Puppy love at its best

Izzy and Lenore
by Jon Katz

Surprising! Jon Katz has done it again. By sheer, brutal honesty he's dragged his success and failure and depression and slow recovery out into the light of day, and wound the threads into a gripping story. And central to it all, are the dogs who saved him--Izzy and Lenore.  Izzy is a border collie with sad backstory, and their "getting acquainted" period reminded me of my early days with Izzy. My Izzy didn't throw up in the car, though. She pooped everywhere in the house, had recurring diarrhea, refused to eat, tore up the wall of the dining room, and had to be carried down the steps to go outside. She took it hard; his Izzy worse. I just love dog stories!

And Izzy eventually becomes a hospice dog--that's a story that would make the book all by itself.

Lenore is a silly little lab puppy who helps Jon recover simply by unconditional acceptance, lots of wet kisses, and just plain old bouncy puppyness.

My only (hesitant) criticism is that Mr. Katz repeats himself a bit too much. I'm surprised an editor didn't trim some of that out--but then, maybe an editor did, and this is what's left to supply continuity to his thoughts.

Non-review of book

Birds of Northeast Texas
by Matt White

Note: this review is a reminder to myself, not a discourse on the merits of the book. I'm not qualified to judge that.  The book, and similar ones in the series, are being written for science and not for popular readers. As such, they are invaluable as research materials--I could see a doctoral student twenty years hence citing this work in a thesis about changing distribution patterns of upland game birds. For example.

The pictures are nice and the description of the various biomes good, but not exhaustive. It would have been helpful to read much more information about what foods are available in the given areas, and the seasons thereof. But the individual species descriptions are skimpy. They merely relate what you could find online nowadays on the Cornell University All About Birds or the eBird database.

Gardening in my Roots, End of June

 Isn't kohlrabi the silliest thing?



But it tastes great!









Sunny sunflowers...not yet blooming but will be any day now.














What a harvest!

And last but not explainable--after watching hundreds of thousands of little blooms open, droop, and fall--

I have tomatillos!
Two or three at least. Can I make posole yet?

Leaving Caprock Canyon

Sunday, May 11

I got up before dawn because I wanted to see the sunrise for one, our last day. And, incidentally, the only day you could see a sunrise--the previous day had morning clouds to the east and the sun took a while to rise out of them.

The dogs and I walked to the bathroom, where I (illegally) snuck Zack into the stall with me. If I'd left him outside he'd have yip-yip-yipped the whole campsite awake!  We got out before we were caught--only one person was in there, taking a very long shower with a radio on.

The sun rose as we were walking back to camp. Not spectacular, but gorgeous as usual.  We dawdled around awhile, birdwatching and celebrating my Mother's Day with marvelous gifts (the write-upside-down pen I'd wanted, a waterproof notebook, the book Mi Casa, Tu Casa, and a tortilla press!!!), then ate a quick breakfast.

The funny thing about bird watching at the campsite is that I kept thinking I was seeing something exciting--

Only to see another painted bunting. How weird a world can it be where the most vividly colored bird in North America is just "another stinking painted bunting"?  But I did see a Lazuli bunting--unmistakeable!  One up for me!









Then I tried an experiment I'd proposed the other day. If I started in our back yard and walked northward through the brush, I proposed I'd hit the canyon in a very short while.




And I did!  I followed the deer trail and soon found myself facing a canyon and a trail going down into it.  Luckily for all of us, the trail going down wasn't something a person could follow while wearing hiking sandals over socks, which is what I happened to have on my feet.  I turned and started back.


And soon realized I hadn't marked the deer trail very well.  I knew I was close to the campsites because I'd heard people clanking around just a few minutes before, but just then I could hear nothing but traffic on the road.  I headed a little too far toward the road noise and--












Ow!!!
In my hurry I'd stepped right into some Texas equivalent of the "jumping cholla" of the desert southwest.  This is a spiny plant whose segments break off and lodge into the fur of a passing creature. Or in my case, lodge into the socks and pant legs.  All I had to get them loose was a pair of binoculars and my bare hands.

Luckily the Texas variety wasn't round and all-over spiny, like the Arizona varieties. It had a spine-free handle at one end. I picked off at least six and most of them hurt like heck as they came out.

Walking more carefully, I soon was within sight of our neighbor's campsites. I'd gone too far to the west . Not wanting to walk up in a neighbor camper's backyard, I veered east and slunk in the grass and mesquite bushes back to our own.

All told, I wasn't out more than twenty minutes. But I'll never ever attempt such a feat with sandals on again!

