Issue 07 August - September/2006

creaturesall
creaturesall
sharing the planet with our fellow creatures
 Issue 07 August-September/2006

Graphic Design & Story Inquiries

Bob Fielder
publisher@creaturesall.ca
Account Information
Linda Fielder
editor@creaturesall.ca
Promotion & Distribution
Gord Otto
gordotto@shaw.ca
Display Ad Inquiries
In This Issue
Lisa Hartigan
lisa@creaturesall.ca Dot & Spot – on this day we had seen the usual suspects 8
Partners for Life – I was far too active to give up 16
Angelina – she hinted at amputation 18
Printing
grafikom Heading: Due South – dressed for success in a tuxedo 24
Mailing address:
creaturesall
P.O. Box 126,
Angel Enough for Two – I was being monitored 26
Langdon, AB T0J 1X0
403-512-9544 Roam for the Holidays – critters and beasts holiday 29
creaturesall is published 6 times per year (February,
April, June, August, October and December) by
1160613 ALBERTA LTD. and distributed freely in Columns
Alberta the first week of the publication month.
Advertisers and contributors assume responsibility
and liability for the accuracy of their claims and Wagging Tales – stories from a veterinarian’s clinic 11
statements. The opinions and views expressed in
articles do not necessarily reflect those of the
Publisher or advertisers. creaturesall reserves the
Creature Feature – the Calgary Zoo 13
right to refuse any advertising. All submissions will
receive a reply if email address is provided. Taking Down the Fences – A.I.W.C. 15
Writers & Cover Artists may make submissions
by email to: publisher@creaturesall.ca
Copyright 2005 by 1160613 ALBERTA LTD.
Spaces and Species – the Nature Conservancy of Canada 21
The Wild File – Canadian Parks and Wilderness 23
Cover Artist
Norman Worsley
Born in England in
Novel Suggestions – readers contribute book reviews 26
1924, Norm Worsley
attended the Rochester
Technical College of Arts,
The Gardening Bug – the Calgary Horticultural Society 27
before entering the
British Army and serving The Final Word – sitting at nature’s feet 30
in the Corps of Royal
Engineers as an
instructor. Norm is a
veteran, having served
during World War II.
Departments
On leaving the services, he worked as a design
engineer before he came to Canada in 1976. Publisher’s Note 5
His work has been featured in books: Canadian
Feathers, Feline Facts and Skins and Scales. He
donates all of his work; preferring to share his
Letters 7
knowledge and art, rather than focus on
monetary gain. In Passing 10

page3
 ? ?
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A
P u mu s!
Yo Actually, no... quite the opposite.
We think you are wise, kind and
supportive. Since first publishing, one
year ago, creaturesall has seen huge
demand. It is often difficult to find a
copy, as we have a virtual 100% pick-up
rate. Many want to get their hands on
several copies to use as gifts. As well,
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page4

