Well, okay, so I woke up this morning from a dream I'd had in which I was dying. It wasn't so bad. Not bad at all, really. It was very peaceful in fact, but I wasn't dying as quickly as I might have liked. It seemed to be a process and at times I felt very trippy and at one point, part of me seemed to be sinking into the earth. No one appeared to be very upset, it was just the way of it. I was very curious about this process, thinking, now I will know, if it can be known.
I woke up before I took my last breath and was alone in the house because Mr. Moon had gone to Dog Island early to check out the situation there, do some measurements, because we are sincerely thinking of doing the much needed renovations to make it a place we want to visit.
I had barely shaken off my strange dream, or perhaps I had not done so entirely, when I went to let the chickens out. My routine is to open the door to the hen house which is connected to the run and while they stream out, I get a jar of corn scratch to throw for them as their morning treat and then I fill up their feeder with laying pellets and if their waterers need filling, I do that too. I was just about to fill up the feeder this morning, the can of food still in my hand, when I looked up to see two white dogs in the yard, to the east of the chicken house and my heart sank. Still holding the can I ran towards them, screaming, "Get out! Get out of here!" and they looked at me for a second and then took off to the strip of woods beside the railroad track and I knew what I would see if I looked around and I did.
Miss Bella, the hen who always sleeps in the tree, was dead on the ground. Before I'd gone out to open the door for them, I'd heard a sound that I did not recognize. We are so attuned to the sounds here, including that of the trains, that we barely notice them but if something is different, if there is a different bird call or timbre, we immediately recognize it as alien. And this morning I had heard such a sound but it registered nothing with me. Perhaps a different bird? I wasn't sure. I didn't go look.
I woke up before I took my last breath and was alone in the house because Mr. Moon had gone to Dog Island early to check out the situation there, do some measurements, because we are sincerely thinking of doing the much needed renovations to make it a place we want to visit.
I had barely shaken off my strange dream, or perhaps I had not done so entirely, when I went to let the chickens out. My routine is to open the door to the hen house which is connected to the run and while they stream out, I get a jar of corn scratch to throw for them as their morning treat and then I fill up their feeder with laying pellets and if their waterers need filling, I do that too. I was just about to fill up the feeder this morning, the can of food still in my hand, when I looked up to see two white dogs in the yard, to the east of the chicken house and my heart sank. Still holding the can I ran towards them, screaming, "Get out! Get out of here!" and they looked at me for a second and then took off to the strip of woods beside the railroad track and I knew what I would see if I looked around and I did.
Miss Bella, the hen who always sleeps in the tree, was dead on the ground. Before I'd gone out to open the door for them, I'd heard a sound that I did not recognize. We are so attuned to the sounds here, including that of the trains, that we barely notice them but if something is different, if there is a different bird call or timbre, we immediately recognize it as alien. And this morning I had heard such a sound but it registered nothing with me. Perhaps a different bird? I wasn't sure. I didn't go look.
And I should have.
Oh, how I should have.
Oh, how I should have.
I haven't seen the dogs again all day but Bella's body is gone so I know they did come back to get her and somehow, knowing that they ate her makes me feel a little better. When dogs have gotten into the yard before and murdered my chickens, they have killed in a maniacal frenzy, leaving bodies and feathers everywhere, killing just for the joy of it. I guess these dogs were hungry.
And honestly, last night we heard a dog barking that we did not recognize and I suppose that was probably one of those strays.
And honestly, last night we heard a dog barking that we did not recognize and I suppose that was probably one of those strays.
So that's how my day started out. And I've spent the rest of it just doing the usual domestic shit, hanging more laundry on the line, doing some more pruning of that crazy jasmine, going through the refrigerator and pulling out things that are no longer fit for human consumption. As you can see in the picture above, Maurice helped me with the laundry.