Time to pack up and leave. So sad.

Bird Summary - * = first for me!
roadrunner
*burrowing owl
Bewick's wren
Mississippi Kites, lots
Cliff swallow, hundreds
painted bunting
*Lazuli bunting
sandpiper unk.
cardinal
*Bobwhite
Tern, probably Forster's

After a pretty quick hookup of the car at the visitor center, We left at 11:46. It was, of course, a gorgeous sunny day--not a cloud. Maybe a bit of Texas high haziness. So lovely a trip it was!

Return trip
Ten minute gas stop at Decator; we got 35.198 gallons.  Odometer at 37446 but since we didn't mark it down the previous time, the number is meaningless.
Arrived home at 5:06pm with trip odometer at 616.3 cumulative.  When we'd unhitched and parked it was 5:27. I think we're getting faster at the job.
So just to sanity check the previous numbers, that was a trip of 311.3 miles starting  11:46 ending 5:06 minus a 10 minute gas stop --310 minutes or 5.3 hours or 5:20. Average of 59 miles per hour. Not bad.
The google map time estimate must be off because we spent a lot of time stuck in traffic between Denton and McKinney.

NOTES:
1. Don't overestimate on the food. We took way, way too much.
2. When traveling west or returning from the west, consider routes that avoid US-380. There's a whole lot of businesses building up just east of Denton. Consider taking Sam Rayburn southwest to I-35 northwest--if the construction ever completes--or go up to Sherman and take US-82 west from there. Anything is better than stopping at a million traffic lights on a Sunday afternoon.
3. If you're going to take your wallet out of your purse and put it in your day backpack, then leave your purse at home, dummy.  Don't grab a near-empty purse off the counter and head out to get Whataburger for supper. Luckily I noticed the missing wallet before I got onto the highway.

Fourth Day - Back at Caprock

I have to make a confession here--I didn't make enough notes at the time and I think I got the record of our suppers out of order. No matter--you'll never know the difference. But I just wanted to remember it right.

It was a lovely morning. The sun was shining, the winds calm, and all signs right for a spot of fishing.  We loaded up our wagon with fishing gear (instead of an aging little dog), and down we headed to Lake Theo.  Ed went down the trail first while I lagged behind to prevent an annoying encounter between my dogs and some kids, so I was last down the trail behind Ed and a handful of assorted grownups and kids.  Just over their heads, within a stone's throw of us all, sat a pair of Mississippi Kites.  Paying no more attention to us than (most of) us did to them.

They were so close and so still that I sat down on the path and tried the zoom lens on them. The picture wasn't great, though.













So after my long bout of photography, the dogs and I arrived at Lake Theo.

The dogs had their own appreciation of the lake--fresh drinking water!

I fished, but didn't enjoy it too much--I kept catching tiny, beautiful catfish that were hard to take off the hook.
Eventually I quit and just enjoyed the kettle of hawks--more Mississippi Kites--soaring over the water. Also the medium-sized tern who would dive in headfirst and often emerge with a fish in his beak. A real bird watcher would have figured out what species of tern it was.

The lake was very low--you could walk right under the fishing pier.

Ed's a more dedicated fisherman than I, and got his reward.

I had one chance to see a lot of birds--when I walked up to use the bathroom, I encountered a campground host and had a lovely long chat with her. While her husband cleaned the bathrooms. As we stood there under cottonwood trees, amid mesquite and yucca, three or four extremely noisy little birds kept trying to break into our conversation. I hated to be so rude as to stop talking and look away--

And then they were gone. Stupid birds.

Our long anticipated Korean barbeque?  I enjoyed immensely; Ed not so much. I think he was tired from the long day. I'm not sure if Korean barbeque is a real thing or just something they invented for tourists, but here's the basic idea: you pile up a plate with pork belly, chicken, marinaded pork, thinly-sliced beef, shrimp and onions; the waiter fires up a gas grill at your table; you cook the food yourself and eat it in baby lettuce leaves with rice and kimchi, dipping them into a spicy sauce. Our version included other vegetables and skipped the lettuce, but it was basically the same flavors.

Using charcoal for the heat source worked for my cooking technique--I cooked one batch, removed it to my rice bowl, then started the next batch immediately. Ed was taking a more leisurely approach--only cooking a little at a time, eating it, then starting the next round. That worked at the restaurant in Pyeongtaek , but not with a charcoal grill--the coals were cooling down long before he was done cooking.

The flavor was good, though, and I think we should try again. Maybe using an "all at once" cooking technique next time.