Subscriptions—the time seems
right for creaturesall. There have
been many queries from out of town
folks who have happened across a
copy of creaturesall through the
guerrilla marketing efforts of one of
our regular readers. Those efforts
include leaving behind a copy in a
coffee shop or shopping mall for some
fortunate other to happen upon and
enjoy.
Also, many have expressed a
desire to send creaturesall as a gift for
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we have begun an aggressive program
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Your subscription will not only guaran-
tee you your copy each and every issue
but will support the sharing of
creaturesall in your community. Go to
www.creaturesall to learn more.
Though creaturesall is only one
year old, I have been involved in
publishing most of my working life.
Over that time, due to the capricious-
ness of the industry and economy, I
have endured periods of ‘employment
shortage’ due to slowdowns, mergers
and layoffs.
During one of these periods,
while I was between gigs, I found
myself at home awaiting the arrival
of the afternoon school bus and the
subsequent deposit of my Grade 3
and 4 son and daughter in our
driveway.
I was perhaps, not as motivated
as Canada Manpower might have
wished and, rather than be
downtown, plodding the pavement,
hat in hand, I chose instead to add to
the already growing bank of memories
and embarrassments that I, as their
dear ol’ dad, had been building for my
kids since their birth.
Advertiser and Story Submission Deadline
for Next Issue – September 1st/06
PUBLISHER’S
NOTE
encouraging you to Read, then write
Bob & Linda Fielder
Knowing they would exit the
school bus some 150 feet straight east
of our above-ground deck, I sought to
make use of that fact and the hour or
so available and ensure their arrival
was not their usual.
A quick search of closets and I
discovered a bit of black faux-fur and
an empty plastic bleach bottle. Slicing
the bottle lengthways, I glued the
outside surface of one of the halves
with faux-fur. Next, I fashioned a long
tail to the wide end and finished up by
painting a pair of parallel white stipes
lengthwise down the body from
narrow neck end to wide tail end.
Pepé le Pew in hand, I finished up by
attaching 200 feet of fishline to the
neck end and laying him in wait at the
end of our driveway. I hid under our
deck and awaited their arrival.
Inevitably, the bus arrived and as
it did so, I slowly reeled in the fishline,
causing the mock skunk to wobble its
way along the driveway toward our
home, per my plan. Sadly, I hadn’t
developed my plan beyond this point
and subsequent events reflected that.
Seeing the intruder, the driver
backed the school bus up and had my
kids gouge and scratch their way
across a water filled ditch and through
a thorny and spider infested hedge
well up the road in order to avoid a
smelly confrontation in our driveway.
Jokes always seem funnier when
it’s more than just yourself laughing.
That was never more true than when
I tried to point out the humour to the
wet and wounded duo; confronted, as
I was, laying on my belly, beneath the
deck, fishline and phony skunk in
hand. My wife, on the other hand,
was appropriately compassionate
when I informed her I had had little
luck finding employment that day.
page5
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paw prints and pen scratches
We just picked up Issue 06 of
creaturesall and as usual it is terrific.
We always get extra copies for our
two daughters and their families.
Keep up the good work. Happy
to see the story of Annie the Jacob
Horned Sheep. I grew up on a farm
and we all need to recognize how
much our domestic livestock con-
tribute to our lives. In the days of
urban life they are often forgotten
and at times not treated very well.
We hope this small donation
will help you out a little. We are
often telling others of your great
work - surely hope that works and
you get more support.
Laurie and Gerry Luciani
I was introduced to creaturesall
by my hiking friend. As a sixteen
year docent at the Calgary Zoo,
I am totally committed to animals,
although mainly of the wild
variety.
Many publications deal solely
with either wildlife or with our
domestic friends. creaturesall
offers a good blend of both and
has widened my appreciation for
all things bright and beautiful.
Brian Exton
Thank you for helping us meet
the bicyclists that wandered into
our Sheena's Sweets store in High
River recently. They said they were
from Calgary and camping in the
area and knew about us because of
the creaturesall magazine their child
had studied in school. We have also
shared copies of creaturesall with
schools and libraries, who appreci-
ate receiving a magazine that young
learners don't want to put down
and families love. Keep up the good
work lining up financial support to
share these wonderful stories and
art with schools.
Sheena Small
LETTERS
Where
Your magazine just keeps get-
to find
ting better and better! I picked up
issue 06 in Edmonton, and the writ-
ing (and thus the editing) is superb.
us
If I was only in the area, I would
call ‘Pacific Assistance Dogs’.
The stories are wonderful, and
I appreciate that they are stories,
and not thinly disguised appeals for
sympathy or money. It’s just nice to
read about animals when the story
doesn't end “ . . .and these animals
will be extinct in ten years.” I just
can't be depressed all the time.
The writing, which was always
good, is getting better; due no
doubt to more contributors and
resolute editing. There must be
some way we can get this magazine
regularly in Edmonton. Have you Available for FREE pick-up
considered subscriptions?
Bruce Jackson
at over 170 locations
Oh I'm so excited to be part of Safeway • Sobeys
creaturesall!!! I have planned my
shopping for the week around its Co-op
distribution!!!
Elisabeth Dowson Libraries • 7-11
creaturesall is a great resource
Devonian Gardens
for families. It should be in every Eau Claire Market
family car, on coffee tables, and
should be shared by parents, Foothills Hospital
grandparents and children. Families
embrace this magazine. It is great
Langdon Drugs
to share a magazine that parents Beddington Centre Mall
can encourage their child to read!
I love that this is a magazine Chestermere
filled with stories and articles that Dockside Food Market
appeal to young readers but should
also be shared with the whole
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Every child loves animals. This
Calgary l Airdrie
is a great tool to promote reading
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Strathmore
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Amy Jackson
Cochrane l Canmore
Executive Director
Calgary Reads
page7
Dot
Spot & by Helen E. Willy
We were your typical city folk moving to the country.
J
une is always a
particularly special
month in the country.
The natural green-
ery is astounding,
the flowers are
bursting into bloom,
the sounds of busy
birds are everywhere, baby squirrels
are playing in the treetops, and of
course, the fawns are being born. We
were your typical city folk moving to
the country. We thought we were in
tune with nature and animals because
of our education and rural childhood
past, however, we had no idea that we
would have so much to learn and
would experience such awesome
moments.
The date was June 4, 2003. We
had lived here since September 1999
and had grown accustomed to the
almost daily visits from the various
local white-tailed deer. They feel safe
here because activities on our property
are relatively uneventful. We have no
dogs or children and our existence is
mostly quiet except for the noisy lawn
mowing and chain sawing days. We
have trees and brush for them to
nestle down next to, and we have
clover and dandelions on the septic
field, both of which they love to eat.
They also enjoyed eating the flowers in
my garden until I learned which ones
they didn’t fancy. They eat the loose
sunflower seeds under the bird feeders
and drink the water from the
page8
birdbaths. We have gotten so used to
each other that we co-exist outside
very peacefully. Often I will be out
puttering in the garden and a deer will
be very near munching away on some
type of natural delectable greenery. I
will stop and admire him or her and
say “Good Morning” or “How are you
today?” They look up for an instant,
connect with those big brown eyes,
and then go back to munching.
On this day we had seen the usual
suspects and, in particular, a doe that
was very pregnant. Having had does
and fawns in our yard in previous years
we had come to be more aware of their
behaviors. It was about 9:00 P.M. and
I was at the kitchen sink admiring the
beautiful evening and sunset. I saw the
pregnant doe and two others who
appeared to be younger. That was a lit-
tle strange as most often the pregnant
does preferred to be loners when it
was time to give birth. In particular,
they did not want last year’s offspring
anywhere near. Early in the spring it
was time for the youngsters to go out
on their own and time for the doe to
concentrate on her next offspring. We
always found it sad when these fawns
would come to hang out with their
mother only to be chased away. They
would leave for a few days and come
back to try to connect, again in vain.
Only towards winter when they would
start collecting in groups would we see
them being amiable towards each
other again.
 The pregnant doe was
acting strangely. She
seemed to be nervous and
looking for something,
moving closer to the house.
As she turned to the side I noticed she
had her tail up and there were two
hooves and about eight inches of two
legs sticking out of her rear end. I
reached for my binoculars but found it
easier to capture the whole scene
without them. She was clearly giving
birth but had decided at the last
moment to change her location. She
had come closer to the house and lay
down in the tall grass. We could see
the top of her swollen belly and her
head. I was in a state of panic because
for some reason I thought the head
should be coming out first. Was it a
breech birth and was she in trouble? I
called a neighbour who was very
knowledgeable about wildlife and he
explained that feet first, indeed, was
very normal in the deer world. I went
back to the window and saw
something bobbing around in the
grass by the doe. She was washing a
newborn fawn! It was getting more
difficult to see as dusk approached.
Her belly started contracting again
and moments later we saw a second
little fawn bobbing up and down. The
doe was still lying down and washing
them. She did not utter a sound, that
we could hear, during the whole
birthing process.
In the midst of all this activity the
other two does were calmly grazing
nearby. They would look up and
around frequently and it almost
seemed to us that they were there to
keep guard and warn the doe that was
giving birth, should something or
someone come by. Or maybe the doe
decided to change places at the last
moment because she wasn’t pleased
that she had an audience. We weren’t
sure and haven’t witnessed a birth
since. By now it was too dark to really
see what was going on. We were
anxious to see what the morning
would bring.
We got up early and saw no sign
of the doe. I quietly went out to the
back yard and immediately spotted
the fawns in generally the same area
as they had been born the night
before. They were both trying to “ find
their legs”. One found a cozy spot
under a spruce tree and flopped down
for a nap. The other, however, was
very curious about his new world and
was exploring his surroundings. Not
being very sure-footed, however, he
would fall down frequently. He was
also very vocal and was making noises
most of the day. By afternoon he was
crying for his mother in the most
heart-wrenching way. We had to close
the door because we could no longer
listen to it. (We have had many new
fawns on our yard over the last seven
years and none have been as vocal as
this one.) We were angry that the doe
was not coming to feed him or settle
him down. We knew, from past
experiences that she was within
earshot but must have known that the
cries were not because the fawn was
in danger. She would be back at dusk
to feed them. Finally in the evening we
saw her approaching very slowly as
she grazed along the way. We couldn’t
believe that she was moving so slowly
and uttered a few unkind comments
about her mothering skills. Her little
guys were surely hungry. By now they
were a distance apart and she fed
page9
them one at a time, their
little tails flicking in sheer
joy as they suckled. Each
time, their mother washed
them thoroughly after the
feed to remove any scent in order to
keep them safer from predators.
In the morning they were all gone.
She had moved them to a different
location and most likely separated
them even more, which lessens the
chances of a predator finding them
both at the same time. I looked closely
at the area where she had given birth.
She had cleaned up after herself and
there was no evidence that anything
eventful had taken place. We know
now that they do this so predators are
not drawn to the area. It was not until
several weeks later when the fawns
were confident on their feet and were
able to run that we saw the three of
them together. They loved our septic
field because they could jump, run,
and play without being tripped by the
undergrowth. When it was time for
them to be bedded down the doe
would lie down. The fawns knew
instinctively to go in opposite
directions to find a sleeping spot. The
doe would wait a few minutes, then
quickly get up and quietly head in yet
another opposite direction. They
would never sleep together for their
own safety.
Our little spotted wonders were
named Dot and Spot. We were graced
with several visits as they grew up and
then lost track of who was who when
the other fawns and does started
wandering back towards fall. What a
magical world this can be. We are
constantly learning about the
behaviors of wildlife and are always
looking forward to our next
adventure, which never seems to be
that far around the corner. ca

Bouncer
Gone but not forgotten. A sad, “so
long” to Bouncer, greatly missed by
Dave, Suzanne, Allyson, Trent, Joey and
Janine. A golden retriever with a kind
face and a big heart, Bouncer died far too
early in 1998 of cancer. Though he had
only 5 years in this world, the love and
affection he shared with all who knew
him is beyond measure. He is still and
will be forever missed and thought of 3 years later. Bouncer
was a good dog,
Passed Away on: 05/03/03
Scrubs
Scrubs was a great dog. Nothing more than a mutt by
most standards, but the best darn mutt to ever come into my
life. He had a long and happy life, untouched by disease or
injury. For that I am happy. He died just one short month ago
and I still find myself missing his mooching ways.
Passed Away on: 05/18/06
page10
IN PASSING
celebrating the lives of animal friends
Jack
Jack, our flat coated retriever, was the
most life-loving dog I have ever been
around, and we had to live with him. We
picked him up from the SPCA in March of
2001 and by April we had a mind to give
him back. This one year old dog had end-
less energy and seemed to enjoy getting in
trouble on a daily basis. While he was a
handful he never lost his zest for life, from
terrorizing Great Danes in the dog park to climbing on the
counters eating our dinner He was always tearing around,
checking out every angle and on the go; except of course when
he took up half the bed. We watched cancer take him but he’s
still here and, while one day I won’t think of him daily, that day
is a long way off yet
Passed Away on: 04/01/06
Send your tributes to editor@creaturesall.ca All material is
subject to editing. Include ‘Passed Away on: date’. and a 300
dpi photo should you choose to include one.
RESCUE, REHABILITATE & RELEASE
Protecting Their Future and Ours
Alberta Institute for Wildlife Conservation
946-2361 • www.aiwc.ca
Wildlife & Habitat Conservation through Rehabilitation, Education & Research

