When Nature Calls—Don’t Answer

Despite a flu shot and obsessive hand washing to avoid this season’s germ, it found me.  If folks tell you it’s bad, believe them.  If they add it lasts forever, it’s true.  After a week and a half indoors, struggling to overcome primary and secondary symptoms, cabin fever set in.  Climbing the walls had new meaning. I needed a dose of outdoor therapy to help me battle sniffles, coughs, and headaches left in the wake of this super virus.

Feeling sorry for me, my husband let me tag along on one of his expeditions. I think he was tired of listening to me whine and hoped sunshine and walking across open prairie or along a stream would distract me even if it didn’t cure me.

On a mission to improve my attitude, he drove along the North Solomon so I could photograph that morning’s beautiful hoarfrost before it disappeared.  A heavy fog and freezing temperatures had combined to turn the landscape into a winter wonderland that looked like a designer Christmas.  

Following this adventure, he intended to take me home, but I’d had enough of that place and insisted on continuing with his  journey, however long it lasted.  Sunshine channeled through the truck windows  and warmed me, making me feel better than I had for days.  Even better, he was going somewhere I had yet to visit.

Once we got to the area where he anticipated working, the dogs and I hopped out to hike.  This particular site has a number of huge trees, standing and lying on the ground.  I enjoyed the challenge of seeing what kinds of photos I could get with Old Sol directly overhead. 

An aged farmstead distracted us so we wandered down another trail to see what treasures we could capture with the Nikon.  Rusty hinges and windmill gears occupied me for some time.  Then I wanted to see what my lens would do with shadows inside a fallen barn and an old shed. 

About that time I noted a meandering stream full of fallen leaves that begged to be saved as images on an SD card.  Snow still lay on the ground, which reminded me it was frigid despite the sun beaming on top of my head.  The cold and the running water prompted me to recall the extra coffee I’d sipped that morning and how long we’d been away from home.

I grew up as an outdoors kid so finding relief in nature is not an issue.  However, there was a road not far away, and I didn’t know how well-traveled it was. I dismissed my discomfort, but every bush from then on screamed my name.

It took all my willpower to ignore my insistent bladder while I marched back to the truck where my spouse was storing supplies.  “Hey, is there a good place to answer nature’s call?” I asked.

He scanned the area and grinned an ornery grin.  “Sure, just look for trail cams.”

Holy cow! I hadn’t thought about game cameras.  Suddenly my fortitude strengthened so I could make it home.  Four walls and cabin fever didn’t seem nearly so bad when nature was hollering.

An Unlikely House Call

City dwellers take for granted easy access to all sorts of services.  With strip malls in urban areas sprouting like weeds in a wet summer, finding a groomer and pet care is as easy as taking a drive around a section is for me. During that four mile drive in a city, people have to choose which business to patronize.  In small prairie towns on two-lane highways where customers are in short supply, it requires ingenuity to meet people’s needs and make a living at the same time—that’s how a groomer who makes house calls came to be.

When we first moved to a small town bordering Highway 9, I figured I’d continue to drive our shih tzu- mix beast to his regular hair care professional. That wasn’t a serious problem because this kind woman understood Dudley’s issues about having his hobbit-like feet touched, his mouth shaved, and his ears cleaned, but it was long drive in bad weather.

 If you miss your appointment at  a good groomer, you wait until your next one for relief.  As winter-weather advisories began appearing on the radar, concern prompted me to see what was available in my new home town before I had to deal with a dog with dreadlock fuzz.

My investigation revealed an inventive neighbor in a nearby community .  This pet loving woman devised a mobile grooming palace using an old delivery vehicle—the kind with a passenger door like a school bus for easy entry with a pet in arms.  Inside, she has lighting, a water supply and large tub for bathing dogs, a grooming table, generator-driven blow dryers, shears and clippers, as well as a high tech nail file. 

You make your appointment, she shows up in your drive, picks up your furry critter, and returns him in less than two hours, clean and sleekly groomed—in Dudley’s case, feeling soft as an old-fashioned chenille bedspread.  I expected to continue to drive an hour to my previous groomer in rain, snow, and ice rather than suffer through his knots and tangles.  Then a little word of mouth advertising clued me into this gypsy-wagon inspired business.  

