creaturesall

creaturesall
Issue 21 Apr-May/2009

sharing the planet with our fellow creatures

 Famous wildlife artist Robert Bateman wants to see what you've created that has 2009 Contest Dates:
been inspired by nature. The 2009 Get to Know contest is all about getting out into Earth Day, April 22nd
nature and sharing with others the discoveries you have made.
to May 27th, 2009
Any Canadian 19 years of age or younger can enter. And if your piece of artwork,
writing or digital photography is chosen, you will receive prizes and have your work
Visit gettoknow.ca for entry information
published in the Robert Bateman 2010 International Year of Biodiversity Calendar.

The new Get to Know Interactive CD features “virtual hikes” which offer students
the opportunity to virtually explore parks and conservation areas in Toronto,
Edmonton, Calgary and Vancouver. During the hike, students meet and get to know
their wild neighbours of other species. Other elements of this dynamic, interactive
media resource include:

An exclusive Canadian collection of wildlife

videos and audio clips
Easy to use lesson plans focused around getting
out of doors
Videos featuring Robert Bateman speaking
directly to students and teachers
Interactive nature games and quizzes
Links to outstanding educational resources

Order your own copy from the Get to Know website!

Robert Bateman’s objective is not to replace real outdoor

experiences with indoor ones, but rather to familiarize
youth with local species as a catalyst for them to go
outdoors and experience the real thing.

The following school districts in Alberta have received the

Robert Bateman Get to Know Interactive CD:

Edmonton Area Red Deer Area

Edmonton Public School Board
Edmonton Catholic Schools
Elk Island Public Schools
Black Gold Regional School District
Parkland School Division
Greater St. Albert Catholic Schools
Sturgeon School Division
Aspen View Regional Division
St. Albert Protestant Schools
Elk Island Catholic Schools
Red Deer Public School District
Red Deer Catholic
Calgary Area
Calgary Board of Education
Calgary Catholic [Separate] School District
Rocky View School Division #41
Canadian Rockies Public Schools
Grasslands Public Schools

The distribution of the Interactive CD in Alberta is courtesy of the Alberta Conservation Association,
Alberta Lottery Fund, BP Canada, Shell Environmental Fund and TD Friends of the Environment Foundation.
*shipping/handling/taxes extra
 Issue 21 April/May 2009
Advertising & Marketing Inquiries
Christine (Cj) Perrin
cjperrin@creaturesall.com 403-648-1793 Announcing the long awaited
Graphic Design & Story Inquiries relaunch of our creaturesall
Bob Fielder
publisher@creaturesall.com web site. www.creaturesall.com
Account Information
Linda Fielder
editor@creaturesall.com

In This Issue
Would You Like Jam With That? – Susan Wider 8
Printing-Transcontinental LGMC
Stock Photography source-dreamstime.com
Mailing address: Electro-Lucy – Rachel Sentes 16
creaturesall
P.O. Box 126,
Langdon, AB T0J 1X0
Why Nature Abhors a Vacuum – Kitti Freeman 19
403-512-9544
creaturesall is published 6 times per year (February,
How Digger Lost his Shadow – Patty Moyer 24
April, June, August, October and December) by 1160613
ALBERTA LTD. and distributed freely in Alberta or via A Flummox for the Family – Très Bore 29
subscription the first week of the publication month.
Advertisers and contributors assume responsibility and
liability for the accuracy of their claims and statements.
The opinions and views expressed in articles do not
Columns
necessarily reflect those of the Publisher or advertisers.
creaturesall reserves the right to refuse any advertising.
Written submissions become the property of
Wagging Tales – Dr Richard Weger - B.Sc., DVM 11
creaturesall on publication. By proferring your
photographs or written submission you grant us Creature Feature – Cyril Brass - photographer & writer 13
permission to reproduce it in creaturesall, other printed
media, on our web site or as a component of an online
download. All submissions will receive a reply if email
Taking Down the Fences – Janna So - A.I.W.C. 15
address is provided.
Writers & Cover Artists may make submissions by email to: Spaces and Species – Kristie Wegener - NCC 21
publisher@creaturesall.com
Copyright 2005 by 1160613 ALBERTA LTD.
Wingin’ It – Myrna Pearman - Ellis Bird Farm 23
Cover Artist
Stan Cohen Youth Said It – Katherine Hawkins- Bogie the Bearded Dragon 26
As a NY/NJ mathe-
matician/retiree/artist,
Stan Cohen’s work
The Gardening Bug – Elaine Rude - Master Gardener 27
reflects his wide interests
in science, human Obsolete – cari-creatures by Sean Skerry 28
endeavor, and travel. His
early studies at Syracuse
University stimulated his The Final Word – Karen Probert - The Ruse 30
life long interest in
natural history. His styles
include landscape,
seascape, fantasy and surrealism. The diversity
of Stan’s work may be seen in his web site
Departments
galleries: Land-Sea-Skyscapes; Travel Memories;
Floral Fantasies; Wildlife; and Abstract Flights of
Publisher’s Note 5
Fantasy. Although his primary medium is water-
color, Stan has also shown work in acrylic,
gouache, and collage. He is content in that he is
Letters 7
constantly seeking new venues for his art.
www.stancohenartist.com In Passing 18
page3
 crystal driedger.com
Illustration & Fine Art

page4

It seemed like a good idea at the time.
Now, though the idea remains as
powerful as ever, some harsh
realities have taken root.
The true harshness of that
reality is reflected in the fact that the
issue of creaturesall that you are
holding in your hands at this
moment, is the final issue we are
able to publish. The simple and sad
truth is there is no longer any money
available to continue.
From the beginning, in early
2005, we sought to create something
unique. Utilizing the oldest form of
communication known to man, we
provided a fresh, new venue bringing
together artists, writers and readers
with stories of sharing the planet
with our fellow creatures.
Although most of our writers
share stories of their pets, and a huge
majority of our readers are pet
owners, creaturesall endeavors to
go beyond and embrace our love of
the planet and its wild creatures that
populate our imaginations. No
advertorials, no ‘how-to’ articles, no
pulpit pounding. Just simple stories
told by regular folk.
Now, here we are in 2009, 21
issues in, and we are proud of how
very far we have come. Our first
issues, for a year or better, were
published with virtually no outside
source of funding; specifically no
subscription revenue and almost no
advertising revenue. Those early
issues cost us around $18,000 each to
bring to fruition; the costs were
indeed staggering. Still, we knew we
had something special in creaturesall.
When we had reached a point in
those early stages where we saw
absolutely no way we would be able
to carry on, readers stepped up. We
Advertiser and Story Submission Deadline for Next Issue – May 1st/09
PUBLISHER’S
NOTE
encouraging you to read, then write
Bob & Linda Fielder
received support from many, many
of you; some contributions as small
as $10 from readers and friends,
some of whom could barely afford it.
Others, equally as giving of spirit, sent
us far, far larger sums; all because
they just couldn’t nor wouldn’t allow
this little treasure to die.
Well, here we are, some two
years later, and we’ve experienced
phenomenal growth. Rarely a week
goes by when we don’t receive
several new subscriptions in the mail.
We have exploited efficiencies in
print and distribution costs, and
advertisers have started to come on
board, to the point where the
shortfall today is not $18,000, but just
$7,000 per issue, all accomplished
while keeping creaturesall debt free.
That $7,000 deficit per issue
translates to $3,500 a month which
is needed to carry on.
Our short-term goal is to see
support come in that will allow us to
continue for another full publishing
year. Anything less would not allow us
the flexibility to continue to seek
corporate partners. We know they
are out there, what we need is time to
make them aware that we are here.
There is no way to phrase things
that will get around the hard and
cold fact that creaturesall needs
someone or some group, to stand up
and be counted and say they will just
not allow this magazine to die.
We need to grow in order
to thrive and in order to grow, we
need to expand our readership
nation-wide. Although we are
presently distributed only in Alberta,
from Edmonton south to Lethbridge,
new subscribers find us from all
across Alta, B.C, and Sask, as well as
Great Britain, the Netherlands,
page5
Australia, South America, Singapore and
the U.S. We’ve had stories from
Australia, B.C., Sask, Idaho, New Mexico
and Arizona. We’ve had cover art from
Ontario, Georgia and New Jersey. Our
‘Youth Said It’ columnist this issue is eight
year old, Katherine Hawkins of
Manchester, Tenn.
’ve always made it a point, when
I selecting and editing story submissions
for inclusion in creaturesall, to picture a
grandfather reading that same story to
his grandchild on his knee. I feel a strong
responsibility to our wide demographic
and endeavor to have each and every
article, in each and every issue, meet
those standards. It is largely because
creaturesall never speaks down to
children that it is able to speak to
and be held in such high regard by
grandparents, parents, educators
and children alike.
It is no small irony that we
relaunched our newly designed web site
at the beginning of April. Do take a
moment to visit creaturesall.com. You
will be astounded to view some of the
beautiful content over our short history.
Should no way be found to see
creaturesall continue, something very
special will have been silenced. All one
need do is read our Letters page to see
how deeply creaturesall has reached
into people’s hearts and homes. I do not
enjoy having to ask in so unequivocal a
manner for your help. But creaturesall is
truly at a crossroads and I fully admit to
not knowing where next to turn. If you
share my vision; if you see opportunity
where others see obstacles, I encourage
you to contact me with your thoughts.
Respectfully . . .
Bob Fielder
publisher@creaturesall.com
Hm: 403-936-5762
Wk: 403-512-9544
 WENDY PALMER
Limited Edition
a r t i s t