Third Day--Trip to Palo Duro Canyon

Up early to drive to Palo Duro canyon for our jeep ride.  Lot of rain clouds looming and even a few sprinkles--I was afraid the ride might be canceled, but then I'd gotten an email telling us to wait at the gate and they'd come get us. Although the roads down in the canyon tolerate rain pretty well, the road to their headquarters was a mire of mud. My dogs came along for the drive (1-1/2 hours each way) but stayed in the car for the jeep ride--it was heavily overcast and only 45 degrees outside, so they'd be fine.

The jeep turned out to be a humvee. Our fellow travelers were two ladies, about my age. The one who walked with a cane got the front seat. Under a roof.  Ed and I and the other lady had to climb into the bed and occupy benches against a low rail on the back. We had no roof.

It was cold but not unbearable with a tee shirt, hoodie, and my anorak-style rain jacket zipped up over it all.  Before the ride even started I was pushing off my hood so I could see better. What a canyon!  I've been to the grand canyon and maybe this was no grand canyon but it was no slouch of a canyon.


And what a ride! They call that a road?  It was a washed out wreck! First half of the trip was down, down down. The middle involved two scary interludes crossing running water that looked bigger than the Trinity River behind my house. And the end was climbing up, up and up. Usually I hate the descents, but for those I just clenched my teeth, closed my eyes and tried to keep my leg from bashing into the iron bar in front of me. Only once did I dive for the floor and crouch in a huddle.

We'd gone only a little way before we came across a small herd of the Aoudad sheep that occupy the canyon. They're native to Northern Africa, but were released into the canyon in 1957, where they seem to have found a happy home. Not so happy for their competition, the native mule deer, but mankind never thinks of that.

I got this picture but Ed's was much better.




The "waterfall" was very dry.



















The picture of me holding up the rock was disappointing, because you can't see what I was holding. So I snapped another.





The old geezer who was driving told us stories of the ranch and its operation and history...very interesting but I won't repeat it all here. There were tons of these cool little rock formations down at the bottom, mushroom-like.  The hard white calcium carbonate at the top stays intact while the deep red shales, sandstones, siltstones and mudstones erode away.

No birds at all!  Wait--no--
Cardinals. How exciting.
Were these bobcat tracks?

Our road back up was a true butt-thumper.


After the ride we went into the state park to check out all the campsites we want to occupy some day. There was a very scary downhill slope on a two-lane road with only the smallest of guardrails protecting us from a plummet straight down...I was scared just driving a car down there--in the Mammoth RV I'd have had to stand by the exit door with my hand on the latch.  if we ever go back, I'll try to convince Ed to unhitch the car at the park entrance and let me drive down by myself.

I was hoping the campsites down at the bottom would be horrible, but they were actually very nice. We made a long list of the ones we'd prefer. There were a lot of people attending a bike race, but the campgrounds were pretty empty. We were hoping to come  back in June so that we could attend the outdoor musical TEXAS and visit the farmer's market in Canyon. In June, of course, I imagine it will be crammed full of people and hotter than heck. But so be it.

All of this fun took so long that I decided to skip the Panhandle Plains Museum in Canyon. If we'd spent an hour there (for $24) and then started the 1-1/2 hour drive back, it would have been seven o'clock before we would even have a chance to start supper.

Second day at Caprock Canyons

                                              Thy fate is the common fate of all; 
                                              Into each life some rain must fall. 
                                                   -Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Oh, the agonies of the night. Of course I had trouble going to sleep. It wasn't Zack this time, it was my usual first night syndrome, plus the air coming in the windows. It was too warm to shut them, but an occasional chilly blast crept under the covers and made me cringe. I lay awake listening to nothing--man, it was dead quiet!  It's never that quiet back home.  Back in our swampland home, with the windows open, it's downright noisy. We're surrounded by frogs and other creaky things, never an absolute absence of noise.

To the west there were occasional flashes of lightning. Since there was no rain in the forecast, I assumed it was scattered showers in the far distance. After a long while the flashes were showing in the east-facing windows too. And then...rain.

Pelts of rain, and for a good long while. Zack woke to the racket and started to wimper. After a few minutes, I told him to, "Come in here and go to sleep." He'd gone to sleep in the living room, alongside Izzy, and I guess he didn't realize where we'd gone. So he moved into the bedroom and found a nest on my blanket which had fallen to the floor, then moaned no more.  Snored a little, maybe.

