Tag Archives: sanctuary

Video: the drama of Jamieween! | Chimpanzee Sanctuary Northwest

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What do you give a chimpanzee for her birthday?

Cowboy boots, of course! With a pear hidden inside!

Follow the link to see the video!

Source: Video: the drama of Jamieween! «

Daily Drama 45 | Carl Sagan, Birthday Boy

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Daily Drama 45 | Carl Sagan, Birthday Boy

Hey Carl! Come over here! Let’s do an 8th Birthday photo shoot! We don’t know the exact day, but you were born around Halloween.

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“Corn is an extra special treat. Surely you don’t need me NOW?”

Okay, we can wait a couple minutes. I’ll get the camera set up.

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“I got dressed up in my favorite t-shirt!”

Very cute, but I had something fancier in mind. I do appreciate that you picked out a nice orange t-shirt to match the pumpkins.

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“Orange is my favorite color.”

Ha ha, nice. But everyone has already seen that costume. Don’t you have something else?

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“I’m getting seasick. Urp.”

Ah, yes. The hat I brought you from Venice. You make a very cute gondolier!

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“Oy vey! Oops, I mean, OLA!”

And here’s the sombrero I brought you from Zihuatanejo, Mexico! That is a great color on you, Carl.

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“Yes, I’ll have another pina colada, thanks for asking!”

Where did you find that lei from Hawaii? I don’t think that belongs to you. You’re right, though. It’s way too small for Dobby.

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“I do like these cowboy hats. After all, I live in a Dude Ranch.”

Now we’re talking! Sheriff Carl Sagan and his horse. Wait a minute, is that Capycoppy?

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“Now we’re just getting silly. Can I get back to my corn?”

Taking your dog for a walk down to the mailbox? Looks like you dodged the rain.

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“From bad to worse. I’m in a police lineup here. Aren’t we finished yet?”

The best costume of all is actually being a cute guinea pig, isn’t it Carl? Those friends of yours certainly have better manners than Stevie Ray and Fred!

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“I am NOT hanging around for a mugshot. I’m outta here!”

That’s right, Carl. You are INNOCENT! Happy Birthday!


[Carl absolutely LOVED the attention, but not all guinea pigs tolerate costumes. I also had an experienced volunteer on hand for the wrangling. Use good judgment if you decide to dress up your pet. Make sure it is fun for everyone involved.]

Daily Drama 40

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Daily Drama 40

‘Tis the season, and the origin of the term “pecking order” is in full Demo mode. I now have six drakes in the bully pen and only three drakes remain in the common yard with the geese. Emilio is the worst and picks on Vinny and Sal (V&S). Tony can protect them against Boxcar and Boondock (B&B), but not Emilio. Tony picks on poor old Fabio. When I put Tony away, B&B relentlessly chase V&S up onto a brushpile supported by a stump.

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The brushpile also conceals illicit activity of a more devious variety: Carmen Miranda is sitting on a nest. I yank a couple eggs every time I see her off the nest. The last thing I need is more Muscovies.

Shamrock is in the bully pen because he is a jerk. He joins in every fracas and encourages any kind of aggression, like a puny feathered cheerleader. Plus he follows Cubicle, my female goose, around everywhere, which annoys the heck out of Norman. Romeo, the gigantic Muscovy drake is in time out because he is after my hens. I think earlier this spring he actually murdered my older hen, Penguin, but no one’s talking.

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Shamrock the Terrible

They behave themselves in the garden. I’ve been letting Romeo out for a couple hours in the afternoon, mostly to give the rest of the bullies a break.

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Cubicle, Romeo, and Madonna. You can see that Romeo has got his eye on the hen.

It’s much quieter in the aviary with everyone locked up. Norman still takes his job as flock manager very seriously. There’s not much to manage, though.

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Norman on patrol, Cubicle swimming. Grover at the fence, Kitty Hawk hanging back, Winky blending in behind.