Giclée on canvas

art reproductions

available at these

Fine Art Galleries:

Avenida Art Gallery
Calgary, Alberta
avenidagalleries.com
Art Country Canada Prestige Fine Art &
Bragg Creek, Alberta Framing
Okotoks, Alberta
artcountrycanada.com prestigefineartframing.com
Artists for Conservation
Supporting nature
through art
natureartists.com/wendy
_palmer.asp

For more information on upcoming exhibitions visit: www.wendypalmer-artist.com

Signed and Numbered Limited

Edition Reproductions from
C A N A D I A N A R T I S T Original Pastel Paintings

(limited edition of 100

Artist’s Proofs)

Accurate rendering of
Sagittarius,Capricornus
and Aquarius

18" x 30"
$150.00 unframed
(tax, S & H extra)

TWILIGHT CONSTELLATIONS
To view more art or to place an order visit: www.kellydodgeart.com

page6

I picked up an issue of your
magazine in the city and immediately
was impressed with the attention
given to the relationships between
animals and people - A year and a
half ago I lost my best friend BEAR -
an over-sized black cocker spaniel
who loved to run trails and go to
bootcamp - In his memory we are
holding the second annual ‘BEAR’S
RUN’ on May 23rd The course is
either 12km or 6 km trail run, walk
or hike - what makes this event
special and different from most is
that “DOGS ARE WELCOME !” Last
year we had over 50 people and
dogs - it is a wonderful day for
families and pets - All proceeds go to
the upkeep of the beautiful Pembina
Nordic Ski Trails where the run will
be held - For more information those
interested can call 780.542.5445 OR
bearsrun@gmail.com
Linda MacKinnon
Rimbey, AB
During our visits to Canada,
my husband and I always hike the
grocery stores hunting for some of
our favorite (and healthy!)
President’s Choice food items. We
thought we'd scored for sure in
Canmore when we found two
adjacent grocery stores. We didn't
find President’s Choice, but we
found you. What an enjoyable
read!
Susan Wider
Santa Fe, NM
A creaturesall reader who saw
Jessica Lutz’s story on “Snuggle
Buddies” in issue #20 called me
looking for a place to donate
blankets and we had a nice chat. I
picked up several copies of
creaturesall to share around the
office. Thanks again, it was great to
have it in the magazine.
Tim Battle
Director of Education
The Alberta SPCA
paw prints and pen scratches
I am the volunteer for the
Hervey Foundation that is using your
magazine in my classroom with my
grade 3 and 4 students. I read the
articles to my class and then leave
the magazine in my story corner for
students to read on their own. As a
volunteer that works with animals I
spend a lot of time sharing my per-
sonal stories about my cats to my
students. We discuss how these crea-
tures have come to my home. Some
of the stories are very sad, as last
summer I received 8 kittens that
were thrown in a dumpster. These
stories and your articles in your won-
derful publication spark discussions
on how amazing animals are.
Children love animals and have a
strong connection to them. I appreci-
ate having your magazine in my
personal library at school.
Vera Schuelke
Spruce Grove, AB
A friend gave me your magazine
creaturesall and suggested that I
should send you my story about our
pets. I hereby send you two and
hope you like them.
How can I receive your maga-
zine? Can I subscribe to it?
Mieke Alexander
My husband and I are both
college level teachers. He works for
Athabasca University and Northern
Lakes College, and I take contract
teaching positions there and in
University Extension. We moved out
to our little piece of heaven in 2001
from downtown Edmonton.
I have a doctorate in
Anthropology from the University of
Toronto and spent most of my early
career working in development in
Africa. I started breeding and show-
ing rabbits about 12 years ago after
a long illness. They say lightning
does not strike twice but I actually
have another very rare breed here.
page7
LETTERS
readers write
It is the curly coated rabbit known
as Astrex. It is virtually extinct,
although curly rabbits turn up in
litters every now and then.
I got three animals from a lady
who was going into a care facility.
She had come over to Canada in
1948, so the Astrex I have are from
this old line. Here is a photo:
Helga Vierich-Drever
Edmonton AB
Thank you so much for mailing a
subscription to our granddaughter. I
know she is going to enjoy it because
she has read our copy so many
times. We decided to give her a year
subscription for her birthday at the
end of February. Thank you.
Ina Phillips
I would like to subscribe and I
think this is a magazine my Dad
would enjoy too (as he is a big
animal lover). He lives in B.C. would
you be able to send your magazine
out there?
Tracey Wood
I am hoping you received my
cheque for yet another set of yearly
issues of your magazine. I did want
to mention however, you left us in
the lurch in last month's issue as to
what name you settled on for your
dog. Your father must have had a
great sense of humour.
P. Gowing
Delta, BC
There’s a true crowd at this one, all leaning over and under one
another for the perfect shot. Several drivers are going by and
honking and yelling at us to stop; to leave.

I
started it, but I can’t say I caused it to happen. Animal jams caused by cars and photographers and
The moose did that. gawkers are dangerous events. I know they’re bad for the
My husband Bill and I were on our Third animals and for the drivers but here I am, the first car to
Annual Road stop. I can’t help myself. I
Tr i p / C a m p i n g have to see these gorgeous
Trip in Canada. creatures. Instantly there
We had set out are more cars and kids and
from our home honking and a few tire
in Santa Fe, screeches. Bill and I spend
New Mexico some time drinking it all in
and had been and taking photos before
on the road for my conscience acts up and
two and a half I get us out of there. In the
days. We made hotel best interest of the moose.
stops in Ogden, Utah Wild animals don’t stay
and Kalispell, Montana wild if they get used to
and had just entered humans. At heart, I don’t
Kootenay National want to be part of the
Park, displaying our problem.
spiffy new Parks We have our next jam
Canada pass. a few days later just
Yes, I was driving beyond Jasper, on the way
and yes, I was tired and to Maligne Lake. An
yes, those deer at the enormous elk with a well
side of the road did decked-out rack. This time
look big. I was focused there’s a parking lot. How
on arriving at our Banff convenient. And we’re not
campsite before dark the first. I count three tour
when Bill and I looked at each other and decided fatigue busses and at least a dozen other vehicles. We stay in
was no reason not to investigate the big deer. I circled our car this time and I have a chance to study animal
back and pulled onto jam behavior.

Would
the large shoulder It’s all about getting the great photo. There are
next to a mother and several people out of their cars with their
baby moose. MOOSE. cameras, and I’m shocked to hear a
Moose are a very
big deal when you’ve
you like
spent much of your life in the
woman tell her husband to back
up a few steps to get “just a
little closer” to the elk. Maybe

jam
desert southwest. We had seen the marriage is in trouble?