The rain bothered me until I got up to check the windows, and sure enough, it was raining in the east windows. I closed them and went back to bed, waking each time a shower started and then dozing back to sleep. Suddenly a light flashed on overhead and I opened my eyes. Ed had woken up, sweating hot and forgetting where he was--he'd reached up and accidentally hit the light switch. Remember, we're sleeping on a raised platform under an overhead shelf with recessed reading lights mounted under it--we can reach straight up and hit the switches without even stretching out our arm. If we sit straight up, we bash our heads on the shelf. But only once. Per trip.

He'd turned the light on accidentally.  I muttered that he could open the window--I'd closed it because it was raining in. He did so and peace returned.

The morning greeted us with a strong, cold wind and a blanket of dark clouds. Hiking around was pretty much out of the picture--when I took the dogs for their morning walk, well past dawn, the prairie dogs were still in bed.  Wished I were too.

So it became a driving day. We drove to the scenic overlook at the Wild Horse Camping area--what  a majestic canyon! Driving down into it was marvelous. Lake Theo was sweet and looked eminently fishable although the only birds I saw were cliff swallows or rough-winged swallows, killdeer, a flock of four small waterbirds, a sandpiper-like bird at the side of the water, and an huge roadrunner. It was too cold and windy to consider fishing.








We drove around some more and looked for the bird blind but never found it. We found the buffalo--

                              in their garden--













Then it was a choice between doing more scenic driving and going back to hibernate, so we drove out to view Palo Duro Canyon from Highway 207 between Claude and Silverton.  It's an interesting drive--the land is mostly flat and nearly treeless except when you come into a town--and there aren't many of those. The highways are straight for long stretches, have wide shoulders, and a 75 mph speed limit. You could safely go faster but we were in no hurry. We turned on 207 and headed north on the long, straight road, went over a slight rise, and then it dropped off in front of us into a huge, wide landscape of broken rock, deep red pillars with crumbling white caps, wild wastelands--but dotted throughout with pale mesquite and dark green juniper....


At the bottom the road crossed the Prairie Dog Fork of the Red River and Tule Creek--I don't recall ever seeing the river but to the west it had been dammed to create a large lake.  And two minutes later the road climbed out of the canyon and returned to flat prairie, with no sign of the rugged landscape behind.



We did get out of the car and walk around a little at the lake, but it wasn't a pleasant time. Still cold and very windy, but the clouds kept trying to break up and expose a little sunshine. Not much sunshine but it cheered the spirit.

When we returned to camp the wind was a tiny bit calmer, so we walked out (the short way) to see burrowing owl again. Same one?  It seemed smaller than before.















Then Izzy and I took a longer walk along the road, down into the canyon. We were only halfway or less down when I looked behind us and decided that the climb back up from there would be adequate exercise for the day.  What a wimp!

No birds until we got back and found a quail crossing our backyard, west to east. A male bobwhite--I guess I can no longer say, "I'm not sure I ever saw one." Later I watched cottontails hopping around, and just before dark a deer came cruising through, east to west. Changing of the guard?

We dined sumptuously on salad, baked potato and grilled veggies by Ed. He had steak, of course, but I'd had enough meat for a month on this trip already--especially since we're still hoping to do ourselves a Korean barbeque this trip.

About the Wifi--at some point during the day I fired up my computer to make notes. Out of habit more than anything else I clicked on the 'show available networks' icon, and saw one labeled TPWD-GUEST. Unsecured. I connected and okayed the Terms of Service and found I had faster internet service than I do at home. Cool!  Later I picked up a brochure and found that a number of Texas state parks have it. I'd not seen it on any website.

Home to Caprock Canyons State Park, 8-May-2019

                                     Once a year, go someplace you’ve never been before. 
                                                                                                   – Dalai Lama

We took 380 to Denton, then bypassed the city on the "truck route".  At Decator we got on US 287 N and stayed there for a long time; then TX 86 west to Quitaque, and Ranch Road 1065 up to the park.
1. Planned distance: 310 miles
2. Map time estimate: 5:24
3. Adjusted estimate: 6:08 hours (minus stoppage = 5:38 driving)
4. Actual distance: 311.3 miles 
5. Actual time:  6:33  (minus stoppage = 5:26 driving time)
6. One gear check; one bathroom break with dog walking and at least 45 minutes driving around Childress looking for a pet gate. Note to self: there is no Lowes in Childress
7. Average mph trip: 58


During the last of the trip I bugged Ed by repeatedly asking if it was, "flat enough for you yet?" He grew up in Plainview, near Lubbock, where it's really flat. So this was flat enough to amaze me but nothing compared to his memories.






