Where the Wild Things Are....

Yeah, I feel properly chastised .... I just can't seem to put together enough time every week to write regularly. So, all you "fans" of Tail Tales will have to settle for my occasional musings.

A good friend kinda lambasted me the other day for only posting stories about my fuzzy friends and not reaching out to the wilderness. "Where are the lions, tigers and bears (oh my!!)?" questioned my friend. "Where are the stories about the lost fawn, the rabid fox, the coyote in the grass?"

OK, OK - all right already. Here is a story about some wild things. Not what you might expect, but it will at least be informative.

You know I am a horse lover of the first order, right? So, I thought... "Self, why not expound on your experiences with wild horses?" and my self answered "SURE!!"


Oh - you noticed this gorgeous animal here.......

Yeah, right, he isn't exactly wild - but I had to include another photo of my beloved Faffner, the Morgan gelding I used to own. He died a long time ago in a very sad accident, but I just like to remind myself of all the good times we had back in the 80's (for those of you old enough to remember the 80's) :>)


Anyhow, back to wild horses. Now, before you get your shorts ruffled - NO, I havent been to Idaho or Wyoming, or wherever all those bands of wild equines hang out. The ones romanticized in old westerns and which are causing the public outcries today from horse lovers who dont want to see them mistreated and the ranchers who want them out of their fields. (another day).

But, I HAVE had some rather personal encounters with the bands of wild horses that inhabit an eastern part of our country. Yup - there are hundreds of them on the islands of Assateague and Chincoteague off the coast of Maryland and Virginia. Some of you may have read, or at least be familiar with the old Marguerite Henry book "Misty of Chincoteague," which is a story of one of these horses.

These two boys, and dozens like them are a common sight on the beaches of Assateague. The bands of small, brown and pinto horses mingle freely with the bathers and beach walkers. But, be forwarned!! They are definitely WILD, and will not tolerate being touched or patted or any other normal horse/human interactions.
The equines kind of sneer at all the humans and go about their business of blocking the roads and leaving "deposits" where unobservant folks might happen to step in them. They travel regular paths that lead from watering holes with fresh water to the picnic tables that might hold goodies.

They wander the campgrounds of the state and national parks, looking for handouts. And I dont mean hay. The first time I closely encountered them, my husband and I had left things on our picnic table and walked the few yards to the beach. It wasnt horse food - I KNEW that horses eat hay and grain, right?
WRONG! They east just about anything they can get their hooves (er, uh - teeth) on! We came back to our camp site to find ripped boxes of crackers and cereal, stomped and eaten grapes and raisins, and even some cheese wrappers. Yeah, I know - a first rule of camping is to keep all foodstuffs PUT AWAY. But we were novices. But that was the last time. After that, everything went in the van or at least a cooler.

See all these unsuspecting campers/campsites?
Who knew that at any moment you could be invaded by six or eight 800-pound raccoons? Well, they might not LOOK like raccoons, but they sure knew the drill - help yourself to any thing that even LOOKS like food. And I dare anyone to be able to chase away these big boys. As scavengers, they are number one! When they wander into your camp, you sorta just have to back off and let them look around. Mostly they want water, but food is fair game.

Once when we were parked at the park office lot, several of these boys collected around our van - one in front, one in back, and one with his nose poked in the window. Hard to get away when you are surrounded!! hee hee - they didnt stay long when it was obvious that we had nothing for them.

The problem is that they seem so tame that people sometimes get too close, and then there is the kicking incident, or the biting incident, and vacationers do not take well to this treatment. As I said above, these horses are WILD, no matter how calmly they approach campers and beach areas. When one of them becomes too much of a nuisance (bites and/or kicks people more than once), then that animal has to be moved. The horses on the island of Chincoteague, in Virginia, are isolated from people. Visitors can drive around and see them through fences, but they cannot mingle. So, problem animals from Assateague are taken south. Now, you might wonder how this is accomplished. No, no - they dont use tranquilizer darts or anything so drastic. The park rangers/horse biologists simply lure the vandal horse into a trailer with food.

