February 28: Windows to the soul

Dog seen on our walk

looked at me with eyes

of a reincarnated soul.

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November 9: Lying awake, listening to the dark

Here in town
dog's barking replaces
soft calls of owls.

June 27: Late night in the neighborhood

Drive home late, passing
man walking a dog,
fox dashing into bushes.

June 29: Scolding

My co-worker has been occasionally bringing her dog Chester to work. This afternoon Chester was tied up outside the office door, where he spent most of his time lying on the porch facing a big bush. A few minutes ago, I heard a loud, repeated chip note from this bush, an unusual sound for this part of the yard. On closer scrutiny, I spied the noisemaker, a male Common Yellowthroat. This tiny bird, smaller than the palm of my hand, was perched on a high branch of the bush and looking right at Chester, scolding the dog with a repeated "alarm" chip. He carried on like that for over five minutes, his fervor diminishing over time, until eventually he gave up trying to warn Chester away from the bush and flew off.

This wasn't a territorial thing, because the bird doesn't live in that bush, which is so close to my office window that I would have heard him singing loudly and often. At least one yellowthroat lives in the shrubs along the edge of the lawn, however. My guess is that the bird noticed the dog and chose to bravely fly up to confront it, or at least to make enough noise that others in the area would be alerted to the dog's presence. 

Chester didn't budge during any of this. I'm not sure he even registered that an assertive little warbler was making a lot of noise right over his head, let alone that he himself was the cause. 

Even I can tell 

the bird's sounding an alarm,

chipping, "Watch out! Dog!"  

February 14: My Funny Valentine

Earlier on this holiday of love, I was thinking that my valentine of the day was hearing the titmice singing their courtship songs along the banks of the still-frozen river. What could be more romantic than birds singing songs of love? But this afternoon, as I was talking to a co-worker, a yellow lab appeared at the  glass door leading out to the porch. With no owner in sight, this cute little dog looked in expectantly, tail wagging, no doubt ready to lavish us with slobbery dog kisses if we'd open the door. We exclaimed how sweet our visitor was just as turned away and ran off up the hill, apparently heeding the call of its (still invisible) owner.

My husband has to put up with my watching the Westminster Dog Show every year. Tonight is the final judging. He quickly gets disgusted with such a blatant display of genetic manipulation and inbreeding. I just enjoy marveling at all the different breeds of dogs humans have produced--all those shapes, sizes, and colors for so many different reasons. There are dogs for every purpose: the Norwegian lundehund, for example, has six toes so that it can climb cliffs and hunt puffins; the toys are bred to be companion dogs; it's in the border collie's genes to herd, as my sister who owns one can attest; the bloodhound is a scent hound that can track its quarry's dried blood. There are 13" beagles and 15" beagles, and three different varieties of dachshund. There are elkhounds, deerhounds, and coonhounds; dogs that point, dogs that retrieve. The Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever apparently creates a ruckus in the water to attract curious geese and ducks. The Pekingese, once only owned by Chinese royalty, doesn't even look like a dog as it toddles around the show floor. Truly, without even entering the realm of mutts, there's a dog for everyone... if you want one. I like to think that its like that with humans, too.

Little dog visits
just to see us, devoted
for those brief seconds.

December 11: Wind

Funny how a lot of my posts lately have involved the weather. I guess that's life in Maine for you, especially this time of year. One day we have a huge storm; the next, sunshine sparkling on fresh-fallen snow. You can never really be sure of what you're doing a few days from now, because who really knows what kind of weather pattern will move in? They'll predict heavy snowfall, and then we'll get rain here on the coast. The forecast will be "all clear" for that drive south, and then you'll find yourself trying to make your way through blinding snow flurries.

Often when I wake up in the morning I think it's raining because the river is so loud. All that rushing water can make a roar. Today a combination of fast-moving high water and winds made me think some sort of tempest was raging outside. Despite sun and blue skies, wind chill definitely played in part in today's comfort level. I'm sure I'll have more branches to clear off the yard tomorrow.

A friend mentioned the wind in a very lyrical email today. (You can't communicate around here without the weather becoming part of the conversation.) She wrote: "Today is one of those days when I feel like a little speck on the surface of this immense planet with this powerful atmosphere swirling around me. Every time there's a big gust the dog makes a little tiny 'woof.' I agree." I especially loved the image of her dog barking at the wind gusts. So that inspired today's poem. (Thank you, Heidi.) 


Wind a strong presence.
Dog responds to the loud gusts
with a humble "woof."