pondered, “Does
I r a b b i t
h e ave n
exist”, as
my caregiver Matt gently, but
with desperate purpose, carried
me across the stone threshold of
the veterinary hospital I had
visited on better terms so often
in the past. My every breath
required extensive effort and any
attempt to make even the slightest
movement resulted in unrelenting
pain. I gazed up and could see a
torrent of tears streaming down
Matt’s face. Seeing my human
companion’s sadness reminded me that
I was not in this alone. Matt came upon
the front desk and quickly caught a
receptionist’s attention.
“ My bunny’s dying! My bunny’s dying!
Please help me!” Matt exclaimed.
A faceless voice boomed loudly in the air,
“Dr. Weger, to the exam room, STAT”.
We burst into the exam room and I instantly
recognized the human healer, Dr.Weger, who had
fixed me so many times over the years.
“What happened Matt?” I heard him quietly
inquire.
Fighting his fear of losing his best friend, Matt
related the circumstances leading up to my grave
situation. “He has been slowing down recently and not
as energetic. I thought that he was just getting old. I
came home from work and I found him laying on his side
in his hutch”.
While Matt told his tale, Dr. Weger, listened to my
chest with his metal gadget.
“He has fluid in his chest Matt, I think
that he is in heart failure. We need to
act fast!”
With breakneck speed Dr.
Weger whisked me away and
my eyesight started to
become blurred. Visions of
my past appeared before me. I
was a young bunny again,
hopping in a garden of wooden
shavings at the pet store. I was the
only rabbit in the glass prison that was my
home, along with a crowd of snobby guinea pigs. With no
page11
WAGGING TALES
stories from a veterinarian’s clinic
by Dr. Richard Weger, B.Sc., DVM
one to play with me I was left alone to my game of
solitary hopping.
One day a man came to the store, picked me up
without hesitation, and stroked my fur with surprising
tenderness. From that fleeting moment the friendship
developed that existed to this day. Matt showered me with
many rabbit friendly gifts; plastic balls, stuffed toys and,
of course, a multitude of munchable goodies. However,
it was his companionship and kindness that I most
appreciated. On rainy nights he would place me on
his lap and gently lull me to sleep while watching his
box of flashing pictures. On sunny days we would go
outside and play in the grass, an innocent game of
predator and prey.
Violently I was pulled back to reality and I could
hear Dr.Weger shouting “We’re losing him, he’s going
into cardiac arrest!”
I could feel tremendous pain in my chest. I felt
cold. The end was upon me. Suddenly, amidst the
chaos, time stopped still. All the voices quieted and it
was then that I saw my friend Matt standing over me, his
face crinkled with sorrow. I could feel his hand stroking
my fur just as he did when he J5Jst held me at the
pet store.
Bending over, Matt placed his face near mine and
whispered in my ear, “I love you Mr. Bunny.”
Tears spilled down his cheeks and fell onto my fur.
Although we did not speak the same language, my eyes
reflected compassion for my human friend.
The images before me changed and I awoke as if I was
in a dream. I found myself gazing upon a large field of
timothy hay grass. I could feel the sun warming my body.
Blue sky was above me with nary a cloud. The pain was
gone. I was once again strong and vibrant. Off in the
distance other bunnies beckoned me to go to them. With
renewed vigour I ran with all the speed I could muster and
started my journey into the lands of the unknown. ca
Dr. Richard Weger is a graduate of the
Western College of Veterinary
Medicine. He has committed the
majority of his continuing edu-
cation to the development of
his skills in the field of exotic
veterinary medicine. 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
 ...original paintings
of your pets!

Congratulations
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page12

id you know that giraffes have
D an eighteen inch long purple
tongue? This is because, in
the wild they spend long hours
reaching up into the acacia trees
picking green leaves from between
huge thorns and the purple colour
prevents their tongues from getting
sunburned. The length of the tongue
makes it easier for giraffes to reach
high into the trees where the best
leaves are and where no other animal
can reach.
Tenga standing, Mardi sitting, father and mother to be.
Photo Courtesy Mona Keith, Keeper
Ungulates, which include
giraffes, eat vegetation, which they
chew and swallow, then regurgitate,
chew some more and swallow again.
This swallowing and regurgitation can
easily be seen in giraffes because they
have such long necks. As they
swallow you can see a large lump go
down the throat and a few seconds
later see it come back up the neck
into the mouth, very weird!
Ungulates have particularly long
legs that have been adapted for life on
open grasslands and, it is interesting
to note, they walk on their toes.
Giraffes are up to 19 feet (6 metres)
CREATURE FEATURE
tall and can weigh up to 2,800 pounds
(1270 kg). A baby giraffe weighs
about 130 pounds at birth and can be
about 6 feet tall and is born while the
mother is standing, so the baby lands
in a heap on the ground... Ouch!
Over the years the Calgary Zoo
has had twelve successful giraffe
births, however our last baby giraffe
was Jeffrey, born on November 23,
2000. When Jeffrey was a year old
both he and his father Mason
were sent off
to an all male giraffe herd in
California. At that time Mason’s
genes were well represented in the
captive breeding program so it was
time for him to move on. After the
boys had left for California, Mardi
and Carrie, our two female giraffes,
remained together in the beautiful
African Savannah building of
Destination Africa. It was hoped that
eventually the Calgary Zoo would
obtain another male giraffe to mate
with the two remaining females and
produce another baby giraffe.
But, just about the time that
inquiries were being made to obtain a
male giraffe from the United States,
Alberta had its first case of mad cow
disease confirmed and the border
page13
ungulate arrivals
by Kathleen Hewitt
was closed to all ungulates. Giraffes,
being in the ungulate category, were
also stopped from crossing the
border.
In May 2005 a ten year old male
giraffe was located at African Lion
Safari Park in Ontario, and negotia-
tions were made for him to come to
Calgary. Tenga arrived at the Calgary
Zoo in June 2005 and as with all our
new arrivals, he had to spend time in
quarantine. Although he was in the
same building as the females, he
could not be with them. However,
the females and Tenga spent many
long hours gazing at each other
through a window and it was very
obvious that they were all well aware
they were different sexes.
After the quarantine was over it
didn’t take Tenga long to realize why
he was at the Calgary Zoo and he
proved very successful in his mission,
Mardi began a fifteen month long
pregnancy which should culminate
with the birth of a baby giraffe
sometime in November 2006, making
a family group of four. If you come
down to the Calgary Zoo you will be
able to watch as it learns how to
manage four very long legs. ca
Peter Prest