?
the back end of one in Other cars stop barely long
Yellowstone once. And two enough for the passenger to

with
lying-down ones at Grand snap a picture, and they’re
Teton. But they hardly count gone. Gravel spatters in their
when they’re teeny tiny in your binoculars, wake, and they’re off after
right? the next critter. So we stay.

that
by Susan Wider
But our Kootenay pals are here, next We watch and observe and
to the car, munching grass. And I’ve just start to notice the little
started a moose jam. details, like the color of the

page8

hair below the elk’s eyes and the
muscular jaw. And a couple of times,
as a car slows down for a look, we
hear, “Oh, don’t bother to stop, it’s
just an elk.”
A day later it’s a mountain goat
jam. With babies. I feel better about
stopping to watch them since they are
away from the road and down an
embankment. Then I see people with
cameras and kids heading down there
to get closer. Well, suppose I’m that
mother goat? I figure I’m being
chased. I might get feisty. I might have
to charge one of those children to
protect mine.
the brakes when we see another jam,
but I can’t spot the animal. Odd, given
the number of cars that have slowed
down. Bill spots it first and then I see
why. It’s a guy taking a picture of his
girlfriend lounging on their motorbike.
And granted, there are a couple of
peaks in the picture. That’s it. Our
first babe jam.
The scariest jam happens a
few miles later. A black bear
with a green ear tag munching
berries just off the road. There
are cars everywhere. Bill drives
well beyond the bear before
pulling over. I get out with my
actually edging in on the bear. And
that’s when it hits me that I could be
part of costing this animal its life. We
are teaching him to not fear humans.
I can’t do this any more. In tears, I
sprint back to Bill and the car just as
a marked wildlife control vehicle
arrives to break up the jam.
The better way? Hike the trail at
Cottonwood Slough near Jasper
at dusk and watch the beavers from
a respectful spot way up on the bank.
Slow down on the Icefields Parkway
and creep past the bighorn
sheep that are all over the rocks
and on the shoulder. Stay in your car,
and in your lane, while the
bison cross the road all around you
at Yellowstone. Take your pictures
with your eyes.
My most recent animal jam? On
the way to the grocery store here in
Santa Fe the other day, we all had to
stop in both directions while a Mama
Gambel’s Quail and her brood
crossed the road. ca

The mass that we create is

actually edging in on the bear.

I’m really beginning to understand camera and run back for my

why this animal jam idea is
discouraged. We leave.
By now, we know to slow down
any time there’s a car pulled slightly
off the road. Drive slowly enough and
you can probably still see the animal
and not hit a photographer. This
morning we’re heading back down the
Icefields Parkway. The rising sun is
just hitting the peaks, there’s glorious
fog in the valley, and last night’s rain
made the trees grow diamonds. Bill
comes around a curve and slams on
photo. I notice Bill stays in the
car. But I don’t feel guilty. I love
bears.
There’s a true crowd at this
one, all leaning over and under
one another for the perfect
shot. Several drivers are going
by and honking and yelling at us
to stop; to leave. Tour busses
start to block the road in both
directions. I envy the
passengers’ view from higher
up. The mass that we create is

page9
 memories made timeless
We welcome you to visit
the studio on our farm
near Cremona. Just a
Stop by our studio or visit: short, beautiful drive
www.dianeandersontymarc.com north of Calgary.
for some wonderfully unique
and surprisingly affordable
gift giving ideas.

Diane M. Anderson
www.dianeandersontymarc.com
tymarc@xplornet.com
403-637-2274 403-803-8039

Kissing Bears & Kissing Cows

I painted these two pictures about 5 years
ago while studying with Barbara Elmslie
in Val Morin, Quebec. The following year
while again in Val Morin, both pictures
disappeared. I do not know when or how
or who took them.

Even though these are very early works, the

pictures are important to me as a chronicle
of my work. For that reason, I am offering
a $200 US reward for information which
ultimately leads to their return.

stancohenartist@optonline.net http://stancohenartist.com
a r t i s t

page10

ather round all that have
G come to hear a tale of
courage and bravery. We
now go back down through the
dark centuries which sprawl between the sinking of ancient
Atlantis and the dawn of recorded time to the days when
a rodent’s life was worth no more than the strength of his
sword arm. Welcome to the raw untamed world of…
“Skarr—the Hamster Barbarian”!
We find our ferocious hero darkly brooding upon his
throne of seed mix and pellets, adrift in quiet contempla-
tion. To gaze upon him at a glance, one would not suspect
the great warrior that lies within his
gentle visage. Like most Teddy Bear
hamsters his outer self appeared
deceptively innocent and sweet, but
inside roared the lion of the jungle.
However, unlike others of his kin,
he exhibited one distinguishing facial
feature; below his left eye was a small
scar borne of combat in the gladiatorial
arenas he once claimed as king.
Several moons ago, he had travelled
from his ancestral lands to the place
he now called home. His fate lay in the
hands of his gentle human overseers
who graciously provided him with
generous amounts of food and drink.
However, although his simple basic needs were more than
adequately satisfied, he missed the ring of battle, by
Crom! The blood in his veins burned and his muscles
ached for the heat of combat and to once more prove his
mettle against a worthy opponent.
Disturbing his grim solitude, he overheard a
concerned voice from the young human overseer known as
Robbie. “Mommy, Mr. Fluffybum is hurt, he has a scratch
under his eye.”
Robbie was soon joined by “Mommy”, the much larger
and elder overseer. “Oh the poor thing. We better take
him to the vet and get him checked out.”
The discussion amongst the overseers piqued Skarr’s
interest. Whoever this ‘vet’ was would fall before his wrath
and beg for his mercy (which was in short supply). The
clangor of arms would be heard in the heavens themselves!
The journey was long and difficult and many challenges
were met until, at long last, Skarr finally came face to face
with his veterinary adversary. Emerging cautiously from
his toilet paper hideout, Skarr spied the great giant that
towered before him. And what a horrible beast he was! To
gaze upon it would drive even the most hardened warrior
page11
WAGGING TALES
stories from a veterinarian’s clinic
by Dr. Richard Weger, B.Sc., DVM
insane! The creature was composed of a slime covered
fish-like body with a large fluke-like tail and set in its head
were three long, slit-like, purple red eyes, one above the
other. But the most striking monstrous attribute was the
four long tentacles growing from the top of its head! A
sinister creature indeed! It roared with maddening
anger!
“What a cute little guy you are Mr. Fluffybum, let’s
have a look at that eye of yours shall we?”
Skarr gasped as the grotesquery reached into the cage
attempting to ensnarl him in its writhing tentacles and
shouted in defiant anger, “My life is for me to give . . . not
for you to take. And . . . I do not
choose to give it, horrendous one! Ye
shall fall before the slicing blade of
Skarr the Barbarian, by Crom!”
With a dexterity born from the
bowels of many a battle, the mighty
Skarr latched his razor point teeth
into the beast’s distasteful appendage
and with all his rodent strength drew
first blood! Skarr was enveloped by
the adrenaline rush of the slash and
savagery of the combat. The gurgling
monstrosity, having been dealt a
tremendous blow, howled in
screeching agonizing pain!
“Oww! That stung little guy!”
Sensing its defeat and crushing peril, the monster
returned Skarr back to his cage. Skarr sneered
triumphantly. He had slipped like a mouse through the
devil’s oozing fingers. He had fought the beast in mortal
combat and emerged victorious!
“Oh, I am so sorry about that Dr.Weger, is your finger
ok?” said the elder overseer.
“It’s no problem Mrs. Howard, barely a scratch. It’s
not unusual for hamsters to get a little ornery on occasion.
As for this wound under his eye, I’ll make up some
antibiotic ointment for you to put on it.”
With the completion of the fray behind him, Skarr
once again took his rightful place on his throne. Wiping the
remains of his enemy off his teeth with a scrap of bedding,
Skarr beamed with pride at his conquest. It would be a
cold day in Heck when a scurvy monster like that would get
the best of him, by Crom! ca
Dr. Richard Weger is a graduate of the Western College of
Veterinary Medicine, specializing in exotic veterinary
medicine. He is currently owned by his Senegal parrot, Tiko
and his cat, Mendel.
Angela Waite Ad5.indd 1 1/3/09 12:14:48 PM

Some of the sculptures I have

completed include pheasants, frogs,
dogs, cats, historic buildings, roses,
sunflowers, mushrooms and cat-tails.

