's Wild Animal Park. Then, while looking for a book to read at the airport for the flight home, I saw (and bought) Dambusters by James Holland.

The book tells the story, in great detail, of the early stages of the idea by Wallis and the struggle to get it taken seriously; the go-ahead and the formation and training of 617 squadron of the Royal Air Force; the raid itself, which happened almost exactly 70 years ago; and the aftermath. It's an excellent book - very well written.

I should of course point out, that Barnes Wallis was an "Old Blue," that's to say he, like me, went to Christ's Hospital. Indeed, he was a familiar presence there when I was a boy. It is said that he was devastated by the huge losses of the bomber crews. If I recall correctly, he used the money that was given to him later by a grateful government to fund scholarships at CH for the sons of RAF officers.

The statue, is placed there because of the bouncing bomb trials (see photo below) which occurred there in the early part of 1943 in preparation for the raid. The trials were at the time considered to be at Reculver, rather than Herne Bay. But Reculver is rather difficult to reach these days and it is all the same bit of coastline.

All this reminded me of the only unpleasant German I ever met (I've met a lot of very nice Germans over the years, by the way). He was the ticket agent at Bochum when I was visiting in 1979. I wanted to see Wuppertal (where I was born) and in particular wanted to ride on the Schwebebahn. I stood in line and when I reached the window, politely asked for a "hin und rundfahrt" ticket to Wuppertal Hauptbahnhof. "Kein Hauptbahnhof in Wuppertal," he almost screamed at me. So, I was forced to leave the line and consult the chart. Clearly the main station was at Elberfeld. So, I rejoined the queue and eventually got my ticket. That memory has always rankled with me and when I think of the thousands of innocent folk who perished as a result of the dams breaking, I like to imagine they were like that railway man. What a contrast from the agent in Stockholm on another occasion who after I asked for a ticket to Uppsala, replied in the most perfect English "would you like a single or a return?" The irony is that, since 1992, the station in question has actually been called Wuppertal Hauptbahnhof.

But back to the Dambusters. There was an excellent two-hour documentary on Nova entitled "Bombing Hitler's Dams" recently in which a team of engineers tries to reenact the Dambusters raid. The technical challenges were formidable, even with today's technology. How they managed to get it working in just a few months during the war is nothing short of amazing. The goal of the documentary team is to build a small dam somewhere up in the wilds of Canada, and destroy it with a bomb. You'll have to see it to find out if they succeed.

One thing which I don't entirely understand is why the actual raid had to be flown at 50-100' all the way from England to the targets. Wouldn't it have been possible to fly high, like normal bomber raids, and then swoop down? Many of the crew losses seem to be attributable to this night-time low-level flying. In at least two cases, the planes flew into power transmission lines, hundreds of miles from the targets.

Anyway, it's a great story of ingenuity, dedication and sheer bravery. The 1955 movie, which I saw for the second time a year or so ago, is a great way to see the entire story.

The Carlisle Fieldfare

Fieldfare

(from Wikimedia Commons, copyright Adam Kumiszcza, license: http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en)

Well, I know it's been a long time. The topic that has prompted me to resume my electronic pen is the "Carlisle Fieldfare."

What is a fieldfare, some of you may be asking? It's a large Eurasian thrush that hoves to this side of the pond about once every 35 years or so. Here is the Wikipedia entry although it is rather disappointingly brief.

This particular bird was seen first on St. Patrick's Day (perhaps it was an errant Irish bird?) on the Greenough property (where we take out dogs walking regularly) by fellow-Brit Alan Ankers. I'm not sure how serious Alan was about birding before he left England, but since living over here he has become very expert. I've been on a few nature walks with him. Nice guy. See his posting on the Yahoo group for Nature in Carlisle that he set up (and which I subscribe to).

