Issue 15 Apr-May/2008

creaturesall
creaturesall
sharing the planet with our fellow creatures
 Issue 15 April-May/2008

Advertising Information
Gloria Fantin 403-289-3836
gloria@creaturesall.com
Graphic Design & Story Inquiries
Bob Fielder
publisher@creaturesall.com
Account Information
Linda Fielder
editor@creaturesall.com In This Issue
Looking Back – “Find Penny”, I commanded Zoey 8
Nakoda – The room felt different – as if the air
Printing
The Prolific Group was being sucked out 16
Mailing address:
creaturesall Born Under a Lucky Star – just another stray dog
P.O. Box 126,
Langdon, AB T0J 1X0
struggling to survive 24
403-512-9544
creaturesall is published 6 times per year (February,
Poem – Poopsie 29
April, June, August, October and December) by 1160613
ALBERTA LTD. and distributed freely in Alberta or via
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Advertisers and contributors assume responsibility and
Columns
liability for the accuracy of their claims and statements.
The opinions and views expressed in articles do not Wagging Tales – Dr R Weger - Calgary North Vet Hospital 11
necessarily reflect those of the Publisher or advertisers.
creaturesall reserves the right to refuse any advertising.
Written submissions become the property of
Creature Feature – Cyril Brass - photographer & writer 13
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Spaces and Species – the Nature Conservancy of Canada 21
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Copyright 2005 by 1160613 ALBERTA LTD.
The Gardening Bug – the Calgary Horticultural Society 27
Cover Artist
Cyril Brass
Cyril Brass is a free-
Obsolete – cari-creatures by Sean Skerry 28
lance photographer and
writer specializing in The Final Word – musings from home 30
nature, wildlife and trav-
el adventures.
Combining his passions
of travel and photogra-
phy provides Cyril with
Departments
unforgettable experi-
ences and great photo Publisher’s Note 5
opportunities from desti-
nations such as Australia, Kenya, and Costa Rica.
His dramatic images capture the exotic wildlife,
Letters 7
stunning landscapes and diverse cultures.
The front cover image is of a Blue Morpho Novel Suggestions – a look at some books 19
Butterfly photographed in Costa Rica.
Cyril’s photographs and articles can be viewed
at www.cyrilbrass.com In Passing – celebrating the lives of animal friends 26

page3
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page4

hen I tell you, most likely
W against your will, that I come
from a big family, a number
most likely pops into your head. HA!
I laugh at your number!
I mean to say I come from a BIG
family; so large in fact that, as a kid,
I could make a quick nickel on the
playground as a reward for being able
to list the whole mess of us in order
of birth. And that, my friend, was
when a nickel still had real buying
power.
As long as I’m hypothesizing, let
me also guess that you’ve already
determined in your head our religion.
HA! I laugh at your guess (though
never your religion)!
True we were, as a family,
marched off to church every Sunday;
some perhaps not quite so ‘in step’
as our parents might have wished.
However ours was not a church
known for overemphasizing the
‘go forth and multiply’ mandate.
Whatever the reason, beyond the
obvious, for our family having been so
large, I’ll not complain. As the second
youngest child, any other philosophy
than the ‘large family’ one my parents
embraced would likely have left me
six or eight kids out of the final spot.
Growing up in a big family has a
greater impact the further along in the
order you find yourself. The older
siblings prance through their youth
with new outfits purchased from the
Eaton’s catalogue and only needing to
ask for a horse of their own in order
to get one.
The younger kids find themselves
being sent to bed in their big sister’s
hand-me-down babydoll pajamas, and
having to endure watching their
elders ride that horse I mentioned
(without a trace of envy).
Advertiser and Story Submission Deadline
for Next Issue – May 2nd/08
PUBLISHER’S
NOTE
encouraging you to read, then write
Bob & Linda Fielder
Still, no complaints here... I
haven’t a single negative memory of
growing up in the family I did,
babydolls notwithstanding. I do
admit to being shocked to learn,
years later, that those babydolls were
not, in fact, handed down to me by
my older sister. I find comfort in
having learned that the older brother
from whom I actually inherited them,
carries on and continues to make
peace with his own personal demons.
Large families require large
homes and ours didn’t disappoint;
unless, of course, you find cold and
drafty rooms disappointing. The
antithesis of one who searches out a
source of cheap water when the
bucket they use for hauling it is full of
holes, my mom and dad perversely
sought out a source of cheap blankets
under which to bury us at night,
rather than have the heating fixed.
I mention this because, to this
day, I still can not sleep, even in the
dead of winter, unless the bedroom
window is left fully open with a fan
blowing inward, and myself covered
with multiple layers of blankets. And
yes, before you ask, I am still married.
The imprint left by events of my
childhood has, for better or worse,
played a large role in how my own
children were raised. Like our
parents before us, our progeny, albeit
just the two of them, were raised to
be both tolerant and compassionate
toward both man and beast.
This same compassion is perhaps
the underlying motivator in my
daughter having, by choice, become a
vegetarian. Her home in the city is
crawlin’ with critters and little
beasties, all made comfortable in the
knowledge they are safe from being
inadvertently gnawed upon by herself
page5
or visiting relatives. No clam, no cow,
no Cornish Game Hen will ever touch
her lips, except perhaps when she finds
herself unable to resist the temptation
to plant a large wet one on their
foreheads, just for being so darn cute.
You can imagine then, what kind of
difficulties arise when she is called upon
to be a dinner guest or, conversely, to
act as dinner hostess. Over the years
we’ve learned to accept, if not embrace
her penchant for mock chicken and
faux beef. There is a temptation here to
comment on the dangers of mocking
one’s foes, but let’s agree between us to
just leave it buried. Sufficient to say,
wieners, vile enough when eaten in
their natural state, move to a whole
new level of vile when packaged as
vegetarian fare.
Still, she is after all, our flesh and
blood and we try to remain open minded
when she gleefully trots out some new
transmogrified plant for our delight.
Such were the events on a recent
evening spent together as a family in
celebration of my son’s birthday.
Gathered at his new home after
dinner out on mom and dad, we were to
watch him open gifts after having shared
dessert prepared by his veggie queen
sibling. As with anyone waiting to open
their gifts, my son was anxious to start
the wrapping flying. Stoically we waited
for dessert to be served, however found
ourselves nonplussed upon viewing the
reward for our patience.
Silently and without comment we
were each given a plate with what
appeared to be a graham cracker crust
filled with whipped cream over some
unidentifiable fruit or vegetable. With
years of equally obscure offerings
having prepared us for this moment, we
apprehensively dug in.
Mumbling accompanied each mouth-
ful as we politely transferred minimal
forkful after forkful of the pie-like pap to
our gullets, taking care not to make eye
contact with our fellow diners.
The relief felt throughout the room
became palpable when our daughter
interrupted our dining with, “People,
put your forks down! It’s a joke! Don’t
eat it! The pie is made of boiled celery,
for goodness sake!” ca
 Limited Edition Giclée Canvas Art prints
artist Available at these Fine Art Galleries:
Avenida Art Gallery
Calgary
(403) 278-3074 or 286-9557
www.avenidagalleries.com
Prestige Fine Art & Framing
Okotoks
(403) 938-2755
www.prestigefineartframing.com

Events:
Avenida Galleries Spring
Artist Show.
Monday May 5 - May 9th/08
Daily 9:00 AM - 5:00 PM
Petro Canada Centre Lobby
150 - 6 Avenue SW

All artists will be in attendance with

original work available, as well as limited
edition giclée canvases.