Vinny and Sal are still shy about venturing beyond their brushpile, and they won’t go out to the yard with the hens. Once their confidence is restored in the aviary common yard, I’ll let the bullies back out, one at a time. Maybe.

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Sal and Vinny, checking out the pond. Jello the hen in the distant yard. And that’s Norman’s neck and head, mid-photo.

Dang it. Time to lock up Romeo. He’s huge, but surprisingly easy to grab. Muscovies have really sharp toenails, so it’s all about technique.

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Sal averts his eyes as Romeo attacks Madonna the hen.

This is when I threw down the camera and made things right. Darn you, Romeo!

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Romeo, professional thug

It‘s really no surprise that the meekest of the ducks are shy about reclaiming their territory. Old Fabio, named for his head pouf, has been here since late 2006. He’s at least nine years old, and walks like your grandpa. His head pouf disappeared about when he lost his curly drake feather. He’s always been scared to death of me, and now that the six ducks he came in with are gone, he’s kind of lonely. B&B are very protective of him, but they attack V&S so they are locked up. For now, Norman looks after him.

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Fabio, Vinny, and Sal hanging out near their friends in the bully pen, just out of the photo, stage left.

The other drama queen is Lula, my poor little hen. We aren’t certain what her problem is, but it has been going on now since spring 2014. She’s on Metacam daily, and while she walks like your grandma, she is walking again. She has a hard time getting up to her roost at night, so I have been helping her up if she asks politely. Tonight she did. Other times I discover her up there already.

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Lurking Lula

One problem is that we can’t eat her eggs because of the Metacam (meloxicam). She is a very sweet hen, and comes over to get her medicine when I call her.

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“Don’t eat my egg!”

So I went back inside for the evening and I think I’m through dealing with bullies. But, NO! Here is tiny Spike the Budgie, terrorizing The Pirate, my handicapped dove. She put up with his pacing and haranguing, and then she suddenly lunged at him! He took off, flew to the kitchen via the dining room, landed right in his own cage! Nice flying, Spike!

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“BACK OFF, puny green thing!”

Goodbye Lester Leroy | Ducks and Clucks

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We always hope that rescue animals will move on to new homes once they are rehabilitated. Handicapped or chronically ill animals are harder to place, though, and that is why there are sanctuaries. These pets often have a shorter life span, but like all pets, they eventually grow old and then they die. Those of us who provide sanctuary know this, but it isn’t any easier for us when we lose these pets.

Ducks and Clucks is a rescue and sanctuary that used to be in Seattle but is now in Salt Lake City. There was a tragic loss there yesterday, but I thought I would first pass along this story about Lester Leroy, who also deserves to be remembered. I’m just going to show you a couple photos I stole from her, but you really should follow this link to Tiffany’s actual story.

Goodbye Lester Leroy.

Lester Leroy got around pretty well after physical therapy. He came into rescue with an infected leg.

He managed to attract the attention of another handicapped duck named Danny girl. What a cute couple!

Danny girl and Lester Leroy both needed help in and out of their pool. Not a big problem for a first class care facility.

As Lester aged, the problems would come and go, but mostly he was happy to spend quiet days with Danny girl.

Lester Leroy has left the room, but his story is a reminder that there are people who care, even about little lame ducks. That’s kind of nice, isn’t it?

All photos by Tiffany Young, Ducks and Clucks.

Daily Drama 30

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Daily Drama 30

I was away for a couple days, and when I returned, Dobby kept his eye on me. He can see me in the living room from this vantage point.

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Note the resident mallards.

Dobby was extra naughty to teach me a lesson.

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Boom! Crash! Garbage cans make a big noise!

So I rewarded him with a nice hot soaking tub. Also known as a wading pool.

In other news, a new Muscovy Maiden has officially joined the flock just a short ten days after her arrival and quarantine here. In comparison with the bullies I picked up from Pasado’s Safe Haven who took about five months to integrate, this is a stunning achievement. In fact, none of the mallard-derived domestic drakes (and including my gay Muscovy Drake, Romeo) are interested in a Muscovy hen, so she has been an uncomplicated addition. Plus, she easily passed muster with Winky, my Muscovy hen, who doesn’t seem to know she’s a duck, so no contest there.