All of my pieces are created from the

recycled hoods of cars and trucks. I
rework the heavy gauge metal using an
assortment of tools and techniques
which owe much to the now bygone
age when blacksmithing and hand-
craftsmanship were the only options
available. I do take orders for gift-giving
and keep an inventory of a variety of
sculptures on hand.
COUNTRY CREATIONS
Metal Sculptures
hnhdougan@shaw.ca

Harvey Dougan 403-934-3640

page12

A m e r i c a n
Crocodiles
are one of the
most prehistoric looking animals in
the world today. The massive reptiles’
physical appearances and living habits
have changed little over thousands and
thousands of years.
These cold-blooded animals
require an external resource to warm
up their body, to get the blood flowing,
allowing them to become mobile. They
spend the day basking on river banks
and shorelines in the hot tropical sun-
shine. Unable to regulate their body
temperatures internally like humans
do, they soak up the sun’s heat to
regulate their body temperature.
Crocodiles are superbly adapted
for life in the water. With the nostrils
and eyes positioned atop the head for
easy breathing and vision, the rest of
the body can be completely
submerged below the water’s surface.
These semi-aquatic creatures
possess effective hunting skills. They
patiently wait in the murky waters
near shorelines for coati, peccary,
deer, and other animals coming to the
CREATURE FEATURE
river for a drink. Remaining completely
motionless in the water, they wait . . .
and wait. When the prey comes close
they attack quickly, grasping onto the
animal with their vice-like jaws,
drowning it using the well known
technique, the “death roll”.
Crocodiles do not chew their
food. They hold on to it with their
powerful jaws, tear it with razor sharp
teeth, and swallow. Their stomach is
able to dissolve everything including
the bones. These reptiles are able to
go for extreme periods between meals
because when they do eat, they can
devour up to half their body weight at
one time. SO if you go swimming in
water with crocodiles, pray they have
all recently eaten.
The American Crocodiles are
considered less aggressive than the
saltwater crocodiles in Australia and
Africa. This species of crocodile is
considered shy and reclusive and more
likely to flee at the sight of humans.
crocodiles
by Cyril Brass
People get confused between the
American Crocodile and the American
Alligator which inhabits the Florida
Everglades.
To differentiate a crocodile from
an alligator, look closely at the shape
of the head, visible teeth, coloration
and habitat. But not too close!
The crocodile has a V shaped
head with tapered nose while the
alligator has a U shaped head with
rounded snout. The mouth of the
crocodile reveals both lower and upper
teeth with the 4th tooth on the bottom
jaw exposed when the mouth is
closed. Only the upper teeth are
visible on alligators when the mouth is
closed. Crocodiles are lighter in
coloration then alligators. Crocodiles
prefer to live in slow moving brackish
water (saltwater and freshwater
mixed) or salt water, while alligators
choose freshwater rivers, swamps and
sometimes peoples’ swimming pools.
The American Crocodile . . . a
cold blooded reptile . . . a powerful
swimmer . . . a skilful hunter ca
Cyril Brass is a Wildlife and Sports
Photographer living in Calgary.
www.cyrilbrass.com
403-999-1908
 L’A MORE’ ARTS
Placing the spirit of art in your world

Susanne Lamoureux
(780) 443-2462
susanne@lamorearts.com
www.lamorearts.com

Proud Supporter of the

Hervey Foundation For Cats.

Inquiries about private

lessons and commissions
are welcome.

page14

hifts for wildlife care volunteers
S at the Alberta Institute for
Wildlife Conservation (AIWC)
are intense. We are witness to
horrific injuries and traumatized lives,
TAKING DOWN THE FENCES
by
and everyone has shed tears at one
point or another. The animals
admitted to AIWC are typically
victims of our own species’ ever
increasing footprint, of our various
development projects, and sometimes
even our ideas (e.g. subjective
judgments as to which animals are and
are not worthy of understanding and
respect). However, as wildlife care
volunteers, we have the opportunity to
express a positive human influence
for wildlife. We are also
privileged, since we get to
meet our wild neighbours
not only as ‘species,’
but as individuals.
We work hard. In
fact, AIWC volunteers
logged 72,560 hours between
2000 and 2008. (Note: This
figure only represents the
minimum time exerted, since
many volunteers are too humble
to track all of their AIWC hours,
and the number does not include
the incredible over-time that staff
and summer interns offer pro
bono.) Yes, we are volunteers, so we
do not get paid for our efforts, but we
do not work for nothing. We work for
the animals in distress that increasingly
inundate AIWC year after year, and for
a more respectful and balanced future.
page15
the positive influence
Janna So, MEDes. (c); poem by Ula Mergel
And as we tend to wild lives, there
comes a point at which we realize that
we are not the only ones inspiring
positive change . . .
“A Volunteer’s Flight Feathers”
They come to us tattered
They come to us torn
They come to us orphaned
And barely just born
They come to us maimed
With hardly a wing
They come to us weary
Too weary to sing
They come to a promise
A promise to lend
The hearts that we’re given
The hands that will mend
We’ll wrap up the tatters
We’ll stitch up the tears
We’ll nurture the orphans
And answer their prayers
They’ll learn how to fly
With the feathers they’ve grown
Old wounds will have healed
With the stitches once sewn
It’s those we can’t fix
Can’t comfort or console
Who show us not all souls
Are in our control
We learn, and we learn
With each that survive
It’s not their hearts alone
Ours too, learn to thrive ca
For more information about wildlife
rehabilitation, or about upcoming
events such as the provincial AWRA
Conference (April 4th&5th) and the
AIWC Call of the Wilds Gala
(May 23rd), please visit the AIWC
website at www.aiwc.ca, or call
946-2361.

On a warm sunny day in February of 2004,
my dog Lucy, a seven year old 28 pound Border Collie cross
was walking next to me on the sidewalk by a busy
Edmonton street without a care in the world. Puddles of
melting snow covered the sidewalk, with snow banks
pushed up on the surrounding yards. With one little jump
Lucy landed in a snow bank and began to scream — an
unearthly sound that I had never heard in my life. It took
me a few seconds to realize that the sound was emanating
from her. My friend and I stood watching as Lucy’s limbs
contorted uselessly as she struggled to get out of the snow.
page16
by Rachel Sentes
Her eyes were unfocused and when I reached over to try
and pick her up, she clamped her teeth on my thumb biting
me. I pulled back and started to yell “Oh my God, Oh my
God!” at the top of my lungs. I was completely confused as
to what was happening. I tried reaching for her again and
when I touched her back I felt a jolt of electricity go through
me and suddenly I knew that my dog was in horrible pain
and I didn’t know how to stop it.
A man came rushing up behind us wearing large boots
and gloves; he leaned down and picked up Lucy. He placed
her in my arms and I could feel the pins and needles of
electricity shoot through my fingers.
Sobbing I said her name and her whole
body shuddered and went limp. I
cradled her head which was suddenly
still, her tongue hanging loosely and
looked for a sign of life. But there was
none. I had lost my dog and didn’t
understand why. I pulled her close to
me and she jolted up, her heart
pounding and her eyes suddenly
regaining their focus and incredibly
she was back. A woman who had
heard my cries as she was driving past
us had stopped and she quickly
bundled us up and drove us at
top speed down the street to the
veterinary office of
Dr. Beck.
We rushed in, suddenly I knew that my dog was in horrible pain
explaining that we
thought Lucy had been electrocuted
and they whisked her away into the
back. I sat down on the bench in the
foyer and breathed for the first time
since the strange event had begun.
Time had ceased to mean anything,
but when I looked down at my watch I
realized that the entire incident had
occurred in less than fifteen minutes.
Lucy’s screams were still ringing in my
ears and it slowly dawned on me that
I might be in shock.
Both of the good Samaritans who
had helped us had disappeared, and
their faces were a blur. I couldn’t
remember if I had even thanked them.
Dr. Beck came out and gave us the
news that Lucy was alive and what we
had suspected was true. She had been
electrocuted. The good news was that
the shock had been so severe that it
had completely shut her body down.
According to the EKG he had
performed, he believed that Lucy’s
heart had ceased beating for approxi-
mately 10 seconds. The power of the
voltage had restarted her body and
fortunately, there were no signs of
electrical burns or other physical
problems. Her heart was beating
strong with no arrhythmia and her
brain functions seemed normal. When
she walked out of the back room she
was shaky and a little dazed, and
I scooped her up in my arms to take
her home.
The next few days seemed surreal
with the mystery of the electrified snow
bank slowly unravelling. I had to go back
to the spot where it had occurred to
make sure barriers had been erected to
warn other people about the under-
ground danger. It took a long time for
anyone to come out and isolate the area
but eventually someone arrived and took
care of it. After I was assured it was safe,
I had my thumb dealt with. It wasn’t a
severe bite, but it needed to be treated
with antibiotics. Lucy spent the evening
sleeping, and twitching, exhausted by the
traumatic event. I couldn’t sleep, worried
that she would stop breathing in the
middle of the night. I kept my hand on
her chest as she lay next to me.
Over the next few days, the story of
Lucy and the electrified snow bank drew
media attention and Lucy was featured
on television and in newspapers across
the country. The mystery of the electrical
current was revealed to have emanated
from wiring that had been part of a set of
removed footlights in front of a church.
The footlights had been dismantled, but
the current had remained live, its wires
sending electricity across the ground.
Lucy had become a local celebrity
for surviving the freak accident and
people would stop us on the street to
see how she was doing. The trauma of
being electrocuted never really left
her. My immediate concerns were of
course the affect of the shock on her
body, but also emotionally. At the
time, few dogs had suffered a similar
event so not much was known about
the emotional toll it could take on her.
In the months following the
accident, Lucy needed constant
reassuring that everything was ‘okay’. I
could never say “Oh my God’ around
her because somehow through all of
her screaming she had heard my
voice. If I used that phrase, she would
sit down and shake, visibly upset. She
seemed to become more tuned into
the world around her which meant
sounds and situations that had never
caused her to bat an eye would now
page17
cause her to shake or run away and
seek solace under a desk or chair.
She had played Agility and Flyball
prior to the accident but now needed
reassurance and help when she
played again. In Agility, she suddenly
decided that she would only go in
the tunnels and no amount of
persuasion would make her go on
other pieces of equipment. In
Flyball, she became acutely aware of
any dogs that had high pitched
barks, or any yelping. If she heard a
yelp, she would shut down and run
off the lane to hide. Lucy had always
been a little quirky, but after the
electrocution, she was a
little different and our
home just had to adapt to
her newly acquired
eccentricity.
It’s now 5 years later, and Lucy is a
happy healthy dog who lives life with
gusto. She has moved on from Agility
and became a certified Pet Therapy dog
visiting patients in hospitals to give back
to people who are going through a hard
time. She is incredibly happy visiting
with them and she relishes the attention.
She has been featured on local television
stations as a representative for the Pet
Therapy Society of Alberta, and was
interviewed and had a small part in Book
Television’s 3 Day Novel Contest
Television Series in 2007. Lucy was also
featured in a calendar to raise funds for
the Pet Therapy Society, and was
featured in Lisa Wonja’s book Amazing
Dogs. With the recent dog deaths by
electrocution on the streets of Canadian
cities, the miracle of her survival never
ceases to remind me of the fragility of
life and the strength and tenacity of a
little mutt named Lucy. ca
Rachel Sentes is a freelance writer and
publicist living in Edmonton. The
incident involving Lucy was recounted
to her by her sister Kyla who was
walking with her. Rachel and Lucy
are currently revising Lucy’s memoir
for their Vancouver literary agent
and are looking forward to its
publication in the near future. For
more information visit:
www.gal-friday.blogspot.com
 IN PASSING
celebrating the lives of animal friends

