creaturesall

creaturesall
Issue 19 Dec 08/Jan 09
 Kelly Dodge
LIMITED EDITION PRINTS FROM ORIGINAL PAINTINGS

This is My Father's World

Litho - 26.5” x 19”
400 S/N - $145.00 unframed

The paintings depicted in this series are inspired by the words

of treasured traditional hymns.
( *All words and notes are legible) To view more art go to
www.kellydodgeart.com or to place an order call 705 652 9310
or email kelly@kellydodgeart.com

Passion
Litho -
12.5” x 21.5”
400 S/N - $110.00
unframed

Shine
Litho - 20” x 16”
350 S/N - $125.00
unframed
*shipping/handling/taxes extra
 Issue 19 December 08- January 09

Graphic Design & Story Inquiries

Bob Fielder
publisher@creaturesall.com
Account Information
Linda Fielder
editor@creaturesall.com
In This Issue
Wind Through the Tall Grass – she knew they
would surely kill her 8
Printing-The Prolific Group
Stock Photography-Dreamstime.com Rescued – I looked down at this poor skinny little dragon 16
Mailing address:
creaturesall
P.O. Box 126,
Black Cats Red Flags – The noise sounded like an
Langdon, AB T0J 1X0 animal undergoing exorcism 19
403-512-9544
creaturesall is published 6 times per year (February, Spitting Image – talk about a weird bug trick 24
April, June, August, October and December) by 1160613
ALBERTA LTD. and distributed freely in Alberta or via
subscription the first week of the publication month. Creature Discomforts – too bad for the cat 29
Advertisers and contributors assume responsibility and
liability for the accuracy of their claims and statements.
The opinions and views expressed in articles do not
necessarily reflect those of the Publisher or advertisers.
Columns
creaturesall reserves the right to refuse any advertising.
Written submissions become the property of Wagging Tales – Dr Richard Weger 11
creaturesall on publication. By proferring your
photographs or written submission you grant us
permission to reproduce it in creaturesall, other printed Creature Feature – Cyril Brass - photographer & writer 13
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 – A.I.W.C. 15
address is provided.
Writers & Cover Artists may make submissions by email to:
publisher@creaturesall.com Youth Said It – needing Jinah 18
Copyright 2005 by 1160613 ALBERTA LTD.

Spaces and Species – the Nature Conservancy of Canada 21

Cover Artist
Julie Bender Wingin’ It – Myrna Pearman - Ellis Bird Farm 23
Georgia artist Julie
Bender’s sensitivity to
the inherent beauty in
The Gardening Bug – Elaine Rude - Master Gardener 27
all creatures drives her
passion for celebrating Obsolete – cari-creatures by Sean Skerry 28
them in her unique,
wood-burned portraits.
The precision of her art The Final Word – choices 30
combined with her love
of animals, allows Julie
to express the soul of
her subject, achieved through the intricate level
of detail that has become her trademark.
Departments
Julie's profound appreciation of endangered
species is felt at a visceral level. As a member
Publisher’s Note 5
of the Society of Animal Artists and Artists for
Conservation, she wishes to share the beauty in
her art while increasing awareness of all
Letters 7
animals on this planet.
www.JulieBender.com In Passing 26

page3
Angela Waite Ad4 out.indd 1 11/2/08 6:22:33 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

page4

RAISED AS I WAS IN AN 80 YEAR
old farm house, with an unpainted
and weathered façade, it was not
uncommon to find oneself sharing
quarters with any of a variety of
sundry critters which had successfully
slunk, slithered or slid their way
indoors with quickly dashed hopes of
finding conditions slightly more
accommodating than field, forest or
pond. Aside from the ubiquitous field
mice, bats were amongst the most
common creatures to attempt to take
up residence, almost always at night
when dim light, sufficient only to
illuminate our childish imaginations,
cast vague shadows across stained
wallpaper and peeling paint.
Second youngest amongst a
bursting pod of six brothers and five
sisters, I never really found myself
afraid of much, least of all, bats. I
always kind of liked them.
Many a memory remains of
sisters and mother screaming in
terror, pleading with my dad to,
“GET THAT THING OUT OF HERE!”,
as a bewildered bat frantically tried to
decipher sporadic radar signals initiat-
ed by chaotic broom waving. Aware
that a bat is born with the ability to
pluck a moth from a leaf in pitch
blackness, watching my mother and
sisters covering their heads with table
cloths or a too slow cat, fearing the
bat would inadvertently become
entangled in their hair, was always
baffling, if not entertaining, to me.
ears passed and, through circum-
Y stances which yet bewilder me, I
found myself, my wife and our own
two children living in a different yet
very similar 80 year old farm house
with our own compliment of feral
intruders. We’ve managed, through
Advertiser and Story Submission Deadline for Next Issue – Jan 2nd/09
word spread among the bat population of
PUBLISHER’S the great new place at the edge of town.
NOTE
encouraging you to read, then write
Truth be told, we did see lots of bats
darting about the skies that first summer.
Bob & Linda Fielder
So many so that, on a summer’s eve I
dragged my young daughter along to the
the judicious use of caulk and rolled barn to do a little fatherly boasting and
up socks, to avoid too many one on to take credit for the obvious and
one indoor encounters. unqualified success of my bat house.
Childhood memories of watching However, we quickly noticed that the
bats dart about the twilight sky like so bat house appeared to be completely
many miniature WWII fighter planes unused. Dismayed and dejected, I
encouraged me to make our little whimpered that I just didn’t know where
piece of heaven a bat friendly zone. all those bats could be living. I’d followed
What better way to accomplish that those plans religiously.
than to build and install a bat house? “Well,” she said with a pointed logic
The internet is replete with bat she could only have inherited from me,
house plans and, not knowing which “your description of a bat house built of
would be the most successful, I opted rough wood, enclosed from the elements,
to build my bat complex based on all uncramped and with easy southern
of the common denominators I could access pretty much describes that 80
list amongst the several plans I found. year old barn you nailed it to. Perhaps
In no particular order, all of the they’re all in there?” ca
plans I found agreed on several facts.
The use of rough, untreated and
weathered wood was utmost. Next,
the entrance and exit should be easily
accessible with little to impede entry
and egress. Also, quarters should not
be overly cramped as several bats will
want to share the space. Place the
home so that the entrance is high
above the ground, perhaps 15 to 20 Stop in and
feet and have it face south in order to see our
capture the warmth of the arcing sun. Happy Cats
Lastly, avoid glues, stains or paints. on display
Armed with these salient facts I
at Sunridge
set about construction of the bat
house. I harvested some old board
Petsmart
from the 80 year old barn on our in Calgary.
property and carefully cut, screwed
and nailed together a boast worthy
bat domicile.
Once completed, I utilized an
horrendously rickety old ladder I’d
found lying about the place and
climbed the entire 20’ length, gingerly
avoiding stepping on cracked or
missing rungs in order to nail the
home in place on the south face of the
old barn near a now missing window. www.happycatsanctuary.net
All I had to do now was wait until
page5
 WENDY PALMER artist
Limited Edition Giclée on canvas
art reproductions available at these
Fine Art Galleries:

Avenida Art Gallery

Calgary, Alberta
www.avenidagalleries.com

Art Country Canada

Bragg Creek, Alberta
www.artcountrycanada.com

Artists for Conservation

Supporting Nature through art
www.natureartists.com/wendy_palmer.asp

Prestige Fine Art & Framing

Okotoks, Alberta
www.prestigefineartframing.com

For more information on upcoming exhibitions please visit my website

www.wendypalmer-artist.com

all for ar tists

C nd w
a riters

t ’l l make ya more
I
m ouser than ever!
fa
Check out our web site www.creaturesall.com
for details or email: publisher@creaturesall.com