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page14

ere’s a story to raise the hairs
H on the back of your neck! Late
one night the hero of our
story, a lone young porcupine, was
meandering along the boulevard near
Nosehill Park. Minding his own
business, as
porcupines
do, he was
enjoying the
spring air
while brows-
ing on spring’s
new growth
of herbaceous
plants and
tree bark. In
what can only
be described
as a nightmar-
ish blur, he
was attacked
by a beast
with long
fangs. To protect himself, he kept his
back to the beast, raised his quills,
and swatted his tail in the hopes of
driving the attacker away. At this
moment, the porcupine wished he
really could throw his quills, but of
course he could not. Suddenly, in the
skirmish, the porcupine’s world
turned black and breezy like the night
sky, and he lost consciousness.
That same night, the porcupine
awoke; weary, aching, and unable to
move. Exhausted and weak, he slipped
in and out of consciousness. At 4 am
another nocturnal ambler stumbled
across him - a young man on a late
night walk. Heroically, the young man
carried the injured animal home three
kilometers. There, on his bathroom
floor, he cleaned the porcupine’s
numerous wounds until early morning,
when he called for help.
A rescue driver rushed the
porcupine to AIWC’s wildlife centre
where his injuries were recorded: eyes
TAKING DOWN THE FENCES
swollen shut, left eye punctured,
dehydration, low body temperature,
pale gums, tongue and jaw punctured
and swollen, four incisors broken off
at gum line, blood in left ear, tear in
right ear, dried blood in nostrils, two
infected
punctures
penetrating the skull between the eyes
and ears, bite wounds on back with
half the quills broken or missing,
fractured radius and ulna of right arm.
AIWC staff surmised the attacker was
a dog; a coyote would likely have
flipped the porcupine over to attack
its unquilled belly, while the dog likely
became retaliatory upon receiving a
face full of quills, and continued to
attack the porky’s quilled side.
During the examination, the
porcupine continued to float in and
out of consciousness. His outlook was
grave, and it seemed questionable
whether he would survive the night.
Yet he did, and thus began his uphill
battle.
Weak and sore, he was handfed
pureed fruits and vegetables from a
syringe; finding it difficult at first.
However, in time he would grasp his
front paws around the syringe, eager
page15
a prickly tale
by Robyn Roper
to slurp away. His infected bite
wounds required cleaning several
times daily. As his head wounds
drained, his nasal passages became
blocked and his nostrils also needed
clearing. This was the worst part of
every day for the porcupine as he was
restrained by his otherwise kind
caregivers and he cried a piercing and
sorrowful cry throughout. Several
times he even interrupted his
caregivers, turning to place a
paw on them and looking deep
into their eyes as if to say, “must
you really do this to me?”
Unfortunately, it was essential to
keep those wounds clean to
prevent infection from spreading.
Gradually, as his ever-grow-
ing incisors regrew, he began
eating solid food again. Gingerly,
he took fresh dandelions and
other soft native plants in his
paws to gnaw on. Throughout all
he endured, the porcupine was
never the instigator of a conflict.
Instead, seemingly his main desire
was to be understood and, if possible,
left alone.
Perhaps this most unfortunate
encounter might have been avoided.
What remains unknown is what
became of the poor attacker.
Porcupines are a forgiving bunch.
Their quills are coated in a natural
antibiotic to prevent infection from
killing their attacker. That way the
attacker will live to pass a lesson to
their offspring to think twice before
attacking a porcupine.
A happy ending looms, as the
porcupine now simply awaits removal
of his arm splint prior to his
impending release. Hopefully, he has
managed to convince a dog out there
to leave well enough alone, for that’s
what a porcupine truly needs – to be
left well enough alone and, of course,
some tasty trees! ca
 harlie, let’s go!” A quiet gentle command and
“C we are away. Together we are off to a day at
work, or an afternoon of socialization, or for a
romp in a field. What makes my time with Charlie so
unique?
Charlie is a dog; a highly skilled yellow Labrador
retriever cross; five years old and a certified Service Dog. I
am a retired school principal. After a disastrous fall on ice
in 1999, a seriously injured back initiated debilitating arthri-
tis. I could no longer walk safely and the pain was excruci-
ating. My physician said that I was far too active to give up.
Along with three major surgeries, I acquired Charlie, my
service dog. Charlie wears a harness with a leather encased
metal handle, together with a blue identifying cape. Charlie
walks on my left or right side as required and I hang on to
the handle to support and balance myself. As I recovered,
he assisted me to walk safely, regain my confidence and
recover much of my impaired balance. In short, Charlie
returned me to an active life.
In retirement, my life has been centered on volunteer
work with different organizations and these activities now
continue as Charlie’s strength and devotion often make me
forget the disability that brought him to me.
Charlie and I hit it off from the first time we were
introduced. In September 2003, we graduated from PADS
PARTNERS
Vancouver Campus as a working team. We have been
together ever since. At first, Charlie knew more about his
own skills and duties than I did. With my insecure dog
FOR LIFE
handling skills, I am sure that in his quiet canine way he
by Verne Trevoy
questioned what this human was doing to him. However,
with Charlie at my side, I walk with extreme confidence
and have never fallen again, even in Calgary’s capricious
weather.
Charlie’s superb training resulted in much more than
walking at my side. Upon command he will retrieve dropped
items, keys, wallets, socks and kitchen utensils. Sometimes
he performs this so quickly that I have not completed the
command. He will open my refrigerator door on the
command, “TUG”, which is a blessing if I have a cane in one
hand and a food dish in the other. He can turn a light
switch, with specially equipped toggles, on and off, and is
very adept at operating the access buttons found at the
entrances and exits of shopping centers and commercial
buildings. This is of special importance in windy or icy
conditions. In the months that I was recuperating, these
skills added immeasurably to the confidence I required as I
walked again and partially regained my balance.
Possession of a service dog is a combination of both
wonder and joy punctuated with humor. One warm
summer afternoon my kitchen patio door was open and my
phone began to ring, however, I could not find the hand-set.
The ringing tone led me outside and there was Charlie,
comfortable under a shade tree, the phone between his
paws and his chin resting upon it. He could have been
talking to some cute canine he had just met, and was quite
oblivious to the fact that I was looking for both him and the
phone. I almost felt as if I was intruding upon his private
moments.
 The unexpected is always a
surprise. Charlie has learned well to
tug open the fridge door, but always at
right angles to the front of the fridge.
One day, when there were guests in
the kitchen, I carelessly gave the
command “TUG”, and “TUG”, he did,
from the side of the door and my forty
kilogram dog yanked the handle and
the molding right off with a loud bang.
He stood there and looked at me, with
a, “Now what?” look on his face.
One morning, when we were
riding the C-Train as strap-hangers, a
man nearby dropped his keys. Charlie
deftly picked them up and handed
them to me. I asked the fellow if they
were for an Audi or a BMW. He
replied, regretfully, that they were for
an old pick-up truck. I gave the keys
back to him and said that Charlie had
R
misfired that time. The people
surrounding us were still laughing
when we got downtown.
As Charlie is a working dog, he
spends many hours each day under a
harness and backpack. His
recreational time is therefore
egularly, we go to off-leash areas and river banks where he can be a real dog
necessary and important.
He loves to run in huge circles
in the grasslands and it is a joy to see
him do so. A recall command,
“Charlie, here!”, and he is at my side,
ready to go to work once again. One
morning, in early summer, Charlie
came out of the trees toward me with
an object in his mouth. He arrived and
gently put the furry thing at my feet
and sat in front of me. I picked up his
gift and realized he had brought me a
very young small rabbit. The quivering
bundle died in my hands as I examined
it. At first, shock and disbelief! Had
my gentle Charlie caught and killed a
helpless bunny? Then, upon closer
examination, I found three deep
bleeding wounds at the back of the
neck at the top of the spine. Talon
wounds, to be sure. Had a hawk
dropped its prey and could not find it
again or had Charlie scared off the big
bird before it could secure its meal?
I’ll never know. It occurred to me as
Charlie looked up with his big
Labrador eyes, he was thinking, “Can
you fix it, boss?” I put the infant
bunny into a ziplock bag I had, as I
did not want Charlie to see me throw
away his offering.
Out in the public world, Charlie
is a constant attention grabber. A
half hour visit to the grocery market
turns into an hour or more by the
time we have met and talked to all
those who want to learn about my
dog. Children and their mothers are
the most curious. Being a retired
teacher who enjoys meeting people, I
turn these meetings into learning
experiences for the inquisitive.
Letting Charlie pick up my keys that
I toss upon the floor is a simple act
that kids enjoy.
A difficult challenge of life with a
working dog is remembering that
your dog is not a pet, but a working
partner. Charlie’s gentle disposition
and faithful loyalty makes people
want to cuddle and pet him and
demonstrate affection. Many
children already know that a working
dog is not able to visit, and should
not be touched and never fed.
Sometimes a courteous reminder is
required when relating to people in
public places.
page17
After Charlie became my
helpmate, I was so impressed with the
PADS organization and its work for
disabled people that I became a
volunteer. Charlie has been to schools,
shopping malls, churches, clubs and
business meetings as a representative
of PADS and has always enjoyed an
appreciative reception.
An observer once said that,
“Everyone should enjoy his fifteen min-
utes of fame in his lifetime.” True or
not, Charlie enjoyed his reward in May
2006. Volunteer Calgary hosts a yearly
spring gala at which many people are
spotlighted for their efforts as volun-
teers in jobs and organizations in the
year past. This year Charlie was picked
as the Volunteer Pet of the Year, 2006.
This is the first time that there has
been an animal category. There were
several fine candidates and Charlie
was honoured to be the winner. He
was featured in television reports and
on radio and was privileged to be a
representative of the animal kingdom
in service to all people. As I have men-
tioned before, he volunteers with me
on a regular basis with various organi-
zations in Calgary and was very worthy
of this award.
Well done, Charlie. You earn your
kibble and your keep and the love of
your client and his friends. ca
 he was one of fifty pullets

