The Waybac Machine was a contraption featured in a segment of the Bullwinkle Show, a TV cartoon that highlighted a bespectacled, wealthy and brilliant pooch named Mr. Peabody who would take his boy Sherman back in time via the Waybac Machine.
The Waybac Machine took my mind to the dogs of my life.
We had an assortment of cattle dogs through the years when I was the age between grass and hay. We've had a number of dogs since the cows went away.
We had small dogs, big dogs, smart dogs, not-so-smart dogs, grumpy dogs and sweet dogs.
It has been said that we don't remember days; we remember moments. We remember dogs and are able to pinpoint a time in our family history by knowing which dog was in our lives then.
We had Wimpy, a three-legged dog that would eat anything except coffee. He would howl in response when asked if he wanted coffee.
We had Bruce. Bruce didn't care for my boyhood me, but saved me from a terrible goring from a bovine that liked me even less than Bruce did.
We had Rex, a female that I named after the singing cowboy, Rex Allen. I had prayed for a dog of my own. I wanted one for Christmas. Rex appeared as a small, chubby puppy struggling across large snowbanks in our yard on a Christmas morning. I, seeing the answer to my prayers and questioning not even for an instant where she had come from, brought the little dog inside the house where she immediately ingratiated herself to my mother by piddling on the floor. Then she slept for four days. Where Rex came from, I never knew, but she was the best dog a boy could have had. She shared endless adventures with me. She rode on tractors and found joy in my joy. She was very smart, but refused to help me with my homework.
We had Funny, who wasn't very funny. He tried to be, but became depressed in the process.
We had Wimpy II. You could tell Wimpy to get the cows and he would. He worked well without supervision, but we had to be careful to say nothing that sounded remotely like "Get the cows" or "Sic 'em!" Wimpy was a motivated canine that would herd on a word.
We had Pal, who once bumped against a temporary electric fence. He found the experience so shocking that he avoided walking near the area where the electric fence had once been for the rest of his life.
We had Archie. He was the result of a clandestine meeting between a terrier and an anonymous giver. Archie lived as though he had drunk coffee excessively.
We had Bear, nearly a St. Bernard, whose hobby was chewing electrical cords while they were plugged in. Bear had an electric personality.
We had Sancho, named after a character in the book, "Don Quixote," that I was reading when we got him. He was so small, I brought him home in my pocket. Sancho was a Chihuahua who thought he was a pit bull/Rottweiler cross. Chickens, geese and peahens bullied him. Sancho shook constantly. He had a keen understanding of the world situation. We stopped letting him read the newspaper.
We had Gus. Gus killed the same opossum three times in one day. None of the killings took. The opossum played 'possum like an Academy Award winner.
We had Towhee. She was named after a bird and ate like a horse. I told everyone that she was half-pit bull and half-poodle. That made her a vicious gossip. She was really a Belgian Airhead.
I believe that every married man should have a faithful canine companion. A man comes home to a house that feels like a large walk-in freezer. Icicles hang from the ceiling fan. He knows that someone is not happy with him, but experience has taught him not to ask what is wrong. He knows he will be told when the time is right.
The entire world could be mad at the man, but his dog thinks he is great and is always happy to see him. His dog runs to greet him, wagging a tail so furiously that it says, "Thank goodness you're home. Where do you go all day? Promise me that you will never change. You are perfect just the way you are."
Dogs teach us the importance of absolute forgiveness with no strings attached.
A wise person once told me that girls grow up to be women and boys grow up to be bigger boys.
That's probably true.
I'm glad that I was once a dog's boy.
Great Backyard Bird Count
The Great Backyard Bird Count (GBBC), sponsored by National Audubon Society and the Cornell Lab of Ornithology, gives everyone a chance to discover the birds in their neighborhood. During Feb. 15 to 18, 2008, people of all ages are invited to join by taking part wherever they are - at home, in schoolyards, at local parks, or wildlife refuges. Count for as long as you want and for as little as 15 minutes. Observers count the highest number of each species they see during an outing or a sitting, and enter their tally on the Great Backyard Bird Count Web site at www.birdcount.org.
The Top 10 most commonly reported species in GBBC 2007 were the northern cardinal, the dark-eyed junco, the mourning dove, the blue jay, the downy woodpecker, the American goldfinch, the house finch, the tufted titmouse, the American crow and the house sparrow.