page6

As a first time reader of the
October/November issue #18 of
creaturesall, I just wanted you to
know how truly refreshing the
experience of reading it has been for
me. It is a very nice, down-to-earth
magazine, and so diverse!! You have
named it well!
I was so impressed, too, with
the variety of writing styles of your
contributors, not to mention the
amount of information contained in
each article. There is something
there for everyone, and I am eagerly
looking forward to the next issue.
Besa L. Boyer
Fayetteville, Arkansas
Just a note to say how much I
enjoyed your Oct-Nov/2008 issue of
creaturesall. A great variety of
interesting stories to keep your
readers intrigued right to the end of
your magazine. It gives me much
satisfaction to know that I had the
foresight to send subscriptions of
creaturesall to our three offspring so
that they and their young families
could also enjoy your creativeness.
I wish to mention how happy I
am to see Myrna Pearman add her
expertise to creaturesall. I have
known Myrna for many years and
she is an oustanding writer and
photographer. Her creativeness over
the years has evolved into one of
“Alberta's Best Kept Secrets” in the
development of Ellis Bird Farm.
Myrna and her dedicated staff
continue to amaze me as every year
something else of intrinsic value is
added to this special place.
Congratulations creaturesall on a
superb product.
Clarence “Clancy” Patton
I've enjoyed a few creaturesall
magazines that were passed on to
me. Animals and nature are gifts for
the soul.
Charlotte Rosenke
paw prints and pen scratches
Please start my subscription
with the next issue. I loved the free
copy from Wendy Palmer at Spruce
Meadows Masters on Sept 4th.
Shirley Tighe
I would like to obtain two
subscriptions to your creaturesall
magazine. I am not sure where I got
this one issue #18 from but I
thoroughly enjoyed it cover to cover
and it is a must for my daughter who
volunteers at a Vet Clinic in
Edmonton.
Eva Vereschagin
My husband and I wanted to
share a story with your readers that
affirms the value and helpfulness of
your magazine to us.
My husband was doing some
yard work around our acreage on
one of our nice Monday’s in
September. He had left both big
doors of the shop open as he was
constantly going in and out. He was
very surprised to see a small rabbit
under the front wheels of an ATV
on one of his trips back inside. The
rabbit was obviously hurt and made
no attempt to escape when he
came near it. It bothered him to
see it suffering and he called me at
work and asked if I knew who he
could call. Knowing that creaturesall
would be able to help, I got the
number of the Alberta Institute for
page7
LETTERS
readers write
Wildlife Conservation (AIWC) from
you. My husband called them and
they dispatched someone to come
right away. When the gentleman
arrived he confirmed that the rabbit
had most likely been clipped by a
vehicle and had managed to seek out
our darkened and quiet shop. He put
the rabbit in a box and left with it.
My husband thought that was the
end of it but a few hours later a
woman from AIWC called him to let
him know that unfortunately the
rabbit’s internal injuries were too
severe and they were not able to
save him. She thanked my husband
for taking the time to try and help
even this small creature.
We are so fortunate to have
people like you that provide this
wonderful magazine and I know I
will always renew my subscription.
We are also so fortunate to have an
organization like the Alberta
Institute for Wildlife Conservation.
We are happy to add them to our
list of local charities that are so
deserving of our help.
Kathy Golby
It will be a pleasure advertising
in creaturesall, it has such a
sophisticated look to it. Our budget
only lets us start out with a smaller
size, but that will change in the
future. The Wilvital supplement
comes from the Netherlands and we
will be introducing it to Canada,
starting with Calgary. It has
vitamins, minerals and amino acids
all from plant sources and is animal
specific for dogs, cats, fish, reptiles
and birds. There is a 6th one that is
meant for racing/homing pigeons, but
I don't know if you want to mention
this in your magazine since this is a
specialty item. WilVital for Horses
should be available soon.
Maureen Lugthart
Wilvital Canada
Wind Through the
TallGrass
W
by Jeffrey Dubrick

ind Through
the Tall Grass had them, because
grown weary of all that was
gophers and left was a
wanted fresh large chunk
meat. It has been of liver.
almost a moon- On top
cycle since she’d of some
hunted and run p o o r l y
until forced to concealed
walk; four greedy m e t a l
pups sleeping, twigs,
now in the den. grass and
After drinking at real twigs
the pond on the had been
east side of the scattered;
hill, she makes its adjoin-
the decision to ing chain,
head southwest wrapped
into the cool breeze around the
of the early Spring tree. Obviously
night. The pups were in good hands the work of Men.
with their father, uncle and aunt, Quietly circling the ravine, she sees A calf had been killed here, and
although not really an aunt, but and tastes evidence everywhere: on all that remained was more blood than
actually their half-sister. Judging from the ground and even high on the leaves she’d ever seen at a kill-site, and this
the laziness of the adults, a full-on hunt of bushes next to the game-paths. enticing fresh piece of liver on a stupid
was not about to happen tonight, yet There was another scent, one she nest of metal. Against her better
the older female seemed always to be knew to avoid, yet to her keen senses, judgment, and being partially blinded
hungry, despite having eaten deer two the Man who had been here was long by the smell and the teasing drops of
days ago, and a few gophers in since gone. It’s when they’re in tastiness scattered about, she
between. It felt good to be putting the numbers that they’re dangerous advances closer. It’s one thing to taste
blood through her heart, stretching Stepping silently from the such goodness off a leaf or the grass,
her legs—let the others babysit for shadows into the mostly-full moon- yet the large piece of fresh liver on the
a bit. light, she sees the source of the sticks was simply irresistible. Her
She had run a good distance to enticing aroma: a bloody mess under a mouth watering, she knew it would
the southwest, to the far reaches of large aspen, in a natural clearing. end up in her gut and she’d be on
their territory when her nose picked Something had definitely been her way.
out the faint scent of blood. Quickly dispatched here, yet she could discern Hesitantly, she paws above the
pinpointing its location, she is soon no carcass. Whoever had done this meat then reaches down and sweeps it
upon what obviously is a kill-site. had either eaten it all, or taken it with away from the metal twiggery. In that

page8
instant, the ground erupts and the jaws of the leg-hold trap birthpack less than a year ago due to authority issues with
snap shut on her paw, breaking bone, opening skin. Despite their father. Salamander, the same age as the males, two
the searing jolt of pain, she manages to keep it mostly to winters; is shades of ginger like the sunrise and is the
herself. She need not inform whoever put this here of her remaining daughter of the alpha female. Four members of
current situation. The jaws on her leg wouldn’t let go no their pack killed from a distance by Men, the sound of
matter how much she pulled, the chain attached to it and thunder and throwing rocks. Soon after, the two males
the tree rattling it’s noisy affiliation with Men. crossed their path and Bonecrusher, being dominant, took
Men . . . they had taken most of her former family, and the older female as his mate and adopted her daughter.
she knew to steer well-clear of them, yet there seemed to Together with his brother they controlled a good portion of
be more of them roaming the prairie every season. On the local area, including the coulee the three were in.
horses, in wheeled carts, assembling in large groups where Within a few minutes they were within sight of the
before there were none. She knew they source of the smell and commotion.
would surely kill her as they did Laying at the river’s
the calf, when they returned edge, half in the
for their device. water, and
Gulping down the accompa-
liver, her thoughts nied by this
turned to her year ’s
new mate, cub, was
the two oth- G r i z z l y.
ers that Carrion
made up the birds had
pack, and the not yet
yo u n g l i n g s , been able
started on to open up
meat-food, the beast’s
yet reliant thick hides
on her milk and with
for suste- bloating,
nance. the car-
There casses are
could be even larger
only one in death
thing that than in
must be life. Not
done, and even coyotes
soon her convic- or foxes had
tion was as solid as the been here to
tempered steel that restrained her. dine, and for good
In her mind, she began to sing the song of childbirth, joy, reason: the place literally stank of Men,
pain; her own song of procreation, of killing, of life, of horses and gunpowder.
death. Yet in the bloody ravine, on that cool mostly-full Using the discretion of a born leader, Bonecrusher
moon night, the only sounds were the small ching of metal snuffs noisily, urinates on a river-rock and then rakes the
chain, the rustle of newly opened aspen leaves in a light ground with his back legs, leaving the markers of his foot-
breeze and a low, insistent growl. smell as well. Without looking back, not pausing to even try
Upon reaching the waiting Salamander, who is gently to figure out what drives men to kill with no regard for
snuffling, the two other plains wolves confirm through their meat, he trots back into the brush, followed by the other
noses and ears the cause of her concern. Coming at them two, who have left their own marks. They pass the trees
on the wind from around the bend in the coulee was the which Grizzly had scratched up and they see the
smell of death. Rotting death, with the raucous cries of well-worn path leading to her den high on the coulee wall.
ravens and crows making it a certainty. The largest male The hunt continues. The pups and their mother, who
takes the lead, an imposing brute who’s sole reason to be, waited, would eat.
as a sub-species of arctic wolf (or vice-versa) is to hunt the Ten more minutes of exploring and crossing the river
recently exterminated buffalo. Bonecrusher, as he’s where it was low, they come across the signs and smells of
known, is followed by his brother, The Runner. Both are a moving herd of mulies. In the growing light of dawn, they
white, the colour of clouds, and both had left their easily surround, run and funnel the deer through the
...concluded page 10

page9
...continued from page 9

confines of the coulee. An old buck presents himself as lame Fat little bodies the colour of dirt are soon jumping at
and they bring him down. throats and licking muzzles, inducing the hunters to bring
Faces and paws bloody, and with stomachs full to forth meat for the young. The dominant one, the sole female,
capacity, the three rest only long enough for Bonecrusher toeasily only half the size of her largest brother, gets three or
sever the head of the deer at the neck. The Runner picks it four gulps of meat in her before spying the deerhead, which
up in his jaws, and staying clear of the bears, they make their
she, growling, claims as her own. They are three moons old,
way directly home. still interested in milk yet with a seemingly insatiable and rap-
Up out of the river valley, away from the coulees and idly growing appetite for solid food and bones.
onto the already baking prairie, it is still early morning Their mother now rises from the spot in front of the
when they make their way up their hill. As they crest the den where she’d been sleeping. She yawns, exposing sharp,
ridge that obscures the natural bowl on top that is the healthy teeth in her narrow snout, then, tail wagging high,
den-site, the pups catch sight of them and charge the she limps down the grassy slope to where the food’s been
returning hunters. regurgitated. The stump at the end of her right leg is almost
completely healed over, yet still pink