For more information on upcoming exhibitions please visit my website www.wendypalmer-artist.com

Heaven Can Wait

Animal Rescue Foundation

(403) 601-2520
www.heavencanwait.ca

page6

paw prints and pen scratches
Hello, I have been reading this
magazine for a little while now
and I love it. I usually pick it up
either at the Calgary Coop in
the Beddington Mall or at the
Foothills Hospital. However, this
latest issue I have not found
anywhere. I do have the one with
the hippo on the cover, but not
the next one. Can you tell me if
there is a reason I can't find it
anywhere?
Lori W.
Thanks, creaturesall, for a job
well done!! Such a wonderful
magazine. Please renew my sub-
scription and send one to my
friend Jessie Smith.
Sharon Mills
Please accept this cheque for
my subscription to creaturesall. I
look forward to getting my first
delivered issue. I haven't been able
to grab one before they fly off the
racks.
Ms. J. Mariano-Groza
First off, I wanted to thank
you for the copies of creaturesall
in the mail. I've already started
giving away copies and LOVED
the article by the vet about the
cat taking pills - from the cat's
perspective! I have a sick dog at
home today so the story resonated
well re trying to get medication
down!
Maryanne Pope
I'm a native Calgarian who has
always had an interest in wildlife
and pets. Also enjoy photography
and water color so find much
enjoyment in creaturesall.
However, I find it quite diffi-
cult to read the pages which have
text superimposed over the pho-
tos. Example: pages 20, 21, and 27
LETTERS
readers write
in the Feb/Mar issue. Just won-
dered if any other readers have
mentioned this? Please consider
this constructive criticism. Keep
up the good work-perhaps I'll make
a submission in the future.
Mrs. Katharine McFarquhar
Your beautiful magazine is a
beacon when Life becomes
challenging.
Elisabeth Dowson
Had a call from a woman who
said she loved the giraffe cover I
did for issue 10 of creaturesall.
She cut out and framed it, and has
now expressed interest in purchas-
ing an elephant.
Carla Pelkey
I've been reading your back
copies and I have to say that I did
indeed snivel into my Kleenex a bit
- I'm officially known as COW or
Cynical Old Witch within my
organization, but you succeeded in
breaking down my defences!
Billie
What an uplifting magazine!
Mrs. M. D. Cook
We wanted to let you know our
"Metal Head" ad in creaturesall has
had a great response and confirms
for us how widespread your reader-
ship is.
Thanks again.
Harv Dougan
I'm looking for an article that
was written by Gwyn Moreau, in
spring, 2007, about the Humbelhorse
therapeutic riding program she was
working with. Gwyn recently passed
away and we would like to have a
copy of the article on hand for her
funeral.
Lori Thompson
page7
 LOOKING BACK
As I drove home from the animal shelter, disappointed in not finding my own little orange tabby, I
reminisced over all the good moments we shared together. I loved holding her in my arms like an
infant as she gently touched my face, tossing her up in the air and catching her and having her curl
up beside me under the covers.
Penny would follow me around the ranch as I ran from
station to station feeding the horses. At the stations she
would climb up the stacked hay bales and then playfully
knead the hay with her paws. This height gave her security,
out of the reach of the ranch dogs. Then when all the
horses had been fed, we would head up the hill towards the
trailer and Penny would follow me right inside, fervently
anticipating her own feeding time. I regret and lament now
over not having her spayed or tattooed.
As I drove up the hill I hoped that Penny would be
sitting patiently on the steps, waiting to be let into the
antiquated little trailer. Zoey, my big black dog, bounded
with excitement as my car pulled up. She was always right
at the car door waiting to be petted. Her body wiggled with
excitement and her tail wagged vigorously. As a result, I
now bestowed all of my attention onto Zoey. “What a good
girl Zoey,” I praised as I patted her beautiful silky black fur.
Charlie, the landlord’s Border Collie who was great
friends with Zoey, appeared from around the corner. I
would frequently observe them playing together through
the trailer window. I tried not to be too disappointed at the
lack of Penny’s presence and remained hopeful as I headed
down to the barn to search for her. Zoey playfully mouthed
my hand as she always did when heading out for an
adventure down the hill.
page8
by Jessica Griffin
After searching the barn we headed over to the
Quonset tent where all the hay is stored. Zoey, oblivious to
the purpose of this walk, snatched up a piece of horse pie
in her mouth as we strode on. My disgust for this began to
mellow as I accepted it as a reality of ranch life. We entered
the Quonset and headed to the far side where all the hay
bales were stacked. I decided to utilize Zoey’s nose in the
search, and lifted her up over a stack of 5ft high bales, then
jumped up behind her. The other side had a bunch of
uneven hay stacks with nooks and crannies providing many
hiding places.
Continuing my search, I commanded Zoey to “Find
Penny!” I had just recently taught Zoey the command “find”
by rubbing my scent on a tennis ball and then hiding it.
Zoey would skillfully follow her nose to the exact location of
the ball and proudly return it, even if it was pitch black and
thrown in the middle of a winter storm. Zoey obediently
sniffed around as she walked about on the uneven bales.
Out of the Quonset I resigned to my back up plan. I
drove carefully down the slippery hill. The sun had set and
night was creeping in quickly. There was a truck idly
running attached to a trailer and the high beams blinded
me as I slowly drove towards it. I inquired about Penny to
Marvin who was loading his horses into the trailer. To my
dismay he had not seen her. He did mention something
about coyote food, and I scowled over the car. I called for Penny and then “Zoey?” I cried out mournfully. A
that comment but he didn’t see, due to took a moment to listen. There was fetid smell of death filled the air. I bent
the increasing darkness of the evening. nothing but the sounds of the rustling down and stroked her body and
He assured me that he would keep a wind and the running car. I called out checked for a pulse.
look out. again and this time I heard movement. Full of trepidation and panic I
Next I It was Zoey once drove toward Shawnessy Pet Hospital.
drove up to again. Her loyalty I lifted Zoey’s lifeless body from the
the land- outweighed her obe- car and rushed to the back of the
lord’s quaint dience. I was both a clinic. Her mouth was partly open
cabin, and little annoyed at the distinctly outlining her black jowls. I
Zoey, realiz- destroyed hope and could see her vapid eyes glazed over
ing I wasn’t at Zoey’s ostensible with death.
leaving the obedience, and once My friend and veterinarian
p r o p e r t y, again said in a stern assistant Megan walked over to where
cavorted voice, “Go home!” I was sitting and held my hands as I
playfully and pointed toward mourned and she said a little prayer.
right near the trailer. My dog I noticed a trail of blood as I
my car. She reluctantly slunk walked out of the clinic. Beside my car
followed me back and did not water was splashed in an attempt to
up to the follow me to my car. conceal all the blood that had been
doorstep I was unaware that shed.
where two those would be my Later, sitting on the steps in my
ranch dogs were barking dutifully. At last moments spent with Zoey. With family’s home, my father held me as I
the door I explained Penny’s remorse I look back now and realize convulsed with sobs, not refraining
disappearance and was informed that that all the signs were visible. My mind from crying himself. My brother
there had been a fox wandering was preoccupied with Penny and I walked in upon hearing the news and
around recently. Zoey stuck her head didn’t pay attention to Zoey’s behavior put his hand on my shoulder, his
inside the house and I quickly pushed and her eagerness to be with me. downcast eyes were filled with tears.
it aside with my knee, not wanting to I drove off down the gravel road The big family dog sensing all the
be intrusive. until I met the main road and then mournful commotion came nearby
I crossed over the railroad tracks headed to the next house on the other with a gesture of comfort. Above us, at
which marked the end of the ranch’s side. the top of the
property, driving toward a house, I left the stairs, was sit-
newly built in the summer. I noticed house a little ting my mother,
Zoey was following, and so got out of discouraged with- fresh from out
the car and sternly ordered her to go out any informa- of the shower,
home as I pointed toward home. Zoey tion on Penny. I sobbing bitterly
timorously slunk down, her figure backed out of the over the whole
barely discernable in the darkness. driveway ready to tragedy. A spirit
I walked up the porch steps and head home. To of sorrow fell
was received by a friendly lady. A my utter horror, I upon the family
poignant waft of freshly fried sausages could marginally that night.
met my nostrils. Two little French make out a black As I sit in
bulldogs were equivocally wagging figure standing front of the
their tails and barking. I apologized for on the road. It window of my
my intrusion and then inquired about was Zoey. little trailer,
Penny. To my surprise and amazement Shock and writing the
the women replied that her daughter desperation story of my
had seen an orange critter and she shook my body as I saw two sets of beloved pets, I can see Charlie off in
pointed towards the church yard. lights heading swiftly towards her. A the distance in the church yard
A surge of hope streamed through split second later a truck came whizzing searching faithfully for his long lost
my body as I set out to the church yard by. I shot out of the car half expecting friend. I believe Penny is still out there
yet I tried to remain objective, to see Zoey on the other side. There somewhere. ca
realizing that the critter could have was no Zoey. With abandoned hope
been the fox. I drove to the perimeter and horrific cries I ran down the road If you have seen Penny, please contact
of the parking lot and stepped outside and came upon Zoey’s body. Jessica at: jessie99@shaw.ca

page9
 You can make a difference

abuse
t
neglec
abandonm
e nt
Before After

Volunteers & donations of any kind mean the continued success of Oops-a-Dazy
and expansion of our programs.
Ph: 1-888-734-1013 • Fx: 1-403-734-1014 • oopsadazyrescue@yahoo.ca • oopsadazy.com