The "horse movers" come equiped with fence panels that they quickly form into a small pen around the offending animal, who is distracted with some of his favorite treats. Then, they slowly move the pen (and the horse) to the trailer and continue to hoax him (or her) with the goodies. See? Once they get the animal into the trailer, they quickly close up the gate and haul him off to greener pastures - or at any rate, a place where he will no longer annow innocent campers. :>)

Here's a picture I did a couple of years ago that depicts a "sort-of" horse....... I have to include at least one of my drawings in every post, right?






Here's lookin' atcha, as someone famous once said.

CYL

Happy "WOOF" Year

Just had to put this picture in - it's my adorable grandson Elliott - signing "Peace to Ducks".



Well... Anybody still here?

What with rushing to create gifts and then traveling all over New England (or so it seemed), I haven't had any time AT ALL for bloggin'. Shame on me!!

Last weekend my son Pete and I drove to Vermont, visiting with my brother and his family - always an adventure!!
Lots of hootin', howlin,' and hecklin' during the 2008 iteration of the neighborhood "game" - which is in reality a glorified, multi-ruled version of a Yankee Swap. Played with an oversized set of stainless steel dice, under the watchful eye of my brother.














Yeah, that's me in the fur hat - being silly! (as if I didnt do this on a regular basis!!)






















In calmer moments I communed with a lovely aging golden retriever (see family photo above). He is smart, laid-back, and well able to fit in with our crazy family. This is Hudson - the pal of my niece and her husband - as seen in a portrait I painted for their wedding a couple years ago.



He reminds me very much of my old buddy Sam........ this picture is my wonder dog learning about life on a farm.... hee hee

Oh, no, he wasn't a Golden - he was half black lab and half German shepherd - the best half of each, me thinks (but then, I am prejudiced)










My dad used to raise German shepherds when I was a kid, so I became really fond of them at an early age. This shot is my dad, brother and me and two of our lovelies - probably taken in1955 or so.....










Anyhow, it took Sam about 2 years, but he finally caught on to the English language, and communicating was pretty easy after that. He was the official "shop dog" - a gentleman, and polite to all. He also loved to go camping with us - he was a 24/7 people dog!! We went to the beaches of Assateague Island in Maryland almost every year, and Sam grew to love the beach. I remember one morning when I woke up to an empty camp site, and looking around the beach, a fellow camper said to me - "if you are looking for Sam and his friend, they went that way!"







Fishing was one of his favorites - folks were AMAZED at his abilities! Yup, he learned to follow a cast and would leap into the water (if allowed) the minute a fish was on the hook. We were lucky that he never got hooked himself! He never did learn to tell a trout from a sucker, tho.......








But my favorite story of Sam is how he used to frighten people. He spent a lot of time in our big conversion van, lying on the comfy rear seat with his nose poked out the little window just at seat level. This window was maybe 6 inches high by 12 inches wide - just big enough for Sam to stick his head out (remember, he was 90-lb. BIG dog!) If the van was parked in a public area, he would hang back in the middle of the seat where no passerby would notice him, and then, when an unsuspecting person came by - WOOF! - his menacing head would appear in a fraction of a second in that little window, accompanied by a BIG bark. He scared a lot of people into gray hair, and one friend was seen trying to ride his bicycle up a brick wall.

Well, one day we went to the supermarket. I was in the store and my husband and Sam went for a walk down by the river.

A dog-shy friend of ours, who had fallen for Sam's trick more than once, happened by. He went over towards the van, accompanied by his family and two friends, telling them how this van would try to "attack him." He waited a moment for Sam to lunge out the window, but nothing happened.

He moved closer to the side of the van and I arrived in time to hear him say...
"Watch out, when I tap the side of the van, this KILLER dog will try to attack me!"

He smacked the side of the van with his palm and again nothing happened. At this moment he turned and there sat the KILLER dog - not 5 feet behind him.

Yup, my husband Bill and Sam had come back from the river just in time to witness this performance. Sam wagged his tail and was patted by all (well, except maybe the performer).

Poor guy never lived that one down. I think he was so embarrassed he went out and bought a Rottweiler. :>)

I am really sorry I dont have any pictures of that day - or of Sam playing his game.

Anyhow, to close for today, here are a couple more of my animal portraits. Enjoy!!

















Don't forget - I can be talked into doing one of these for you, if you would like!