ital
with fresh, exposed skin. She licks
www.wilvitalcanada.com
blood from the faces of her little ones,
WilV

greets the hunters in the same manner,

then slowly gulps down the easy
A Natural And Balanced
goodness of pre-chewed mule deer.
Daily Supplement She used to be called Wind
For Your Pet Through The Tall Grass, but now she is
Strong Medicine. She is a plains wolf,
Available soon at: in what would later be known as the
Fairplay Stores Ltd. western province of Alberta, in the
Paws Pet Food young Dominion of Canada.
403•264•8281 Pisces Pet Emporium She is not dead, she just runs on
three legs, now. ca

page10

THEN
I could feel my eyes becoming
heavy and the pull of the earth’s
gravity on my sagging head. It was
my third year of veterinary school and I was trapped
against my will in a temporal time rift in which there was
no escape. I was bound by forces greater than myself, I
was sentenced without parole to the dreaded and feared
course requirement…Pig Production Medicine 101. Like a
babbling Betty doll, the professor muttered about
topics that did not interest me in the
slightest, “Blah Blah vaccina-
tions, Blah Blah neuter-
ing etc”. I was never
going to see a pig in
practice let alone need
lecturing on its care and
feeding. Feeling
rather content I
gently laid my
head down and
dreamed of a
more glorious
tomorrow.
NOW
“Oh my gosh,
what is that horrible
screaming sound? Has somebody sat on a
cat?” a woman inquired with great concern to a
nearby receptionist. Eavesdropping, I knew it was my
next patient, “Bacon” the pot bellied pig. With excep-
tional patience, the receptionist calmly explained to the
inquisitive client that PBP’s (pot bellied pigs) are extreme-
ly voluble and can be stirred to vocalization by minor
incentives. Smiling, I entered the exam room and greeted
my porcine pal.
“Bacon” was one of twenty five PBPs in the practice
and by some stroke of serendipity I had become one of the
go to guys for pot belly pig veterinary care in the city. Even
though they were loud, I had grown quite attached to their
eccentric ways and enjoyed the chaos they caused when
they entered the veterinary clinic.
Today was Bacon’s yearly visit which included a laun-
dry list of tasks including (but not limited to) vaccinations
and a hoof trim. Enlisting my ally and animal health tech-
nician Steve, we began what we called “The Herculean
Trials of Porcine Medicine”. Step one was to gain the pig’s
trust with an onslaught of treats. This resulted in a series
of happy grunts and several tail wags. Step two was the
page11
WAGGING TALES
stories from a veterinarian’s clinic
by Dr. Richard Weger, B.Sc., DVM
injection of a sedative required for step three (the hoof
trim) and the required preventative vaccinations. This was
usually when things went mildly awry. Pitting his strength
against his porcine pugilist, Steve maneuvered Bacon into
the standard injection position, whilst Bacon’s caregivers
attempted to distract him by bribing with treats in a rapid
Pez dispenser fashion. Finally, the sedative kicked in and
we came to our final task…the hoof trim. The word “trim”
brings to mind lifting Mr. Fluffy the cat on your lap and
causally cutting the claws to the soothing sounds of
purring. Cutting the hooves of a PBP is very similar,
with the exception that the ‘cat’ is 150 lb and
instead of quiet purring the air is filled with an
ear drum shattering scream.
Completing our piggy duties we rewarded
Bacon with more treats and a good scratch
behind the ears. All was forgiven and we said
our goodbyes and looked
forward to next year’s
visit.
The next
day, we
noticed the
appearance of
a police car in
front of the
clinic. Two
police officers
approached the
receptionist’s desk
and indicated that they had a
possible patient of ours in custody. A report
had been phoned into the local police station of
a pig being sighted in a backyard eagerly snacking on a
vegetable garden. The police had arrived on the scene and
with some difficulty apprehended the porcine felon and
decided to drop it off at Calgary North until the owners
could be tracked down and identified. With great interest,
Steve and I journeyed out to the waiting police car to
identify the piggy perpetrator. Our inquisitiveness was
rewarded with an even bigger surprise. There in the front
seat was our old friend Bacon standing with his newly
trimmed hooves on the steering wheel. This was the first
time that I had ever observed the Bacon bringing itself
home! 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.
 memories made timeless
We welcome you to visit
the studio on our farm
near Cremona. Just a
short, beautiful drive
Stop by our studio or visit:
north of Calgary.
www.dianeandersontymarc.com
for some wonderfully unique
Christmas gift ideas.

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

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
private Charitable Foundation.

(780) 963-4933 www.herveycats.com

Animal Rescue Foundation (ARF) rescues stray and unwanted dogs

and cats from First Nations communities and rural areas and places
them in loving, permanent homes while providing programs to reduce
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
Foster Families to help take care of our animals until we can place
them in their forever homes. ARF covers all costs and the rewards
are immeasurable!

403-243-1910

page12
 CREATURE FEATURE
the spotted hyena
by Cyril Brass

T hey hunt and

kill, scavenge
and steal.
Scavengers are extremely
valuable in the African wild because
they clean up dead animal remains,
recent kill. The cheetah was dragging
the small antelope, probably a
gazelle, into a thick patch of tall grass
Spotted Hyenas are the most preventing diseases from spreading to hide its precious catch.
abundant carnivore on the African throughout the wildlife species in the Within minutes, vultures began
continent establishing territories area. You might call the hyenas the appearing high in the clear blue sky
wherever plentiful animal resources garbage collectors of the African circling over the fresh meat. One
are suitable for eating; dead or alive. savannas. by one, they descended to the ground
Spotted Hyenas are named for the Spotted Hyenas are skillful landing close to the cheetah and
black and brown spots dotting their opportunists, taking the path of least its meal.
reddish brown to tan short hair. With resistance. They prefer to scavenge Annoyed by the feathered
a sturdy build, high shoulders, sloping over hunting for food. Possessing an intruders, the cat made several short
back and long muscular limbs, these acute sense of smell, they are able to movements towards the vultures,
animals have the physical appearance detect decaying carcasses or fresh pushing the scavenger birds further
of dogs and wolves but are more meat which can be several kilometers from the scene.
closely related to mongooses and away. Their nose leads the way to Then someone in our vehicle
meerkats. They have a distinctive their next easy meal. spotted a hyena approaching in the
bear-like gait due to their front legs Hyenas are intelligent crea- distance, with a quick pace and
being longer than their hind legs. tures, not at all like the cowardly focused direction. Not hesitating, the
These carnivorous mammals are creatures shown in the movie, hyena moved right in taking away the
powerful predators hunting mostly at “The Lion King”. In the daytime, fresh kill from the cheetah.
night for small to large ungulates hyenas use vultures circling in the Surprisingly, the cheetah made no
such as impala, zebras and sky as a “GPS” spotting system, attempt to defend its prey and backed
wildebeest. They will chase their pinpointing where the kill is located. away watching its hard earned food
prey until the animal is exhausted for When they see the vultures slip away. After watching the hyena
an easy catch. volplaning to earth, the hungry eat the prey for several minutes, the
Possessing a highly acidic diges- hyenas race to that spot. cheetah walked away in defeat.
tive system, the Spotted Hyenas will take the
hyenas are able to kills from cheetahs and leopards at
consume all parts of every opportunity, but they have a
the animal; f lesh, much more difficult time with
teeth, horns and lions, usually resulting in defeat.
hooves. They have So the hyenas wait until the lions
powerful jaws with devour what they can, and then
razor sharp teeth they move in to clean up the
adapted for cutting remaining scraps.
and ripping the Hyenas are social creatures,
f lesh of their kill communicating with one another
and premolars for through distinct calls and postures.
crushing bones. Any Spotted Hyenas are also referred to
non-digestible parts as Laughing Hyenas due to their
like hair are haunting vocalizations resembling a
vomited back up in hysterical human laughter.
the form of pellets. The Spotted Hyena … an intel-
Hyenas are also ligent creature … a skillful hunter
scavengers. As well as being able to I have witnessed this interesting … an opportunistic scavenger. ca
eat carrion their amazing digetive phenomenon take place in the
Cyril Brass is a Wildlife and Sports
system is able to handle Serengeti plains of Tanzania. While Photographer living in Calgary.
the bacteria found in the rotting on an afternoon excursion, we www.cyrilbrass.com
carcass. spotted a cheetah, which had made a 403-999-1908

page13
 “A wonderful bird is the pelican, SELECTED ITEMS AVAILABLE
His mouth can hold more AT “OUR ANGELS’ CENTER
FOR WELL BEING”
than his belly can.”
2032 - 34TH AVENUE SW
– Dixon Lanier Merritt, 1910
(MARDA LOOP)
OR
CONTACT
carlapelkey@shaw.ca