We left in a drizzle, drove in a sprinkle, and arrived to sunshine and swallows. Dozens and dozens of cliff swallows squeezing in and out of their mud nests on the outside walls of the entrance station.  Even Ed thought it was amazing.  I identified them by the "buffy" rump and the gourd-shaped mud houses they occupied. Seeing a tiny white patch on the forehead of a bird moving at 25 mph and shifting direction erratically....? Not with my old eyes.

I might have goofed on our arrival time, but not by much. I definitely noted that we were parked and the hookups were complete by 4:15.  Allowing 45 minutes from our approximate arrival at 3:30, that would include all of the following: checking in, using the bathroom, unhooking the car in the parking lot, driving to the campsite, unhooking the tow dolly, parking the car, leveling, sliding out sides, connecting electricity and water. Strangely enough, one of the slides was only out part way and we didn't notice it until the next day. I guess we were tired!

Our hookups were accomplished quickly and easily. There is no view of the canyons here--I didn't expect any--but the sites are pretty well separated from each other with mesquite and other low plants, mostly plants with prickles, thorns and spiky leaves. Up here on the camping area the yucca are shooting up spikes but not yet in flower; the prickly pear are putting out buds but not a one is opened. No matter--we're surrounded by flowers. It's like a big garden without fences or walls.

 I was very perturbed by the song of one bird that I kept hearing all over--it even visited our "backyard" a few times to serenade us. It had a lovely song with an ending 'trill' that reminded me of a towhee. But towhees have tiny, conical bills, and this had a strong, long bill. Its tail was cocked up like a wren, so I assumed rock wren or canyon wren. But no--not a sign of spotted underparts or a rufous back and tail. Finally after getting internet connection (more on that later) I listened to various bird songs--thrasher, rock wren, canyon wren, even some mimids, when I finally fell back to wrens. Was it Bewick's wren?  Gotcha!

I'd ruled out Bewick's because I didn't see the flippy, spotted tail. We had a Bewick's wren at the house last winter, but it wasn't singing.

Many, many bobwhite were heard but not seen.  In fact, I don't believe I've ever seen one.

After sitting around for a while we decided to take the short canyon rim hike, listed on the map as 0.6 miles.  Note to future self: that's a one way distance. Out and back would be 1.2 miles--but we didn't realize that.

As soon as we left the camping area we were in the middle of a prairie dog town on both sides of the road.  Wow. It's hard to take a picture of a prairie dog without a zoom lens but that didn't stop us from trying.

After a short while--fifteen minutes?--walking through low mesquite trees and watching for birds, the undergrowth darkened ahead and suddenly we were at the canyon rim. Gorgeous, indeed!  Lots of pictures later....


We got confused about what route to take to get back. You see, on the way out it was a well-marked, easy trail and we were distracted looking at flowers and searching for the canyon.  I was trying to hold back Zack who kept charging into roadside brush, smelling all over and galloping like a teenager.  We thought the trail was a circle and eventually we'd be headed back, but no--it just kept going on.

After a couple of intervals of puzzling over the map, we finally got the smarts to consult the sun. Of course I never thought about pulling out the compass I always carry in my lightweight backpack...oh...wait--I didn't have the pack on. Anyway, we realized that the trail was heading north when it should have been turning around and going southwest. After a while we noticed a side trail on the left marked "canyon rim trail", but wasn't that the one we came out on?   We didn't want to go back to the rim! 

So we kept on, passing two mysteriously numbered trail markers (14 and 15). Now, before you point out that any idiot would realize that they were going the wrong direction and make a change, remember that when I say "north" I really mean east then north then west then north then southeast then southwest then northeast.... 

After the second marker, we backtracked and took the canyon rim trail branch, and soon we were going the right direction. Some bicyclers came along to confirm it. And then--

Ed kept staring to the right. I was distracted, pulling Zack in our brand-new "fishing gear wagon" with one hand and holding Izzy with the other. Suddenly Ed pointed out an odd bird that took off from the ground, flew a short distance, then landed on the ground. Standing on very long legs.  One look told me--burrowing owl!

There was a prairie dog town over there where he was hanging out, but it appeared to be nearly deserted. We saw maybe three or four dogs, which was nothing compared to the dozens over close to the campsites.  Did the owl not like the proximity of the people? Or was that just a coincidence?

Shortly after seeing the owl we joined up with the original trail and we were back. We'd been that close all the time.

It was later than we expected so we made grilled chicken, watched Impractical Jokers on the satellite dish, ate supper and went to bed. The story should end there but--