S purchased from a poultry farm

to become free-range layers, but
when I lifted her out of the crate she
Differently-abled people inspire those of us whose trials are

propelled herself backwards in a modest by comparison. Occasionally we find similar inspiration

flurry of wings and shavings until she
came to rest, panting, against the wall in animals or birds with challenges.
of the barn. Her left leg appeared to
be broken.
Thinking she had been injured
during transport, I rushed her to our
avian vet. She confirmed the leg was
broken at the hock and had rotated,
but it had fully healed; the shank now
flexed to the side with the foot upside-
down. She hinted at amputation, but
the foot was warm and functional.
Something told me to leave it intact.
The saving grace of the injured
hen’s caged existence had been her
easy access to food and water, but in
a free-run setting there would be no
mercy for a lame bird. After all she’d
been through, we felt she deserved a
little compassion so we brought her
into our home. We named her
Angelina, “Little Angel,” because to us
she was a perfect little angel just as
she was.
We lined a plastic grocery box
with a towel for her but she launched
herself right over the side with her
good leg. As she struggled to stand,
she flapped backwards against a chair
and stopped to catch her breath.
Finally, balanced on her right leg, she
immediately took an interest in her
new surroundings. My husband and I
shook our heads in amazement.
We cut down a large cardboard
box, leaving the sides low enough that
she could see over the edge but high

A n g e l i n a
enough to keep her safe. She was thus
empowered to be as active as she
wished. Through trial and error, we
found that the best bedding was a by Elisabeth Dowson
large folded towel covered by a thin
layer of pine shavings. We could
easily pick out her droppings, and
the non-slip surface maximized her
mobility.
Angelina braced her left leg
against the box as she hopped. One
day while stretching her left leg up
and back like a tiny ballerina, she

page18
accidentally hooked her toes over the an effort to control as much of her life Once people realized they weren’t
top edge and found she could steady as she could, Angelina always set the imagining a hen in a box being chauf-
herself when pecking vigorously at an rules: sometimes she shared treats feured in a shopping cart, they always
apple or other hard treat. The twisted from her dish, and sometimes she smiled and initiated heart-warming
limb that would have been removed in insisted they hunt for seeds among the conversations. Several seniors shared
the quest for visual perfection became shavings. memories of their own chickens on a
a key element in Angelina’s quality While we were watching television long-ago farm, and many children were
of life. one night, Angelina repeatedly tapped fascinated to see and pet a real live
Two months after she arrived, her beak on the edge of her box so chicken for the first time. Angelina’s
Angelina presented us with her first urgently that I picked her up to check effervescent personality quickly
small brown egg. Others followed her. She seemed fine and settled on a dismissed any doubt about her quality
at thirty-six-hour intervals. She towel in my lap with her left wing over of life or her resolve to live it well.
proclaimed these events by loud my arm. Feeling completely secure for Like many non-human compan-
cackling followed by quiet focus. After the first time in her life, she preened ions, she was interested in everything
the egg emerged, she tenderly nudged all her hard-to-reach feathers and then we ate or drank. She could “taste” a
it beneath her with her beak and slipped into a blissful sleep with her new offering by smelling it and would
“incubated” it for a few minutes. head tucked beneath her right wing. either snatch it eagerly or reject it by
In mild weather, our back yard An evening ritual had begun. shaking her head as if to fling the food
offered excellent footing, forage and When a neighbour’s dog killed from her beak. Her favourites were
motivation for Angelina to reach her another beloved hen, we found pizza of any kind, grated cheese, ice

S
full potential. She was soon hopping Angelina safe but cowering under our cream, salad, Earl Grey tea and pink
after any insect that lemonade.
crawled, jumped or flew. When early spring
Her upside down foot, he soon gave these “kisses” whenever I asked. weather allowed her to be
calloused from use, outside again, Angelina loved
provided a pivot point to explore our new sun-bathed
when changing direction. She also deck. As I cuddled her and buried my greenhouse because it had a grass
used it to grasp low branches for face gratefully in her feathers, I felt floor and all the delights of digging in
balance when browsing beneath a her cool beak gently tracing my cheek. the earth. I thought she was safe in
shrub. To move quickly, she hopped Angelina had seen tears trickling down her sanctuary, but it became the
on her good leg, used the other for and was trying to catch them. Most confine where her life ebbed. A tunnel-
mid-stride stability, and flapped her hens peck at shiny objects, but she ing weasel proved to be the one
wings. examined every tear, freckle and challenge Angelina could not overcome.
As cold weather approached, we crease on my face with cautious For days I was inconsolable. Her
noticed that Angelina frequently lost fascination. What a precious little soul loss in this way was incomprehensible.
her balance and did the “splits,” even you are, I thought. She soon gave Eventually I realized that in Nature
when in her box. Our vet x-rayed her these “kisses” whenever I asked. The there is no right or wrong, no just or
and we were shocked to discover she image of her crossed eyes as she unjust; there is simply experience.
had no left hip socket. Inspired by looked at me down the length of her We borrowed Angelina for a time, but
falconers’ jesses, I fashioned a one- beak always made me laugh. the Universe retained ultimate control
piece suede hobble that slipped over Whenever I left the house, over her destiny.
each foot, and then adjusted it to Angelina fretted and squawked Each time I pass the flourishing
stabilize her left leg within a because her flock instinct told her little spruce tree we planted over her,
comfortable radius so it would not “alone” was dangerous. One day, I remember with great love the
overextend. She once again embraced having no real schedule, I tucked her diminutive hen who tasted the sorrow
her life with confidence. into a towel-lined grocery box and of my tears and prepared my heart to
That winter, her captivating took her with me. As soon as we drove hold greater joy. The solutions we
personality emerged. She frequently off, she nestled down and enjoyed the devised for her facilitated the lives of
groomed bits of grass from our border scenery so much that I planned other creatures yet to find their way
collies’ coats, but vigorously defended outings with her whenever I shopped into our lives.
her space against our cats with a for renovation, farm or gardening Angelina proved that when we
glare, raised hackles and a supplies. champion courage and facilitate
threatening beak. A diminutive hen Angelina inspected each new item potential, almost anything is possible
named Penny was the only creature to placed in the cart and pecked at those — even for a common but perfectly
receive “in-box” visiting privileges. In of interest, chattering constantly. special hen. ca

page19
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page20

ave you ever been walking in
H the country and heard a very
distinctive “Who ooo ooo”?
That distinctive hooting alerts you that
an owl is perched nearby. Or maybe,
at dusk, you’ve seen yellow eyes
peering at you from the trees? Maybe
you saw an owl!
The largest owl in Alberta is the
great grey owl (Strix nebulosa). There
are 11 different owl species found in
Alberta from the tiny pygmy owl at
only 16cm long, to the great grey owl,
which measures up to 84cm in length
with a wingspan of 120cm. There’s
little chance a great grey owl would fly
right at you, though!
You wouldn’t likely see one flying
overhead. Owls usually fly close to the
ground, only short distances between
perches, and seldom glide. The owl
flies almost silently; its
flight feathers have projec-
tions that muffle the sound
of their flight. This allows
them to drop on their prey
without warning.
The great grey owl,
like all other owls, is
nocturnal. It hunts for food
at night, dusk and dawn.
He is a raptor – a bird of
prey that enjoys a varied
diet of rodents, weasels,
bats, shrews and insect-
eating birds. Frogs legs
aren’t on their menu; they
don’t often eat frogs, toads
or other amphibians.
Great grey owls have
sharp curved talons for
picking their prey off the
ground, and strong hooked
beaks for tearing apart
their food.
The owl’s large eyes enable him to
see well, even in the dark. Many
animals and birds have their eyes on
the sides of their heads, but owls’ eyes
SPACES and SPECIES
Who Gives a Hoot? The Great Grey Owl
by Kara Tersen, Development Coordinator - AB Region
face forward on their large flat faces.
In this way, both eyes see the object at
the same time. This “binocular vision”
enables them to accurately judge
distances. The owl’s eyes are
immovably fixed in their sockets, and
it must turn its head to follow moving
objects. Because its neck is very flexi-
ble, an owl can actually turn its head
three-quarters of the way around. Talk
about having eyes in the back of your
head!
Although some owls appear to
have ears on top of their head, those
are actually long feathers called ear
tufts, and are not ears at all. An owl’s
ears are actually on the sides of its
head. They have very large ear
openings, with one ear high on the
right side of its head, and the other is
lower on the left. In this way, sound
bs
reaches one ear
arol Dab
before the other, and
the owl is then able to
urtesy K
detect exactly where
the sound is coming
photo co
page21
from. Owls have an acute sense of
hearing, and in the winter often hunt
by hearing alone, enabling them to
capture small rodents as much as 30
cm under the snow.
The great grey owl usually makes
its nest in those abandoned by other
birds or in the top of large snags (dead
trees). They often stay in the same
nest for successive years. They
typically breed, nest and winter in the
same area, and typically only move to
new areas to follow their food supply
rather than migrate like other birds.
Great grey owls are usually found in
coniferous forests around the world,
while some other owls in Alberta can
be found in grassland areas. The great
grey owl is Manitoba’s provincial bird.
Throughout North America, they can
be found across most of Canada, and
the northern United States,
Alaska, and even California.
In Alberta, owls are protected
under the Wildlife Act. It is illegal
to harass or kill an owl or other
bird of prey. Habitat loss is
currently the greatest threat to
the great grey owl population; owl
populations cannot survive and
thrive without places to nest and
hunt. The great grey owl is
“apparently secure” in Alberta,
while in other parts of Canada
they are vulnerable.
Through the work of the
Nature Conservancy of Canada
(NCC), habitat for species like the
great grey owl is conserved for
future generations. ca
NCC is a national, non-profit land
trust conserving ecologically signifi-
cant land through private action with
the cooperation and generosity of vision-
ary landowners and supporters. If you’d
like to learn more about conservation or
volunteer with NCC, call 1-877-262-1253
or email alberta@natureconservancy.ca.
page22

