” Dog Named Beau” By James Stewart, 1989

Gerard Oosterman of “Oosterman Treats” http://oosterman.wordpress.com/ sent this poem in a comment on one of my posts. I remember reading this poem in Google sometime ago. Stewart read the poem on “The Johnny Carson Show” in 1989. It has been written that Carson cried as Stewart read the poem. Most of you probably remember Stewart as a fine actor and if not, you have most likely heard his name. He was a classy gentleman with excellent moral fiber, unlike anything we see in the entertainment business now.

Beau was a Golden Retriever. This poem probably will resonate with two bloggers that I follow. Mary and Tim Livingston have bred, trained and, had more than a few Goldens during their marriage. If you want to see some dog beauties and fantastic art, I encourage you to take a look at Tim’s blog http://theforesterartist.com/ and Mary’s blog at http://thebackdoorartist.com/

A Dog Named Beau by James Stewart (from Jimmy Stewart and His Poems) Crown Publishers, 1989

He never came to me when I would call
Unless I had a tennis ball,
Or he felt like it,
But mostly he didn’t come at all.

When he was young
He never learned to heel
Or sit or stay,
He did things his way.

Discipline was not his bag
But when you were with him things sure didn’t drag.
He’d dig up a rosebush just to spite me,
And when I’d grab him, he’d turn and bite me.

He bit lots of folks from day to day,
The delivery boy was his favorite prey.
The gas man wouldn’t read our meter,
He said we owned a real man-eater.

He set the house on fire
But the story’s long to tell.
Suffice to say that he survived
And the house survived as well.

On the evening walks, and Gloria took him,
He was always first out the door.
The old one and I brought up the rear
Because our bones were sore.

He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on,
What a beautiful pair they were!
And if it was still light and the tourists were out,
They created a bit of a stir.

But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks
And with a frown on his face look around.
It was just to make sure that the old one was there
And would follow him where he was bound.

We are early-to-bedders at our house–
I guess I’m the first to retire.
And as I’d leave the room he’d look at me
And get up from his place by the fire.

He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs,
And I’d give him one for a while.
He would push it under the bed with his nose
And I’d fish it out with a smile.

And before very long
He’d tire of the ball
And be asleep in his corner
In no time at all.

And there were nights when I’d feel him
Climb upon our bed
And lie between us,
And I’d pat his head.

And there were nights when I’d feel his stare
And I’d wake up and he’d be sitting there
And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair.
And sometimes I’d feel him sigh
And I think I know the reason why.

He would wake up at night
And he would have this fear
Of the dark, of life, of lots of things,
And he’d be glad to have me near.

And Now he’s dead.
And there are nights when I think I feel him
Climb upon our bed and lie between us,
And I pat his head.

And there are nights when I think
I feel that stare
And I reach out my hand to stoke his hair,
But he’s not there.

Oh, how I wish that wasn’t so,
I’ll always love a dog named Beau.

 

By James Stewart

 

Summer and Fall Birds: 2013

Presenting a few so-so bird photos. These are birds found in my yard, either feeding on plants that I’ve planted over the past 50 years or coming to the bird bath or the feeders. Of course there are many more birds but the photos were even crummier than these that I have posted here. 🙂

Eastern Phoebe perched on a branch over the bird bath watching for its turn to get a drink and take a dip. Photo shot through screened window hence the soft effect. Resident year round if winters are mild. Photo September, 2013

White Winged Dove on limb of Live Oak tree. Photographed through window screen. Sept. 2013

Yellow-rumped Warbler on left and White Throated Sparrow on the right. These two birds are northern residents in the spring/summer and winter residents in the south and Texas. I adore these two birds for I see a few of them every year. The white throat is generally the last bird to arrive in the late evening just before dark for water and scratch feed on the ground in a man made brush pile that I built for their protection.

Mockingbird in the Pokeberry plant. It was pure luck to get these shots of the Mockers since generally they woud fly “into the plant” where they were obscured by the foliage. A few of the birds happened to land atop some of the outer branches. This one was keeping his eye on me and about ready to fly.

Mockingbird, immature. July, 2012. Same fledgling. Different pose.

Mockingbird, immature. About 4pm on a very hot July day. This fledgling seems to be pleading, “I need food. I need food, now! This baby’s parents were over in the fig tree getting drunk on fermented figs. I think they forgot about their kid for a while. 🙂

Mockingbird in the Pokeberry plant. The berries are a favorite staple after the figs are all gone. There were birds in and out of this large Pokeberry from early morning until around 6pm-CDT (central daylight time) every day until the plant was depleted of berries. This large Pokeberry was about 7 feet tall and it returns from the roots each spring to grow taller than the year before. There are several in the yard but this one is the largest since I give it extra water during the summer months. Great bird attracter! Mockingbird is a resident bird. Quite a singer with a many different calls and songs. Sings at midnight sometimes in the summer/spring.

Black-chinned Hummingbird (probably-not positive of ID)Hummer aiming its long beak for the blossom of Mexican Bush Sage.

Immature Black-chinned hummingbird? Not sure of Id but about 95% of hummers in my area of central Texas are Black-chins. We are are located on the east/west division of birds and my area is more westerly. It was windy and about 5pm CST. This hummer seems to be a bit “ticked off. There was another hummer that was nectaring on the blooms and I think this one had been chased away 🙂 This bird is found here during spring, smmer, and the last ones leave about first or second week of October.

White-winged Dove. Year round resident in my area. I love the unusual call. Larger that the Mourning Dove it began spreading north about 40 years ago. When dove hunting season begins the number of these doves increases in the city. Those living in the country are wise to seek the safety of the city rather than getting blown to smither-reens by a bullet. They also are very fond of my figs and just about all the berry producing plants or trees in my yard. Photo taken through screen window. Sept. 2013