Adios, Cruzador

Last weekend, the time that every pet owner dreads came to pass. It became the time where you are faced with the 'quality of life' decision, as in: Is your dog happy living the kind of life that he is living, and is it in the best interest of the dog to keep him going? Unfortunately, we came to the end of that road, where the mind was still there, the organs were still working, but the legs were just no longer viable enough to keep things moving. It was time to do the hard thing (and the right thing) and say goodbye to Hunter.

Hunter B. Ferro

A.K.A.: The Judge, The Enforcer, The Cop, The Huntman, El Cruzador, Cruzer

While it's easy to focus on the loss, I think it better to describe the life of this truly unique animal through a series of anecdotes and non sequiturs:

• It was not wise to leave a plate of food anywhere within reach, particularly if it had anything tasty. Cruzer has been know to artfully remove all the gravy from an open faced roast beef sandwich, without disturbing a single french fry.
• The dog never met a carbohydrate that he would knowingly consume. Hand him a piece of sandwich, and he would extract the meet and spit out the bread.
• He could be a major pain when it came to administering pills. Hand him a pill wrapped in a piece of steak, and he would spit out the pill, without dropping the steak of course.
• He was an instant alpha dog, no matter what group he was in. Any fight at a dog park was immediately dispatched by the huntman. All he would have to do is stick his nose in the middle, and all combatants would disperse.
• Going for a walk, was more of an exercise in starting and stopping. All information that could be gathered through smell would be examined thoroughly.
  
• Whenever he got tangled in his leash, he would lift the appropriate leg to get himself untangled. Smarter than your average dog.
• He had a keen ability to lodge protests, never really buying into the roles of pet and owner.
  
• So that his people wouldn't get lost in the house, he would leave kibbles around, so that we could find our way back to the kitchen.
• He was a veritable connoisseur of ice cream. Ben and Jerry's being his favorite.
• Jaws of steel. He could grab on to a suspended rope toy and hang in the air.
• Never once let the imminent threat of the approaching UPS truck go unchallenged. The postal service was successfully defended against as well.
• Subjected all newcomers to the rope toy test. He would drop it in your lap. The next muscle twitch you made sealed your fate as one that he either liked or disliked. Not much of a people person that dog, unless you were one of his people.
• If you got a lick, you were in good company. If you got a face lick or he slept on your foot, you were in rarified air.
  
• Incarcerated in the state of Arizona. Cited in the state of New York. Narrowly escaped prosecution in Maryland, Virginia, and several other jurisdictions.
• Could smell fish being prepared a mile away.
• Understood that when humans were having an egg breakfast, his was soon to be prepared. Scrambled eggs with sausage gravy, being the preferred morning feast.
• When presented with his first full time canine roommate, Willie, it took him a little while to figure out that the little black ball of energy was here to stay. Once he got that through his mind, he took the young lad under his wing.
• He was my pal.
  

The fly of the day is Hunt's Hybrid Crayfish, courtesy of the folks at Fly Anglers Online:

Tight lines,

Dave

How Big was the Check?

Every so often you see grown men do something that makes you ask yourself, why? As a semi-retired rugby player, I probably run into this more often than most. This weekend, I was watching the Final Four on Tivo, so that I can catch a 40 minute game in less than 2.5 hours. When Coach K, Rick Pitino, Roy Williams, and Bobby Knight all slid across the floor in socks and drawers, doing their best(worst) Risky Business interpretation, I had to stop to figure out what was going on.



Not one of these guys looked like they were having a good time. At this point in their careers, you have to think that they are set enough in their careers that they don't have to do things they don't want to do. It must have been one really freakin' big check for each of them.

The fly of the dayIs the Heavy Metal Spyder, Courtesy of the folks at Fly Fish Ohio





















Tight Lines,

Dave

Time To Fish

I ran by Boulder Creek this afternoon at lunch. There was clear water, it had risen about a foot since the last time I went by, and I saw a trout waiting patiently behind a rock.

Last year, a buddy and I decided we were going to shoot for 50 days, with at least some portion of time spent standing in a river, stream, or creek. Needless to say, we fell far short of that goal. I spent most of the off season, building a couple of rods, (one for me and one for my dad), tying flies, and learning more about tying flies.