ooking back to the beginning of
L civilization, it is possible to find
evidence of ancient confronta-
tion between humans and his
predators and preys. More importantly,
we have plenty of evidence showing
how we humans have developed
within a few short centuries what took
other species millions of years.
The two main factors that
determine how species evolve are the
relationship between predators and
prey along with climatic factors. This
predator/prey relationship
sometimes been referred to as
“nature’s armament race”, where only
the most prepared survive.
Few living things on Earth, have
been so successful at “nature’s
armament race” as have humans,
made evident in the wide range of
habitats that we have conquered and
our capability to modify the
environment for our own convenience.
In ancient times, relationships
between humans and bears were far
more basic, and the sum total of our
daily activities was insufficient to
threaten the balance of a whole
ecosystem. Killing a bear was a
matter of survival rather than
pleasure or economy and the success
or failure of a hunt could determine if
a human family would survive the
winter or not.
Grizzly bears are incapable of
making nature produce what they
need in order to survive; instead, they
are highly dependent on what the
environment provides them.
A grizzly bear can weigh between
130 and 400 kg and can be 1.8 to 2.5
metres long, meaning an adult bear
will have no natural enemies except
humans, which do not need to hunt
bears for survival anymore.
So, if grizzlies are no longer
essential for our survival, why the
need to preserve them? Think of life
what’s so great about a grizzly
on earth as a building,
with every species of
animal or plant rep-
resenting a brick. If
one brick is
removed, the struc-
ture may not imme-
diately collapse.
However, remove mul-
tiple bricks from multi-
ple places and the entire
structure will collapse. So, if you
think that the disappearance of a
has species is not important, think again.
In addition to their ecological
importance, grizzly bears have a
cultural value and serve to attract
tourists that enjoy the beauty of
nature and want the opportunity to
watch these magnificent animals in
their natural environment.
Although direct encounters with
grizzly bears are not frequent, some
human behaviors can encourage these
curious creatures to approach
humans; a potentially dangerous
situation for humans and bears. Their
omnivorous diet can attract them to
many man-made foods, the smell of
which can attract grizzlies to camp-
sites and homes. To avoid dangerous
situations there are some safety
guidelines about what and what not to
do in bear country:
Do:
•secure storage of garbage, using
bear-proof garbage cans.
•keep pets on leash.
•travel in groups whenever possible
and in general obey all trail closures
and information signs.
•make lots of noise, by talking loudly
or yelling.
Do not:
•leave garbage or food in a vehicle.
•dump dishwater near campsites.
•put food of any kind in firepits.
•bring perfumes, lotions, and food
into tents.
page23
THE WILD FILE
by Gelman Cortes
If you encounter a bear.
Do:
•move away slowly if the bear has
not detected you.
•drop to the ground and play dead in
the event of an attack by a grizzly bear.
Bring your knees up tight against your
head by clasping your hands together
behind your neck with your face to the
ground.
•fight back as hard as you can if the
attack does not stop and you believe
that a bear is stalking you as potential
prey.
**Bear spray can offer additional
protection, but it must be used correct-
ly to be effective.
Do not:
•stop if you are driving your car on
the highway, and see a grizzly bear on
one side of the road. This attracts the
attention of other drivers, making the
situation potentially dangerous
•run or make sudden moves
or noises.
•shout to attract its attention.
Finally remember that grizzly
bears are wild animals. They have
a much different perception of
the environment and act according
to their basic survival instincts
developed over several millennia.
The responsibility of avoiding close
encounters belongs to humans. ca
 ho wouldn’t want to head south during

W the bitter, cold, dark, and generally

miserable month of January? In my case,
south meant all the way to ‘terra incognito australis’,
translated as the unknown southern land. In January
my husband and I participated in an amazing
adventure that took us by ship through the Southern
Ocean. We landed on the island of South Georgia
and on the last continent on Earth to be discovered
– Antarctica! I always envisioned a desolate, empty
place. However, the wildlife aloft in the air, brimming
in the water, and basking on the ice proved me
wrong. Of all the creatures we saw, the penguins
amazed me most with their sheer tenacity. Although
they exist as far north as the Galapagos Islands,
observing penguins in a truly polar environment was
spellbinding.
Penguins are seabirds. Seabird does not
identify a specific genera or species, but describes
birds that spend the majority of their lives at sea,
requiring solid ground only for breeding. Penguins
are the most aquatic of the seabirds, and all that
time in the cold Southern Ocean requires some
pretty intense adaptations. Their outer feathers
overlap like roof tiles, making them impermeable to
wind and water. A thick layer of blubber provides
warmth and energy reserves. Penguins have given up
on flying and march awkwardly on land, but are able
to expertly propel themselves underwater. Their
stubby tails and feet combine to form a rudder, and
their wings are used as stiff flippers for propulsion,
clocking speeds upwards of 25 km/hour. Adopting
strategy similar to dolphins, penguins leap out of the
water and skim the surface for air. It is a most
peculiar thing to look out of your porthole and
witness a penguin-rocket skirt the ocean surface like
a skipping stone.
Penguins are able to survive because the
Southern Ocean has the highest biological
productivity of any waters in the world, allowing
them to feast primarily on krill, a finger-tipped sized
type of zooplankton that looks like miniature shrimp.
Krill, in enormous swarms, make life pretty good for
a penguin. However, penguins have their own role to
play in the food chain. Only approximately half of the
penguin juveniles that go to sea each year will survive
to adulthood. Their main predators are leopard
seals. I confess to finding seals unbelievably
adorable, but the leopard seal makes me reconsider.
They appear more reptilian than mammalian with
their sleek body, huge jaws, and elongated face. A