page10

t was during my third year of
I veterinary school that I decided
to accept a summer position at
the college working with one of the
large animal veterinarians. I had decided that I would
broaden my horizons and try my hand with the “biggens”.
My supervisor, Dr. Letrie, explained that the job entailed
traveling around Saskatchewan going from farm to farm
studying the hooves of dairy cows. He had entrusted
another veterinarian, Dr. Powell, to be in charge of the
field work. Sending me off with a smile, Dr. Letrie
bade me farewell and left me with a final
parting message, “Have a great great
summer!”
The next morning I met my
team, composed of Dr. Powell
and another veterinary student
named Ted. My first image of
Dr. Powell was an imposing
one. Lurking before me was a
6’ 8” giant! In his ancient face
you could see the effect of
years spent standing in open
cow fields.
I began to open my mouth
to introduce myself, when I was
abruptly cut off by “Just don’t
stand there dawdling sonny, get in
the van!” followed by a piercing
scowl. A black gloom fell hard upon me.
This was not a great start. With an urgency
born of fear, Ted and I loaded into the van and began
our journey into the pit of Hades. After several hours of
highway travel, Ted had noticed that the right turning light
had been clicking but was too scared to tell our captain.
After characteristically losing a game of rock/scissors/paper,
it became my misfortune to inform Dr. Powell. The end
result of the notification culminated into a forceful, “leave
the driving to me!”, followed by another piercing scowl.
The journey to our first stop, a small town motel,
continued in awkward silence. Finally arriving at the
motel, we were informed that we would be sleeping on
mobile cots in the room while our commander-in-chief
would be sleeping on the only real bed. Feeling tired from
the long trip, we decided to hit the sack early. The sight I
witnessed next I would never forget. Emerging from the
bathroom came Dr. Powell, dressed in pink cotton pajamas
with little cartoon sheep. Suddenly, the absurdity of the
situation came bubbling up and Ted and I both felt the
irresistible and uncontrollable urge to laugh. Not the minor
page11
WAGGING TALES
stories from a veterinarian’s clinic
by Dr. Richard Weger, B.Sc., DVM
giggling of embarrassed schoolgirls mind you, but big belly
guffaws. Fearing the wrath of Dr. Powell, we both buried
our heads in our pillows and proceeded to laugh ourselves
to sleep.
Breakfast became a challenge. It took all of our
strength and fortitude to quell a return of last night’s
supressed belly laugh. Just thinking about him in those
jammies would stimulate a double up response.
After breakfast, we made our way to our first farm
stop. Wearing our farm gear made up of overalls and
rubber boots we started our task of studying cows’
hooves. The farmer gathered all of the subject
cows and lined them up in the chutes,
single file. Ted’s job was to take pictures
of the cow’s feet while mine was to
draw blood samples for later
evaluation. Events proceeded
without incident until one cow in
particular struck a cord, literally.
Each cow was kept in their
stall by a length of wood locked
in place in back of their hind
legs. Repeating a task I had
done many times before, I lifted
the cow’s tail and proceeded to
insert the needle to withdraw the
blood. I could see Dr. Powell out of
the corner of my eye, causing the
vision of the pink sheep pajamas to crop
up forcefully and without warning. However,
before I could utter a single chortle, the cow
struck its leg straight back, breaking through the wood
barrier and finding its mark on my left knee.
A large ‘CRACK’ filled the air; a crushing combination of
wood, hoof and human kneecap echoing throughout the
valley. Any thought of laughter was replaced by intense pain,
as I collapsed limply on the ground. Hearing my screams, the
farmer and his wife came running over to lend assistance.
My left knee bulged, swelling to two times its size.
In the distance, through tear filled eyes, I could see Dr.
Powell slowly making his way over to me. Finally, standing
over me and bending down, he whispered quietly in my ear,
“That will teach you to make fun of another man’s
pajamas.” My ‘great great summer’ had just begun. ca
Dr. Richard Weger is a graduate of the Western College of
Veterinary Medicine, specializing in exotic veterinary medi-
cine. He is currently owned by his Senegal parrot, Tiko and
his cat, Mendel. Exotic Veterinary Care and Referral Service:
Calgary North Veterinary Hospital (403)277-0135
Some of the sculptures I have
completed include pheasants, frogs,
dogs, cats, historic buildings, roses,
sunflowers, mushrooms and cat-tails.

All of my pieces are created from the

recycled hoods of cars and trucks. I
rework the heavy gauge metal using an
assortment of tools and techniques
which owe much to the now bygone
age when blacksmithing and hand-
craftsmanship were the only options
available. I do take orders for gift-giving
and keep an inventory of a variety of
sculptures on hand.
COUNTRY CREATIONS
Metal Sculptures
hnhdougan@nucleus.com

Harvey Dougan 403-934-3640

page12

S o, tell me,
how
weight
much
can
you lift? 50lbs? 200lbs?
How about 850 times your body
weight? That is what Rhinoceros
Beetles can lift. In proportion to their
own size, Rhinoceros Beetles are the
world’s strongest animals. If humans
were able to match that incredible
strength, we could lift 65 tons.
There are several types of beetles
which are classified under Rhinoceros
Beetles, including Atlas Beetle,
Hercules Beetle, Ox Beetle
and Elephant Beetle. All these species
have developed amazing power
and strength to forage through
the heavy decaying materials on the
jungle floor and to dig their way
to safety.
It was during a visit to a banana
plantation deep in the eastern lowland
rainforests of Costa Rica that I saw one
of these Rhinoceros Beetles, the
Elephant Beetle. Expecting to see
bananas and more bananas, I became
preoccupied by this giant of the bug
world. In the parking lot alongside the
banana processing plant, a tall thin man
was leaning up against his bicycle
holding a piece of banana stalk with a
huge black and brown bug resting on it.
I had never seen such a big beetle
before in all my travel adventures. The
friendly fellow was as keen to see the
reaction on my face as I was excited to
see this fierce looking insect. In the
photo, you can see just how big this
giant bug is by comparing it to the
man's fingers holding the stick.
The Elephant Beetle is aptly
named as a result of its unmistakable
long upward curving horn. This trunk-
like horn is only on the males. The
large dome body shape, barb-like
appendages and head supporting
different sized horns makes these
creatures especially interesting and
unique.
CREATURE FEATURE
Even though Elephant Beetles
are one of the largest beetles in the
world, growing in size up to thirteen
centimeters (five inches), spotting
them can be a challenge. They are
more active at night than during the
day when they are hiding under logs
and in rotting vegetation, away from
potential dangers. Plus the life of
adult Elephant Beetles is brief,
only about four months.
With such a
threatening
appear-
ance,
o n e
would
think
t h e
larger
protr uding
horn would be used to fight
off its enemies. However the horn is
used when battling other males for
control over food-rich territories and
mating grounds. Females choose their
mates by who has the biggest
resources, the best feeding sites
consisting of large decaying trees
where they are able produce offspring.
Decay occurs quickly in rainforests so
small trees and branches will not
support this species of beetle.
Females lay their eggs directly
into the rotting trees so the larvae
have an immediate source of food
when they enter the wild world. The
larva stage of their transformation to
maturity may take up to four years.
Over this lengthy period the larvae
are eating machines, devouring
massive amounts of dead vegetation,
forest compost and decaying wood.
They eat and eat and eat where
they were hatched, and stay
there until maturity. Once the
Elephant Beetles reach this adult
stage, they do not eat much, feeding
on nectar, plant sap and rotting fruit
but not decaying plant material.
page13
giants of the bug world
by Cyril Brass
The Elephant Beetles' primary
defense is not to fight but to escape
from its predators such as snakes and
birds. The powerful horn burrows
deep into the thick decaying plant
material away from its attackers.
These giant insects are harmless
to humans unable to bite, sting or
stab you with their
horns.
Humans,
on the other hand,
are the Elephant Beetles’ biggest
threat today. More and more
rainforests are being destroyed
resulting in lost habitats. Their
primary habitats are located in the
tropical rainforests of Central
America and South America. With
the large trees cut down and
removed, it is difficult for the females
to find adequate breeding sites.
Elephant Beetles are important
creatures to tropical rainforests as they
play a significant role in the breaking
down and recycling of dead plant
material back into the ecosystem.
The Elephant Beetle—an insect of
enormous size; a bug with incredible
strength; a beetle with a vital role in
our environment. ca
Cyril Brass is a Wildlife and Sports
Photographer living in Calgary.
www.cyrilbrass.com
cyril@brassphotography.com
403-999-1908
 Elaine Rude
MASTER GARDENER

