Wascally Weasels

Over the past few days we discovered that there are weasels in our midst. In fact, two different types on our very own property.

The first we alerted Mom to the presence of a stoat. Cute little critter (sorry no photos cause s/he was also quite quick) that was scurrying around one of the stone walls in our backyard. S/he was no doubt hunting chipmunks – something we consider OUR job. So despite its cuteness factor, Zoe and I were interested in protecting our prey. In addition, we were intrigued by its smell and thought maybe it was worth catching for that reason alone. Then the little thing HISSED at us!

By this time, Mom had gotten Dad’s attention and his arrival distracted us for a split second during which the weasel scurried under the fence with Dad in hot pursuit with his iPhone. We heard another hiss and some inappropriate words from the incompetent controller of the camera.

When Dad returned to the backyard he and Mom jumped on Google and both came up with the same conclusion that it was a indeed a stoat in its summer wardrobe:

Picture of a Stoat in summer from our friends at Wikipedia

During his reading of the wiki entry for stoats, Dad came across this picture as illustrated by Ernest Thompson Seton of a “surplus killing a family of chipmunks“.

This explained the reaction of the cheeky chipmunk in the front yard who is known for startling Mom in her office by knocking on her window when the birdfeeder is low, and for chittering at us as we leave for a walk. At the sight of the weasel, Cheeky hightailed it up the huge oak tree in our front yard. Dad didn’t see how far up the tree it went but he was guessing to the tippy top based on the urgency Cheeky showed in vacating the scene.

The second type of weasel around here is called a Fisher “cat”. These guys are apparently vicious and will attack small pets (dogs and cats alike). We’ve smelled one on numerous occasions and thought we’ve even seen one a couple of times. Our neighbor friend Mr E told my parents to stay clear of them even with us by their side.

Again we have no pictures but the internet has plenty. This one is from the Mass Audubon website.

Over the weekend, Zoe and I heard some animal screeching in a tree just outside our fence. This drove us bonkers. I even tried going under the fence but struggled with the tension wires that were added to the bottom so we could roll under it (and Mom grabbing at my collar)… anywho (that’s a totally different story though).

Then yesterday, around 3:30 afternoon, the noise returned and sounded like something in distress. Dad got us inside – despite our objections (Mom helped a little by shaking our treat jar and calling us) – and headed to the corner of the yard where the uproar was coming from. He saw a raccoon tail coming down the tree. Something was being carried away in the mouth of another animal. Dad thought it may have been one of the Fisher weasels with a raccoon in it’s maw.

But there was still a howling noise, so he picked up one of our gardening tools with a long pole and a sharp metal thing at the end (he calls it an edger) and headed outside the fence not knowing what he’d encounter.

This is what he found:

This is a picture he actually took with his iPhone

He said the little guy kept crying and actually looked like he wanted some help!

Not knowing what to do, he contacted a couple of animal rescue business that he found on the internet.

He also asked our neighbors S and P (the ones that we love cause they almost always have a milkbone for us) if they had any suggestions. They recommended calling the Car-lie-lee Police station. Great idea because it would likely mean we’d end up in the police blotter of the Carlisle Mosquito…again.

To our chagrin (we were with him on a walk when he called) the police recommended he contact the Mass.Wildlife@mass.gov directly! So much for our brush with fame.

Everyone he contacted said it was best to let nature run its course…whatever that means. One of the animal rescue people, Matt, responded that mother raccoons “have an unbelievable motherly instinct and will be back for any kits and move them to another den..”

The crying stopped about the time we finished our dinner and then this morning Dad looked and the baby coon was no longer in his spot in the tree. This, along with some information from the internet that fishers primarily hunt in twilight or after dark, make us believe that what Dad saw yesterday afternoon was indeed the mother moving her kits and she eventually was able to return and get the last one before any fishers showed up 🤞.

The Tempest in the Woods

Game On

Recently, during a phone conversation with our grandmother in Michigan, we learned that our prodigious new cousin Mungo is quite the hole digging prodigy. So much so that a nearly non-stop vigil of his whereabouts is necessary when he comes to visit as a new hole can appear in the garden within minutes.

Hearing this, Zoe “dropped the gloves”* and took it as a challenge with quite impressive results.