Always.......... four hooves and a tail

I am totally convinced that I came into this world with a passionate desire to jump on the back of a horse. This equine love -affair first manifested itself when I was about 4 and invoked the W.O.G (wrath of god) - that is, I made my mother angry - because I continually drew beautiful (in my eyes) sketches of horses in the fly leaves of my new kiddy books, These drawings looked something like this


and were the first evidence of my great artistic talent, which would bloom in later years.


I first found my way onto the back of a real honest-to-Jehosephat horse when I was five and my family was visiting paternal relatives in Ontario, Canada. My cousin Trisha also loved horses, and at age 9 she had her own, kept at a local stable. I just couldn't believe that she had one and I didn't!! I don't know who was in charge of this ride, but Trish and I and at least two adults set off on a trail ride. Yeah!! Check out the photo!

OMG!! I would NEVER let a child of mine go off trotting in the woods like this - tiny child, big horse, no reins, can't reach the stirrups!! How did I survive? :>)
There was never any discussion of this incident over the years - it just was part of my introduction to horsieness!

Well, of course, I was hooked, and a riding fanatic from then on. One year I asked my dad to take me riding as a birthday present, and by golly, we went - even tho it was the middle of July and about 95 degrees out.

My dad wouldn't get me my own horse - he believed I wouldn't take care of it (interpret that - "she'll lose interest"). So, I found a friend who had two horses, and I learned to ride on her old cow pony.

Grew up ... got married...had kids...still loved horses .








FINALLY - 1977 - my very own horse. Faffner - a wonderful Morgan gelding.

More stories about him another time...




Today, my story encourages everyone to enjoy himself and do a good turn for others at the same time. I'm talking about volunteering your time and services. You might work in a hospital gift shop, dispense soup at a shelter, or, as I did, help with the horses at a therapeutic riding center. I worked with the folks at Flying Changes in Topsham, Maine. This is an equine facility where physically and mentally challenged young people can develop new strengths, abilities, healthy bodies and self confidence by riding and associating with horses. My many years of experience meant that I knew the routine - I could muck stalls (YUCK), brush horses, comb tails, oil tack and saddle up with the best of 'em

There were a lot of volunteers, and we worked hard to keep the aisles swept and the 16 horses clean and fed.

But the best part of all this was helping the kids with their riding experiences. A 5 year-old with say, Downs Syndrome, has very little balance or ability to stay on a horse by himself. Each ride requires two adults - one to lead the horse (like me) and one to work with the child (a licensed equine therapist)

This picture is NOT a handicapped child -just a young person getting his first horse experience. The aspect of this that I need to tell is this - I am getting older, and I dont do all the exercise that I used to when I was 35. Sooo.... when the person leading the lesson explained that it was
time for the child to learn to TROT- I suddenly realized that I was leading the horse, and OMG - I had to RUN to keep the horse at a trot. Well, I was about wiped out after two circuits of the riding arena. :>)

Yup, this "volunteering" was in many ways the best thing I did for myself in several years.!! Puff, puff - I'll lose weight yet!!

Wet 'n' Wild

GOSHAROONIE!

What I had intended to write and what you actually see here are two totally different things... I couldn't immediately locate some old photos that I thought I had on disc, so............ new idea comin' atcha!

So sorry, buddies, but my featured creatures today aren't soft, fuzzy and cuddly, but rather cold, wet and scaly. Yup!! I'm talking about FISH! And I don't mean pet guppies, either. I mean the wiggly piscean animals that live in our rivers, lakes and oceans and which occasionally can be coaxed into attaching themselves to the end of a line. Here's a not-so-deep-dark secret - I LOVE fly fishing!! If you are shaking your head in bewilderment, I'll explain...

Fly fishing is the attempt by sportsmen to catch fish (most often trout) using hand-made lures that are SUPPOSED to imitate insects.... but are actually made entirely of fur, feathers and thread that are wound and glued onto a fish-hook. Said lure is called a "fly" and is intended to be a very close imitation of an actual insect that a fish would just LOVE to devour. The fisherman (or woman, as the case may be) attempts to cast this little object onto or into the waters before him (or her) in such a manner as to perfectly imitate the actions of the real insect (very often a may fly). The said fly is usuallly very small - maybe half an inch to an inch long, and must be presented very carefully so as not to scare the intended victim, who is probably 30 to 40 feet off in fast-running water. Needless to say, this action is quite difficult.