I don't know when I first saw the posting but probably the next day. I didn't pay it much attention. It's just a fieldfare, I thought. Whoa! Wrong response. To every other American birder, a fieldfare is big news. See the article and photo in our local paper later that week [this link probably won't work after a certain period of time so I have reproduced the photo here - with many thanks to our wonderful Carlisle Mosquito].

Judging from the posts on the MASSBIRD listserv, the scenes probably got even more crazy later. People were still pouring in from all over the Northeastern US just to see our bird.

Again, based on MASSBIRD sightings, it would appear that our fieldfare only stayed a week, after having moved a little Southward. But apparently, the homeowners on Maple St. and the police have all been very helpful and welcoming to the twitchers.

So, it got me wondering. Where exactly have I seen fieldfares? I seem to recall them in large flocks mixed in with redwings. On Otmoor, perhaps? Or have I only seen them further North? I probably should have rushed out to get another sighting early last week when I heard about it.

So, it seems that Carlisle has finally found itself in the news, although as far as I can tell not in the radio or TV media. If you're interested, google Carlisle and Fieldfare and you should get plenty of hits, including some good photos of the actual bird, such as this one by J. R. Trimble.

Cheers and good birding!

Just another Tuesday

It's the eve of the 2012 election, as well as the 407th anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot, and I have a few thoughts to share. Nothing very amazing but I've taken a lot more interest in this election than in most previous elections. Why is that? Two reasons -- and both relate to the Supreme Court. The first and most obvious is the composition of the nine justices. Because the appointments are for life, the vacancies can't be easily predicted. With twelve years of Republican administrations, the number of democratic seats has dwindled to historically low levels. What's that you say? The court is supposed to be non-partisan? Tell that to Al Gore.

The second reason has everything to do with the decision that the court made recently which essentially allows corporations and individuals to give as much money for political purposes as they like. What that means of course is that enormous sums of money are being spent by both sides this time around. Given that there is no legal requirement for all of this spending to promote the truth, we are being barraged by scaremongering and misinformation on behalf of the "establishment" represented by the richest 1% of the population and their representatives. For these people, it is very fortunate that there are at least 40% of the population that are extremely gullible and love to believe in conspiracy theories. There was a hilarious series of interviews at a recent political rally in Ohio where the attendees were asked about their various concerns. One woman was very concerned about possible losses of freedom that might ensue if the incumbent wins. Needless to say, she couldn't actually name or otherwise identify any of these freedoms at risk. Another woman was concerned about Obama's religion (and that of his father, as if that is of any concern to us). He's a follower of the Rev. Wright, he's a muslim and an atheist. When asked which of those she believed he was, she simply said "all of them." The level of ignorance is staggering.

I could go on and on.

But the one thing that I was shocked to hear is split right down the middl, is the belief (or disbelief) in anthropogenic global warming. Ten years ago, largely thanks to Al Gore, a substantial majority of the population believed in AGW. But so much money has been put in on the other side now (money, I should point out that could be better spent trying to figure out what to do about the problem), that approximately half the population now believes that global warming is a hoax. And this despite a devastating series of hurricanes in recent years that surely even the backwoods boys have heard about.

While of course looking at just one aspect of climate doesn't prove anything, I am still convinced that the vast majority of specialist climate scientists, almost all of whom are of the same opinion, are right. These are the people who have the expertise, the data, and the networking to look at every aspect of the issue. Thank goodness there are still such people who are willing to speak up.

I feel strongly that the opponents of the mainstream view, and who are politically or financially motivated (actually those are the same thing), are actually evil. When we should be listening to our scientists and planning for the future of our children and grandchildren. we are instead, like Nero, prevaricating.

Over the years I have come to realize that there are three essential differences between the Democrats and the Republicans:

• long-term view versus short-term;
• distribution of wealth (and correspondingly maximizing GDP) versus concentration of wealth;
• hope (and open information) versus fear (and censorship).

Everything else derives from these three. I dare say that you could make a good case for combining these into just one.