Last weekend, we were let out in the backyard to help Mom do some gardening (Dad was still attacking the windwills of dandelions in the front yard … Man of La Mancha style). I followed her out the backyard to the left to retrieve some of the tools required for our efforts. Zoe immediately took off to the right as she is not as much of a gardener. Less than 5 minutes had passed before we found what she was up to:

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Upon reviewing the photos I thought it was evident that there was quite a lot of dirt displaced in this short time but the perspective of the hole itself left a rather “meh” impression on me. Which is when I came up with the idea of getting a ruler and putting it in the hole to show it was actually quite deep:

That is a 15″ metal ruler that is still basically below surface level

FarMor may have second thoughts about us visiting once our parents are fully vaccinated…especially if Mungo visits at the same time! 🤣 My Dad got his second shot today. We got FILTHY in a river that was more of a stream turned swamp… Mom took us for a walk and we got hot (it was close to 90 degrees F) so she thought this would cool us off. We loved it, but wow we were dirty! She then had to drive us to a gas station (what? in an electric car?) to get us water. As we drove beyond the end of the parking lot Dad came out being done with his 15 minute wait. Ooops. And no one at the gas station had masks on. Good thing we were in the car with “dog mode” keeping us at a comfortable 68 degrees F! People are weird.

The Tempest

*Dropping the gloves is a term associated with ice hockey when two (or more players) engage in a fight. One game in the NHL recently had quite the bevy of pugilism which began as soon as the puck was dropped to start the game. And it wasn’t just two players but the whole starting line up of skaters from both teams (10 players). Unfortunately, the goalies didn’t get involved as goalie fights are usually very dramatic as they have to lumber from each end of the ice in all their pads to meet at mid ice (or there abouts). This resulted in quite a full pair of penalty boxes which aren’t designed for 5+ players. It was long after this that another fight broke out when “the bad guy” from the previous game between the two teams got his first shift on the ice. More to the box. The another fight happened for reasons our mother was baffled by but found quite amusing – fortunately, by the time of this fight, the penalties had expired for the majority of the players.

The reason I am going on and on about this clash between the Rangers of New York and the Washington Capitols is that it reminded me of a work story Mom told us about. Apparently, she and her boss have different ideas about a certain issue facing the institute they work at and what the return to work will look like. During an otherwise civil meeting, as soon as this topic was raised they both “dropped their gloves” and went at it. One of the bystanders involved in the Zoom call made a reference to it being awkward like when parents fight at the dinner table. Zoe and I relish those instances when my parents disagree during meals as it means that the food might be unattended for a moment or two! Here is me hoping!

Water, Part 4: The Mighty Merrimack

Yesterday was our Mother’s second dose of the Moderna vaccine. Since Brady wasn’t at Gillette Stadium for her first shot – and she has been having night terrors about the escalator there and people not socially distancing – we opted for going to another facility in Lowell. This was suggested by one of our favorite new neighbors (S&P – always have treats for us if we meet up with them on a walk or happen to stop by their house to drop off a loaf of bread or pick up some freshly baked blueberry muffins*). This place was also about 30 minutes closer, so that was a plus.

As it turns out, just across a rather busy street, there was a boat launch for the Merrimack river dedicated to three brothers (the Rourkes’) who served in WWII. This was one of my favorite water experiences as the concrete extended into the water so my paws were always on terra firma. Although I guess it really wasn’t dry land but it was solid and the water wasn’t so deep so I was happy!

Interestingly, on the sides of this concrete slab were concrete walls. Turns out if one (Zoe) was to step off one of these walls, the depth of the water was significantly different than the ramp. There was a brief moment of panicked dog paddling as she was surprised that her feet weren’t touching (the videographer decided to try and calm her rather than capturing the rather comical spasticity of my sister on his phone). I of course stood safely on the other side of said wall and just looked disparagingly at my disaster of a sister.

Turns out, if she had read the signs that I had BEFORE pulling us toward the river, maybe she would have understood that this was not a place for swimming. Luckily, she was a good sport and made a Zoe short documenting the outing:

https://videopress.com/v/21PCc2Kz?preloadContent=metadata

In the end, she was happy being soaking wet. And for the next 30 minutes or so, as we waited for The Mom to get her shot and wait the required 15 minutes post-shot to ensure she (and the others in the room who had received shots) didn’t have an allergic reaction, she periodically gave a good shake to further dry herself.