MandaLeaf
D E S I G N

C O M M I S S I O N E D A RT W O R K & P R I N T S • G R A P H I C D E S I G N S E R V I C E S • ( 4 0 3 ) 2 4 5 - 4 3 8 6

page14

ll travelers have experienced a
A dreaded delay, finding them-
selves stuck in an undesirable
location. Two such weary travelers
arrived at AIWC within hours of one
another this autumn, with similar sto-
ries about the hazards of air travel in
this day and age - first an American
White Pelican, and then a Bald Eagle.
Both were interrupted mid-migra-
tion. Heading south, the pelican was
likely flying in v-formation with his
flock, when he was shot from the sky.
The bullet narrowly missed his trachea
and esophagus, leaving an inch-deep
wound at risk of infection. The plum-
met to the ground caused blunt trau-
ma, deep
bruising,
r u p -
tured
a i r
sacs
and
com-
promised
breathing. The
eagle experienced a blow of
unknown origin to the right wing caus-
ing swelling and soft tissue damage to
the elbow. Grounded, both birds had
lost their main mode of transporta-
tion. Alone without his flockmates,
the pelican found a slough to provide
temporary respite from predators.
TAKING DOWN THE FENCES
The eagle made his way on foot to the
‘free buffet’ at the Yellowknife dump,
developing life-threatening sores on
his feet. The pelican was spotted by an
AIWC volunteer who knew a single
pelican meant trouble as the social pel-
ican is rarely alone by choice. His res-
cue involved a local fire department
deploying a canoe to net him in the
water. The eagle was nabbed by NWT
Fish and Wildlife officers and taken to
their wildlife veterinarian who recom-
mended transfer to AIWC for rehabili-
tation. Thus the pelican arrived via
canoe and then car, and the eagle
arrived the next day, via a Canadian
North flight and AIWC ‘taxi’.
When these dis-
gruntled frequent
flyers finally
arrived at AIWC,
both were craving a
fish dinner and
rest. But that’s
where the similari-
ties ended; in
appearance and
behaviour they
could not have been
more dissimilar!
The quirky pelican
is one of the world’s
largest birds, weighing 5 to 8 kilo-
grams. Ungainly, with a pear-shaped
body and long thin neck, they are
renowned for their enormous foot-
long beak. Their short legs are sup-
ported by huge, flat pie-shaped
orange webbed feet. The mature bald
eagle, on the other hand, is powerful
and athletic, with a sharp hooked
beak and extremely strong feet with
large pointed talons. The pelican was
notably stressed being handled and
looked around frantically while snap-
ping his beak. The eagle however,
seemed laid back and relaxed, even
incredulous of what was happening,
as he surveyed the situation with
piercing yellow eyes.
page15
stuck in transit
by Robyn Roper
In the wild, the gregarious pelican
often fishes in groups of ten or more,
forming a semi-circle to drive schools of
rough fish towards shallows where they
are easily scooped up into their soft
stretchy gular pouch, which can hold an
astounding 12 litres of water and fish.
At AIWC, the pelican scoops his beak
into a large bowl of water full of smelts,
trout and mackerel. Equipped to easily
dispatch small mammals, the eagle
prefers a lazy lunch of found carrion. At
AIWC he dines exuberantly on trout,
salmon, and small mammals left on
stumps for him. Adequate food and
lodging for these characters is essential
to decrease their stress levels and help
them recover. Both large birds, they
require large enclosures and vast quan-
tities of food that stretch AIWC’s budg-
et. In addition, both birds required
bloodwork and fecal exams, and are
being treated for parasites acquired in
their weakened condition, and receiving
wound management and physiotherapy.
Every fall at AIWC, just as the
summer busy season is drawing to an
end, a few injured travelers straggle in
to keep things busy. Many will be
stuck in transit and forced to overwin-
ter at the centre to give their injuries
sufficient time to heal. Ideally, the pel-
ican will be released in April, to join
others returning to Northern Alberta’s
breeding grounds. The goal for the
eagle is to have him in top flying con-
dition by April so he can join the
migration back north. All are anxious
to get on their way. Here’s hoping
come spring their limbo will end! ca
AIWC’s injured wildlife and wildlife con-
trol hotline is open 365 days a year, serv-
ing Calgary, Southern Alberta and the
Northwest Territories. AIWC offers edu-
cation programs, and opportunities for
members, volunteers and donors!
Contact AIWC at 403-946-2361 or online
at www.aiwc.ca, and http://aiwcwildlife-
control.ca.
 “Do you want to
meet someone?” my vet
asked with a smile.
“Um, OK.” I replied,
feeling somewhat con-
fused. I had brought my
RESCUED by Sandi Fielder
“Well, he’s not out
of the woods yet,”
replied the vet. “I can
only do so much for him
here. What he really
needs is for someone to
cat in for his annual check- take him home and love
up, he had been pro-
nounced healthy, and I
the negative emotions him.” As the vet looked
at me meaningfully, I
had expected to be on my realized what he was
way out. Who was this would start to seep out of asking me. I looked
mystery person that my down at this poor skinny
vet wanted me to meet?
“Here he is!”
me, and be replaced with little dragon, with all of
his medical problems, as
announced the vet as he he snuggled against my
returned to the exam
room. In his hands he
feelings of peace and love shoulder. How could I
say no?
held a strange looking Soon enough I had
lizard who was missing acquired a vivarium,
his tail and some of his toes. The lizard and I eyed each UVB and heat lights, calcium and vitamin supplements,
other across the examination table. I had grown up on the vegetables and live feeders for this little fellow. Once I had
farm with dogs and cats, cows, gophers, and bats, but I had everything ready, he came home with me. I named him
little to no experience with reptiles. “This is a bearded drag- Jasper, after a grumpy bearded character from “The
on,” explained the vet. “He is very friendly and loves to be Simpsons”. Although I had the correct set-up, I quickly
held. Would you like to hold him?” I gingerly took this odd realized that I was in over my head. I knew nothing about
creature from the vet’s hands. I was afraid that I would hurt bearded dragons. Every day he would display a new behav-
him if I held him wrongly, but he quickly settled down on iour that I didn’t understand. I didn’t know if what I was
my shoulder. seeing was normal or if it
As I held the beard- was cause for concern.
ed dragon and stroked He would puff up his
his head, the vet throat and turn black.
explained to me how he His eyes would bulge out
had come to be at the from his head in the most
clinic. He had been aban- grotesque way. And most
doned, and when he worryingly, he wouldn’t
arrived at the clinic he eat, and couldn’t walk.
was very ill. He had a I knew I couldn’t keep
terrible infection in his phoning the vet clinic with
tail, and was suffering all of these questions, so I
from Metabolic Bone decided to seek out a
Disease, caused by a lack community of people who
of the proper UVB light- had knowledge and
ing and calcium supple- experience with bearded
ments. Although he had no guardian to pay for his medical dragons. I found that community at beardeddragon.org. They
treatment, the vet had taken pity on him and performed patiently answered my questions, and with their help and the
the necessary surgeries and medical treatments to save his help of my vet, Jasper began to recover. The scab on the end
life. His tail and some of his toes were amputated, and he of his tail stump got smaller every day, and I was able to
was on a dizzying array of medications. I wanted to cry as convince him to eat – but only if I handed him each piece
I held him. How could someone bring an animal home and of food, one at a time! When he had had enough to eat, he
not take the time to learn how to properly care for him? would push my hand away. His belly slowly changed from
“He’s very sweet,” I told the vet. “He’s very lucky that concave to a nice round shape, and after a while I could no
you were able to save him.” longer see his bones. As the weather warmed up, I started