Niko Cinder Blaze

You earned many names over your Whoa fella, I'm new at this
fifteen wonderful years with us: Atta boy, let's ride
Smelly, Dayoo, Bone-ay, Sweetpea, and
a few endearments not fit for mixed
company
Throughout that time there is not
one moment where you gave us reason
to raise our voices at you. You were
ours with your root beer eyes from the moment you
barked furiously into our faces from behind the wire at the They say you have to wreck
Humane Society and you chose to come with us even when before you know how to ride
Roland stepped on your foot. We were told that you were
likely a “barker”. How wrong they were. Easy fella, I'm still sore
I loved your root beer eyes and I could see through Times are a little tough but we'll make it
them as you could see through mine and I know we had a Atta boy, let's ride
special connection that happens when pain and mutual
Time to get ready for the games
empathy form a bridge. There will never be anyone like
you again. Roland misses your talking and the sock fights. Atta boy, let's ride
We are so sorry you had to go because, if we could It's time to ride, where is Wall Lake
have, we would have chosen to keep you as our boy Atta boy, let's ride
forever. Your fur brother Tuco misses you too.
Time for another trail ride
Passed away: 01/04/09 Atta boy, let's ride
Easy fella, I'm learning this farrier thing
Cleo Atta boy, let's ride

It was a sad and tearful day. Cleo

went for her final stroll outside, and A
final car ride. Her name is Red, she's a little bossy
I had to take Cleo to the Vet to
Atta boy, let's ride
have her put down. Her health had
deteriorated significantly over the past His name is Tramp, he's new, show him the ropes
2 weeks. She hadn’t eaten in the past 9 Atta boy, let's ride
days. When getting off the bed or You can take it easy now, you've treated us right
couch, she would simply fall to the
Atta boy, let's ride
floor. She had difficulty walking, and was close to totally
deaf. She has had a tumor on her cheek/ear area for the You've taught me what I know
past 1.5 years. This was likely Cancerous. Whoa fella, I'm here, It'll be okay
I still remember the day, almost 20 years ago, when I
Thank you friend, it's time for you to go
picked Cleo out at the Vancouver S.P.C.A. She was my
companion when I first moved from Kamloops to You can rest now
Vancouver in 1989. I can ride because of you
Yes, she had a very good, long life. Still, that does not Good-bye friend
make this any easier for any of us. She has been a fixture
The wind on my face that dries a tear
around here for 2 decades, half of my life and Chris’s life,
and all of Cayla’s and Cassidy’s lives. I’m sure she is up I know now that you are free
there harassing Casey right now. Goodbye Cleo. Atta boy.

Passed away: 10/04/08 Passed away: 02/17/02

page18
 Why Nature Abhors a Vacuum
M olly couldn’t
believe her good
luck. She had
been waiting for
the day to
extract revenge
on her mortal
enemy, and it
looked like today was the day. She
eyed the big, red nest-eating monster.
No noises were coming from it and the
light that it shines on the floor was
turned off. Molly knew the monster
must be sleeping.
Molly spent her afternoons
building cardboard creations on her
human flock member’s floor. Her
balance wasn’t very good with the
plastic disc she had to wear around
her neck because she plucked her
feathers. Her flock member let her out
of her cage in the mornings and had
strategically placed cardboard boxes
and other parrot toys all over the
house so Molly could shred them to
her heart’s content. It was much
easier for her to balance on the
floor and she loved spending
her sunny afternoons making
nests and creating other
cardboard sculptures with her beak.
But then one day the monster
came. Its long tail plugged into the
wall and it made a terrible noise when
it sucked up paper and bits of toys off
the floor. Molly’s flock mate tried to
stop it by holding onto its neck, but
the big red monster continued to
suck up everything in its path.
All of Molly’s hard work had
been eaten in minutes by this
terrible creature. Once it had
eaten all of her creations, the
monster seemed satiated and
the noise would stop and its
bright eye would go dim. It
would recoil its long skinny
black tail inside itself and go
back to its lair where it lived. Molly
knew the red monster lived behind the
door that opened to the small cave in
the wall. It usually slept quietly for
days, but then it would roar to life
devouring everything in its wake.
Molly knew she had been given
the chance of a lifetime when she
noticed the big red monster sleeping
outside of its lair one day. Her flock
member was busy talking on the
phone and the monster’s tail was still
tucked inside its body. She silently
approached looking for any sign of
wakefulness. Assured that the
monster slept, she quickly ran to the
part that the monster breathed out of.
She chomped down with all of her
might on the bag that the monster
breathed out of. Success; the monster
still did not roar to life. Molly had seen
the bag at the back of the monster fill
up with air before. She knew this is
where the monster breathed from and
that this must be its lung. She struck
again hard with all of the force her
powerful beak could muster. This time
she ripped a hole right through the bag
that would deliver oxygen
to the terrible creature.
Again and again Molly
struck, killing the monster
that threatened her
home and her flock
members.
page19
by Kitti Freeman
Finally, all that was left was a pile
of chewed up air bag and large chunks
of the hard red shell that protected the
monster’s body. It felt good to protect
her flock and to know that from now
on, all of her nests and shredded
masterpieces would be safe. Molly ran
to her featherless friend and proudly led
her back to where the body of the dead
monster lay lifeless on the carpet.
Her flock mate was very quiet.
Molly wondered why she didn’t say the
usual things she had been taught to say
when Molly wanted to interact with
her. Molly had taught her to say things
like, “Good girl Molly”, or “Way to go
Molly Girl”, or, “You’re a pretty birdie,
Molly”. But none of these sounds were
coming out of her featherless friend.
Maybe something was wrong with her
beak. Molly hopped up on her arm and
leaned forward to kiss the strange soft
beak of her companion. Molly studied
her friends face for a moment, and
said in her most sincere voice, “I love
you!”
Her friends features softened and
Molly heard the words she lived for.
“You’re a good girl Molly, I love you
too.”
That night the body of the red
monster had disappeared off the
carpet where she had killed it. Her
featherless friend seemed more quiet
than usual, but still held Molly close
to her in her favourite rocking chair.
Molly knew she was happy
with her for slaying the big
red monster and keeping
their cozy little nest safe.
Once again she heard
the words she longed for as
her friend scratched under
her wing, “Good girl, Molly-Girl, I
really love you.” ca
Molly is an eight year old Molluccan
Cockatoo Parrot who lives with her
female human flock mate. Molly
has owned and trained her for
three years.
 Dedicated to and in appreciation of your presence
on our planet and your inspiration in my life and work
for almost 17 years.
MandaLeaf

A life torn apart

D E S I G N
www.carlapelkey.com • 403 245 4386

through loss...
a true, tough-love story about
Stop in and
accepting the unacceptable.
see our
Available through www.jpmf.ca Happy Cats
Soft cover edition
308 pages
or www.pinkgazelle.com on display
at Sunridge
Petsmart
in Calgary.

www.happycatsanctuary.net

page20
 SPACES and SPECIES
among the world’s oldest living birds
by Kristie Wegener, Conservation Representative

he Sandhill crane belongs to the on a mound of vegetation. Cranes mate extraction leave this migratory bird

T same group of birds as coots,

cranes and rails and is the most
common of all the world’s cranes.
for life; both parents feed the young,
called colts, who are soon able to feed
themselves. The Sandhill crane does
species at risk.