As we were walking around the building that had been designated as a vaccination site, we first discovered this huge tree that had been cut down – I tried counting the rings but Zoe got impatient before I got finished. I am sure it was at least a hundred plus, which would make sense given how big it was.

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Of course we climbed up on it!

As we continued walking, we discovered what appeared to be two shipping containers propped up on bales of hay. This of course required an immediate investigation into the situation which of course we were so into; our sniffers on high alert!

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So it turns out this was one of those trompe l’oeil that our uncle S routinely uses in his woodworking masterpieces.

Turns out it was just a couple of tractor trailers with hay bales packed around it. Why you ask? We have no clue, but since our sniffers were in full activation mode Zoe did find some vittles in the area and quickly snarfed them down despite our Dad’s effort to shake it out of her maw.

In the end, our Mother returned from her shot more-or-less healthy enough to drive. Zoe, still a bit wet sat on Dad’s lap in the front seat smelling a bit “rivery” to him.

Upon our arrival home, after a quick bathroom break in the backyard for us canines, Zoe promptly fell asleep on the tiles of our bathroom floor (see last shot of her film).

The Tempest

*the midwestern tradition of sharing with neighbors has taken our neighborhood by storm. As one of our fellow Carlislian’s stated (after bringing us some homemade ragu sauce): I love this bartering system! Unfortunately, although she refurbished her deck, there isn’t enough bread in our kitchen to trade with her to upgrade our deck!

Our New War

So, as is typical for these entries, the prolonged time between posts is not for a lack of subject matter but rather the lack of support from the Scribe (surprise, surprise). I’m thinking I might need to start looking for a new employee who will respond more readily to my thoughts and ideas for stories. I guess maybe if I paid better I would get better results, but it seems like I should just get what I want when I want it.

I’ve recently learned that one of my Aunts in Michigan is currently acting as a Scribe for at least one of her family members – at least in regards to texts to “The Family” text streams. I am thinking that as soon as my parents get fully vaccinated and get to visit extended family members in Michigan and New Mexico, I might inquire whether she (or any other relations) will take over for the Scribe – and he’d be lucky if we didn’t leave him at a rest stop in Ohio with all his Michigan swag on 🤣.

Although he has not be attentive to me it isn’t like he is sitting on the couch all day watching soap operas or game shows, although he does start each day completing the NY Times crossword puzzle on line (some days later in the week with the autocorrect option selected). His activities include making some Adirondack chairs and a two seater bench from the pallets that Tesla left behind from our roof project, erecting a series of vertical gardens around our fort*, and chopping wood for us to mountain climb on.

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https://videopress.com/v/PhR0xPX9?preloadContent=metadata

But to be honest, most of his time when I am inspired to tell a story his time is taken up by his new crusade (or should I say “our” new war). The attack on dandelions. These actions are both defensive (digging up the invaders on our turf) and offensive (mowing down their flowers – which are actually quite attractive – or clipping off the heads of the buds that are just about to let their seed parachutes go aloft). I call it his fools errand…or for those of you with a more literary background like myself, a Quixotean windmill fight.

Hopefully, now that some of his efforts have come to fruition, aside from the Dandelion War, he will spend some more time letting me tell you the adventures of Zoe and myself.

Oh yeah. Good news on the Zoe front: aside from a possible snake bite on her rear ankle today, she is doing WAY better. She has actually gained 2+ pounds since she started taking her enzyme medicines AND we don’t have to have daily discussions about her scat! She has even gotten back to chasing me (or being chased by me) during our backyard time.

She has even started … well… disgracing the two of us with a certain behavior she has not presented for a good couple of months. Sure, I am all for getting a piggy-back ride from my (human) cousins daughter when we visit Michigan, but what Zoe does for a wee bit of dominance I don’t like.

Well, that is about all I have to say on this topic, especially given the fact the Scribes’ eyes are fluttering close, so I’ll sign off with more stories to tell soon!

The Tempest

*more on this in future posts over the next week or so … hopefully!