Just think about the way the internet is viewed by democrats and republicans. The former have embraced the new medium, the latter want to control it, by making information companies liable for anything posted on their sites. In this way, the internet is to conservatives as the printing press was to the Catholic church. Another obvious example is the politicizing of evolution. Only countries ruled by religious fanatics are fearful of the theory of evolution.

Heaven help us if the wrong guy gets elected tomorrow. The future of our 236-year-old experiment in democracy will then be in serious jeopardy. And I will probably have to delete this post!

A deaf mutt

Daddy is a pure white mix of who knows what kind of dog who also happens to be deaf.  But it in no way spoils his fun as he's a huge fan of playing, people and pooches.  He's a lovely, friendly, playful dog.  On Sunday, we will be handing him over to his adopters who live in New Jersey.  Here's the story, taken from the PetFinder web site:

Daddy is a 10 month old Mix with silky soft (not wire), white hair and a story that will make you smile. A few weeks ago, a rescue worker was called and told by a woman that she had been watching a momma dog with small pups out alone in a field for several days. She said the momma was making shelter for the babies at night and bringing them food, but after several days, the good samaritian was very sure no one was coming back for these dogs. The rescue workers arrived and the dog was, obviously protective of the babies, but after some coaxing, they got the "mamma" to come to them. It was then that they found out that "Momma" was the "DADDY". In all our experience, we have never seen a Daddy dog stick by tiny puppies: feed them, protect them, love them. But, this guy did it all on his own. We may never know what happened to the mom, but somehow at just 3 weeks old....Daddy managed to keep all his little pups alive. I think of it as a tribute to all the good daddies in the world! Daddy is sweet and kind, he aims to please and gets along well with other dogs. He has experience with children as young as 2 years old and seem to adore them. His favorite things are to get hugs and be petted. He also does not mind car rides. There is one thing....after Daddy and his pups were rescued, he was brought to the vet where it was discovered that he is completely deaf. Daddy gets around just fine and can learn to follow hand signals. He sometimes startles when people come up on him unexpectedly, but he has never been aggressive...just surprised! Other than not being able to hear, Daddy shows no health problems and is ready to live a good, long life. Daddy is currently 45lbs.
Isn't it a great story?  Anyway, we have him for just this week.  He really is a super dog.  I believe his puppies are all spoken for too.  We wonder if he misses them or worries about them at all.  Below (left) is a photo that makes his coat look a bit creamy.  Below (right) he's in the field looking after the puppies.  He might have bits of Airedale and poodle as described in his profile, but I doubt it.



Supposedly, there is a correlation between a whte coat and deafness, although I wasn't able to establish the strength of that correlation. He isn't albino, although he does seem to exhibit partial albinism.  His irises are hazel but his eyelids and exposed bits of skin are all very pink.  He's got some blotches around his "undercarriage", so there's definitely pigment there.  He's a bit underweight but he's a good eater (including counter surfing if he can get away with it) so we expect him to catch up pretty quickly.  And he's extremely smart and trainable, with an excellent sense of smell.

Meanwhile, I went to see Philip Glass' opera Satyagraha ("truth force" in Sanskrit), the name by which Gandhi's philosophy of non-violent protest is known.  It's incredibly moving emotionally, which is amazing given that there are so few words that are actually translated.  The action is very slow and contemplative.  And of course the music is endlessly repetitive -- but I actually like that.  It really works.  Look up Satyagraha on YouTube if you're interested in seeing excerpts from it.

Last week we were in Seattle for the NABCs.  We had a super time, although the bridge was not quite as successful as we would have liked.  However, Kathy made life master (!) and we had a nice party for her -- that was a lot of fun.

A most sacrilegious murder

I've had murder on my mind quite a bit lately.  In the academic sense, of course, although I did dream I had murdered someone (unknown to me) a few nights ago.  That wasn't very pleasant.