What you can do to help:

Sandhill cranes (Grus canadensis) are
predominantly found in North America
but can range south to Mexico and
Cuba, and as far west as Siberia. Noted
for their distinctive and penetrating
bugling calls, often heard well before
the birds are seen, and for their
elaborate courtship dancing, they are
among the world’s oldest living birds.
Sandhill cranes are typically found
around fresh water wetlands, but their
habitat can range from bogs and fens to
open grasslands. Opportunistic eaters,
they enjoy eating plants, grains, mice,
snakes, insects, or worms. They often
dig in the soil for tubers and sometimes
cause significant crop damage, bringing
them into conflict with farmers.
This crane frequently gives a loud
trumpeting call that suggests a French-
style “r” rolled in the throat. Their
vocalizations are a loud, rattling kar-r-r-
o-o-o that can have multiple variations.
Adults are grey and have a red
forehead, white cheeks and a long dark
pointed bill. They have long dark legs
not breed until it is two to seven years
old. It can live up to 25 years in the
wild; in captivity they have been known
to live more than twice as long. Mated
pairs stay together year round, and
migrate south as a group with their
offspring.
When threatened by avian
predators, a Sandhill crane vaults into
the air toward the potential predator,
throwing its feet forward in a front
kick. When confronted with a
mammalian predator, the crane’s
typical response is to approach with a
spread-wing posture, its bill oriented
toward the animal. If the predator does
not retreat, the crane hisses and stabs,
followed by powerful vaults and kicks.
In Alberta, the Sandhill crane is
listed on the Alberta Natural Heritage
Information Network (ANHIC) watch
list. Although this species is not
considered endangered, the breeding
populations are not demonstrably
secure, with just over 100 occurrences
of breeding in Alberta. The continual
Maintenance of essential breeding
habitats is the primary need for all
populations of Sandhill cranes. Wetland
conservation is particularly important
in the ranges of nonmigratory
populations, and in staging and
wintering areas of migratory popula-
tions.
Interesting Fact: A Miocene crane
fossil, thought to be about ten million
years old, was found in Nebraska and is
structurally identical to the modern
Sandhill crane, making it the oldest
known bird species still surviving! ca
The Nature Conservancy of Canada,
(NCC) is dedicated to conserving habitat
for wildlife species like the Sandhill
crane for future generations. It is our hope
that, perhaps one day, these and other
amazing species will no longer be at risk.
Contact us at 1-877-262-1253 or
alberta@natureconservancy.ca
7
to help conserve habitat May 0
ca
p r / to .
for wildlife. A p ho
m r
missi on fro do
o
p er
th ut
wi

o
-
which trail behind in flight and a long destruction of wetlands for residential r e p r in
t ed
R an
dy J e n s e n
sy :
neck that is kept straight in flight. and industrial development of r te
pho to co
u

Immature birds have reddish-brown increasing human popula-

upperparts and grey underparts. Adult tions and
cranes reach four to five feet in height resource
and weigh seven to twelve pounds, with
a wing-span of up to seven feet. Males
are predominantly larger than females,
and otherwise are not distinguishable
from the females. Sandhill cranes in
flight can be differentiated from
herons in that they fly with their
necks extended and by their
nearly constant calls.
Nesting in marsh
vegetation or on the
ground close to
water, the female
lays two eggs
 A balanced and Animal Rescue Foundation (ARF) rescues stray and unwanted dogs
100% natural and cats from First Nations communities and rural areas and places
daily supplement them in loving, permanent homes while providing programs to reduce
for your pet pet over-population.
Please visit us at www.arf.ab.ca to view all of our wonderful dogs and
cats that are available for adoption. We are also looking for
ns, Foster Families to help take care of our animals until we can place

or e locatio them in their forever homes. ARF covers all costs and the rewards

For st ase visit are immeasurable!

ple e.
eb sit
our w

6 403-243-1910
Minerals
13
Vitamins
18
Amino Acids

The Hervey Foundation for Cats is a place of protection

and refuge for cats, the old, the suffering and a place of
last resort for healthy cats that would otherwise be
euthanized. We are a no-kill, non-profit and tax-exempt
www.wilvitalcanada.com info@wilvitalcanada.com private Charitable Foundation.
403-264-8281
(780) 963-4933 www.herveycats.com