page16
taking him out to a local park to get
some exercise, enrichment, and
natural UVB rays. Once his tail was
completely healed, I started having
him swim in the tub every day. Little
by little his muscles grew stronger. He
lifted his head and was interested in
his surroundings. And then, one
wonderful day at the park, he lifted
himself up and walked! He was far
from graceful, but he was walking all
on his own. I was so proud that I
didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I
believe I did some of each as I watched
him scoot across the grass at the park!
Jasper continued to improve and
things were going well for both of us.
Then one summer morning, I was on
he picked
himself up
and he
walked –
even though
it was
difficult.
my way to work when my car was T-
boned by an SUV that had run a red
light. My life changed in that instant. I
suffered a head injury that affected my
memory, my ability to concentrate,
and my emotions. I began to suffer
from chronic insomnia, and often slept
only an hour or two each night. Over
the next few months, I struggled to
maintain my performance at my job,
but it became increasingly obvious to
me that I was not able to function in
the same way as I was prior to the
accident.
Eventually I had to go on medical
leave. I spent months sitting in my
apartment, becoming more and more
depressed. There were many times
when I didn’t want to get out of bed
and face the prospect of another day. I
did not, however, have the luxury of
staying in bed and feeling sorry for
myself. If I was late with breakfast, I
would hear Jasper scratching at the
floor of his enclosure, as if to say
“Hey! Lady! I’m hungry!” And if I were
slow in getting him into his daily bath,
he would relieve himself all over the
floor of his enclosure and then walk
through it – a very powerful incentive
for me to get out of bed on time! And
if I wanted to sit on the couch instead
of going outside on a beautiful day,
Jasper would glare at me from behind
his glass doors, telling me in no uncer-
tain terms that he wanted to go out-
side – even if I didn’t! He always won.
At night while watching TV, I
would often hold Jasper on my shoul-
der just as I had that first day in the
clinic. I found that as I held him, the
negative emotions would start to seep
out of me, and be replaced with feel-
ings of peace and love. I thought about
all the hardships he had overcome,
and how diligently he had worked to
become functional again. He could
have sat in his enclosure, feeling sorry
for himself, and never tried to learn to
swim or walk again. But he picked him-
self up and he walked – even though it
was difficult.
Looking at Jasper, I realized that I
too had to pick myself up and walk
again. I couldn’t spend the rest of my
life being mastered by my disability. I
page17
started learning about what I could do
to help myself get better, and little by
little, my condition began to improve.
Every day as I fed, bathed, and exer-
cised Jasper, I realized what a wonder-
ful role model he was. I tried hard to
live up to the example he had set.
Soon after, I returned to work full-
time. Although I was not at 100%, I
was doing my best – just as Jasper
had.
One Monday morning just a few
weeks ago, I was on my way out of the
house to go to work, and stopped to
say good-bye to Jasper as I did every
morning. I realized as soon as I looked
at him that something was terribly
wrong. I called the vet clinic in a panic
as I rushed him down the stairs and
out to the car. The drive seemed to
take an eternity, as I wept and begged
Jasper to be OK. The vet was waiting
for me when I burst through the front
doors of the clinic, and Jasper was
whisked away. Unfortunately, it was
too late. He had passed away of
unknown causes during the previous
night. The vet reminded me of all of
Jasper’s terrible medical problems,
and that he had been living on bor-
rowed time since the day he first
arrived at the clinic. His death,
although delayed by excellent medical
care and more love than I could ever
express, was an inevitability.
Jasper and I had two and a half
years together. Sometimes it seems
like he was with me for as long as I can
remember, and sometimes it seems
like he was only here for the blink of
an eye. Some mornings I still think I
hear him scratching at his enclosure to
tell me to hurry up with his breakfast,
and I still expect to see his little face
looking back at me from inside his
home. There is a huge hole in my
heart and in my life where Jasper used
to be. I miss him terribly every day. I
can’t even begin to express my grati-
tude to him, for being there for me
when I was at my lowest point. He
gave me a reason to keep going, and
wouldn’t let me quit. I owe him so
much more than I can ever say. He is
my hero, my savior, and my friend. I
will never forget him. ca
 YOUTH SAID IT
Talitha Waldner needing Jinah
age 16
by Talitha Waldner
Lewiston, Idaho

t was Summer 2006. I was bucked off, wrestling with her feet, crying because she didn’t

I walking toward a barn that was

covered in metal sheets of a
wide range of colors, shapes and
sizes, looking more like a patchwork quilt than a barn.
“She’s really wild,” the owner cautioned as we stepped
inside, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness of the barn,
they stabbed every corner, searching for the object of my
interest.
I found her in a stall in the back corner of the barn.
She was a dirty white pinto mare, so tall and skinny she
looked more like a pinto giraffe than a horse. Her eyes held
a distant, glassy, startled expression, and the nut-brown ears
moved constantly.
“She’s three hundred pounds underweight,” the lady
told my dad who nodded numbly. “The dude who owned her
had a stroke and didn’t have the good sense to sell off his
animals. So they were half starved when I found them.”
I went into the stall. She cowered in the corner,
a skinny rack of ribs. Head lowered, lips moving, she told
me in her language, “I’ll be good, don’t hurt me —- I’ll do
whatever you want if you’ll just leave me alone.”
That was the single reason I needed Jinah —- she
needed me.
I spent the rest of the summer trying to touch her. A
simple ten second touch could send her plunging across the
trust me.
Then something happened. I got horse savvy. I worked
Parelli with my horse.
We grew a bond—- an understanding. To her I was
safety, and she was to me a sense of hope. She was my only
friend.
Spring 08: If I called, she would answer in her deep,
throaty neigh. A light shone in her eyes. A light called love.
When I puckered, she would lift her muzzle to my lips for
kisses. Her eyes closed at a gentle touch or word.
Now I am the only rider for this mare. Anyone else who
climbs on her will, ten seconds later, end up on the ground.
I get on, bareback, she lowers her head and sighs.
I’ve been thru hell—- but then so has she.
We came out together. I have the trust I’ve been looking
for all these years. The love only an Arab can give. ca
Founded in 1981 by lifelong horseman and teacher Pat
Parelli, the Parelli Program combines common sense
psychology and communication. Unlike many training
programs, the Parelli method teaches the human, not the
horse. Early on, Pat realized that horses already had all the
skills they needed to thrive and relate with their kind. It was
adding the human element that complicated things.
— www.parelli.com

pen. Haltering her was a nightmare.

I got run over. Kicked. Bit . . . but still, she needed me.
That next winter she dragged me through the snow as I
tried to halter break her. I
chased her around the pasture
for hours at a time trying to catch
her.
January she went to the
trainer. He basically made her
worse than before—- now I
couldn’t get within ten feet of her
without her running. She was
saddlebroke; but green.
My second ride on her
resulted in a headlong jump into
the snow.
She was the bucking
carousel pony of my dreams.
In 2007 I had accomplished
breaking her to halter, I could
ride her half-ways, and she
‘almost’ fully trusted me.
Summer 07 I spent chasing her
around the pasture again, getting
 BLACK CATS
here is a little pitch black kitten
T on the counter beside the
cashier. He is playing “hockey
puck” with everything in sight, knocking
pens, pencils, paper clips and merchan-
dise to the floor. I swear he is smiling
like a little child loose in a Toys ‘R Us
store. What have I done? I am signing
adoption papers and paying the cashier
a nominal amount of money for this
rascal. I am the new owner of an SPCA
kitten! I don’t even like black cats!
It had been so unintentional. I had
merely come into this store a couple of
days before wanting to buy some cat
food for the two kittens I already had at
home. They had been Street Cat
adoptees and were only six months old.
One had just been diagnosed with
severe bone structure abnormalities.
“Take her home and love her,” said
the vet. “You’ll know when she’s too
uncomfortable.”
“How long does she have?” we
asked. We were so very sad as only a
few months ago we had lost a young
kitten to a heart problem.
“Maybe six months,” he had
replied.
Only weeks later as I walked
through the doors of the pet supply
store I heard a most plaintive and
pathetic yowling noise that echoed
around the walls. My thoughts were no
longer on the food I had come in for.
“What is that noise?” I asked the
nearest store clerk.
“It’s that poor little kitten over
there,” she replied. “His brother was
adopted earlier today and he is very
lonely now,” she continued.
I walked over to his cage and my
heart broke and melted at the same
time. There he was. Maybe only 10
weeks old. His back paws were on the
first rung of the cage bars and his front
paws on a higher rung. His little black
RED FLAGS
belly was exposed to all who could bear
to come and look at this pathetic little
creature. The noise sounded like an
animal undergoing exorcism...a deep,
guttural, and very loud yowling.
“Can I hold him?” I asked, wanting
to comfort the poor creature.
He was so light. I turned him over
in my left arm and scratched his belly
with my right hand. Immediately the
little guy started to purr with what I
imagined a contented tiger would sound
like. His front paws were kneading the
air out of sheer pleasure. Our eyes met
and I barely knew what to do next.
I had never been attracted to black
cats. We never had any like this on the
farm when I was growing up. I gave him
back to the nice lady and she placed
him back in his cage. As I was paying
for the cat food I had come for initially
he resumed with his yowling. I looked
back and he was staring straight at me.
I couldn’t leave the store fast enough,
sat in the car for a while before I
started the motor, and could not think
of anything else all day. When I got
home I called my friend, Gerri, to share
my experience.
“Why don’t you take him?” she
said. “He could replace Brie as a sibling
for Britches, and you would have a few
months for Britches to get used to him
before Brie was gone.”
“But I don’t LIKE black cats. And
I’ve never had a male. Don’t they
spray?” I was clearly looking for an out.
We chatted for a long while and it was
clear that she wanted me to save this
little guy. My husband, Stan, came
home from work a little later and I
relayed the same story to him. I felt a
need to go back to see the kitten and
Stan agreed to go with me.
As we entered the store the next
day we were immediately greeted again
with his loud yowling. We washed our
page19
by Helen E Willy
hands and the kitten was given to
Stan. He, as well, flipped him over
and started scratching his belly at
which point the purring and air
kneading began. We held him for
several minutes and he was very
quickly, without us wanting to
admit it, carving his initials in our
hearts. The clerk placed him back
in his cage and we quietly stood
and watched him.
We left and talked all evening
about the little guy. By the time
we went to sleep we had agreed
that he would, indeed, make a
good replacement for Brie
when it was her time to leave
us. I had read up on male
kittens and I discovered that
they won’t normally spray if
neutered early in life. And I
would try to accept the fact
that he was black. And we
would call him “Benny”
(later a.k.a. Bunny,
Bubby, Bunzles or
Bunzerelli).
That brings me back
to the cashier’s count-
er.( Why did I put him
up there anyway? Did I
think the cashier was
going to scan his bar
code?) He looked so
happy, as though he
knew this was the
beginning to a new
and wonderful life.
“Yippee!!”
he seemed to be
saying.
“They
like me. They
REALLY like me!” ca
 Illustrator & Fine Artist
* Accepting new commisions starting this November for pet portraits, custom company Christmas cards and more! Visit crystaldriedger.com for a free quote.