Paintbrush
The Ann and Sandy Cross
Conservation Area
Garden
Spring Conservation
Education Programs
Design
for adults and families
and
Spring topics include:

Nature exploration –
Consulting
Flowers, bees and scat

Issue-based programs –
Nature deficit disorder,
Wildlife corridors and
Water resources 403.241.3688

For details, please visit:

www.Luv2Garden.ca
www.crossconservation.org

403-931-2042 elaine@Luv2Garden.ca

page14

est of Calgary, a north-
W south corridor ebbs and
flows with the whoosh of
beating wings. Burgeoning with life
and activity in the warmer months,
quiet in Winter but never altogether
silent, it is known affectionately as
K-country, an Alberta jewel that plays
host to a myriad of bird species. One
in particular can be found year round,
attracted by road-kill, seasonal die-offs,
and the scatterings of predators’
leftovers. It is the
Bald Eagle, a power-
ful raptor often
depicted as a mighty
hunter of the skies
but known, in fact,
to be a relatively lazy
opportunist.
Regardless of its
credibility as a moved him outside to our
hunter, the Bald
Eagle is undeniably
powerful and spec-
tacular to see up
close. That is why it
is so disconcerting to find one laying
helpless in a barbiturate-induced
coma, unable to fly due to power line
burns, crumpled at the roadside after
a collision with a vehicle, or grounded
by lead poisoning. These and other
hazards befall eagles all across the
continent and just when we think
we’ve seen it all, another mysterious
malady presents itself.
Such was the case in late
November when an immature male
eagle was captured by a Fish and
Wildlife officer near Highway 40 in
Kananaskis. The bird flew weakly but
showed none of the vitality that should
have prevented him from being
approached.
Slightly thin, he had no obvious
injuries. Blood work and fecal exami-
nation showed nothing abnormal. The
only thing unusual was a strange
TAKING DOWN THE FENCES
growth pattern that made his feathers
brittle and weak. They fell out easily
and were filled with a dry crusty
substance where there should have
been a fresh blood supply. Several
possible culprits could be responsible
– toxins, trauma, malnutrition,
parasites, follicle infection – but
testing for a definitive answer was
going to be difficult
if not impossible.
Whatever the cause,
it had occurred weeks to months
earlier, leaving no trace evidence.
Repeated tests revealed nothing
certain, though a ‘period of malnutri-
tion’ became the leading suspect.
When bird feathers grow, they may
form ‘stress bars’ in a linear pattern
across a wing or tail. This stress can be
associated with nutritional deficiency,
starvation, or abnormal growth
periods. There were no such bars in
the eagle’s feathers that might indicate
a prolonged period of physiological
stress, but it was apparent that
something had interfered with their
normal development.
Over the next three months, the
offending feathers fell out and were
replaced by normal ones as his
nutritional state was catered to. In all
birds, the formation of premium
page15
flight of the eagle
by Dianne Wittner
feathers requires liberal, though
carefully monitored, doses of protein,
calcium, phosphorous, vitamins A and
D, and sunshine. Furthermore, birds
spend significant periods preening, a
behavior that is essential to maintain-
ing optimal feather condition. At first,
the anxiety of captivity limited his
natural preening behavior but it wasn’t
long before
instinct kicked in
and he began
taking good care
of his beautiful
new feathers.
The next step
was to try to
improve his
c a r d i ova s c u l a r
conditioning. As
soon as he was able, we
new raptor runway where
he had more than one
hundred feet of exercise
corridor to do laps.
Encouraged to fly repeatedly
from one end to the other, he often
resisted, in typical Bald Eagle fashion.
Initially, four laps left him spent and
gasping but gradually it was we who
could no longer keep up with him.
Finally, one momentous day in
late February, it was time to send him
back to K-country. With March
pending, Bald Eagles would soon be
coming through the migratory
corridor in large numbers. The timing
was perfect and so were his feathers.
Set upon the ground in prepara-
tion for launch, he spread his new
wings, took one mighty leap and
became airborne. In an instant he was
just a speck on the horizon and our
hearts soared with him every beat of
the way. ca
Alta. Institute for Wildlife Conservation:
http://www.aiwc.ca; (403)946-2361
 NAKODA by Maryanne Pope

Nakoda, the light-grey radio-collared wolf my

husband John and I sponsored for three years, was
an excellent alpha female and produced many pups
over the years. She kept them safe and did not engage
in killing cattle. At one hundred pounds and over six feet in
length, Nakoda was large for a female, and demonstrated great
leadership qualities that were imperative to the pack’s success, including waiting at the road edge for
pack members to cross as if on ‘look-out’ duty for vehicles. There was not a single recorded death of
Nakoda’s pups on any of the roads through the pack’s territory.
One sunny day in early September of 2000, she’d been sighted in a meadow in Peter Lougheed
Provincial Park with her pack, all lounging in the warm, early autumn weather. One of her pups rose
from its resting place, walked towards its mother, now looking very white with age, and nuzzled her.
Then one wolf howled, which soon developed into a chorus, and afterwards all the wolves got up and
had a ‘gathering’ where everyone touched noses and wagged tails. This special creature was to play
an unexpected part in my life in days to come.
On September 29, 2000 I was a report processor for the same police service where John was a
police officer. I had just arrived at work for my first shift back after our vacation, when my
supervisor asked me to come into her office. I figured I must have made a mistake on a report
sometime before I left on our vacation.
She shut the door. “John’s fallen.”
Perhaps a broken leg or arm. The thought flitted into my mind and out again.
“You have to call his inspector right away.”
I was puzzled as to why an officer with the rank of inspector wanted to speak to me;
inspectors don’t phone in incident reports. I sat down at my supervisor’s desk and picked up
the phone before finally making the connection between John’s inspector and John’s fall.
This wasn’t about a report.
“Hi,” I said when an older male voice answered the phone.
“Is this Maryanne?”
“Yeah.”
“John’s been in an accident.”
“Oh.”
“Where are you right now?”
“At work.”
“Is your supervisor with you?”
“Yeah.”
“OK, listen to me. John’s hit his head and we’re on the way to pick you up.”

... “HIS HEAD?”

The room felt different – as if the air was being sucked out.
“Yes. He’s at the hospital and we’re going to take you to him.”