Mr. Moon is home from the island. He says we have water and air conditioning which is very good. We've lost one of our sentinel pine trees down by the bay and I'm sure the other one will go at some point. The island shapes and reshapes itself, sand disappearing in some places, accruing in others. It has been so long since I've been there. Years and years and we used to go all the time. As some of you who have been reading here for years know, I have such mixed emotions about that place. I have found myself there, I have saved my own soul there, I have lost my shit there, I have laughed and danced and cried and written there. I have seen things that science cannot explain yet, and I have seen sunsets that are beyond gorgeous. It is Florida, wild and untamed, as untainted as Florida can possibly be in this century.
When both pines were still alive.
The golden hour on Dog Island.
I have cooked a thousand meals in that completely inadequate kitchen, I have spent entire weeks of spring break with Jessie and her friends, I have baked cookies for teenagers who shall remain unnamed whom I knew were stoned as hell and had the munchies there. I have sent my kids out to catch crabs and then cooked them in that pathetic kitchen. I have walked hundreds of miles of gulf and bay beach. I have waded through creeks and seen osprey nests.
And yet, as I have said- I have lost my shit there.
It's complicated.
But I want my grandchildren to have the chance to have access to this place of enchantment. I think. I THINK, I want to go back.
I'll quit now. The focaccia needs to be baked.
And here is what the bolting mustards look like.
What a beautiful place. I would want to stay there...I barely remember when Florida looked like that.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry about Bella!
DeleteThose of us who have lived in Florida remember, don't we?
Deleteso sorry to hear about Miss Bella. Darned dogs. Hungry or not.....it's not a good scenario and I am sorry for your loss of her. Dog Island...... I see a faint sense of Cozumel there....... and I hope you can visit there soon.
ReplyDeleteSusan M
I'm sorry about Bella too.
DeleteWe shall see about Dog Island.
So sorry about miss Bella. But yes, it sounds as if they were hungry. That's a beautiful island place. Maybe you should go back and lay the ghosts?
ReplyDeleteI have tried so many times to slay those ghosts. Perhaps I can still do it, especially if changes are made to the house.
DeleteEveryone wants a dog island- a solid place to go to when the hypnotist says "go to your happy place". There was a cabin up by the mountain on a lake , primitive- with a terrible out house. We spent the best times in that little one room cabin. Simple , no phone, a radio that tuned in to a french station and static. Dog Island is important.
ReplyDeleteDog Island IS important. For many reasons. I so want the grandchildren to have access to it. It would be hugely important for them, I think.
DeleteThat is a sad end for Miss Bella. Your island place has a rich history for you, from sadness to gladness. I could understand if you return there, and it could be a place to share with grandchildren.
ReplyDeleteI am going to try and make it work. Thank you.
DeletePoor Miss Bella. She make a happy dog tummy. I remember when you went to Dog Island and wished for a decent kitchen. I hope Mr. Moon makes this work out for you.
ReplyDeleteI think he will try, Joanne. I really do.
DeleteI ache for the loss of one of your Animal Gods and the sentinel pine too. ❤️
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear Rebecca. The Animal Gods can be cruel sometimes. Or at least, in our limited perspective. Same with the gods of the sea, I suppose. It doesn't care what we want, does it?
DeleteThis was an unsettled post. Hope things work out the way you want them to work out.
ReplyDeleteI am feeling unsettled.
DeleteI am so sorry to hear about the poor chicken. How wild Florida is and how wildly you describe it! I do remember your Dog Island posts and hope that you will get back there.
ReplyDeleteFlorida, as the T-Shirt says, is a "Pretty, wild place." It's not all just crazy people shoving alligators into take-our windows and governors who are on a vendetta against being woke.
DeleteBees are always welcome here and I tend to leave alone any plants they are foraging on. Dog Island looks like a nice getaway place. So sorry about Miss Bella.
ReplyDeleteI'm of the same opinion about bees. If they like it, let it grow. I don't even pick as many flowers as I want for that very reason.
DeleteThanks for your words about Bella.