Heaven Can Wait

Animal Rescue Foundation

(403) 601-2520
www.heavencanwait.ca

page20

t was time for the owl dance. I
I wandered down the lonely lane
just as the sun was going down on
an early spring day, and took my place
at the corner of the large pasture. It
wouldn’t be long now. Suddenly the
sky was awake with Short-eared Owls,
swooping low and high with the
orange sky as their backdrop. The
male owls were doing their mating
dance, clapping their wings together in
flight, making a loud sound similar to
a whip cracking. The females watched
the display indifferently, but were
silently choosing their mate.
The Short-eared Owl (Asio flam-
meus) is an owl native to Canada’s
prairies. The owl’s latin name ‘Flaming
Owl’, refers to the color and pattern of
its feathers. They have little tufts on
the top of their head that look like
small ears, but their ears are really
hidden under feathers on the sides of
their head. Although many of us have
never seen a Short-eared Owl, they
are found on every continent except
Antarctica and Australia, including
Hawaii. They are considered
threatened in Alberta and in several
US states such as Connecticut. Short-
eared Owls are not the only species of
owl that are declining in numbers -
other owls at risk in Alberta include
the Barred Owl, Burrowing Owl and
the Northern Pygmy Owl.
Short-eared Owls are primarily
found in Alberta’s grasslands, but have
also been found in the parkland,
Boreal Forest, Foothills and Rocky
Mountain Natural Regions. In compar-
ison to other owls, the Short-eared
Owl is a medium size owl (between 14
and 17 inches in length). Unlike other
owls that nest in trees, the Short-
eared Owl nests on the ground. In
fact, they are the only species of owl
that make their own nests. By scraping
the dirt, it creates a shallow nest with
grasses, brush or anything else suit-
able it can find. With its rich brown
SPACES and SPECIES
short eared owls
by Christine Bulionis, Development & Communications Coordinator
coloring, a Short-eared Owl can easily they do make a variety of sounds,
blend into almost any landscape.
They choose the location of their
nest based on where they can find the
including ‘waowk, waowk waowk’,
‘toot-toot’, and ‘eee-yerp’, especially
during the mating season. Other times
most food. An ideal habitat for a of the year, the owl is largely silent.
Short-eared Owl is an open grassland, Short-eared Owls are a species at
marsh, or agricultural area plentiful in risk in Alberta, British Columbia, and
food. In Alberta, Short-eared Owls eat in several other provinces and
rodents such as voles and deer mice. countries around the world.
Primarily a nocturnal species, Short- Agriculture, recreation and develop-
eared Owls hunt out at night and can ment all contribute to loss of habitat
see in the dark, but can also be seen at and food sources for Short-eared
sunset and sunrise, or perched during Owls, resulting in their population
the day. When hunting, they fly only a decline. Short-eared Owls need food,
few feet off the ground until they see water and a proper environment to
an unsuspecting rodent below. They survive. They are a unique bird that
swoop down feet first and snatch their may soon disappear if we do not take
prey in their sharp talons. If no care of our natural areas and the
rodents are found, Short-eared Owls species that depend on them. ca
have been known to eat large insects
and even small birds. The Nature Conservancy of Canada is
When winter comes, they migrate dedicated to conserving habitat for
as far south as Mexico. But come wildlife species like the Short-eared
spring, the owls head north and mate Owl. Please contact us at
and nest all the way to the Canadian 1-877-262-1253 or
tundra. Between March and June, alberta@naturecon-
they begin their search for a mate. In servancy.ca to
order to impress a female, males ‘sky help conserve
dance’ clapping their wings together in habitat for
display. The female lays from 1-11 eggs these endan-
and incubates them for 23-29 days. gered
Once the chicks are hatched, they species.
grow very fast and start exploring out-
side the nest in as little as 14 days. At
this time, the chicks are not yet ready
to fly, but that doesn’t stop them from
wandering up to 250 meters from the
nest to check out their surroundings.
After about 4 weeks, they are
ready to fly and start their
own lives.
One of the rea-
sons most of us have
never noticed a
Short-eared Owl is
because they don’t
make the typical
owl calls. Even
though they
don’t ‘hoot’,
 landscapes