page16
 Oh God no.
My supervisor took my arm and led me from the office
to the back alley, where the inspector and John’s sergeant
picked me up in the
police van. En route
to the hospital I
asked his sergeant
what had happened.
“He was investi-
gating a break and
enter when he fell
through a false
ceiling.”
“I see.” I looked
out the window.
“Where are we
going?”
“The hospital.”
I turned to him. “But which one?”
He said John was at the hospital in the northwest
part of the city. But John worked and lived in the south.
“Why didn’t they take him to the hospital in the
south?” I asked.
“Because he went to the best trauma unit in the
city.”
Clunk. Like a coin hitting the bottom of an empty
piggybank, the seriousness of John’s injury hit me. You
don’t usually make it home for dinner when your day
starts in a trauma unit.
“You know,” I said, “we had a great vacation.”
At Emergency, we were directed to a room where
John’s team was waiting. I chose a seat beside the only
policewoman on his team and asked her what happened.
“We went to a break and enter. John went inside
with the K-9 officer and his dog. John was searching the
upper level when he stepped through the ceiling.”
“He’s gonna be okay, though, right?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “He really hit the back of
his head hard.”
Because the K-9 officer had successfully resuscitated
him, John was kept on life support. This meant that he
would be able to donate his heart, kidneys and pancre-
atic islets. It also meant that I could spend the day with
him, holding his hand and comforting him as best I could
as he succumbed to brain injuries. Although becoming a
police officer had been his lifelong dream, John always
said that coming home to me at the end of every shift
was his top priority. So what went wrong?
Just after midnight, my brother drove me home. As
he pulled alongside our house, my stomach was in knots.
How was I going to face, without John, all that repre-
sented our life together? Inside the back door, I was
enthusiastically greeted by our dog, Sable. I knelt down
on the floor and hugged her tightly, our family of three
reduced to two.
page17
Two heart-wrenching months passed and in early
November, I was flipping through my mail and came across
an envelope from the wolf conservation organization John
and I belonged to. Thinking that reading about Nakoda,
might cheer me up, I opened the envelope.
Nope. A hunter had shot her on September 22nd – the
day John and I had been at Disneyland, one week before his
death. The shooting was legal. Through my tears, I read
how the nine-year old alpha female of the Peter Lougheed
pack had been sighted outside the small, protected area
allotted to wolves. Since the hunter hadn’t noticed her
collar, identifying her off limits for hunting, he’d shot her.
For several weeks, her pups and pack-mates had repeatedly
returned to the den site, either searching for her or grieving
her death.
Later in November, I went for lunch with the
policewoman from John’s team and she told me the details
of their shift, including a comment John had made several
hours before he fell.
“We were doing a traffic stop,” she said, “and a truck
had barreled past us. I made a comment about how
dangerous it is working on the side of the road, so John told
me about the time he was sitting in his police car, lights
activated, and had glanced in
his rearview mirror to see a
semi flying up behind him. He
said it was the strangest
sensation thinking he was
going to die.”
In April 2001, I met with
three classmates from John’s
recruit class. They’d had a
pin made in John’s memory
and raised over $12,000 for
the John Petropoulos
Memorial Fund. Because
John died as the result of
a preventable work-
place injury – there
was no safety railing in
place to warn him about the
false ceiling – we decided to create a public service
announcement (PSA) to educate the public about
workplace safety.
But we needed a symbol for the memorial fund...
something that would represent what John stood for –
leadership, integrity, honour, courage, dedication and a
commitment to excellence.
A few weeks later, while on a flight to Vancouver, I
found it. I was recalling the qualities we’d come up with to
describe John, and Nakoda came to mind. What about
wolves had intrigued us? I wrote down the word ‘wolf’ and
circled it.
“Why did you write that?” asked a voice beside me.
I turned to see a teenage girl.
➤
cont. page 18
 “Pardon me?”
She held up a wolf pendant
on her necklace. “The wolf is my
favourite animal.”
“Oh. I was just thinking
about the kind of characteristics
that wolves have...” The Hervey Foundation for Cats is a place of protection
“Let’s see,” she said, and refuge for cats, the old, the suffering and a place of
“they’re loyal, beautiful and last resort for healthy cats that would otherwise be
courageous. And they’re euthanized. We are a no-kill, non-profit and tax-exempt
excellent leaders...” private Charitable Foundation.
Then from her other side, the girl’s mom leaned
forward, adding: “And they’re very calm and wise; it’s (780) 963-4933 www.herveycats.com
almost as if they have an inner spirit. They’re also very
opportunistic.”
“But very family oriented and devoted,” said the girl. Avian Entertainment
Then she turned back to me. “Does that help?” for Special Events
I opened my mouth and closed it again.
“Are you feeling all right?” she asked. CALGARY
PARROTEERS
I smiled. “Yeah.”
I asked if she’d mind sketching the wolf on her necklace
for me in my notebook. She did so and then handed the Birthday Parties, Senior Homes,
notebook back to me but when I went to put it in my
Community Events,
knapsack, her necklace fell out.
I handed it back to her. “You forgot this.” Store Openings, Movie Sets, Premieres
She shook her head. “Oh no... that’s yours now. I want
you to have it.” David R. Knight 403-519-1322

Although John died after only four years on the job,

his contribution to the police service in that short time
was exemplary. He gave his life doing work he believed in
and through the John Petropoulos Memorial Fund, his
commitment to making his community a safer place lives
on. Through the safety campaign, ‘One, is One Too Many’,
the memorial fund educates the public about their role in
helping ensure emergency services personnel make it
home safely after every shift. The first PSA, Make Your
Workplace Safe for Everyone, uses John’s death to
communicate the importance of making a workplace safe
for everyone who may attend the premise, emergency
services personnel included.
The second PSA, ‘SLOW DOWN: It’s No Picnic Out
Here’, is about traffic safety. It educates motorists about
the necessity of slowing down when passing emergency
services personnel working on the road. These PSAs
have aired on TV across Western Canada over 70,000
times, and emergency services, companies and safety
organizations throughout North America are using these
educational tools in their own communities.
Sadly, since Nakoda’s death the Peter Lougheed
pack has dissolved – but perhaps her strength and
spirit live on alongside John’s through the memorial
fund. ca

For more information about the John Petropoulos Memorial

Fund, please visit www.jpmf.ca or e-mail maryanne@jpmf.ca

page18

The Parrot Companion: Caring for
Parrots, Macaws, Budgies, Cockatiels and
More
Rosemary Low
Firefly Books
Price: $19.95 Paperback with flaps
192 pages, 220 color photographs
ISBN-13: 978-1-55407-199-9
ISBN-10:1-55407-199-2
Parrots are intelligent, humorous, beautiful and social
creatures. If cared for with love and attention, they will
provide years - sometimes many years - of happy
companionship for their owners. Some parrots can attain
an age in excess of 40 years, so choosing the one that’s right
for you is vital.
The Parrot Companion discusses the most popular
species, outlines their pros and cons, and gives advice on
where to purchase them. This informative guide also looks
at all aspects of parrot keeping, from basic training to
common behavioral problems, such as screaming, biting
and feather plucking, and how to avert them.
Explore the colorful characters that make up the
parrot family – from budgies and lovebirds, to cockatiels,
macaws, concurs, lories and African grays – and find the
parrot that’s perfect for you.
Rosemary Low has published more than 20 books on
parrots and co-founded The World Parrot Trust, editing its
magazine, PsittaScene. She travels widely, speaking at
conventions around the world. During nearly eight years in
the Canary Islands, she was curator of two of the world’s
largest parrot collections where she had more than 200
parrot species in her care.
The Soul of a Horse
Joe Camp
Harmony Books
Price: $27.95 Hardcover
237 pages
ISBN: 978-0-307-40685-9
As complete neophytes, Joe and his wife Kathleen
were without a clue as to what horses needed or wanted,
but they plunged head first into this new world, navigating
unexpected, uncharted, and often controversial territory.
The result is The Soul of a Horse: Life Lessons from the
Herd. In this engaging, emotional and often humorous
page19
NOVEL SUGGESTIONS
a look at some books
send your review to publisher@creaturesall.ca
book, Camp deftly lures readers into the magic of a horse’s
soul, unlocking the mystery of a majestic creature who has
survived without humans for fifty-five million years. The
parallel journeys of a fabled herd in the wild and a
wide-eyed couple thrust into the enigmatic world of horses
are charmingly blended into a riveting expedition of
discovery that will change the way you think about horses.
The Soul of a Horse illuminates the vast differences
between horses and people yet explains how we can bridge
that gap and join together in a magical relationship. Camp
believes that what he’s learned from his time with horses is
equally relevant when relating to and communicating with
human beings.
Joe Camp is a film writer, producer, director, author,
public speaker and animal advocate, as well as the creator
of the canine superstar Benji. Joe and Kathleen live on a
five-acre hilltop in Valley Center, California with their three
kids, six horses, five dogs and two cats.
The Puppy Whisperer: A
Compassionate, Non Violent Guide to Early
Training and Care
Paul Owens, Terry Cranendonk and
Norma Eckroate
Adams Media
Price: $17.95
285 pages
ISBN 10: 1-59337-597-2
More than three million homes welcome new puppies
each year – but, do new owners really know what they’re
in for when it comes to raising and training a new puppy?
The bottom line is, like children, puppies need to be potty
trained, fed and given proper medical attention. If not
cared for with love and compassion, behavior issues can
arise and training can become increasingly difficult.
The Puppy Whisperer teaches the importance of early
socialization, positive training, step-by-step instructions for
potty training, safety and health care and the latest on
vaccinations. Readers will learn three easy steps to teach
tricks and games that are specific to puppies’ abilities up to
9 months of age.
Paul Owens, the bestselling author of The Dog
Whisperer, is a proponent of non-violent dog training;
promoting kindness, respect and compassion.
Terence Cranendonk is a Certified Pet Dog Trainer as
well as a Certified Dog Behavior Consultant. He is also a
professional actor and university instructor.
Norma Eckroate writes on the holistic care of humans
and animals. ca
 vb
Virginia Boulay
fine artist and illustrator

(403) 242-4628
www.vboulayart.com

Alberta
Institute for
Wildlife
Conservation

“Call of the Wilds” Gala & Silent Auction

All funds raised go directly to the rescue and care of injured and/or orphaned native Alberta wildlife.

