Prairie raisins

Lots of these around the place. They are essentially everywhere, in various sizes and consistencies. The dogs are connoisseurs, unfortunately, but they are dogs, after all. Some they just sniff at; others they savor. Sheep leave similar gifts and in Ireland I know them as "Kerry raisins."

The deer are still around.

Boy-dogs and "tools"...

All of my males have been fascinated by tools and their use. Murphy, my Rottie, was the tool-champ. If I (or anyone else) was using a tool of almost any type he would be right there, watching. Sometimes when I finished with the tool he would sneak off with it. He did that with hammers, pliers, crescent wrenches, etc. Once he even tried to make away with a small electric drill. Jack is much the same. NONE of my girl-dogs have had any interest whatsoever in tools or "tool process." I find this very interesting.

I found this surprise on my game cam when I checked it y'day...

Yes, Jack, it's another tool.

My daily chuckle

Not a day goes by that my dogs don't give me a good laugh. Usually it's either Mags or Jack, and sometimes both together. This morning there was a mad chase around the place for a few minutes followed by a tug-of-war after Jack found one of their favorite toys in the grass. This struggle went on for a good five minutes with neither competitor giving an inch. Jack is strong enough that he can lift her off the ground and whirl her around. (She likes that apparently.) He's also strong enough to get it away from her with a couple of vicious, neck-wrenching snaps. But he doesn't. It's surprising how careful he is and how much he veils his strength advantage.

It's great fun to watch them enjoying each other.

Come and gone...

The regular firearm deer season is over now, ending at sundown yesterday, and I didn't "harvest" a deer during it. I had many opportunities, as they were literally all over the place at all hours.

But if I change my mind we have a month-long muzzleloader season for me to remedy my malfeasance.

I think one of the problems is that I still have venison in the freezers from last year and I don't like even the appearance of being greedy or unappreciative. I also hunt very much by the feelings of the moment. Is it "right," or not. And so far it hasn't felt "right."

Been Gone

I've been "off-duty" for a while. Hard to believe it has been that long.

Our little house on the prairie is sailing into the teeth of winter now, which comes on apace. It continues to be a strange fall— one day being a balmy 60° with lovely sun and little wind and the next morning it will be 10° at sun-up. It certainly keeps things interesting.

Jack is back. Same ol' lovable Jack but a sharper dude in the field, and stylish too. He's been used to daily exertion and bugs me no end when he doesn't get his ration of run-and-search. I was a bit concerned about him when I got him home as he was very thin. "Skin and bones" would not have been un-apt. But when I weighed him I found that he had lost just a single pound. I would have sworn at least ten. Everything had been turned to hard muscle and it all showed when he moved.

I'm a firm believer in lean dogs, but he was a bit too lean for my taste so I have been building him up a bit with special fatty beef stews over his kibble and that sort of thing. He's already looking better to my eyes. I never want him to be fat, but I do want him to have a bit of reserve.

The regular firearm deer season here ends tomorrow. I have had at least twenty opportunities to take one and have yet to do so. I'm just not as keen on it as I once was, and I guess I am waiting for a sign that "this is the one"— which hasn't come yet.

I can't believe the holiday season is once more upon us. And soon it will be over and we can say Another one down!