Poor Miss Bella. It's funny about stray dogs because just the other day I said to my husband that you never see stray dogs anymore. I used to when I was a kid, but not anymore. It's too damned cold to make it through the winter here, the coyotes or wolves probably get them.
ReplyDeleteDog Island sounds and looks beautiful.
Well, you see them in Lloyd sometimes. Not THAT often, really, and I have made the same observation about how many strays there used to be versus now.
DeleteDog Island IS beautiful. It is Florida in the wild.
Sad about Miss Bella. A terrible way to start a day. We had a stray dog pack out here for a couple of years. Started with just two dogs and grew with every litter. One rain storm scared the puppies out of the wild space and they took refuge under a neighbor's carport where they were caught and sent to new homes then not long after that the adults disappeared. I think the sheriff's deputy that lived nearby shot them.
ReplyDeleteI think you should fix up the house on Dog Island. One of those places that may be a pain to get to but always enjoy once there.
Dog packs can absolutely be lethal to pets and to children.
DeleteIt IS hard to get to the island but once you're there, it's like no other place.
Damn those canine intruders! As for Dog Island... I hope that your urge to go back there overcomes your hesitation. It seems like a very special place where more good memories might be wrought.
ReplyDeleteI hope so, Mr. P.
DeleteI am so sorry to hear about Bella. Will those Strays return and do you have Animal Services handy that could come pick them up? We once had a pack of murderous Strays that did sport killing but with our Cats, they killed several of our Working Cats before we managed to get Animal Services to get them... I was afraid for the Children in the area if these Animals had developed a Wilder Pack Mentality of killing and maiming. I feel sorry for Strays, usually means some Human was an irresponsible pet owner... and if they're that hungry they will do what it only natural when one is hungry and starving, so it would be humane to capture them and ensure they're cared for... plus, save your Flock.
ReplyDeleteI think that Animal Services around here are pretty lame. Like- if you can trap a stray and bring it in, they'll take it.
DeleteI agree with you about strays being the result of uncaring and irresponsible owners. It's not really their fault.
How many times can a chicken-loving woman's heart break? It's an awful thing.
ReplyDeleteI've dreamed of dying; it was quite different than I expected. It was painless, and I felt my essence/spirit/light expanding outward. Quite beautiful, it was. I hope it's really that way.
-Kate
I hope it's that way too, Kate! That sounds so peaceful and lovely.
DeleteSo sorry about Ms. Bella. I guess the danger now is that the dogs will come back, knowing there are chickens to be had.
ReplyDeleteI always love your photos of Dog Island. It seems so exotic, having that kind of a special retreat. I didn't realize it had been so long since you'd visited and that you had such mixed feelings about the place.
The bolting mustard is beautiful. You could just pretend it's an ornamental plant!
Yeah, they came back today.
DeleteI do have very mixed emotions about DI. I've had some trauma there. Nothing physical. Just...stuff. I need to get over it.
Isn't the mustard pretty?
Can we banish all the dogs? The white ones and especially that black one that loves to sink his teeth in when you least expect it. I’m so sorry about Bella. I remember your writings about the island, it’s no wonder there are mixed feelings. Hope you’re able to enjoy it fully again, it’s a rare and beautiful place.
ReplyDeleteXoxo
Barbara
Yes. Fuck that black dog.
DeleteYou are so right about Dog Island being a rare and beautiful place. It truly is. And I know you understand about my mixed feelings.
The colours in your photos are just stunning. Indeed Maurice must be a chameleon because he (she?) blends right in with the leaves. So sorry about Miss Bella though!
ReplyDeleteMaurice is very much camouflaged in the oak leaves, isn't she?
DeleteThat dream must have been quite unsettling. Sometimes when you get a dream that seems to be full of significance like that it's hard to shake it off. I'm so sorry about Bella. I hope things are less disturbing now.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry about Bella. The one time I can recall dreaming that I died it was very peaceful. It felt like a memory. Perhaps if the kitchen on Dog Island were revamped a bit it might call you back. Cooking is your sanctuary it seems.
ReplyDelete