Sat., May 3/08 — 6:00 PM until Midnight Tickets - $85.00 ea. or $600.00/table of 8
Red and White Club at McMahon Stadium For Tickets Please Call – (403) 946 2361
1833 Crowchild Trail N.W., Calgary
Event Includes – Dinner • Dancing • Live Music • Silent Auction • Guest Speakers
Door Prizes • Wildlife Wood Sculptors….and more!

page20

he Short-horned Lizard
T (Phrynosoma hernandesi) is
the only lizard native to
Alberta, and not many people can say
they’ve actually seen one. These small
lizards are masters at camouflage, and
extremely hard to spot even when you
know what to look for!
These little lizards (they easily fit
in the palm of your hand) are round
and flat, with sharply spiked scales on
their back and short legs. They have
been named “horned toads” by some
because they resemble a waddling
toad when they move. They use
camouflage to avoid their predators,
and their mottled sandy colour and
spiny skin blends very well with the
dry land they live in. Even when
approached, these lizards generally do
not move.
To catch their food, Short-horned
Lizards sit-and-wait, then dash out and
capture food that happens to wander
by. They eat ants, crickets, grasshop-
pers and beetles and have specialized
teeth and a large stomach to digest
them.
Like most reptiles, horned lizards
are adapted to control their internal
temperature. They often bask in
SPACES and SPECIES
masters of camouflage
by Dana Blouin, Conservation Representitve/photos courtesy: Joel Nicholson, P. Biol.
direct sunlight, something known as this is the north-
“heliothermy”, in order to increase
their body temperature. They also
gain warmth from rocks that have
ern limit of their
range.
Short-horned
The
been warmed in the sun. They are Lizard is found
active in Alberta from mid-April until more extensively
mid-September, and survive the through the dry,
winter months in a shallow burrow. central United
These lizards live in areas with States to New Mexico.
little vegetation, and can often be Their numbers are limited by the
found on south-facing slopes of climate they face in southeastern
canyons and coulees. Because their Alberta, and many do not survive the
habitat requirement is very cold Canadian winter. Short-horned
Lizards are prey to hawks, coyotes
and many other animals. However,
there are many man-made factors that
severely limit their population
numbers as well. Agricultural activities
such as cultivation and chemical use,
oil and gas exploration, development
and construction, roadways and traffic
within and close to their habitat are all
causes of concern.
The Short-horned Lizard is one of
many curious species you’ll find in
Alberta’s Dry Mixed-grass Prairie! ca
The Nature Conservancy of Canada
(NCC) is dedicated to conserving habitat
for wildlife species like the Short-horned
Lizard. Contact us at 1-877-262-1253
specialized, Short-horned Lizards are or alberta@natureconservancy.ca to
on the list of May Be At Risk species in help conserve habitat for wildlife
Alberta. They are also considered rare like the Short-horned Lizard and other
and are called a Species of Special fascinating species.
Concern by the
Committee on the
Status of
Endangered
Wildlife in Canada
(COSEWIC).
Short-horned
Lizards’ range is
limited to the Dry
Mixed-grass
Prairie of south-
eastern Alberta
and southwestern
Saskatchewan, as
page21
 memories made timeless
We welcome you to visit
the studio on our farm
near Cremona. Just a
short, beautiful drive
Upcoming 2008 Exhibitions:
north of Calgary.
Calgary Stampede
Spruce Meadows Masters

Diane M. Anderson
www.dianeandersontymarc.com
tymarc@xplornet.com
403-637-2274 403-803-8039

When nature speaks...

take a moment to listen.
D’ya ever wonder what you’re
gonna be when you grow up?

Yeah... about a hundred

rolls of toilet paper probably.

www.creaturesall.com
answering nature’s call

page22

pring! It is a time of renewal,
S colour, scents, sounds and
textures. It is a time when we
can throw off our winter gear and
head outside; when I can’t wait to see
that soft green haze of new buds
opening on trees; to catch animals
migrating back to their spring homes
and be welcomed by the sight of
wildflowers. Even non-native
dandelions bring a smile to my lips
when I first see their tenacious forms
pushing through the cracks in
pavement.
Then there is the sound of little
bees, busy gathering pollen amongst
all the melting… the glorious
muddiness of spring. And who can
forget that new, unleashed aroma
of…scat. Yup, you heard me. Nothing
screams spring like a freshly thawed
pile of scat.
Out at the Cross Conservation
Area, nothing seems to bring on the
peals of laughter and the giggles like
the discovery of poop. This poop,
dung, scat…whatever your selected
label may be… tells a story.
Typically on my education walks
with children, they tell me that the
crusted old white stuff must be a
thousand years old. Well, perhaps it is
a little fresher than that, but they are
on the right track. These little piles tell
me who has been here and when. It’s
extremely exciting coming upon a
cougar’s tracks and its discarded
waste. Upon closer inspection I may
see that it had a tasty, furry morsel as
its last meal. Venturing upon a smaller
version filled with berry seeds might
tell me that a fox and her kits have
been nearby.
It’s not just scat I hope to see, but
also the remnants of melting snow
piles. It’s pretty wondrous how nature
manages to insulate plants such as
strawberries and wintergreen in the
winter, and then use this melted
insulator to water the new shoots of
spring. Even the layers of soil and
gravel beneath act as great filters to
clean the water on its trip to the
groundwater system and underground
springs. Some of these feed small
ponds which are the givers of life to
many insects and amphibians.
Have you seen the amazing
transformations that take place in a
pond? Here at the Cross, we are
definitely lucky. At the beginning of
our pond study season in April and
May, I look forward to the discovery of
the first mosquito and mayfly larvae.
Weeks later, I hope to watch as
tadpoles emerge and swell. Then there
are the battles as the predacious
diving beetle larvae get their fill of
smaller insects and tadpoles. I can’t
wait to watch the fascinating dragonfly
larvae suck water up their rears and
shoot it out to skim through the water.
Later still, young frogs begin to
emerge and fill the air with their
croaks and choruses. Yes, water is
definitely one of spring’s precious
resources.
Water not only gives life to the
pond, but also to the multitude of
wildflowers. My heart swells at the
anticipation of the first blossoms. At
the Cross, our volunteers compete to
see who will be the first to witness the
early crocuses showing their fuzzy
purple petals. Speaking of purple, the
thought of saskatoons in bloom and
the promise of juicy summer berries
makes me salivate. It’s exciting when
each day a new species opens its buds
and bursts into flower. The different
markings and colourings attract
insects, such as honey bees, to their
landing strips. This noble creature,
once in abundance, is beginning to
wane in number. And what a task it
performs. A vast number of
agricultural crops around the world
are pollinated by the bee. I eagerly
await their tell-tale buzz that is yet
another reminder of spring.
page23
CROSS PATHS
spring in your step
by Danielle Birk
The tiny bee contrasted with the
return of the bears from hibernation
demonstrates the immense diversity of
creatures found at the Cross. And
while there are many animals caught
on our wildlife cameras throughout the
year, spring is an especially important
time to see the corridors that these
animals use to migrate from one area
to another. As land is eaten up for
farming and residential development,
we are at risk of creating isolated
fragments. This in turn breaks up the
range of many animals that have large
roaming territories such as the bear
and cougar. Yet not all hope is lost, the
sight of many of these large predators
at the Cross tells us that we have a
fairly healthy food web occurring here.
So now that spring is almost upon
us, I can’t wait to cast off those winter
blues and nature deficit and embrace
the many signs of spring. Let’s
immerse ourselves in nature and
see where we fit in the miraculous web
of life. ca
The spring/summer season of
Conservation Education at the Ann and
Sandy Cross Conservation Area is going
to be an exciting one! For information
about our adult and family programs,
please visit: www.crossconservation.org.
BORN UNDER A LUCKY STAR
I
n Bangkok, where I was born, I was just
another stray dog struggling to survive in a
hostile world, but since I arrived in the USA, I
cause a stir wherever I go. People stare because
they’ve never seen a dog like me before.
They’re always stopping to ask my human what
breed I am. The thing is though - I’m unique;
there’s not another dog in the world who’s just like me. Let
me tell you my story….
Like so many dogs in Bangkok, I was abandoned on the
streets: left to fend for
myself in an unfriendly
I was like them once -
world. I gotta tell you,
it’s a terrifying experi-
ence for a young pup –
many of us don’t survive
very long. There’s no
food and no shelter, but plenty of kicking feet and noisy
cars to hurt us. I was lucky - I was found by SCAD (Soi Cats
and Dogs, Soi is the Thai word for street), an animal
welfare organization based in Bangkok, and was given the
chance of a better life.
page24
by Chok Dee Dao
The guys at SCAD sent me to Massachusetts, USA
where I stayed with a foster mom. Lots of people came to
visit me, but one lady in particular made my heart swell.
She must have felt the same too – we both just stared at
each other, ignoring the other pups jumping and barking
around us. It sounds crazy I know, but this was love at first
sight.
Now, I’m a shy kinda guy and Laura, my new mom,
decided I needed some confidence boosting. So when we
arrived home in New York, she took me everywhere with
her – even to work
each day – which I
scared of my own shadow
wasn’t too keen on
at first. That’s a big
scary world out
there you know?
Laura figured that
it wasn’t good for me to run round like a frightened rabbit
all day – so she enrolled me in school. I know! – go figure!
A Soi dog in school - wild huh?
But, you know, I loved it from the get-go. My teacher
was sooo nice and the lessons were cool. I found out that
left to fend for myself in an unfriendly world
learning new things is fun. Laura calls
this ‘positive reinforcement’ – all I
know is that I got loads of praise and
treats just for doing something right.
What more could a dog ask for? Well,
pals for one – and that was the next
thing I learned to enjoy. Laura and I
joined a group class and we both made
new buddies and learned loads of great
new stuff. Gee, I had a ball, let me tell
you. But it didn’t stop there – I’m
proud to say that we’re now in the
ADVANCED class. How’s that for a dog
from the streets of Bangkok? We’re
not so dumb as people think. In fact,
now, I regularly get called in to show
the newbies how it’s done! I try not to
show off; after all, I was like them once
- scared of my own shadow and bewil-
dered by all those words and actions.
The most important thing I’ve
learned, is that doing what I’m told is
not a bad thing at all – I know exactly
what’s expected of me so there’s no
surprises. I can relax, safe in the
knowledge that Laura’s in charge, so I
don’t have to be. This is important for
a sensitive little guy like me. I
understand the ‘rules of the house’ too
– like I can get on the couch when
Laura invites me to, otherwise, it’s a
big no-no. But don’t go thinking that
Laura’s a toughie – no way. We have so
much fun together, you won’t
believe. She takes me canoeing
and hiking and I get to wear my
own special doggy rucksack and
carry my own provisions. Because
Laura knows I’ll come back when
she wants me, I get to go off leash
to romp with my best pal Pingo.
So that’s cool - but guess
what – here’s the really great
part: I was so good in school, that
I joined a special class to learn a
really important job. After many
months of hard work, I finally
passed my examinations and am
now officially an ‘International
Canine Good Citizen and Therapy
Dog’. This means that I’m invited into
hospitals and nursing homes.
Apparently my waggy tail and cold
nose make people feel
better faster and cheer up
folk who are sad. Mostly,
all I have to do is to stand
there and look cute whilst
people coo over me –
pretty easy for a gorgeous
guy like me, right? I’m
used to wheelchairs and
walkers, trolleys and bed
curtains – nothing fazes
me after my training.
Recently I’ve started visiting a
school for children with physical
disadvantages. I hope I can show them
that the challenges they face make
them stronger, not weaker – I’m a
prime example! Halfway through my
training, I had to have an eye removed
because when I was a tiny puppy,
alone on the streets of Bangkok, I got
a blood infection that damaged my eye
and I kept getting really bad infections
in it - each one made it worse and it
was really making me ill. So now I’ve
got this rakish look that I think makes
me even cuter, like I’m permanently
winking at folk! I tell the kids that I’m
just as good (even better, some might
page25
say!) as any other dog and my disabil-
ity doesn’t bother me at all.
It’s funny, you know, it makes peo-
ple so happy to have me there, in the
nursing homes and schools - everyone
is always smiling and laughing and
there’s a real buzz in the air. Laura tells
me I’m getting too big for my britches
– I think she means that I’m just about
bursting with pride. And here’s
another strange thing: 5 out of the 6
dogs who passed the exam alongside
me and are now out there spreading
happiness are former strays too!
So anyway, you see what I mean?
I’m special: I’m from the street.
There’s not another dog like me,
because we’re ALL different – but
under all the dirt and fear, we
streeties have all got something
extraordinary to offer, we just need
the chance to show you. Be kind to us,
let us know what you expect from us,
share your life with us and in return
we’ll give you love and loyalty, fun and
friendship. Forever. ca
SCAD is a not-for-profit animal welfare
organisation dedicated to improving the
lives of Bangkok’s stray cats and dogs
through programs of animal birth
control (ABC), education and adoption.
SCAD relies on donations to fund their
programs. If you would like to donate, or
learn more about SCAD, visit:
www.SCADbangkok.org or contact
info@scadbangkok.org.