This canine stylist travels to each small town in our region at least once a month, making sure rural pets look as spiffy as any big city dog.  She goes several times a month to larger towns like Norton and less often to smaller communities.  She also grooms out of her home and provides boarding services for folks who don’t want to travel with their pets

Obviously, when someone parks a big vehicle bearing a Groomingdale’s sign in your small town driveway, there’s no secrecy about your pet’s appearance.  “Saw the dog lady at your house today,” comments everyone you see.  It’s embarrassing to admit you can’t shear your own pet, but it’s true.  I’m afraid I’ll hurt Dudley while trimming around his mouth, eyes, ears, and . . . the other end. 

 Another reason the groomer’s name is on speed dial is because friends  and family accused me of using a blender to cut our golden retriever’s hair every summer when he was still alive.  Even Tucker was ashamed to reveal himself in public until his hair grew out enough to hide the bald and uneven spots.

As long as this clever businesswoman is willing to make house calls to bathe and trim our fur ball at a reasonable price, she’ll have our business.   Dudley’s grateful too.

A Cure for Winter Doldrums

Cabin fever, winter blues, Seasonal Affective Disorder, and temporary insanity are terms that describe the blahs most of us experience this time of year.  Symptoms include paleness, sluggishness, restlessness, and downright irritability.  Fortunately, a cure exists, and it doesn’t require a Caribbean or Aegean Cruise (although those sound enchanting as I strain my brain to write.)

The good news is  Kansans don’t have to travel to experience the exotic.  It comes to our backyard. We only have to know where to find it in order to spice up dreary January and February days.  Google Kansas eagle migrations to start your exploration.  On a lake near you,  a few of  the approximately 1000 eagles that migrate here each winter have taken up temporary residence.   After arriving sometime in October, they spend their days soaring over open water or perching on ice floes or in high trees to search for dinner prior to returning to summer residences in March.

Once you’ve identified a locale that hosts visiting eagles, prepare yourself to  spend hours spying on them.  A good pair of binoculars or spotting scope will increase your viewing pleasure.  It’s more fun to see distinctive features rather than huge, dark blobs cruising over blue-white water or ice.   A camera with a telescopic lens isn’t essential.  However, looking at photos you took of birds perching and in flight allows you to discover details you didn’t spot during your initial investigation.

Anyone who’s spent much time out of doors in Kansas knows you need to keep warm while you scan sky and horizon.  Heavy parka, gloves, a hat or facemask, and insulated boots make this a more enjoyable experience.  If you’re warm, you can spend your time counting eagles, geese, and ducks as well as identifying species.  If you’re cold, well, it’s hard to keep binoculars still when you’re shivering.

A thermos of hot cocoa, coffee, or tea provides a nice break in this mini-vacation.  Add a sandwich or bag of cookies, and you can add an hour or two to your get-away.  While the goal is to watch eagles, you’ll see other birds as well, so take an identification guide to help you recognize other travelers to wintry Kansas water holes. 

Bird watching, especially cold weather bird watching is one of those Zen things.  Being still enough to watch eagles congregate either in a stark, towering cottonwood, or far out on a lake near an open pool of water without disturbing them requires intentional tranquility.  Those moments of purposeful attention are part of the rejuvenation you’ll experience on this little break from winter boredom. 

Ironically, your pulse will race upon seeing these majestic national icons snag a fish swimming too close to the surface or using knife-sharp talons to capture a slow duck.  It’s a thrill you’ll never forget.

Because it takes effort to enjoy winter eagle watching, it’s essentially a solitary endeavor.  Since you don’t have much human or mechanical sound competing with nature, the honking or quacking of a flock of geese or ducks rising from the lake or a nearby field drowns out all other noises.  It’s so loud you become part of the racket.

Very few places in Kansas are more than couple hours from a lake accommodating winter eagles.  Put your coat on, grab your binocs, and head for a few hours of winter blues blasting bird watching. 

You’ll find yourself smiling all the way home and at odd times for the next week or two.  Let folks wonder what you did to conquer the blahs.