I come by my love of animals naturally. I had animal lovers on both my mother and father's side of the family. I've already written about the most amazing animal lover in our family, my Aunt Meta. So tonight, I wanted to share a few stories from my dad's side.
This is a picture of my dad in our backyard in South Gate. There were two Blue Jays that would eat out of his hand. He named them Tom and Jerry. All he had to do was step outside, it seemed, and there they were, circling him. Jerry was missing a part of his foot but it never stopped him from doing the things he wanted to do. I still remember my dad teaching me how to get Tom and Jerry to trust me enough to eat from my hand. There's something almost spiritual about a wild animal that learns to trust you. I'll never forget the feeling. Eventually, years later, Jerry stopped showing up and then Tom. It was sad. But, not long after my parents moved to Fullerton, my dad had wild birds eating from his hand once again. My kids still talk about it.
I grew up with fish, birds, rabbits, dogs, horses and cattle. My father saw himself as a frustrated cowboy who dreamed of moving to Montana and running his own ranch. I remember listening to him trying to talk my mother into moving more than once. She wasn't budging. I would have been packed before she got the entire yes spoken if she would have ever changed her mind. But, it wasn't meant to be. What my mom did agree to was my father buying a 17 acre mini-ranch in Oro Grande, California with a second 5 acre mini-ranch across the road. I was in heaven! The 5 acre parcel had a little yellow house and a few small barns. This was where we stayed when we drove to Oro Grande for weekends. It's also where we kept our horses and ponies and sometimes a bull named Ferdinand that loved coffee and belly scratches. He was the sweetest bull ever and I loved him. The 17 acres had a nice house for the two ranches' caregivers. It also had some huge barns where they raised drop calves. You could find me sleeping in one of those barns on many a night. I didn't want to miss feeding the calves in the morning. I never slept better than in those barns with the smell and sounds of those baby calves. There was usually a few dogs or cats keeping me company as well.
This is my son, Andrew. The magic continues. Ha!
Roy Rogers lived up the road from my parents little ranches. His place was beautiful! They raised the most amazing horses there and I couldn't believe they allowed us to ride through whenever we wanted. It was such a magical place to see and the horses were magnificent. Between our ranch and Roy Rogers there was a mile or so of wide open high desert to gallop through and boy, did we. There were also some abandoned houses if you rode far enough behind our place. They were spooky and creepy but I've never wanted to explore something so much as I did those places. I could never talk my sister of friends into it. I suppose they had more sense than I did but I would have done it in a minute if I could have found a willing accomplice.
This is one of my dad's brothers, my Uncle Louie. He loved animals as well and always had Koi, dogs, cats and birds along with his wild followers. Just like my dad, Uncle Lou had a wild Blue Jay that loved him and followed him around his yard. This picture was taken in Uncle Louie's front yard in Pasadena, California.
This is my Uncle Lou feeding the squirrel that lived in a giant tree in his backyard. Aa you can see, the Blue Jay is waiting for his turn. When we would go to Uncle Lou and Aunt Audrey's, Kelly and I would stand in the living room, peeking out the sliding glass door curtains so we could watch him hand feeding the wild life. We couldn't go out because they were afraid of us but it sure was fun to watch.
This is another of my dad's brothers, my Uncle Pete. He was also my Godfather. Uncle Pete was absolutely the Dr. Doolittle of our family. He had a Basset Hound named Sad Sack and a few kitties. Of course, I loved that. But the best part of going to Uncle Pete's was when he would take me in his backyard, have me sit very still in one of the lawn chairs and then call his wild crow. When Uncle Pete would whistle a few times, the crow would come out of nowhere and land on him. He could hold and pet the crow all the while talking baby talk to the bird. I'd have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Uncle Pete loved that bird and always had treats in his shirt pocket for the bird to "steal." Speaking of stealing, there was a story my uncle loved to tell about the neighbors having different things stolen in the El Monte neighborhood where my aunt and uncle lived. The police were called more than once but no suspects were ever found. At least not until a year later when my Uncle was cleaning his gutters and found the neighbors "stolen" items. Seems his wild crow friend had a bit of a sticky beak. Uncle Pete also had a raccoon that would show up to be fed. I had to watch that from inside the house since it seemed the critter could be a bit possessive of my uncle.
One of the cool things that happened to me in Australia was holding this guy. We had stopped for coffee and were walking back to the car when all these birds flew from the trees. I handed my coffee to my son and broke a piece of the sweet roll we had bought into my hand. I didn't think this colorful fellow would actually come to me but he did. I kept thinking how much my dad and his brothers would have loved this.
This is my Uncle Lou feeding the squirrel that lived in a giant tree in his backyard. Aa you can see, the Blue Jay is waiting for his turn. When we would go to Uncle Lou and Aunt Audrey's, Kelly and I would stand in the living room, peeking out the sliding glass door curtains so we could watch him hand feeding the wild life. We couldn't go out because they were afraid of us but it sure was fun to watch.
This is another of my dad's brothers, my Uncle Pete. He was also my Godfather. Uncle Pete was absolutely the Dr. Doolittle of our family. He had a Basset Hound named Sad Sack and a few kitties. Of course, I loved that. But the best part of going to Uncle Pete's was when he would take me in his backyard, have me sit very still in one of the lawn chairs and then call his wild crow. When Uncle Pete would whistle a few times, the crow would come out of nowhere and land on him. He could hold and pet the crow all the while talking baby talk to the bird. I'd have to cover my mouth to keep from laughing too loud. Uncle Pete loved that bird and always had treats in his shirt pocket for the bird to "steal." Speaking of stealing, there was a story my uncle loved to tell about the neighbors having different things stolen in the El Monte neighborhood where my aunt and uncle lived. The police were called more than once but no suspects were ever found. At least not until a year later when my Uncle was cleaning his gutters and found the neighbors "stolen" items. Seems his wild crow friend had a bit of a sticky beak. Uncle Pete also had a raccoon that would show up to be fed. I had to watch that from inside the house since it seemed the critter could be a bit possessive of my uncle.
One of the cool things that happened to me in Australia was holding this guy. We had stopped for coffee and were walking back to the car when all these birds flew from the trees. I handed my coffee to my son and broke a piece of the sweet roll we had bought into my hand. I didn't think this colorful fellow would actually come to me but he did. I kept thinking how much my dad and his brothers would have loved this.
This is my son, Andrew. The magic continues. Ha!
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