page22

love owls. But then, who doesn’t
I love owls? For centuries, owls have
held a special place in the hearts
and minds of their human admirers.
Some think it’s their penetrating eyes
and solemn bearing. Others speculate
that it is actually the placement of
their eyes—positioned straight forward
like ours—that strikes a chord deep in
the human psyche. Whatever the
explanation, it is the rare human who
doesn’t feel some sort of connection
with these fascinating denizens of the
night.
Of the twelve owl species that are
regularly seen in Alberta, the Great
Horned Owl, our official Provincial
bird, is the most common and
widespread. A very adaptable species,
Great Horned Owls are equally
comfortable in a variety of habitats,
from wilderness river valleys and
heavy coniferous forests to city
woodlots and prairie coulees. They are
strong hunters with few natural
enemies.
Great Horned Owls have nested at
or near Ellis Bird Farm for many
years. For several seasons, they
occupied an old Red-tailed Hawk nest
in the west woods. When that nest
Site Services Manager — Ellis Bird Farm Ltd.
finally disintegrat-
ed, they moved
into the old
spruce shelterbelt
where their nest
was well screened
from prying human
eyes. We would occa-
sionally see young
ones in late summer, a
sure sign that they were
still living in the neigh-
bourhood.
Imagine our delight and
surprise when, following a 2007
May snowstorm, the branches on a
huge spruce tree in the yard yawned
apart to reveal Ma Great Horned Owl
and her two white, fuzzy babies.
They couldn’t have picked a more
convenient spot, right next to the main
trail leading down to our gazebo. Over
the next months, literally thousands of
visitors gawked at them and were
thrilled.
Sadly, Ma Owl was killed by a car
in mid July, on a highway near the
farm. Pa continued his parental duties
however, and the young survived.
This past spring, we wondered if
Pa would return with a new mate.
Sure enough, another female took her
place in the high nest. This time, we
watched with interest as the nesting
cycle unfolded; from Ma II sitting
sternly and immobile atop her nest to
the day the little fuzzy white head of
their single chick finally popped out
from amid her matronly apron of
feathers. Despite being “Ohhh”-ed and
“Ahhh”-ed at by another throng of
enraptured humans, the owl family
went about its business non-plussed.
As happened the previous year, the
owlet eventually ventured out of the
nest onto the nearby branches,
dexterously exploring its new world
outside the nest. It then finally took its
inaugural flight. Obviously a poor flier,
the owlet spent several days grounded
page23
WINGIN’ IT
stories from the bird farm
by Myrna Pearman, Biologist &
in the tall grass at the edge of
the orchard before finally being able
to lift off.
As nocturnal beasts, the owls
weren't expected to be very active
during the day. Sure enough, a day in
the life of an owl consists of not much;
yawning, sleeping, stretching,
yawning, sleeping, shuffling to another
location, sleeping and, if occasioned,
casting spurious glares at anyone who
dares interrupt the routine. Even
screaming mobs of crows failed to
arouse much more than a raised
eyebrow and the odd shuffle sideways.
Young birds beg for food, and
owlets are no exception. Armed with a
repertoire of croaks and squawks that
can best be described as bizarre, the
young relentlessly pester their parents
for food. While most of the feeding is
done during the night, we observed
that day hunting was also necessary
when the appetites of their fast-
growing young charges appeared to be
insatiable. We watched them pluck
Purple Martins mid air and nab
unwary ground squirrels from the
lawn. As is typical of all owls, table
manners leave much to be desired;
what can’t be gulped or fed whole is
very unceremoniously ripped into long
stringy bits that are greedily gobbled.
With the farm closed for the
winter, we no longer keep such close
tabs on the owl family. But our weekly
visits are usually rewarded with a
glimpse of at least one sleepy
individual, either soberly surveying
the yard from the barn window or
sitting atop a spruce tree. We hope
that next year will find them back in
their usual spot. ca
If you would like to find out more about
how you can get involved, check out
www.ellisbirdfarm.ab.ca or
www.nabluebirdsociety.org.
Why not plan to start your own
bluebird trail this spring?
How Digger
Lost His Shadow
As I got closer to the
dog run I could see
Digger outside pacing
along the fencing of
his run. That’s
strange I thought,
where’s Shadow?
I
had a tough and very long day at
work. I was finally almost home after
an hour’s drive from the construction
site where I was currently working.
With another mile to go to my
acreage, I was looking forward to a nice
hot stew that I had put in the slow cook-
er 13 hours ago. But first, I had horses
and dogs to feed and then I could eat
and go to bed. I could hardly wait.
As I pulled into my driveway my
eyes glanced around our little acreage. I
loved it here. It wasn’t a large acreage
and we were located inside the town’s
limits but it was still a great place. We
had a decent barn, some pasture, and a
small cozy house. Currently, we had 7
horses, 2 dogs and a number of cats. I
couldn’t see the horses at the moment
and I thought, fleetingly, that they were
probably already inside the barn waiting
for supper. After all, I was later than
normal.
I parked my truck and headed over
to the dog run to feed them first. Our
page24
by Patty Moyer
two dogs, Shadow & Digger, would be
waiting for their supper. Shadow was a
three year old Border Collie and Digger
was a two year old Black Lab. They
were outside farm dogs and never came
into the house. Their dog house was an
old converted single room shop. We
made them a nice large run and play
area with a 7 ft. chain link fence and
attached it to the shop. It was nice and
warm in the shop during the cold
weather and they had freedom to be
inside or out whichever they wanted.
The run and shop both were large
enough that if they wanted their own
space, it wasn’t a problem.
On my way over to the dog house I
heard some barking coming from the
back area of our pasture but thought
nothing of it at the time. We had
neighbors right behind us and they also
had a dog and a couple of horses. As I
got closer to the dog run I could see
Digger outside pacing along the fencing
of his run. That’s strange I thought,
where’s Shadow? Those two stuck
together like glue, where one was, you
could be sure that the other was close
by. I called for Shadow but he didn’t
come. What the heck was going on?
Maybe he was sick inside of his house.
I quickly unlocked and opened the 7 ft.
high walk-in gate, still calling out for
him. Digger came running up to me
woofing and snuffling, tail wagging 90
miles an hour. For some reason, he
didn’t look very happy though, he had
this real sad look in his eyes. Worried
now, I gave him some reassuring pats
and hugs and hurried into the dog
house expecting to see Shadow lying in
his corner on his mat. A quick glance
showed me that he wasn’t there. I
looked around quickly but considering
the room was just one big open area,
there weren’t many places to hide.
Where the heck was he? I went back
out into the enclosed run and searched
again. Still no sign of him. Okay, I
thought, he has dug a hole under the
fence and escaped somehow.
Searching the fence, I saw that there
were no holes nor dug out areas. This
is very strange I thought. No sign of
him, no sign of escape, and the gate
had still been locked with the padlock.
My husband was out of town so I knew
that he didn’t take Shadow for a walk
either. I started to panic and went
running into the house to start
phoning the neighbors to see if anyone
had seen him.
Just before entering the house, I
stopped for a second to listen again.
The dog I heard barking when I first
came home was still going at it strong.
He sure sounded closer than the
neighbor’s house for some reason. On
a hunch, I turned around and headed
out to the back pasture and barn.
When I got to the barn, I peeked
inside and was kind of shocked at first
– the horses weren’t there at all. My
mind came up with a stupid thought
that someone came in and stole my
dog and my horses! But, now the
barking I had heard was much closer
and, I thought, quite familiar. It sound- run. As I stood there and watched
ed an awful lot like Shadow. As I ran him, Shadow would take a short run
out of the back of the barn I came to a across the pen and jump up at the
dead stop and nearly doubled over fence. He would try to hook his front
with laughter. The mystery of the claws into the holes of the chain link.
missing Shadow and my 7 horses was It took him a couple tries but when he
now solved. All the horses were got latched onto the fence, he just
bunched up into the far corner of the started climbing. Up and over the top
pasture behind the barn and there was
Shadow keeping them all tightly
bunched into that corner. Every time
one of the horses tried to escape,
Shadow would run him back into the
corner with the others. It was just
hilarious! Well, not really because who
knows how long the horses had been
bunched up without water. Good thing
it wasn’t an exceptionally hot day. I
suppose Shadow figured he would
practice his previously unused talents.
Still laughing, I went over and
caught Shadow by the collar and
rescued the poor horses from their
ordeal. I lead him back to his dog
house, scolding him on the way. I still
couldn’t figure out how he got out in
the first place. Digger was sure happy
to see his partner back. I fed them and
then went out to the barn and took
care of the horses.
After eating, tidying up the house
a bit, showering, and doing a load of
laundry I finally headed off to bed. I and he was free. He took off at a run
had to leave home at 5 a.m. again. for the horse pasture and I’m sure he
Tomorrow was going to be a short day was totally stunned when I called him
as we had almost completed the piece back. He just stopped dead in his
of road we were working on. tracks and looked over at me with an
As I headed back into the yard the expression on his face that said,
next day about 2 p.m. I was still sort of “Where in the heck did you come
wondering about what had happened from, you’re supposed to be at work.”
yesterday with Shadow. He had never He then slung his head towards the
been trained as a herd dog but I know ground and walked over to me as if he
that the instinct is buried deep within knew he was in trouble. I gave him a
the Border Collie breed. I parked the scolding and put him back in the dog
truck and was heading to the house run. I then proceeded to the garage
when I heard a scuffle going on over at where I got out the rest of the chain
the dog house. I headed over there link we had stored there. I then built a
quietly and when I turned the corner frame at the top of the dog run and
of the house and saw what was going laid the chain link over the top, thereby
on, not only was I amazed at what I making a roof of chain link over the
saw, but it also solved the mystery of enclosure. The escape artist wanna-be
how Shadow had gotten out of the dog herd dog was now caged for good! ca
page25
 by Katherine Hawkins YOUTH SAID IT
age 8 bogie the bearded dragon
Manchester, Tennessee, USA

Hello,I’m Katherine.

And just this morning I was

reading to Bogie and sudnly Bogie acted
like he wonted to read too! He jumpt off
his rock and looked at the picture for a
very looooong time. He looked all over the
hole page, up and down. Then when he got
bord he turnd around and licked his salid
bowl and then I turned the page and he got
RELLY excited!
He looked all over evry page and lisned
close. I knew he was lisnening ‘cause he
tiped his head at me.
He got relly mad and gave me the
stink-eye when I finished the book and took
it away.
So I got another book and read it to
him. I t was called Dragon in the Wood.
I think I will teach Bogie how to read
english. I don’t have any books written in
dragon. Do you?
Katherine is now writing a book called “The Adventures of Bogart the
Great”. It’s about a bearded dragon who travels America in a hot air
balloon. Each page is a different landmark.
She is off to a super start.