Hemi
Sweet girl.
Come April, it will be one full
year since you began your journey
across the Rainbow Bridge to meet
your new friends. I promise they
were overjoyed to see you; you were
a popular little girl and everyone
loved you so much.
In the year you’ve been gone, so much has
changed. Cuda has calmed down, and he doesn’t bite
so frequently anymore. After you left, he allowed me
to hold him while I cried. It was completely unlike
him, but I’m sure he knew I needed him. Vette came
home and she has made so much progress. She’s not
as scared any more, and I’m positive you would have
loved her. She looks so much like you, it’s uncanny.
Kismet has been a complete joy and I can’t thank
you enough for her. Having her made losing you a lit-
tle easier to bear and I don’t think I could have made
it through this without her. Even though you’re gone,
I feel like your soul continues in Kismet. Little Kismet
is continuing your legacy of inspiration.
Hemi, I miss you terribly and I’m sorry I couldn’t
do more to save your life. You were the best pet I
could have asked for, and I’m forever thankful for the
two years we had together. You were one of a kind
and as a close friend told me recently, you were born
to be loved and to inspire love in others. You were
meant to come home with me that particular day in
May and I’ll cherish every day that I had to know and
love you. Miss Hemi, thank you for the lifetime of
memories.
Sweet dreams, little one. I’ll be seeing you.
Passed away 04/03/07
Buster
Hey there, handsome boy.
You were the first pet I ever had to
call my own, and you definitely plant-
ed the seed of obsession. When you
came home, you came in the pocket of
my dad’s jacket. You were barely large
enough to fill that pocket, but you
made up for it in personality.
Throughout your life, you proved your worth as a
page26
IN PASSING
celebrating the lives of animal friends
loyal pet and family member. That’s what you were – fam-
ily. When I was growing up, you would take it upon your-
self to patrol the yard. If anyone dared enter the yard,
you were between us immediately. You weren’t very big,
but you could be so intimidating when you were protect-
ing your family.
You came everywhere with me and tolerated so
much. You were my best friend and you saw me through
every teenage heartache and injustice imaginable. My
heart broke when I came home to find your collar and
bowl on my desk. I regret not being able to say goodbye
and thank you for the 16 years of loyal service you gave
to me. You were the best dog a child could have had, and
you taught me what it meant to love a pet. You paved the
way for the animals to come and I know they’re grateful
for that.
I hope you’re behaving over the Bridge and I know
Hemi has personally sought you out. The two of you were
pioneers in this family – the first of two species of ani-
mals to turn our household upside down. Take care of
Hemi, and protect her like you always did me.
Passed away 05/03/05
Zoey
My beloved Zoey passed away and
is missed dearly. Her exuberant spirit
and loving nature will never be forgot-
ten. Death crept up on her so sudden-
ly and unexpectedly. She died in her
loyalty and her last thoughts and
desire were to be with me. How I long
to pet her beautiful black face, and for
her gentle brown eyes to meet mine
one last time. Words cannot express my heart’s anguish
over our separation. I loved her so much and enjoyed our
life together on the ranch. We had many adventures
together. She would follow me on horseback and one time
she found a full antler and carried it all the way back
home. At the dog park we swam down the river together
and she tried to crawl on my back. She was a very spe-
cial girl – never will I find one like her again.
I believe I will see her in a better place.
Passed away 01/07/08
Send your tribute to publisher@creaturesall.com All material
subject to editing for space. Include ‘Passed Away on: date’
and a 300 dpi photo in jpg or tif.

