We know the deal when we sign up: We will most likely have to say goodbye to them.
Such is the reality of dogs.
There is a thief in my midst. And I plan on catching him red-handed. Or, actually, probably, fur-pawed. But I will catch this thief.
I have five feeders set up in my yard. They are primarily squirrel feeders, despite the more common name of bird feeders.
As I stood at the base of the waterfall, the cool mist sprinkling over my face, I thought of the centuries of time that had passed as the waters flowed over these very rocks. I closed my eyes and reflected on the steady, relentless consistency of water, unfazed by time. And then I thought, “If I slip and fall here, I will have an incredibly bad day, as that water is really cold, there are lots of rocks out there, and my phone is in my pocket.”
I get that some people don’t like squirrels. They raid bird feeders. They gnaw on your house at times. And they scurry across your roof to make it sound like badgers are running across it.
But I try to give them my support.
My father has beehives. He got into beekeeping a few years ago, and he and my brother-in-law are the expert stewards of the hives.
The bees provide delicious honey, and are also really interesting critters to watch go about their daily bee lives.
Some might say that when you go actively looking for snakes, you probably shouldn’t be surprised when you get bitten by a venomous one.
Well, believe it or not, it’s actually more surprising than you would think.
Thirty years ago, I went with my dad on a week-long trip to Arizona. It was one of the most amazing trips of my childhood. My dad is a biologist, and we focused on seeing all kinds of amazing critters – rattlesnakes, roadrunners and coyotes, oh my. It was a constant adventure and discovery after discovery.
My son loves to fish. Loves, loves, loves to fish. If I gave him the option of having a roof over his head or fishing, it’s pretty much time to tell him goodbye.
He fishes in the morning. He fishes in the afternoon. On plenty of occasions I have called him and said, “Dude, it’s dark. How are you still fishing.”
When it comes to punctuality, I have long subscribed to the old adage of “Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable.”
This is often a difficult trait to have, especially in my family. My daughter is always on time for school or work, but apparently uses all of that on-timeness there, as she is constantly the last one ready for any family social event. This is something we should have known would be commonplace when my wife was pregnant some 18 years ago and she went in to be induced in late July. Hey, you know how when women get induced they have a baby shortly thereafter? Yeah, not in this case. Our daughter arrived 11 days later, foreshadowing a lifetime of getting to family events on her time schedule.
I have recently completed a road trip with my kids, and I can safely say it included the perfect amount of buffalo slobber.
This road trip was done over their spring break, and we set off on a whirlwind tour of roadside attractions and off-the-beaten path adventures, which is really the only way to spend spring break.