ALL RIGHT!! Lesson over - you are all probably snoozing by now. Point is, I do this a lot, and have great fun flailing on creeks and ponds with my line and flies. Why, amazingly, I occasionally even catch a fish! and eat it for dinner!

As mentioned above, the most desired species to be tempted and caught are trout, of one sort or another. These guys can be 6-inch long brook trout or 3-foot long lake trout, and they all taste great. Maybe I ought to include my ultra-secret recipe for stuffed trout........ naah, not this time around, 'cause then I'd have to kill you. The accompanying photo is of me and the first trout I caught (circa 1955).

Next photo, flash forward 20 years or so. I learned to cast a fly, and my goodness, look what I caught! This was in the St. Lawrence River, among the Thousand Islands. Tee hee - I really didnt want to go near the slashing teeth of this bad boy pike, and husband Ted removed the hook from the jaws for me - suffering no ill effects. The fish, alas, gave his all to the frying pan.

Then the many glorious days spent casting to swift riffles on the seemingly endless sparkling streams of western Pennsylvania. Slate Run, Cedar Run, Pine Creek, the Oswayo, all yielded their share of beautiful fish. The Slate runs through a deep gorge with only occasional access points, and one has to really WANT to fish it. The Pine is another gorge that paddlers can pretend to be lost in.... Dreamy days to recollect...

Moving on to New England - I switched to fishing for bass in the ponds of Rhode Island. Not as exciting as fast running rivers in mountain gorges, but a pleasant way to spend a day. And my goodness... I am, after all, getting OLDER!! (we don't want to admit that too often) One of these days I'll have to admit to being a crotchety old broad who sits in a rocker and reminisces about the G.O.D's. (good ol'days, if you are a bit slow on the uptake) That's me in shorts standing in a pond with a smallish bass on the hook.....

And just to show that I am still having adventures now and then, here is my story for today....

I went on vacation to steamy Belize (teeny country just south of Mexico, next to Guatemala) a couple of years ago, and me and my son and family stayed in a jungle resort for a few days and an island resort for a few days. We were out for ADVENTURE! :>) Horseback riding, exploring jungle trails (never did see that jaguar), tubing through caves, watching iguanas in trees, and then....... snorkeling and watching fish We spotted skip jacks and angel fish and others, and then we moved to another section of the reef, where the animals we jumped in amongst were considerably LARGER!

Yup, that is me there with the rubber fins and mask. And, gulp, I REALLY took

that photo of the fish that I was swimming around with - another YUP! Those are REALLY SHARKS! Arent you proud of me? I survived to tell the tale! A BIG fish story (a whale of a tale to tell you, lads... a whale of a tale and true... think Kirk Douglas, on the Nautilus, I believe - oh,

you all are just too young!!) all true, and this is meant to let you know that I ain't no WUSS!! Our guide (who wisely stayed in the boat) assured us that these were a SAFE species of shark, and we all believed him and jumped giddily in amongst them. There were big rays, too - 5 or 6 feet across. But I dont have a photo of those handy.

and that calls for a couple of martinis! :>)

Masters of the House

I have to admit that my initial posting was NOT the jaws-a-dropping example of splendiferousness that I had hoped. I got so caught up in trying to figure out how to edit the layout and put pictures where I wanted them that I ran out of steam before I got the whole mess just right. If there is such a thing as "right." 'SNORK'

I even neglected to get the picture of my kitties on the page at all! So, see the above - the adult kitties, and also a shot when they were only 10 weeks old. If the boys were aware of my neglect, I am sure there would be claw marks in my silk shirts right about now ( caught ya, didnt I - I dont have any silk shirts!! :>) So, in penance for my "forgot the cats" sin, I will devote this post to Siggi and Roy.

Here they are in a typical spot when they were

itsy bittsies - in a BOX! Which apparently led to a habit that started later in life. :>)

The boys are twins, now 3 years old and weigh about 20 lbs each (yes, yes, a tad bit overweight - but not really FAT!) I know they MUST have some Maine Coon blood in them somewhere to account for their humongousness, but really, they are just a couple of mutts. Beautiful mutts, but nonetheless - far from pedigreed.