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answering nature’s call

page22

In my first two introductory columns, I
provided a brief outline of the series of
events that led to the establishment of
Ellis Bird Farm Ltd. It all started with
two people—Charlie and Winnie Ellis—
whose passion for wild creatures, was so
profound that they dedicated their
retirement years to wildlife conservation.
The couple sold their farm to a big multi-
national company on the promise that
‘their’ birds would be protected in
perpetuity. Twenty five years on, under
the watch of a non-profit company—Ellis
Bird Farm Ltd.— that promise is still
being diligently kept.
llis Bird Farm, now attracts
E over 7,000 visitors each
summer from all corners of the
globe. EBF offers an engaging
experience for discerning visitors
who come to be educated, to savour
the beauty and peacefulness of the
site, and to satisfy their palate with
delicious, home-made food. The site is
a unique juxtaposition of the past and
the present, of rural and urban, of
upscale and earthy, and of big business
and small-scale farming.
Winnie Ellis was an avid gardener
and keen observer of nature. She
chose the annuals and perennials for
her gardens not just on their beauty,
but also because they provided food or
shelter for insects and birds. Her
extensive orchard of crabapples,
apples, pears and elderberries not
only provided the Ellis’s with jams and
jellies, it offered a veritable banquet
table for robins, flickers, waxwings
and numerous other bird species.
As Winnie became less able to
tend her beloved gardens, weeds and
invasive species encroached. When
Ellis Bird Farm took over the
responsibility of maintaining her yard,
most of it was hidden beneath a tangle
of quackgrass and Manitoba maples.
The rejuvenation of her gardens
started in the early 1990s, first by
WINGIN’ IT
stories from the bird farm
by Myrna Pearman, Biologist & Sight Services Manager — Ellis Bird Farm Ltd.
volunteers, then by hired staff assisted care, observation and passion. This
by summer students. Her restored passion comes not only from the staff,
gardens are now complemented by but also from the thousands of visitors
several other gardens around the site. who appreciate and enjoy the variety
A Xeriscape garden in the front of the of life that has been nurtured on this
Visitor Centre demonstrates the use of small piece of aspen parkland. The
a variety of mulches as well as plants world’s largest outdoor collection of
that, once established, require no bluebird boxes, several purple martin
supplemental watering. A large colony houses, as well as bee blocks,
“Naturescape” garden is filled with rock piles, butterfly log piles, puddling
waves of purple, yellow and orange areas and bat houses provide additional
native forbs. These perennials, along habitat for the site's wild creatures.
with groups of fruit-bearing shrubs, Fundamental to the operation of
are all designed to provide an Ellis Bird Farm Ltd. is the conserva-
abundant and easily accessible feast tion of the Ellis’ beloved mountain
for birds and pollinators. The garden bluebirds. The mountain bluebird is a
in front of the Visitor Centre is filled species that I have adored since my
with plants that are specifically
attractive to
teens and have had the privilege to
study for the past 20 years. I look
forward to sharing some information
and stories about this beautiful bird—
an harbinger of spring and a symbol of
peace, happiness and all that is good—
hum- in future columns. ca
ming-
b i r d s Myrna Pearman is the Ellis Bird
and a Farm Site Services Manager and
large but- Biologist. She is the author/
terf ly co-author of several books.
garden www.ellisbirdfarm.ab.ca
graces the
edge of
one of the
walkways.
T h i s
i m p r e s s i ve
garden enjoys
the ameliorat-
ing effects of a
gentle microcli-
mate, so the plants
grow unusually lush and
tall. We tell our visitors that
the luxuriousness of this
garden is the result of
several factors,
including
place,
SPITTING
IMAGE s we hike up the gravel road on the
by
A
mountain, a little hand slides up beside
mine. Sunshine warms our skin. I take
the hand cherishing it like the gift that it
is. I rub his fingers and absorb some
of his warmth, connecting with
this breathtaking person who is my
growing son.
It’s spring and we’re walking together,
along roads and pathways high up in the
BC Mountains. With Dad busy working on
our lot we’ve ventured off to explore
nature. We’ve become almost acclimatized
to the natural beauty of Anglemont,
but Spring breathes new life into the
mountains.
Soon we return from our hike to check
on Dad. While I chat with my husband, my
son explores our lot and steps into deep
weeds and then looks down and yells, “Gross.”
I walk over to see what has his attention and caused
him to pucker up his face with disgust. I bend over and spot
a glob of creepy white stuff hanging off a weed. No doubt
about it. It is gross. Bubbly and white. I shoot my husband
a dirty look and accuse him of spitting into the weeds, but
he protests his innocence.
A quick look around and we spot more of the stuff
hanging off leaves, dripping off weeds. Yuck! What can it
possibly be?
My son laughs and together we speculate. Maybe it’s
slime from grove snails we spotted on our earlier hike? We
lean forward and reach out and touch it. It’s frothy. It sort
of looks like whipped egg whites or a handful of bubble
bath. It hangs on weeds all over the lot.
page24
Janet Gurtler
We decide to investigate and head back to the road.
We spy the white stuff in roadside grass. Globs of spit are
everywhere. We look closer. Can it really be snail slime? In
some places there’s a lot of it. Where does it come from?
We take pictures. Close ups. It almost looks like there’s
something inside the foam, but we’re not certain.
When Dad is finished working we take our camera and
pictures and return to our hotel in Salmon Arm. Along with
the laptop I brought along, we take advantage of modern
luxuries in the midst of Canada’s mountains— free Internet
access! In our hotel room we search the Web for
information on Grove Snails. Nothing about them leaving
trails of slime behind.
Puzzled, we find a contact name for a man who is an
expert on snails in BC and send him a message. Luckily we
don’t wait long before he answers. Snails don’t leave this
kind of trail. He thinks we’ve discovered spittle. From
Spittle Bugs. A pretty descriptive name, we agree.
We search the Internet further and find out the bug is
also called a Froghopper, because of the way it looks when
it is an adult. The Spittle Bug has a three-stage life cycle
similar to grasshoppers and dragonflies. Eggs, nymph and
adult.
I glance down at my son and smile. He is also in a
shifting life cycle. Changing quickly from little boy to big
boy. Best to embrace the enthusiasm for discovering facts
about bugs while we still can.
We read more about the Spittle Bug. Not only does he
have more than one name, so does the froth he lives in
while he’s a nymph. It’s also called frog spit, toad spit or
even Cuckoo spit. The cuckoo spit comes from an old
superstition where people who heard a cuckoo sound would
spit to avoid bad luck. We marvel about superstitions and
then continue our research.
 We read on and find out that the
Spittle Bug makes spittle by sucking
out plant juice from plants and
essentially blowing bubbles out of its
bum. We laugh and laugh. Bug farts!
The spittlebug stands upside down on
a plant stem, sticks their mouth right
into the plant and sucks the juices.
They eat some of the plant juice and
the extra goes right through the bug,
combining with secretion
from the stomach, frothing
up into the foam that
comes out his butt! Frothy,
with lots of bubbles
covering it.
The spittle bug lives
inside these froth bubbles
until it’s an adult. Talk
about a weird bug trick!
The spittle has several
purposes, like keeping the
bug moist. Without it the
bugs would dry up. The
spittle also keeps the bug
enclosed at exactly the
right temperature, not too
hot and not too cold. It
protects the bugs from
predators, too. Apparently
spittle tastes so bad
enemies who might
otherwise try to feast are
turned off. The foam also
makes it hard for predators
to actually find the bug
inside.
We giggle over the lap-
top as we gain knowledge
of this fascinating little bug.
It’s more exciting than
Game Boy. More reward-
ing than Wii Sports. It’s
nature and it’s exhilarating. We find
out there are many different kinds of
Spittle Bugs all across the world. Over
2,000 varieties in North America alone!
Many are right in our own backyard in
Alberta and BC. As plant eaters, they
are sometimes considered a pest but
are not considered dangerous to crops.
We decide we like the little creatures.
The next day we head back to our
lot in the mountains, excited to find
more spittle. With our heads down we
hike gravel roads, searching grass and
weeds for signs of activity. Whenever are imaginary. His are spreading as he
we find new globs, we rejoice and look grows. The days of feeling my son’s
inside for a sign of the bug, careful not fingers entwined through mine are
to disturb his home. We spot him. He numbered. Soon he will be too big to
looks almost black but I explain to my hold my hand much. Soon exploring
son more of what I’ve read. Spittle Bug roadsides with his mom won’t
nymphs can be different colors; white, fascinate him. I hold on and cherish
orange or yellow. They all have red the chance to discover new things
eyes and have soft bodies and no enjoying the moment and bonding
wings. over the Spittle Bug.
We talk about the
adult bug, the
Froghopper. It has a
different appearance,
flat similar to a frog.
Froghoppers even
outhop the famous
jumping flea. It’s
considered the cham-
pion hopper among
insects.
The adult Spittle
Bug leaves the bubbly
protection just as I
know my son will
someday leave our
home too. Like the
spittlebug he will no
longer need our
protection to survive.
He will achieve
independence. But he
will always have our
love, and our help if
he needs it.
Female adult
Spittle Bugs will lay
hundreds of eggs
before they die. The
eggs last all winter
and hatch in the
early spring. The
hatching nymphs
then begin creating their own little
My son chats freely as we explore, spittle home.
telling me stories, sharing his When we return to the mountains
thoughts. He exposes me to precious next spring, he’ll be older too.
parts of his life that are sometimes Fortunately humans have more time
hidden to me now that he is in school. with their offspring than bugs. My son
While we hunt, I have his complete will still be young enough that we’ll
attention and he has mine. We are go hunting, looking for signs of
learning new things about bugs, but Spittle Bugs.
also about each other. Kind of gross. But cool.
He is growing and changing as he I hope he’ll still be holding
is supposed to do. I tell him that the my hand for a few more Spittle Bug
adult Spittle bug has wings. My son’s life cycles. ca
page25

Mac
He wouldn’t have been my first
choice – a huge eight year old stray cat
with long badly matted white fur - but he
was the one who went home from the
Humane Society with my daughter. She
named him Mac, after the MacLeods,
but he also answered to “Baby” despite
his fourteen pounds.
I often babysat Mac at my home and, one time when
he came to stay, I asked my daughter if I could keep him.
She and her fiancé had a dog and she agreed Mac might be
happier with me.
Mac was a lovely, affectionate boy, always up for a cud-
dle and great company. As soon as I sat down, he was there
on my lap, purring and drooling. He loved to curl up with
his head on a cushion or stretch out in front of the fire. His
favorite place was the balcony where he would spend hours
sleeping in a sunbeam. His favorite treat was popcorn, the
little white puffy bits. He loved our nightly grooming routine
and his long white fur became thick, soft and fluffy.
As I was getting ready for bed one night, Mac started
howling in pain. I rushed him to the vet clinic where,
several hours and hundreds of dollars later he was
diagnosed with constipation. Besides chronic constipation,
he was overweight, hyperthyroid, had a heart murmur and
needed surgery for urinary crystals.
One morning when I got up, Mac was nowhere to be
found. I knew something was wrong because he never
missed a meal. Searching frantically I found him in the
farthest corner of my closet. His hind leg was dragging and
I thought he’d had a stroke.The vet diagnosed aortic
thromboembolism, a blood clot that lodges in a blood
vessel, cutting off the blood supply.
We were sent to the specialty emergency clinic
and Mac was treated with fluids and pain medication.
I took him home, massaged and exercised his legs and tried
unsuccessfully to get him to eat. It was difficult and
awkward for him to get around but very painful to be
carried or held.
Late the next afternoon we went back to the vet and
we made a euthanasia appointment for the next morning.
She gave him an injection for pain and I took him home for
the night. I needed time to say goodbye. I made a bed on
the balcony and put him in a sunbeam. I made popcorn. I
wanted to do all his favorite things.
I often told Mac that he was a lucky boy to live with
me. He would blink at me and “smile”. I think he knew the
truth – I was the lucky one.
Passed away: 09/05/07
page26
IN PASSING
celebrating the lives of animal friends
Peepers
She was a brave little girl, never
complaining or asking for anything.
Always waiting patiently. Peepers, aka
Little Peeps, found as a kitten in Grande
Prairie by my daughter in 1993, traveled
to Calgary, Portland, Edmonton,
Coaldale and finally Lethbridge. She
always answered when you called her
name. She was immortalized in art, having her picture
painted on a mailbox for a fundraiser. On her last day I
took her out into the garden to walk in the grass and smell
the flowers. Only able to walk a few steps she would meow
and lie down, weak and tired. Her eyes told it all. She was
ready to go. The vet said that she was gone in a matter of
seconds. A private cremation, paw prints in clay, her
picture on my desktop.
Her gentle and calm personality, her sweet demeanor
and the fact that she never had any of the bad habits that
some of the cats here at The Last Chance Cat Ranch have,
make her one of the best cats ever. She has gone to meet
with all the others before her at the Rainbow Bridge,
including her friends Willow, Archie, Podee Bear, Olivia,
Suzy, Chloe, Annie, Billy My Ted, JoJo, Catfish, Rubin,
Rudy, Adam, Buddy, Jack, Sweetie, Peppermint, and
Lamee.
Passed away: 09/04/08
Taffy
She knew my every move. If I was
to put on clothes in the morning that
were out of the closet instead of the
dresser, she knew that I would be
leaving in the vehicle and would then
sit right beside the door. If she could
talk me into letting her outside, I
would find her sitting beside my
vehicle door. Riding in the car was her
favorite thing to do.
She kept track of my every movement in the house or
studio. If I worked late in the studio which I often do she
convinced Bob to let her out and she would make her way
to the studio to bark at the door and demand to come in.
At 1:00 or so she would get up from her little bed in the
studio and bark at me until I gave up and went into the
house to bed, which she slept beside.
If I was away for any length of time she apparently
sat beside my bed and barked. She really did keep track
of me. She likely still is.
Passed away: 10/15/08