page24
penguin’s primary defense underwater
is its black and white camouflage.
Predators, looking up at a penguin,
see a white belly blending with the
light above; predators looking down
see a black back blending with the
dark ocean below. There are definite
advantages to being dressed for
success in a tuxedo.
Our first intense penguin
experience was on the island of South
Georgia, a home to King penguins.
Kings are the second largest penguin,
and regarded as the most colourful
and spectacular. Adults are just under
a metre tall with vibrant orange
plumage on their head. They form
enormous numbers in their breeding
colonies, located on slightly raised
ground close to accessible beaches. In
one colony on South Georgia, we were
among half a million penguins - two
hundred thousand breeding pairs, plus
their chicks!
We stayed on the edges of the
King colony to limit our disturbance,
but still were well within smelling dis-
tance which, given their large
numbers, surprisingly didn’t smell that
bad. Our cameras clicked away madly.
I have never felt like a pro photogra-
pher, but you could not take a bad shot
– they were so photogenic and comical.
Watching a penguin colony is a lot
like watching football. A bunch of over-
stuffed animals run around in
different random directions, make a
lot of noise, and find incredible
pleasure in slapping each other. Trying
to capture the activities of the entire
colony all at once is futile. By watching
small groupings of Kings, a different
intimacy with the colony emerges. I
saw a courting pair make a half-
hearted mating attempt (perhaps they
resented the active audience), a
parent feeding its chick by regurgita-
tion, and brown bedraggled chicks
muck around in muddy water. Some
Kings were undergoing a catastrophic
molt where they replace all their
feathers at once. They passed the time
perfectly balanced on their heels, or
snoozing on their belly. The odd
penguin would tuck its head behind its
wing, giving it a bizarre headless
appearance.
The area bustles with activity from
other birds and animals as well. Skuas
are gull-like seabirds that patiently wait
to pick off a weak or straying King
chick for dinner. Sheathbills are tiny
birds that are the garbage collectors of
the colony, feasting on penguin poop.
The beach is prime real estate for
Antarctic fur seals. Seal pups spar
along the beach, oblivious to the
groupings of Kings they mow down like
bowling pins. Reindeer, introduced by
the Scandinavian whalers, lope eerily
out-of-place across the valley.
Our ship left the multitudes of
Kings on South Georgia and headed
straight for the Antarctic Peninsula,
which stretches from the Antarctic
continent towards the tip of South
America. Along the Peninsula we saw
Chinstrap, Adelie, and Gentoo
penguins from the brushtail group –
these penguins are shorter and
page25
squatter than the Kings, with little
paint brush tails. These colonies are
smaller, and certainly harder to reach.
Brushtails prefer to nest in rocky
terrain up slopes that tired me
climbing, never mind a bird with
stubby legs. The beaches at the base of
their colonies were strewn with items
any beachcomber would covet, such as
enormous whale ribs and vertebrae. In
Antarctica, it is forbidden to pack any
souvenirs home such as rocks, bones,
or feathers; they must be left to their
own destiny. You can only take
memories and photos. The Peninsula is
also intense ice country. Icebergs are
like snowflakes – no two alike. Some
were multiple stories high with vertical
sides freshly broken off a glacier, oth-
ers had been slowly wind and water
sculpted to resemble amorphous glass
blown shapes. The smaller icebergs
were the perfect spots for penguins to
hang out and catch their breath. The
comic books and caricatures are true;
penguins really do hang out on ice.
At the end of this experience, I
wondered what it was about the South
and all those squawking penguins that
got under my skin. We are all visitors
to their colonies, their oceans. There is
no history of human habitation, and no
citizenship on Antarctica. It is
protected by the Antarctic Treaty as a
natural reserve dedicated to peace and
science. I am humbled to have traveled
to a place that is part of our planet -
but certainly another world. ca
by Brooke Berard
 he loss of a pet takes a surprising toll on the human Arriving home after dark, I could see her fuzzy

T heart. For me, to even consider replacement seemed silhouette as she sat quietly on her porch. She would watch
a betrayal. me as I disappeared into my house and then respond to
My neighbour, Roy, told me of an abandoned Bichon Roy’s whistle and go indoors. I was being monitored.
Frise. He feared no one would take her. An injury to her One day, as I stooped to fasten her collar and leash,
anus, eventually corrected, erroneously gave the she placed front paws on my knee and bowed her head
impression she was untrained and stubborn. toward mine. We crouched, forehead to forehead, in
Knowing of my recent loss, Roy subtly asked, “Would silence, confirming our growing attachment.
you consider another dog?” Roy had my help when needed, yet was always mindful
When he noticed my hesitation he spared me having to of preserving his independence, especially where Missy
answer by saying, “It’s okay. I haven’t met her yet, but she’s was concerned. After all, I hadn’t taken her when he had
already won my heart.” At 93 years first asked. Missy seemed to know Roy was
and alone, Roy and Missy began a failing but she remained true to him.
union that would enrich both their She responded to his whistling or his
lives. calls to her, sans teeth, “Mithy, Mithy,
Knowledge of Missy’s first time to come in.”
three years was sketchy. We One very late and cold night I
learned that she was companion to noticed Missy sleeping curled up on a
a free spirited dancer who lawn chair; wind and snow swirling
abandoned her in a hotel room. A around her. Roy must have forgotten
rancher took pity and for one year her and fallen asleep. Hopping the
she ran dangerously free amongst fence, I awoke her and she looked at me
the hooves of livestock. Further as if to say, “What’s the problem?” Her
temporary owners misunderstood gentle acceptance of her circumstance
her rectal problem and failed to made me realize she must have
bond with her. endured much in her
Although
times, her timid
demeanor spoke
at
angel enough for two by Sharon Mills
past. Embarrassed,
Roy said he was just
about to get her in. I
of untold wrath, this tiny told him I knew that.
eight pounds of fluff never Looking forlorn, Roy admitted to
complained. Her appearance and difficulty in caring for Missy. With
occasional snobbish demeanor tears in his eyes, he said, “Missy has
suggested that her view of the told me where she wants to be.”
world should be from atop a silk We three made a bittersweet pact.
pillow. Missy would stay with me, but visit Roy
Now, ensconced on Roy’s lap often. She was now six years old. They
and in his heart, Missy was home at last. Good times were had shared an unconditional love that was never to diminish.
many in Roy’s yard, although Missy twirled circles of Roy passed away in his 96th year. Missy never forgot
delight at the first sight of a leash or mention of a walk. Roy the man who had saved her from her journey from pillar to
wasn’t able, but his twinkling eyes left no doubt he would post. Her little head continued to turn at the sight of a
find a way. He did. wheelchair or the sound of a whistled tune.
Missy and I walked daily. Roy’s face beamed from his A veterinarian’s examination revealed signs of previous
window. She was always will- surgery. Speculation was that
ing to return to him. She knew severe scarring from hip to hip
her home. They were content.
Roy must have forgotten was the possible result of a
Together, Roy and I her and fallen asleep. horse’s hoof.
shared in the extraordinary Missy brought joy and
personality of this little dog. My period of bereavement had laughter to my old friend and me. She died peacefully in
softened. When Missy looked for me daily, I secretly hoped her 15th year. Although heartbreaking, no amount of pain
it was for me as much as for our walk. at her passing outweighed those cherished moments. Missy
Often I would wake to her melodious throaty tones as taught me to open myself again to the loyalty and affection
she sat in her yard next door, just beneath my bedroom of her kind. She would be pleased to know that another old
window. Mischievous black eyes caught mine through gentleman has crossed my life’s path. He has two dogs.
parted window blinds. I was being summoned. But, that’s another story. ca

page26

s out how to squish it
A yo u
have probably
figured out by now, gardening holds
deeper meaning to me than just hard
work. Sure there is some hard work
wielding a shovel or performing
gymnastic feats with secateurs in
hand. But to me, the essence of
gardening is lounging or slowly
ambling around, experiencing all the
sights, sounds, smells and other
senses to be stimulated in the garden.
It was during one of these ambling
sessions that I discovered the intruder
in my yard. I had wandered over to
take a look at my new oak tree. It was
still little – just a baby at about 5 feet.
I had planted it last summer and was
keeping an eye out to make sure it was
doing okay. Yes, it was doing okay and
getting lots of new leaves, all about the
size of my hand, thickly textured with
that deeply lobed, lovely oak leaf
THE GARDENING BUG
pattern. I was reveling in the
joy of it all when I saw it
– a spider on my
oak tree!!
Well, my
f i r s t
response
was to get
a n g r y,
“imag-
i n e ,
h o w
could
that
nasty
spider
dare to
come
near my
new oak
tree?” and
my second
impulse was to
squish it. I was
just trying to figure
without damaging the lovely
oak leaves when I actually looked at
the spider. Instantly, all that anger and
indignation turned to curiosity. I had
never seen any spider like that before
in my life. It was beautiful, it was
colourful and it was weird. Where did
this thing come from?
Okay, a description is needed at
this point. The spider had eight butter-
yellow legs, two held forward and the
other six tucked underneath; a huge
globe shaped body that is red with a
white dimpled hump on the back.
When I first found this thing on
my tree, it was tiny but my, how it has
grown! Yes, you got it, I didn’t squish
the spider and I freely admit that now
I’ve watched the spider grow and
prosper in my oak tree for at least the
past month.
Spring has again brought Calgary
a lot of cool days and cooler nights,
page27
just hangin’ out
by Judi Schofield
with a fair share of rain, but this
spider found its way around quite well.
When we have rain it disappears and
when the days are nice, it’s back again
and always on the same leaf. The
middle of June brought thunder show-
ers and the spider disappeared. I
thought it had been washed away, but
then, “yay!”, it came back.
One rainy day I deliberately went
looking for it. I figured it can’t go too
far or it wouldn’t always come back to
the same leaf. After some diligent
searching I finally found it. It was
curled up on the underside of the leaf
right in the junction where the petiole
(leaf stem) joins the leaf and right
underneath it on another leaf was a
ladybug. I couldn’t believe that they
were taking shelter so close together. I
stood there and watched and saw that
with the rain and the wind moving the
leaves, sometimes their bodies would
touch!
Now the spider has made a web.
On that don’t touch precious oak leaf,
the spider has created a horizontal
parallelogram style web across the
leaf that pulls the leaf edges together a
bit, creating a shelter from the rain.
The web has taken a beating with all
the rain and wind, so the spider has
reinforced it with a few extra braces
going from one leaf edge to the other.
What an engineering marvel he has
created.
I have no idea what kind of spider
this is. I have checked various places
to find out and all to no avail. What I
do know is that it grew quite a bit for
a spider, it’s impossible to photograph
as it is always out of focus, but I do
know it doesn’t eat ladybugs. I will
keep watching this creature to see
what it does next and I most definitely
now know that there are cool things
hanging out in my garden that I
haven’t even spotted yet. Maybe I’ll
name my pet spider. ca
 NOVEL SUGGESTIONS
readers contribute their book reviews
send your review to editor@creaturesall.ca