They never growl, dont meow much and mostly talk to me in little murdles and morts. They chase each other around the house, up and down the stairs, and rough-house on their old red oriental rug which lies next to my bed. Let me tell you - if they really get into it there can be a very heavy grayish cast to the whole urg, even ONE DAY after I thoroughly vacuumed it. Yup, the fur can fly - but they never actually hurt each other.

Anyhow - one kitty pastime is chewing up cardboard

boxes. Maybe that's why they don't growl - they take out all their adolescent aggression on a 2-foot square box. The dust pan gets a workout regularly, sweeping up bits of cardboard spit out by Roy in the heat of one of his box-attacks. I have never before seen a cat who methodically destroys boxes. Perhaps I should enter him in the X-games!

So that's a quick peek at the boys. They do lots of other things to keep me on my toes - see the pic of young Roy playing with the water in the sink. He

recently re-enacted this idiocy when there was a

slight flood in the basement - he sat down in an

inch of water, getting soaked in the process, and played chase with a piece of yarn floating in front of him!

Before I sign off for today I'll include another one of my cat drawings. This one is of a long-haired beauty named Whiskey. Such a whistful look, I couldnt resist drawing him. I think he would make a great greeting card of some kind.

Please let me know if you like my drawings.

Once begun, what may follow............

Greetings old friends......

And a hearty "Hello! to those of you meeting me for the first time.

Lots of folks start blogs because they want to hear themselves write and see themselves take photgraphs. Hey! - I admit it! Me too! I'm going to regale you with stories of some of my dearest friends and some characters I wish I knew better - these being the animals around us. I'll post vignettes of the dogs, cats and horses who live or have lived with me, and glimpses of the wild creatures who have passed through.

First off, I'm no mountain climber, movie star, bounty hunter or jungle explorer with great adventures to tell, but I hope my stories (True Tales) will elicit some grins - and an occasional "OHMIGOD! Did that really happen!" Yup! No fabrications for this gal - it's really, really true that "truth is stranger than fiction." Ok, maybe I'll add a few spicy adjectives to the narration, and maaybe when I tell an old story my recollections will have expanded somewhat (or a lot) - but it's all to keep you folks hooked and coming back for more adventures. (Oops, I think I just said, a few paragraphs back, that I don't HAVE adventures. But I qualified that - I said GREAT adventures. All of us have adventures. Spilling a bag of apples all over the floor at the grocery may be someone's big adventure of the day)

But, I digress.

I'll also talk about my art, because, guess what? -- I am an artist who draws and paints animals Naaah - I can't leave that out! Included here and there will be sketches to add to the fun. Portraits of pets and partners and slice of life drawings of our wilderness pals.

So, who am I to elbow my way onto your screen? Well, I am Suzi Fourness, and I currently share my space and time with two huge black and gray tiger cats named Siegfried and Roy.

Here's them.....

And here's me....

We live in Lewiston, Maine. The storied vacation land of woods and lakes and mountains and gorgeous beaches and deer, bear, moose, and... did I say Moose? Egad!! Huge beasts with spreading antlers who inhabit the woods and waters of northern Maine and which are ogled by all who happen to come upon them. (here comes my first story)

Now, I have lived in Maine for over 5 years, and I hate to admit it, but I have yet to see my first honest-to-geronimo wild moose in these here Maine woods! Course, I havent spent weeks exploring the wilds of Aroostook County, but I've been out and about - Grafton Notch, Rangely, Lake Umbagog, the White Mountains, and guess what? NO MOOSE YET! Sadly, a young moose walked through my neighborhood one day two years ago, but drat! I didnt happen to be home. One was spotted swimming in the Andrscoggin River in downtown Lewiston earlier this year, but I was hard at work, chained to my computer, creating advertisements for the Lewiston Sun Journal. Yeah, I'm a graphic designer, but again, I digress.

Back to meese - er, uh - moose. You notice I said I'd never seen a wild moose in Maine? Well, once, about 7 years ago, I stopped at a big strip mall in bustling Salem, NH, almost over the state line into Methuen, MA.When I walked into a convenience store, everyone was clustered at the rear entrance. So, of course I hurried to join the crowd. And, what were they looking at? (You saw this coming, right?) A huge wild moose, standing on the edge of the parking lot, looking dumbfounded by all the cars and people.

GO FIGURE!