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Carmen Miranda, crest up

Carmen Miranda, the new Muscovy hen, earned her name by flashing her crest readily and constantly, as if forming a question mark over her head at each new discovery. She is still young, a spring bird transitioning through her first year. She is very poised, but aggressive when appropriate. She has been very excited about joining this flock and convinced me that she could hold her own among them. She has a little story, and a duck friend and five hens who may join her here, sooner or later. I stopped asking questions when the words “stem cell” came up and seemed to hang in the air. At that point, I just asked what I can do to help.

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Romeo, front center, Carmen’s little white head behind pool

She must have been eyeing the pool from her pen, because she went directly to it and now spends a lot of time near the steps.

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Run! Godzilla is coming!

When Carmen emerged from her isolation pen, all the drakes charged in there to check out her food and small wading pool. I almost got a photo of them all milling around in there, but suddenly they came out almost as fast as they had gone in.

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“Mine”

Dobby had to check it out first, apparently.

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Norman the goose keeps an eye on little Carmen, center right of photo. Note the blurry crow landing to her right!

Carmen’s hen friends should pose no problems here, but I am concerned about the duck. My drakes will no doubt find a white Peking duck to be the most exciting thing at the farm since Cleopatra, my last remaining female Rouen. I rehomed her to bring peace to the farmyard. Carmen’s friend might as well be named Marilyn Monroe for all the excitement she will cause around her, yet I am reluctant to separate her from her friends. Carmen is already here (she had to have her wings clipped) and she suffered no separation anxiety, but I know not where poor Marilyn will end up. I can keep her here, in her own pen, indefinitely, but it is not a good long-term solution. Please let me know if you hear of a suitable home for her. And stay tuned for The Carmen Story, which will be written when it is time.

Foreground, LtoR: Vinny, Sal, Fabio, Emilio, Tony, Norman the goose, Shamrock, Boxcar, Cubicle the goose, & Boondock. Back behind the fence, LtoR: Carmen, Winky, & Romeo

The flock was pretty excited about getting into the yard, again. They were more excited about their freedom than the new duck, so it was a good time to let her out.

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The Lurker

Dobby just had to be in charge, though.

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Run! Godzilla is coming!

He kept rounding them up and putting them away, like a Border Collie being paid by the piece.

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The following day, Dobby is still watching me like a hawk.

Now that we are past the solstice, our early winter has backed off enough for fall weather to try again. With milder temperatures, dry ground, and even some sunny breakthroughs I was finally able to clean out the dovecote. I wish I had been able to do it earlier, before my December birthday, because my back has aged another year with the rest of me, and hauling out over 100 gallons of sodden wood chips set me back a bit. Fortunately, the Funny Farm has a bartender on staff. This no joking matter.

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Indian Ringneck Doves

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The hardest part is keeping them from breeding.

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They are so friendly, and the cooing is soothing.

I counted 21 in there but it’s not easy to feel confident about the count. There’s a pigeon in there, too.

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Dobby wanted to come in as much as I wanted to keep him OUT. That white dove is The Pirate’s mom.

Dobby was perturbed by my lingering in the dove area. He watched and “helped” for a long while, but I was later informed that he managed to register *3* complaints in the kitchen while I was occupied with Not For Dobby activities. Spending the day outdoors, but not with The Prince, is NOT APPROVED.

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“Sit? That’s so lame. How about this?”

I told him to sit for this photo, but he struck this pose instead. He stood there like this for quite a while.

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Harness schmarness

No day is complete without a trip to the front yard to eat corn, grass, and bamboo. As you can see, he suffered a terrible mishap out there: his harness is wonky. It was so dark by the time we got out there I didn’t manage to get his harness on correctly. He doesn’t seem to mind as much about that any more.

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Whiskey Sour, Specialty of the House

I wasn’t joking.

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The End