In my backyard
I watched a Cooper's hawk rocket through my yard and catch a pheasant (a bird much larger than the hawk) that had been feeding under my bird feeder.
The Cooper's hawk is an accipiter and about 80 percent of its diet is small to medium sized birds, feeding on birds from warblers to pheasants. Frequent targets are sparrows, starlings, grackles, flickers, doves, blue jays, woodpeckers, meadowlarks and robins. They will take chipmunks, red squirrels, mice, rabbits, lizards, frogs, snakes and large insects.
Still-hunting (sitting on a perch and watching for prey movement) is a favorite Cooper's hawk technique. So is flying low to ambush prey or to scare it from cover. Hunting on foot is another hunting method. The hawk uses its talons to snatch a hapless victim from hiding.
The Cooper's hawk often carries its prey to a favorite perch - a branch, post, or log where it plucks feathers or fur before eating. I hear from many readers of this column who report seeing Cooper's or sharp-shinned hawks perched in trees overlooking birdfeeders, swooping down and scattering birds in order to capture one in flight.
A Cooper's hawk flies to the ground and hides in the brambles near a birdfeeder in the hopes of capturing a songbird.
The birds in my yard become scarce when the hawk is around. It makes sense. If someone was coming into the Village Inn and eating a few of the diners there, I would make myself scarce.
Chickadees find the hidden hawk, and from a perch they deem safe, begin to alert the other denizens of my yard with a series of "chick-a-dee-dees."
One day, I was moving snow with a shovel when a Cooper's hawk zoomed past. I watched, but could not see where it had alighted. I walked near a birdfeeder - a caged platform that allows smaller birds entrance while excluding larger birds - and there was a junco frozen in place in the feeder. I was within three feet of the feeder and the snowbird moved not a bit. I went into the house and kept an eye on the tiny bird. It remained motionless for 20 minutes. Although I could not see the hidden hawk, the junco knew of its presence.
The red-tailed hawk is often called the "chicken hawk," but the Cooper's hawk was the "chicken hawk" on our farm. It lived up to its name by taking the occasional chicken out to lunch.
Echoes from Loafers' Club
"I haven't seen you for a few days. Where have you been?"
"I've been ice fishing in my alfalfa field."
"Are you nuts?"
"Nope. I like fishing, but I don't like to catch, clean, or eat fish."
Al says
If you find something you really like, buy a bunch of it, because they will stop making it.
A lesson
Pick up that cup of coffee. Hold it straight out from your body. It's not very heavy. Hold it for a minute and it's no problem. Hold it for an hour and your arm will ache. Hold it for a day and you will have to call an ambulance. It's the same when you hold back forgiveness. Put down you burden - forgive quickly and often.
It nearly gave me gas
I pulled into a large gas station/convenience store. My car was in need of gasoline. As I pulled the nozzle from the pump, I couldn't help but notice that there was a TV built into every pump. They were showing the news from the local ABC affiliate. If I had wanted to watch TV, I'd have stayed at home. I appreciate people who do new things and offer novel ideas, but I do not need to be entertained every minute of the day.
Reading lessons
I was speaking at St. Cloud State and took the opportunity to visit the public library in downtown St. Cloud. The Friends of the Library had a book sale and I purchased a delightful memoir titled, "The Tender Bar," authored by J. R. Moehringer. The prior reader had blackened every swear word in the book. I enjoyed reading the book and the story lost nothing by the lack of blue language.
The old crow
"The old crow is getting slow. The young crow is not. Of what the young crow does not know, the old crow knows a lot. At knowing things the old crow is still the young crow's master. What does the slow old crow not know? How to go faster. The young crow flies above, below, and rings around the slow old crow. What does the fast young crow not know? Where to go." John Ciardi wrote this.
In gratitude
My thanks to the kind customer of this column who forwarded an online address that showed a bit of this old scribe on You Tube (Search: "Al Batt You Tube") and to all the other readers who sent me something about my appearance on American Public Radio's Weekend America (Search: "Al Batt Weekend America.") I appreciate you.
Meeting adjourned
Gilma Armstrong was a neighbor and a friend. She clerked at Sibilrud's for many years. Sibilrud's was a three-aisle grocery store that catered to my youth. Gilma always offered a smile and a kind word to everyone. Gilma died recently, but her kindness lives on in the memories of all who knew her. Be kind.