now is
S coming
and my
n e i g h b o u r,
Carol, and I are working frantically to
get the last tasks done. As Carol rips
the dead pea vines off their wire
supports I wrap up the wire and haul it
off to make temporary fences around
as many trees as possible. For you see,
November is when the bucks come
calling. This annual Fall occurrence can
be the most devastating to our garden
due to their propensity to wage war on
the shrubbery!
Whitetail deer are indigenous to
North, Central and South America and
Mexico with the northern animals
achieving the greatest size (around 150
kg). Year round residents of aspen
parkland and forest edge they have
adapted well to urbanization. Ironically,
their numbers are increasing thanks to
such human activities as logging, land
clearing and the persecution of their
natural predators — wolves, cougars
and coyotes — around urban areas.
The late fall and early winter is
the busiest and most dramatic period
in the life cycle of the Whitetail.
Decreasing day length triggers the
onset of rutting season. Normally
reclusive, increasing hormone levels
bring about dramatic physical and
behavioural changes in the bucks:
their antlers are completely grown,
mineralized and hard; increased blood
flow to the neck tissues results in a
dramatic swelling of the neck muscles;
and, they become more visible,
aggressive and lusty.
When other males are scarce, or
in times of pent-up sexual frustration,
they take to attacking trees and shrubs
with their new antlers. The attacks
can be mild to downright savage. It’s
during this period of angst that they
wreak havoc on my prized ‘woodies’,
either completely stripping the bark,
killing the plant outright or, severely
THE GARDENING BUG
the saga of the whitetail deer Pt1
by Elaine Rude, Master Gardener
deforming it delegating it to the young fawns and exhausted bucks
permanently ugly category. This usually
results in death anyway, due to it being
ripped out a few years later!
struggle through all of winter’s
extremes. In anticipation of winter,
the summer and early fall are spent
During rutting season the males fattening up (usually on my vegetables
are singularly focussed declining to eat and flowers). During the winter they
or sleep in pursuit of receptive subsist on bark, berries, leaves, twigs,
females. Scent glands present on the seeds and nuts from bird feeders and
feet (metatarsal), the inside of the hay. It’s a common rural sight to see
hind legs (tarsal) and around the eyes deer eating from stacks of baled hay in
(orbital)are used to mark territory. farmer’s fields but unfortunately, this
Scents are deposited by rubbing, often proves deadly for the deer. Low
ground scraping or by dripping urine quality hay is poorly digested so it’s
down their legs and over the tarsal possible for a herd to starve to death
glands (lovely!). Marking serves two even though their bellies are full!
purposes: to inform breeding does of As winter progresses and food
their presence and to intimidate other becomes scarce, a common
bucks. Scraping seems to be favoured occurrence in overpopulated areas,
wherever newly planted perennials or individuals start to fight amongst
bulbs have just been put in. I find themselves competing for limited
little frozen corpses all over the garden resources. Only the toughest and
come the first Chinook. the strongest survive to greet the
Bucks aggressively pursue any New Year. ca
female but the coquettish does are
quite adept at evading their potential
suitors — hence the frustration — until
they are in full estrus which lasts only
24 hours. They will come into estrus
28 days later if the first cycle was not
fruitful. It is during this time of active
pursuit that many come into contact
with cars with tragic results.
When winter settles in for good,
rutting season winds down and
hormone levels return to normal. The
bucks shed their antlers and resume
their quiet solitary lives while the does
gather in small family groups to
struggle through the winter.
Don’t let a Whitetail’s
delicate appearance fool
you as these creatures
are extremely tough.
This is most apparent in
their ability to survive
winter’s worst. While
most other creatures hun-
ker down for a long nap or
head south to balmier
climes, pregnant does,
page27
 Proud to support
creaturesall
in sharing enriching
stories with
Alberta readers,
young and old!
Mr. Len Webber , MLA Proudly representing the Calgary communities of:
Member of the Legislative Assembly Citadel • Edgemont • Hamptons
Calgary-Foothills Constituency Hidden Valley • Kincora • Sherwood
403•288•4453 in the Alberta Legislature

˜EgZYeZgg”`m`œgco]ddm```````
`eee`go½Zgmll`]fgo]ddœfg—

page28
creature discomforts...
A twist of nature,
a whim of the gods,
put a cat and a dog
at ridiculous odds.
Face on they were separate,
but in profile just one.
Melded together.
Nature gone wrong.
How this came about
is up for debate.
But there’s no need to know
the cause of their fate.
What is of concern
in this merging of hosts
is that neither one liked
that the other lived close.
Mealtime was a problem
for this mixture of
beast.
One wanted Milk
Bone
and one, Fancy
Feast.
©
A nice bowl of fish The dog liked to run;
and milk in a cup the cat liked to sleep
made for one happy cat, on the end of the couch
and one grouchy pup. all curled in a heap.
The dog liked cow bones, So that when the dog ran
the occasional shoe. his progress was slowed
A ladies size seven by the sleeping cat,
would give a good chew. like an appendage growed.
The cat was more fussy. The dog played in dirt
She liked to slurp and rolled in the dung.
the tips of shoelaces Too bad for the cat,
and then daintily burp. who bathed with her
tongue.
If all pets in this world
were laid end to end,
a dog and cat combo
won’t make a good blend.
Don’t try this at home!
Please heed my cry!
They’ll never
agree,
nor see
eye to eye.
by Très Bore
page29
 THE FINAL WORD
choices
by Susan Sweetman

here was a little girl. She had nice brown eyes, and here was a little cat. She had nice shiny fur, and a cute
T black shiny hair and a bright smile, when she smiled.
She was a tough little girl, and sometimes she hit
T little voice. She said “Maa-aa” instead of meow. She was
always shy and sometimes afraid for no reason. She got upset
people. when things were loud or people shouted. Sometimes she
Because of that, nobody wanted her around. spit and scratched people. After a few years, she developed
It wasn’t really her fault though. When she was very a bad habit. She wet on everything—-people’s clothes and
very little, before she was even born, her mother drank and possessions, the floor, the plants. Her people didn’t know at
took pills that she shouldn’t have, and the little girl’s brain first, then there was a smell and they found out. They didn’t
was damaged. Because of this, the little girl didn’t always know what
understand what was happening and she needed people to to do. At
help her and look after her. first they
Her family thought she
was not good was sick,
at helping and then they
didn’t protect realized it
her, and some- was a be-
one hurt her havior.
many times.
She learned They
how to be couldn’t
afraid and to change
trust no one. it. They
As she had to
grew up, she have a clean
learned to hit house, so
back, and they sent
sometimes to her away to
hit first, another
before some-
body got the
chance to
hurt her.
Unfortunately,
because her place, a
brain was barn where
damaged and it didn’t
didn’t work matter if
right, usually she hit the wrong people. She hit the she wet
people who were trying to help, and to be her friends. everywhere.
She would go to live somewhere, and people tried to She ran and
help, and she thought they were trying to steal her hid when she got there, and couldn’t understand where
money, or stop her from doing things. She made bad, her favorite girl was, and why there was no soft bed
sometimes dangerous choices, and really needed to sleep on.
someone to help. After a while she will get used to it and there are other
After awhile, the helpers got tired of being hit and cats to be with, but not her own family.
they would send her away to another place, and the same It’s not really her fault either.
things happened again. In this new millennium, can we really do no more for
The little girl got a bad reputation, and finally, the little girl than we can for a little cat?
nobody wanted her, so she had to go and stay in a place Samantha and Sylvie will always be together in my
where she could be controlled and not allowed to hit. heart, and my heart weeps for them. ca

page30
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