This gallery contains 7 photos.
I felt like painting something different the other night, but then it went all wrong. I picked this bluebird, from Bird On A Wire, not because the subject matter was different, but because I want to play with a different … Continue reading
This gallery contains 12 photos.
Fall has hit its peak in the high country. We were in the mountains for the weekend. The leaves have turned and were dropping enthusiastically, but Sunday was the day. Sunday was the day that Mother Nature performed her striptease … Continue reading
This gallery contains 5 photos.
Without a doubt squirrels are the most visible mammals in the forest. Now is their most active time. With acorns dropping from the oaks like big hailstones, the squirrels are in high gear. When I stopped to get a picture … Continue reading
This gallery contains 5 photos.
If you’re out in the woods and you find a big W painted on a tree, just remember W is for wildlife. When planning and laying out a timber harvest, foresters have to protect the other resources in the forest, … Continue reading
So why is Blitz laughing, because she is a naughty girl, that’s why! I think she has a very disturbed sense of humor, but what would you expect from someone who says hello by sniffing butts. Boy, was she pleased with herself or what.
“Don’t you make that face at me Blitz…you are a bad girl!”
Do you remember this flower from my previous post. What a unique and beautiful orange flower. I had never seen one like this before. It must be truly rare. Worthy of a National Geographic magazine cover no doubt, and I found it! This flower was probably the only habitat for the equally rare three spotted pygmy jumping spider too. A potential biological grand slam. All I need is the perfect shot and fame was going to be mine!
Lovely, wasn’t it. The stigma and stamens look kind of like the Pillsbury dough boy.
I got one nice picture, then I carefully, so carefully, framed the next shot. This was going to be The Money Shot. “Snap” went the camera and “what the heck” went the photographer. All I got was a bunch of blurry furry!
It’s a golden retriever Tsunami!
Blitz performed a, 9.5 deserving, Roll of Joy right on top of the rare and beautiful, National Geographic cover worthy, previously undiscovered orange flower, instantaneously crushing it in a blitz of red dog fur. I could almost hear the members of the Native Plant Society weeping for this tiny bit of tossed salad.
Does this dog look remorseful to you?
Maybe is was just an unfortunately timed Roll of Joy that all golden retrievers are want to do. Perhaps she was trying to add that extra action or interest needed for an award-winning photograph. Maybe a cry for help (doubt it). Whatever the reason, I’ll never know, and she isn’t talking. Blitz….no doggy biscuits for you!
Black oak leaves showing off.
Forestry Friday is a new weekly feature on The Forester Artist. Features will be whatever I want them to be, but related to forestry and forests. As you may have guessed this week’s theme is “Red”.
Pacific dogwood
Poison oak. You can look, but don’t touch!
Red Bud
Blitz, the red dog!
Teka with the wind in her face.
We have been on the road a lot lately, but it is now time to check in with you all. One weekend not long ago we took the Blitz and Teka to a hunt test in Smith River, California. Go a bit North of Smith River and you’re in Oregon. Here are a few pictures from our travels and a bit of pen and ink.
The cormorants moved like poetry in the surf.
Sailer yard art, you have to love it.
We stayed at a RV park with this ship in the front yard. I thought lumberjacks had big yard art, but I have to admit the sailors win the “BIG” prize.
A pair of cormorants in the surf were my inspiration.
Blitz and Teka on the beach near Brookings, Oregon.
Sitka Spruce cones.
Blitz chills after an exhausting day of events. “Don’t get up Blitz, but I need to get into the refrigerator!”
Mary and Blitz take a stroll on the beach.
Sunset where the Smith River meets the sea.
On the road home and Blitz dreams of ducks.
My wounded paw.
That’s my hand with the bandage. If you are thinking that some emotionally motivated gesticulating by the digit wrapped in gauze was the cause for the bandage, then I’m going to disappoint you. No, Mary did not do me bodily harm, nor was it the result of some road rage incident. I had a cyst and bone spur removed. I know, considering which finger it was, I could have come up with a whopper of a story. You are welcome to speculate wildly if you don’t believe me. Now I have two WIP. One is the watercolor in the photo and the other is my hand. It looks pretty swollen in the picture. Fortunately, I am right-handed so progress continues.
Those aren’t my tears from the procedure. I’m a big boy and only cry during tragic dog movies. I took these pictures during the rain storm last week. It helped bring an end to the fires that were burning here.
Manzanita flowers in the rain.
That night after my surgery, when we went to bed it started raining again. It was hot in the house so I opened the window to let the cool air in. My hand ached and it kept me awake. The lightning flashed in the distance and the thunder rumbled through the sky. The sound of the rain falling outside was so peaceful that I finally drifted off.