But I've been listening to John Grisham's The Innocent Man and it is a harrowing true tale of injustice resulting from a murder which occurred in Oklahoma in 1982.  Two men were convicted of the rape and murder of a young woman, despite there being no physical evidence against them.  The little forensic evidence available did more to eliminate them from than to link them to the crime.  Nevertheless, it was used along with some other fabricated testimony to get a conviction.  One of them was 5 days from execution when a federal judge finally put a stop to all the nonsense (Oklahoma has the highest per-capita execution rate in the United States).  Soon after that, DNA evidence was analyzed which not only cleared them of all wrongdoing, but actually pointed the finger quite directly at another person who just happened to have been the last person seen with the victim, but whom the police had never considered a suspect.  The weird thing is that after their release the entire town, and especially the police and prosecutors, still believed them to be guilty.

The murder that I've been entertained by tonight was that of King Duncan inter alia by the dastardly Macbeth -- in this case in Verdi's masterpiece.  This was the Boston Lyric Opera at its finest.  I cannot remember such a good production of theirs, although I admit I don't go to many of them.  I went with Will to the Shubert Theater in Boston and we had a really pleasant evening of dinner, followed by a pre-performance lecture, followed by the opera.  The lecture, by Dr. Elizabeth Seitz, concentrated on the role of Lady Macbeth, demonstrating how her vocal part starts as confident and determined, passes through tentative, questioning, and ends rather sadly in the famous sleep-walking scene as completely unhinged.

The singers were outstandingly good.  Most of my recent opera outings have been either to the Met itself or to its HD broadcasts at local movie theaters.  While the Met talent may be more experienced and robust, there is a huge benefit as an audience member to being so much closer to the stage, which is really only practical at a smaller theater such as the Shubert.  And while, many rave about the HD broadcasts, they leave me a little cold.  There is nothing like live opera. 

While Macbeth (Daniel Sutin) and Lady Macbeth (Carter Scott) who between them carry most of the solo work (the opera also relies heavily on its chorus) were predictably excellent, I was actually very impressed Banquo (Darren Stokes) and, especially, Macduff (Richard Crawley) who have relatively minor roles.

The production was overall brilliant -- extremely imaginative designs, costumes, choreography.  Perhaps the most stunning aspect was the corpses hanging over the stage at the battles that begin and end the story.

The orchestra was excellent too, directed by (Englishman) David Angus.  Although I'd never previously seen the opera, I was already very familiar with the music from recordings and I was not disappointed in the orchestra.  I even know the 2nd clarinet, Karen Heninger, from gigs we've done together.  And, I was quite surprised to find that there was an instrument in the orchestra that I'd never seen before: the Cimbasso, a kind of tuba that looks a bit like a trombone.

I would heartily recommend this production to anyone who can get to it.  And I happen to think that Macbeth is actually one of Verdi's most entertaining operas.  The Verdi of 1846 was not quite so smooth as the when he wrote the big three from six or seven years later: Rigoletto/Trovatore/Traviata.  And definitely not as polished as the later operas of twenty or thirty years more experience.  But Macbeth is refreshing, invigorating and very direct.  The music is somewhat dark as befits its subject (plenty of bassoon and trombone stuff) but full of good tunes, with marvellous choral writing.

My personal interest in "the Scottish play" goes back almost as far as I can remember.  It was the first Shakespeare play that I learned and studied.  I think I can still do "Is this a dagger that I see before me?"  I've even been orienteering in the grounds of Cawdor castle (not very far from where the photograph at the top of the page was taken).  No doubt the real Macbeth got a bum rap at the hands of the bard, as did Richard III of England, but today his actual life signifies nothing. Yet the message of the play resonates whenever we hear of corruption and greed among the rich and powerful.

Perhaps Shakespeare's wisest line from the play, which applies to many aspects of life (take note, followers of famous people, and prosecutors and defenders of suspects in crime), is this: [Duncan]: "There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.  He was a gentleman on whom I built an absolute trust."