he pair trot across the snowy
T field, their tracks leaving a
single line of indents behind
them. Pausing, they raise their noses
into the air sniffing the scents that
carry on the gentle breeze. A sound
catches their attention and they shift
their gaze downward, large ears
pricked forward, focusing intently on
the glistening white carpet surrounding
them. Suddenly, the male leaps
straight-legged into the air and pounces
burying his nose deep into the cold
snow. He emerges triumphantly with a
mouse caught between his jaws, its tail
still twitching. With one crunch and a
swallow the mouse disappears.
Continuing on their journey the
warm sun glints off the reds, grays,
blacks and buffs of their luxuriant fur
coats. Their long bushy tails gently
sweep the snow’s surface. Approaching
a garden the female catches an
unusual scent. A wooden bin is
emitting a variety of evocative smells.
She alters course to investigate,
ducking under the wire fence. Her
mate continues into the ditch intent on
finding another snack.
Narrow gaps in the side of the box
tantalize her olfactory senses but the
contents remain out of reach.
Crouching she effortlessly leaps the
five foot wall and lands neatly on top.
It’s a veritable smörgåsbord up here:
decaying fruits, vegetables and broken
egg shells.
A truck passing on the road
momentarily distracts her. She briefly
scans the area for her mate before
turning her attention back to the
malodorous contents of the bin. The
round orange balls look tempting.
Daintily picking one up she drops to
the ground. It has an unusual but
acceptable taste. She munches it down
before leaping back up for another. Her
mate suddenly materializes through
the fence looking to share in the spoils.
THE GARDENING BUG
the trickster
by Elaine Rude
The delectable aroma of eggs god, animal and human. The Aztec
draws their attention. They eagerly dig
through the debris crunching up all
they find. A crowd of Magpies sits
viewed Coyote as a mischief-maker
with the ability to transform into any
creature desired. These ancient stories
patiently around the perimeter looking accurately depict the dichotomous
for scraps worth stealing. The pair nature of this opportunistic hunter.
ignore these scavengers intent on their While Native Americans revered
search. Finally having exhausted the Coyote as an integral part of the
bin’s contents, they jump lightly to the natural world, European settlers
ground and sniff about for any tidbits sought to eradicate him, believing
that might have fallen. The Magpies coyotes posed a threat to their
scatter. agricultural endeavours. Unfortunately
Satisfied that all is gone, the male this attitude still remains, though
lifts his nose and emits a series of recent research clearly shows
short, sharp barks. From across the otherwise. Despite the modern world’s
valley an answering call echoes, soon ability to irrevocably alter and change
followed by a cacophony of howls and the landscape, the coyote continues to
yips. adapt and survive. ca
They frequent this field hunting
voles, mice, pocket gophers, I’m the voice of all the Wildest West,
grasshoppers, bird’s eggs and ground the Patti of the Plains;
squirrels during the warm seasons. I’m a wild Wagnerian opera of
They’re lucky there’s food here during diabolic strains;
the cold months as well. They will I’m a roaring, ranting orchestra with
acquaint their pups to this part of their lunatics becrammed;
territory come spring. I’m a vocalized tornado-
The male raises his leg releasing a I’m the shrieking of the damned.
jet of urine, his scent marking the edge “The Coyote’s Song”
of the bin. The female squats and marks
the ground. This is their territory. by Ernest Thompson Seton, 1913
Trespassers beware! They pause and
listen intently
before heading
under the fence,
across the road and
down into the valley
following the pack’s
calls.
a t i v e
N Americans
endowed Coyote
the Trickster with a
highly complex and
enigmatic personali-
ty: appearing in
many legends as
p a r t
 Proud to support
creaturesall
in sharing enriching
stories with
Alberta readers,
young and old!
Mr. Len Webber , MLA Proudly representing the Calgary communities of:
Member of the Legislative Assembly Citadel • Edgemont • Hamptons
Calgary-Foothills Constituency Hidden Valley • Kincora • Sherwood
403•288•4453 in the Alberta Legislature

page28
When I was a pup, before I grew up, Oh, I’ve seen the way they bleat and bray
there’s one thing that I knew. as folks drive by in cars.
The living room floor is not used for Pointing their finger, never to linger,
giving a dog his doo. leaving psychological scars.

When they see ‘that look’, they give us the hook As if smelling death, they hold their breath.
to the alley or the yard. I see their noses stick up.
They’re quick to scold as we’re out in the cold, Now, ever so pained, my owner’s trained
Beagle or St Bernhard. to follow me and pick up.

They move like lightening, faces whitening I’ve got to admit it’s more than a bit
scared I'll have an ‘oopsie’. difficult to abide.
How could they think I’d not cause a stink, It used to be ‘twas just dogs you see
knowing my name was “Poopsie”? get tossed on their ears outside.

So it’s out I go, to ‘go’ in the snow, But times have changed, with things rearranged.
regardless of my plea. I’ve got new alley mates.
It makes me blush to get tossed in the slush Once left to atone for my sins alone,
for all the world to see. I now share the sewer grates.

Shamefully tossed, society’s lost,

battle for alley space.
It amazes me (I’m just there to pee)
how much they stink up the place.

Poopsie
I beg for a breeze,
I daren’t inhale these
nasty and noxious odors.

©
More than me smolders
as I rub shoulders
with sad and outcast smokers.

by Très Bore

h, wasn't that a freezing cold
O week last week!! I felt so
sorry for all of our outside
critters and spent a little more
money than usual on oats for the
deer and seed/suets for the birds. We
have been feeding, on average, about
a dozen deer morning and night. We
get up at 7:00 AM to give our cat,
Benny, his insulin shot. At the same
time I go out in the dark to give the
deer their breakfast snack. Some are
usually waiting near the side garage
door for me, as that is where they
know I will appear. I speak to them
softly as they follow me single file to
the feeding site where others are
waiting. The fawns clearly show their
appreciation at the prospect of being
fed by wagging their fluffy tails out of
sheer joy and sometimes tossing their
heads like they do when they play.
A couple of the fawns from last
summer are very clever. As I put the
piles down on the ground, they follow
close enough for me to touch them (I
don't). This way they can get the first
fresh bite of each pile instead of
having to eat from the cold snow.
They hang around for about an hour
until almost every kernel is gone.
What they don't polish up, the
magpies and ravens do. They all
disappear for the day; we think to the
leased property next door where
there is denser brush/trees and more
solitude. Or they are making their
rounds elsewhere for hand-outs,
hay, etc.
At about 4:00PM the usual
suspects begin arriving again for their
evening snack. Stan and I eat our
dinner at 4:00PM so we think it only
right that our outside friends should
THE FINAL WORD
have some good food too. We
commented to one another this week
on how the group used to spar when
we first started feeding them years
ago but they have grown so
accustomed to the routine now that
they just fall into line and stand there
quietly munching. They often get a
special treat on Sundays from the
General Store as I bring home old
vegetables whenever I can.
My neighbor, Heike, had a
spectacular experience with a Sharp-
shinned Hawk last Sept. She was
outside visiting with a friend when
the hawk slammed into one of her
house windows. She gathered him
up, checked him, and released him,
only to have him circle and slam into
the same window again. Again she
gathered him up, held him for a
while, checked his wings, walked
farther from the house and released
him again. He circled, only to come
back down and land on her
shoulder!! Her friend went into the
house, grabbed a camera and got a
BEAUTIFUL close-up picture of Heike
and the hawk on her shoulder.
page30
musings from home
by Helen E. Willy
Our resident moose, Mamoose
and her calf Baboose, (this year's
calf... last year's was Caboose) are by
regularly for their salt lick. The bull
moose with his rack of antlers
(Daddy?) comes with them once in a
while as well. During a strong wind in
November, Heike from next door
phoned to say one of our trees had
fallen across her driveway. I said
we'd be right out to clear it. Stan was
sharpening his chain saw in the
garage as I ventured out to see how
big of a job we were in for. Mamoose
and Baboose were standing square in
the middle of the driveway, almost as
if to say, “If this wind brings down
any trees maybe they won't hit us
here.” They reluctantly moved aside
while I walked slowly by them.
As I arrived at the foot of the
driveway, Heike was already there.
She pointed behind me with a smile.
I turned around to notice the moose
had followed me. Heike and I started
talking, at which point the moose
headed off down the road. They
didn't seem to like the swaying and
creaking trees. And, as trees looked
to start blowing over at any moment,
we humans decided to head off to
shelter too.
And then, of course, the cats.
They continue to provide us with
much love and many cuddles. Brie
and Britches have had their day of
notoriety with their story in a
previous issue of creaturesall, but I
know there is a story to be told about
Benny as well.
Life is never dull on the Willy
property. One only has to go for a
walk and be surrounded and
astounded. ca
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ASKED TO
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