Also Not Newfies

In our efforts to add a Newfoundland Dog to our family, without actually buying a puppy from a breeder, we have met some very interesting dogs. Here are two fine fellows that were each, at one time, suspected of having Newfoundland ancestry. Of course, neither of these guys is a newfie. One is German Shepherd mixed with Tibetan Mastiff.  The other is likely a Caucasian Shepherd.  Same size, same bulk, same clumsiness and much of the saliva. But very different temperaments. We have never felt so well-defended.

The Newf Who Would Not Swim Part II

A few years ago I posted about my Newf dog who was seriously not into swimming. He never did get into swimming, although he liked being near water.

He was a great canoe companion, only ever dumped the canoe once when we forgot to ask him to wait at the dock. Did you know that the gunwale makes a poor step and an excellent springboard for launching any remaining passengers, especially those in the stern, immediately into the water? Well, now you know. He hit the dock and I hit the water at almost exactly the same moment. No time between to reflect or prepare my approach, just splash into the drink. I guess that's why they say you should not leave your lifejacket in the bottom of the boat. Anyway, he only did this once. WE are trainable too.

On long river canoeing trips he would fidget when we were near land, with the rustlings of birds and rodents and who knows what audible from the banks. Once we set out to the middle of the stream he would settle down in his spot between cargo areas, and rest his nose on the gunwale. He wasn't quite tall enough to maintain this position with any comfort, but he would keep his nose as high as possible to make sure not to miss anything good passing by. More than once his fine canine nose spotted interesting wildlife before primate eyes were aware. When he found porcupines, we were glad to be so far from the shore. He was instantly alert and ready to chase, but fortunately reluctant to leap into the water to pursue his prey.

The only time he didn't care for canoeing was when we encountered shoals. Whenever the canoe ground against rocks, he would leap to his feet and 'surf' out the rough patch. When we canoed the Souris River, one ill-advised May Long Weekend, and the spring meltwater had already passed through, he spent more time on top of the cargo than in the canoe bottom, riding up high to avoid the vibrations of rocks against wood and kevlar.

(sidebar - it's odd to think of that tiny trickle as the same river that is currently destroying homes and farms across Manitoba and North Dakota.)

You will note from my use of the past tense that this fine Newf is no longer with us. He had a series of health problems this winter culminating in an aggressive version of the tumours that have plagued him since he was 3. It also turned out that he was mislabeled - not a Newf at all but a setter-spaniel mix with a bit of this and that, but not Newfie at all. That doesn't excuse the lack of swimming ability, though. Gundogs of all kinds are usually water lovers too.

We had many fine adventures with our lovely dog, whatever his breed. He was a willing companion on any kind of hike or boat or car trip. He travelled all across the country with us and seldom complained. He was infinitely patient with our lack of skill at communicating with dogs, and forgave us instantly when we got things wrong. Everyone should be so lucky.

Daredevil Turkeys

Back in October we visited relatives in southern Ontario for Thanksgiving. You would think that on Thanksgiving, the wild fowls would be laying low. But no, here goes mama turkey right through the suburbs with her brood of young ones. We stopped to let them cross, as did the truck you see coming towards us. They took so long we had plenty of time for photos. Apparently people around here get their turkeys from the grocery store, and this hen can bring up a whole nest of young!

The Fall of the Merlin Tree

High winds are not kind to tall trees. We came home the other day to find no power to the house, and a man walking on the garage roof. A wind gust (or a series of them) had broken off one of the three tall shoots of spruce. Down it came, and the power line with it. The tip embedded itself in the back yard, and the base leaned gently against the side of the house, missing everything breakable on the way, other than the powerline.

We consulted an arborist, who decided the other two leaders were at risk of coming down soon. A crack had formed between them, opening wider with each gust. So, down it came. The tree people took away most of the rubble, but left us the main trunks for firewood. Not sure if we can bear to burn it!

We lost about half the height of the tree - it is no longer taller than the house. The lower branches still shade the back yard, so we kept it for now. It opens up the yard to more sun. (This is me trying to see the bright side of disaster!)

We will definitely have no more Merlins now.

Wayside flower

A Lady's Slipper I found alongside the highway on my way into the city.

I was heading into the city to make an airport run on a beautiful July afternoon. This patch of pink blooms always catches the corner of my eye, and I just have to pull over to take a closer look. The dog was very patient with me while I burrowed around in the ditch getting a good angle. It was windy so it took a few tries to get the flowers to stand still. I noticed the poison ivy after it was already too late...

I love the delicate shading on the petals - just the merest hint of yellow at the centre and the stronger pink of the lip. A few stands of flowers were nearly past already, but this one was still emerging.

Fall garden

The backyard garden always has a hard time at this season of the year. By late September it has usually been dry for a few weeks, and the sandy soil just bakes. Earlier this week even the raspberry canes were starting to wilt. This is when I realize that I really need to add organic matter to the soil. Lots of fibre to hold on to moisture and give the roots a chance of reaching deep enough to stay alive through the winter. Call me cheap, I just can't bring myself to water it enough to keep it happy!

Camping at Baker's Narrows

We went north for Labour Day Weekend, to Baker's Narrows just east of Flin Flon.  We had reserved our spot back in May, choosing one of the few reservable spots based on its number (we like the number 22).  Turns out it is one of the best spots!  Neighbours not too close and this great view just over a small rock ridge.