Mother West Wind
“How” Stories
by Thorton W. Burgess
Grosset & Dunlap, New York
228 pp., ISBN 0-854-98866-2
Hard cover.
reviewed by Darlene Greer
This book rekindles our childhood
fascination with our animal friends in the forests. Those tire-
less workers who help Old Mother Nature. Delightful chap-
ter titles like: How Old Mr. Squirrel Became Thrifty and
How Old Mr. Otter Learned to Slide, draw in the reader.
These are excellent read aloud stories if you have an
emerging reader at your house and are quite easy to read, full
of dialogue, imaginative characters and interesting places.
One of numerous books written by Thornton W.
Burgess, it delights with gentle instruction and provides
untold entertainment, while exploring the lives of such
creatures as Billy Mink, Little Joe Otter, Jimmy Skunk and
Grandfather Frog. They dwell in The Green Meadow or the
Old Briar-patch, travelling up and down the Crooked Little
Path and diving into the Smiling Pool. Always, Mother
West Wind is there with gentle breezes and soft sighs.
My children have long since grown up and left home,
but I have kept many of their books that are like precious
friends and joyful reminders of their wonder filled child-
hood years. Gazing around my office I see a whole series
by this author that I have not looked at nor thought about
for a long time and thought that I would like to bring them
to the attention of your readers.
Since I hadn't shopped for children's books for quite
some time, I was curious as to whether you could still buy
these titles and, to my great delight, discovered that they
are available quite readily, both new and used—just check
the internet.
Written and published beginning in the early 1900s,
they are lively tales full of adventure and
friendship. Illustrations give warmth and reality to the
characters. They are a great addition to any home or
school library. ca

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page28

ROAM FOR THE HOLIDAYS
a little known fact
includes the fact that
critters and beasts holiday
some opting for trains
riding over the plains
to some remote getaway
ducks often will choose
a bus or a cruise
while donkeys most always fly
pelicans will walk
an occasion to talk
and happy just to keep dry
young hippos ride bikes
while rhinos take hikes
warthogs and pigs on a whim
will use a chauffeur
they seem to prefer
to remain proper and prim
the problem for eels
is they have no heels
as well they’ve no feet to use
and so to stay spry
they choose to fly
and thus require no shoes
vacationing chicks
in groups of six
recite poetry by the lake
they cackle and cluck
recalling their luck
with boyfriends both real and fake
most turkeys have learned
they’re apt to get burned
scared and filled with misgiving
they will hunker down
or be out of town
for Christmas and Thanksgiving
all crows like to get
to where they aren’t yet
three weeks before the snow flies
they’re off like a shot
refusing the yacht
their route straight as the crow flies
most elephants lay
on the beach by day
but soon get jeered at by punks
a cursory glance
reveals them sans pants
they forgot to pack their trunks
page29
©
by Trebor Redleif
a platypus skates
impressing his mates
on holiday in Strathmore
you’d think it would seem
he’d run out of steam
but indeed it seems he hath more
there’s nothing to do
for beasts in the zoo
they’ve not planes nor trains nor cars
they can’t get away
and so opt to stay
and just hang out in the bars
on an airline flight
the vulture’s plight
rapidly seems to worsen
with three corpses enshroud
they’re only allowed
one carrion per person
it seems snakes alone
prefer to stay home
amidst the dust and the grain
in fields and ditches
there’s nothing which is
more common than snakes on a plain
 THE FINAL WORD
sitting at nature’s feet
by Peggy Voth

A few years ago, I made it my practise to go on a solitary retreat
every month, staying in a cabin in the country. These regular
solitudes allowed my mind to wander into all kinds of places I
don’t normally attend as an urban dweller. One activity I
engaged in was watching wildlife in their natural surroundings.
I came to know their habits and traits well enough to draw some
observations and lessons about life from them. Following are a
couple of excerpts from my journal during that year of periodic
immersions in Nature and contemplation.
skunk snoops for seeds under the bird
feeders, poking his little nose into the
grass, then lifting his head and chewing.
He waddles closer to my deck. What
magnificent contrast there is between
his shiny black coat and the white V running from his nose
to his haunches. His tail is quite the achievement too; it
looks as large as his body. He’s beautiful, but I keep my
distance, for overshadowing all of its visible traits is the
skunk’s reputation for its repelling odour. I become mind-
ful of my own need to give
respect, expect respect and
demand respect.
I spent a fascinating half
hour at the gazebo, watching a
red-copper-gold dragonfly gorg-
ing on the end of a small branch.
This dragonfly appeared to be
the embodiment of everything
ethereal. Various parts of its
body flashed golden as it
quivered while extracting what
it needed from the drop of sap
at the end of the branch. The
tiniest shift of its body
transformed its colouring from a
simple red to hints of rich
depths or a shimmering translucence or the sheen of
burnished copper. The dragonfly’s subtle maneuvers and
the constant changing of its colours spoke of magic, of
tricks in perception. The insect’s wings were its glory. They
glittered in the sunlight, looking so fragile that I expected
the breeze to shatter them. Yet, they helped the dragonfly
keep its balance on the branch. They lifted it into the air
and carried it away, whirring without being seen.
I watched the flitting of black and white butterflies,
orange ones and yellow ones, and the swooping of wrens as
they crossed each other’s flight paths, braiding invisible
threads through the sky. Out of the corner of my right eye,
I noticed a bump on the dark willow leg of the couch inside
the gazebo. Venturing a closer look, I saw that it was a very
furry spider. A horseshoe-shaped streak of orange nestled
within the black fur.
The dragonfly returned, perching once again on the tip
of the tender branch. A gust of wind shook the branch and
the dragonfly swayed as if at-one with the branch and the
wind. When I could no longer find a shady spot away from
the spider, I thanked the dragonfly for reminding me that
the pressures and worries of my physical world, which
convince me that I’m small and about to be blown away, are
illusions—that I too can keep my balance when the winds of
change shake my world.
I blessed the butterflies; they show me that if I honor
my instincts and trust my natural unfolding, I will evolve
into something that astonishes and attracts and calls to
others. Isn’t that one reason we love butterflies—because
they awaken us to our potential for metamorphosis into
something beautiful?
I glanced over my shoulder at the spider. I saw that she
had turned to face me and now
stood up on her hind legs. I said,
out loud, “And thank you,
Grandmother Spider.” (She’s so
round and hairy that she must
be Grandmother Spider.)
“Thank you for your reminder
that I’m to create my path and
weave my beauty in the world.
No offense, I don’t like looking
at you, but I do admire the inge-
nuity of your work. Peace to
you.” She dropped to all eights,
giving me permission to go. ca
Allowing Nature to teach us about
life isn’t a new practice. First
Nations peoples, shamans of various cultures and farmers are
known for their reading of Nature. If you’re interested in
finding out more about typical interpretations of animal
behavior, here are a few resources I recommend:
Spirit Animals by Victoria Covell
Animal-Speak: The Spiritual and Magical Powers of
Creatures Great and Small by Ted Andrews
Shaman Wisdom Cards by Leita Richesson
Medicine Cards (comes with a book) by Jamie Sams and
David Carson.

page30
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