The time for the academic portion of this program has now concluded. I've been out 3 times already, but let's face it, fishing season is upon us, and it's time to get on the river.

There will be no fly of the day, today. It's time to go fish.

Tight Lines,

Dave

Only In Boulder

The title of the article about says it, Only in Boulder. It seems to me that some folks have too much time on their hands, if they have the time to come up with a new way to define the relationship between owners and pets. The woman at the center of this movement started out with great intentions, yet somehow, I think lost the plot, in trying to alter behavior through a naming convention.

To paraphrase Dennis Miller, as soon as my dog starts following me around with a plastic bag to pick up after me, we will start talking about how we are going to redefine our relationship.

The fly of the day is the, PMD CDC Dun, courtesy of Bob Bush, and the folks at Front Range Anglers.












Tight Lines,

Dave

Tweetle Dee and Twitter Dumb

I know there has been a lot of twitter bashing on television, e.g. John Stewart, and in other places, but I stumbled upon this yesterday, and it is truly funny.



Admittedly, I don't tweet, because I'm pretty sure nobody cares to know when I'm having a sandwich or I'm heading out to rugby training. I do know others who feel that twitter helps them keep in touch with their peeps. Based on the popularity of the service or medium, sardonic backlash was probably inevitable.

The fly of the day is the WD40, courtesy of the folks at Front Range Anglers. It may not look like much, but when it's midge season, this one comes in handy. I've used it in greens, greys, and black.

Tight Lines,

Dave

0 for 3

SKUNKED AGAIN

I've been out on the water 3 times so far. All I have to show for it are a couple of nibbles; no fish in hand yet for '09.

Rather than get discouraged, I'm trying to figure out the next time I can get out there and see if I can coax a fish into biting on a fly. It's a bit of a humbling experience, yet with a little luck, a temporary one.

One thing I did see that was a bit perturbing was watching a couple of morons from the tackle box crowd kill a couple of fish that could not have been more than 8 inches long. I have to ask what is the point. You might be able to make a couple of hors d'oeuvres that you can put on a cracker out of an 8 inch fish. Based on the size of the guts that these guys were using for leverage to pull in those monsters, they haven't been missing any meals lately... Anyway, I digress.

The fly of the day is the Flash Western Coachman, courtesy of the great folks down at Front Range Anglers and guest fly tier Paul Prentiss.











Tight Lines,

Dave

Why Colorado Rocks Part III

Ok,
Admittedly, I was having a bad day when I wrote my last post. Speed traps do tend to do that to me. Since then, I've noticed, that I've gone silent. We'll now it is time for my latest installment describing why it is so freakin' cool to live in Colorado.

The reasons today are the Fire and Sheriff Departments of Boulder County. On January 7, at about 2:30, my wife got the evacuation order from the fire department. A couple of fires started almost simultaneously, because of the interaction between high winds and power lines. Somewhere in about a 12 hour period, 3,000 acres of grassland went up in smoke. According to our neighbor, if a fire is going to get to our houses, it will start in the same are that this one did. The canyon configuration in our area will apparently cause a suction effect, and become a tunnel for the fire.

Thanks to the fire departments of Boulder, Left Hand Canyon, Jamestown, RockyMountain, Boulder Rural, Lafayette, and I'm sure others, only two structures were damaged, one of which was at ground zero of one of the two initial fires.

Driving around the area, it looked like a moonscape surrounding houses. The fire departments went into structure protection mode, and defended all the houses that were threatened. At one neighbor's house, you can see the scorched ground go all the way to the house.

Thankfully, the fire was stopped approximately 300 yards from our kitchen. Comparatively, the fire did not get that close, yet it's a lot closer than one wants to have their home come to a fire. Without the courageous and coordinated effort of the Fire and Sheriff's Departments, this could have gone a lot worse.

There was a pot luck Thank You gathering at the Altona Grange, the following Saturday, and the firemen I spoke to were appreciative that we showed up, but I don't think there is an adequate way to thank people who save your home. Below are a few pics.

Smoke on Horizon

Closer than you want it to get...

The fly of the day is Steve's Firefly, courtesy of the folks at Fly Anglers Online.

Tight Lines,

Dave