Battle Creek Meadows
This rain has been a relief and has delayed our oncoming drought. Soon it will be dry again.
In the clouds.
Just the girls and I.
Tim, Teka and Blitz.
I’ve known Bob for a long time. Bob is a Logging Supervisor or Woods Boss. His operations are a going concern. Bob is all business and his guys make logs in a hurry. When I go out and talk to his crew about log quality Bob gets nervous because I’m slowing down his operation. He isn’t the kind of man that one would think of as going around showing off a piece of art, but that is what he has done for nearly twenty years.
Bob’s landing, whackin’ and stackin’ .
Twenty years ago Bob decided he needed a dog. When he got his new dog he told me, “All of you foresters have dogs in the back of your trucks, so I decided to get one for my truck.” If you have ever seen the back of a logging boss’s truck you would know that his dog would need chemical resistant feet and armor plating. Their trucks are full of hydraulic fluid, oil, truck parts, tractor parts, chokers, cable, tools, and all manner of oily, heavy metal things bouncing around loose in the bed. So Bob’s dog was special….unique even
Meet Would, Bob’s dog.
Bob’s dog is named “Would”, not Wood even though he is wood. If you ask him why “Would”, he will say, “He would bark if he could and he would s–t if he could, therefore he is Would.” Bob recently got a new work truck and when he didn’t put Would in the truck he caught so much hell that he had to load him up again. Would has been Bob’s constant woods companion for the last twenty years. He never whines, growls or barks. He doesn’t need food or water and doesn’t mind all the stuff in the back of Bob’s truck. I think Would has mellowed over the years, even developed a fine patina. He may be the perfect logger’s dog.
The forester’s dog and the logger’s dog.
I had Blitz join Would for a group shot. The two of the got on famously. Blitz is, after all, the consummate stick dog. Fortunately, she didn’t chew on his ear. I tried to get Bob in the picture, but tough old loggers don’t always like having their pictures taken.
This painting for me is more than a picture of a beautiful rooster pheasant. It is me trying to express the essence of something in my life that is significant.
This painting has been on the board a long time. It is destined for my office. Oddly, I’ve never hung any of my art in my office. I guess it is about time.
Blitz joyfully returns with a bird.
Pheasant season ended a few weeks ago. It is a time when our dogs get to live their bliss, as Mary is so fond of putting it, living-bliss. I’ve re-blogged her post, because it is also about the dogs doing what they are born to do. They are working dogs and hunting is their work. They are happiest when they are working. What they do is written in their DNA.
Teka can’t wait for her turn. She stakes out my truck.
I suppose the same is true for me. If I was plopped down in the American West 200 years ago I think I would have been perfectly happy. Engaging in hunting with dogs, friends and family keeps me connected to my roots and more primitive self.
Teka was born to hunt birds.
Teka delivers a pheasant to her person, Doug.
Dogs are pack animals and pheasant hunting helps them live their pack experience. The difference is that we are now their pack, but the satisfaction to them is the same.
Teka relishes bringing the bird to Doug and receiving his appreciation.
If I didn’t have bird dogs I probably wouldn’t bird hunt. The pleasure they bring to it is what makes it complete. These dogs have such heart in what they do. Hunting without them would be like dancing alone.
Blitz on a water retrieve.
Procuring food is such a basic human activity. By acquiring food myself, I appreciate the meal much more. To spend the time hunting and experiencing the joy of success with my partners makes me think about what our hunter gatherer ancestors did on a daily basis. Then to have to go through the process of cleaning and preparing this food, it puts me very in touch with the reality of what was given.
Blitz is happiest while doing her work.
When I hold the pheasant in my hand that I just killed and Blitz just fetched, I experience a blend of feelings. There is joy in the success and satisfaction of providing this meal to my family. There is appreciation for the beauty and for what this creature lost, it’s life. That leaves me with some sadness, but it is the reality of life. It causes me to not take meat in the grocery store for granted.
Blitz has a lively pheasant.
The time out in the field away from the day to day activities is a welcome break to go enjoy a more primal experience. There are things all around to be noticed that add to the richness of this time spent.
Canadian Geese hiding in the grass.
This time means so much when spent with family.
My oldest son, Chris with his girl Nellie. This will be her last pheasant season.
My sons and Nellie.
This is also a time for me to remember my old loyal hunting partners from years past. The ones that gave me so many fond memories. Last year was Hawk’s last season only we didn’t know it at the time. He should have had many more pheasants to retrieve. We miss him very much. Mary posted about him a while back, Her Papa’s Eyes.
Hawk during his last pheasant season. An old hunting partner remembered.
THE FORESTER ARTIST 