page26

t was my
I i n i t i a l
encounter
with a moose.
It occurred on a gravel road just
outside of Banff Park’s eastern border.
Driving along admiring the scenery, I
was suddenly surprised by a large
moose who came crashing out of the
brush and proceeded to race
alongside. Anyone who has ever had a
half ton of solid muscle running at 30
kph., less than a meter away will
understand my feeling of panic.
Luckily the moose for-
feited the race and
crashed back into the
bush as quickly as it had
burst out leaving me
intact to relate this
story.
Moose are promi-
nent fixtures in our
household. Our resident
moose, Myrtle, and her
offspring frequent our
piece of paradise regu-
larly. In April, a small
sunny meadow in back
is a favourite spot for a
very pregnant Myrtle
and her yearling calves
to relax and soak up the
sun. She will soon chase the yearlings
away as she prepares to give birth
again. My heart goes out to her as she
labouriously heaves her bulk over
fences.
Moose are large ungainly crea-
tures. Standing up to two metres, their
massive shoulders and longer front legs
give them an awkward rolling gate.
However, cows can be deceptively quick
if they feel their calves are in danger.
Calves are born mid-spring after
the last snows, (timing can be tricky
given Alberta’s capricious spring
weather). The cow seeks out a solitary
place in the bush or on an island to
deliver and will remain there for a
THE GARDENING BUG
excuse me, but is that a moose in your garden?
week after she delivers. Well fed,
healthy cows can have multiple
offspring (Myrtle routinely has twins
as our area has abundant food). Solid
food, especially water plants which
form a large percentage of a moose’s
diet, is introduced early. Calves grow
at an extraordinary rate, 1-3 kg/day,
so it is essential that the cow’s milk
be supplemented to support their
rapid growth. Their rich reddish
brown fur, short noses and unending
curiosity make moose babies
particularly endearing.
Each encounter with moose
provides us with many stories. An
Australian colleague of my husband’s
desperately wanted to see a moose
before returning to Australia. Randy
would routinely regale him with
encounter-of-the-week stories and even
now still sends updates. As a result,
occasional correspondence from Down
Under arrives addressed to the ‘Moose
Research Station’.
While it is always lovely to see
Myrtle and her family, we do so with
some trepidation. Part of their diet
consists of willow twigs and branches
but other woody species are
considered delicious as well. Five
page27
by Elaine Rude, Master Gardener
minutes is all it takes to decimate a
young tree. A number of hawthorns
and cherries at our place exhibit a
decidedly bonsaied look.
Since we have set up water tanks
at all of our downspouts Myrtle comes
around much more frequently.
Observing her drink from a two meter
high tank brings into perspective how
really large she is.
Outwardly quite docile, Myrtle
usually ignores us. In fact, I find it
hard not to go and push her out of the
way sometimes, like you would a
horse. Our dog Tommy
gets quite agitated
when Myrtle and com-
pany are about.
Recently one of the
yearlings, probably a
bull, seemed to find
Tommy’s antics more
irritating then usual and
repeatedly mock
charged him. This intim-
idating display finally
ended in a draw. I am
afraid Tommy would
have been on his own if
the yearling had taken it
one step further.
Only once have we
seen a bull. Spying
movement along the back of the
property, what I originally took for a
deer turned out to be gigantic rack of
antlers attached to an equally gigantic
body. Bulls are at their peak between
3-10 years of age, can have antlers
reaching two metres across and can
weigh over 1600 kg. Unlike with
Myrtle, not once did I feel I could just
walk over and push him out of the way!
However, when my plants are
threatened I have been known to grab
a broom and run screaming like a
banshee to roust moose out of the
garden. I must present a truly
alarming sight as they hoof it out of
there every time! ca
 Proud to support
creaturesall Elaine Rude
MASTER GARDENER
in sharing enriching
stories with
Alberta readers, Paintbrush
young and old! Garden
Mr. Len Webber , MLA
Member of the Legislative Assembly
Calgary-Foothills Constituency
Proudly representing the Calgary communities of:
Citadel • Edgemont • Hamptons Design
and
Hidden Valley • Kincora • Sherwood
403•288•4453 in the Alberta Legislature

Consulting

403.241.3688

www.Luv2Garden.ca

elaine@Luv2Garden.ca

K`]–hmf[`£daf]½g^:gmkafK]\½k]mdg_qogmd\Z]add£j][]an]\ ˜@l`afc@½e_gffYhYkkgfl`]hgo]joaf\gok—

page28
A Flummox
©
My next-door neighbor had a thought,

for the family

(and I heard his thoughts first hand)
“Go buy a pet that’ll eat kids
on their next-door neighbor’s command.”
by Très Bore

The search for a pet can overwhelm. My minister shared while building
There’s so many from which to choose. a huge boat on his parched, dry land.
And everyone has their reasons “No matter. Just see you get two,
which help to develop their views. for the end of the world’s at hand.”

I hope you see my quandary; I talked to the kid at the Pet Store.
the basis and cause of my fret. (seemingly full of ambition)
There’s far too many opinions “How about a pair of Panda cubs?”
‘bout what kind of a pet to get. (I suspect he’s paid on commission)

My wife, she wants a tiny dog We’ve still not settled on a pet.
that fits neatly in her purse. Seems it ever will be thus.
But not so cute as to make her, Prompting the bigger question,
by comparison, looking worse. “What pet would settle for us?”

The mailman thought my wife made sense.

“Get a dog, both tiny and cute.”
“But,” he said, “take care to see
it’s slightly smaller than my boot.”

My daughter wants a budgie bird;

no baths, no need for walks.
One that sings, but nothing else.
No interruptions when she talks.

My son has more eclectic tastes.

Seems he wants a Rattle Snake
to take to school and leave in the lounge
where the teachers take their break.

page29

t had become commonplace — my
I Mum, our dog Danni, the doorbell,
the barking stopping.
Danni was really my father’s dog.
Dad had always wanted a dog and knew
that this would be his only opportunity. Dad had been
transferred to London, England for a two year stint. Mum
and I had gone with him. We’d left everyone we knew,
both family and friends, even our beloved old, white cat,
behind. Each day when Dad went to work, I went to
school and Mum stayed home. It is only as an adult that I
understand now how desperately lonely she was all those
days. Dad thought a dog would
help, be something to
talk to. So one Saturday
Danni arrived - a ball of
black, caramel and white
fuzz with bright eyes and
sharp little teeth. The very
first thing he did was throw
up on the kitchen floor —
there were worms in the
barf which made me feel
sick.
Dad was self-assured
training Danni. Border Collies
need things to remember,
things to occupy them, a non-
sedentary life. Within a few
months Dad could walk Danni without a leash - he’d sit at
each curb to wait until we caught up. He’d heel when told,
learned to stay in the downstairs hall unless invited into
the living room. He never entered the dining room. He
loved to run in the backyard. He learned to sleep on my
bed, to chew nylon stockings, socks and towels if they
were left in my room.
Danni obeyed Dad always, me sometimes and Mum
never. He seemed to listen to Mum when she talked to
him, loved it when she stroked his long, soft fur.
Many things were delivered to homes in London in
1962. The milkman came whistling daily through the gate
to the kitchen door. Coal was delivered every second week
or so, through the gate and around to the furnace room
off Danni’s backyard. A bread man came with some
regularity and garbage was collected weekly when the
trashmen came through that side gate to pick up the tins
from beside the door.
Danni didn’t like to share his yard with people. He felt
protective about the house and its occupants. His mission
was to keep his family and territory safe.
page30
THE FINAL WORD
the ruse
by Karen Probert
Whenever anyone opened the kitchen door Danni
would scoot out. He’d run laps around the backyard, he’d
leap at low flying songbirds, he’d peer under bushes, digging
out accumulated leaves, he’d sniff the garden gnome even
though no other dogs inhabited the area. He’d pace his side
of the fence barking long and hard at the rat-sized dog who
lived, mostly indoors, at the next-door neighbour’s house.
If Dad called “Danni”, he’d trot to the kitchen door and
come in. If I called him strongly, he’d walk to the kitchen
door, stand there defiantly and finally come in at my
cajoling. If Mum called him he’d
carry on with whatever he had been
doing. No matter her tone of voice,
her hand actions, her offer of a
doggie treat; he would just ignore
her.
There was a sign on the gate
to advise people that we had a dog
so the gate was always to be
closed. If Danni was outside
when that gate was opened he
would stand, back legs braced,
beside the kitchen door barking
loudly at whoever had come
into his yard. In contrast, if
someone came to the front
door when he was in the house
he would run there, then sit in the front hall looking
up at them, then roll over in hopes of a bellyrub. Anyone
who came through the front door was immediately a friend
whether or not Danni’s family agreed.
It didn’t take long for Mum to devise a plan to deal with
Danni’s backdoor barking. Hearing the back yard gate open
and close, Danni would start his barking. Mum would open
the kitchen door and request that Danni come in. Then she
would walk through to the front door and reach outside to
ring the bell. Hearing the doorbell, Danni would shoot
through the kitchen into the hall, skidding on the carpet to
arrive in the front hall panting to meet his friend. Mum
would have already left the front door and passed Danni in
the hall in order to arrive quickly at the back door to deal
with whomever was there, closing the door between hall
and kitchen on her way by. Danni would stay in the hall
until that door was opened. He never barked in the house.
Danni never did figure out the ruse. He never stopped
expecting a friend to be at the front door, never understood
that he’d been outsmarted. Mum’s trick simplified her life,
became known to all the delivery people and made Dad and
I laugh. All these years later I can still see Danni’s eager
face, waiting for a friend in the front hall. ca
 Put yourself in the picture

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glad you did.

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