Talk Feeleez

Superhuman

2013-05-20T08:33:55-07:00

We all wish we had superpowers - superhuman strength or the power of flight, and I'm here to tell you that you do. This is how you unleash your powers:

1. Invite your squirmy, wide-awake child into your bed in the middle of the night.

2. Work at drifting back off to sleep despite the disturbance.

3. Hear the words: I think I'm going to barf.

Then, BEHOLD!

This happened last night. Echo joined us, which I didn't notice until I was woken because I was in trouble for pulling the covers off myself and making her cold. I don't know how she could be cold because I was on FIRE just from being near her. I switched to the outside position and figured it would be dreamtime for us all. Simple as that. Nope, not so simple. Echo was awake and talking and squirming and my sleep stayed shallow at best - so shallow in fact that my waking reality mixed with the dreaming one and soon my experience was that of being pressed on and smothered by a flock of hot, talking seagulls.

When Echo complained of her belly hurting I told her to lie on her left side. When she farted I thought Ah, there we go. That should do the trick. Helloooooo sleep! Nope. I heard those dreaded words.

"I think I'm going to barf" is the world's greatest game changer. We went from mild middle of the night disturbance to all-out emergency state. My superpowers kicked in full force and in less than a tenth of a second I went from prone, to standing with a six-year old child cradled in my arms. From hazy, hot seagulls to standing panic. Of course we didn't make it.

We really didn't make it.

In hindsight the cradle position may not have been a good idea as the projectile vomiting found its target in my face. Full-on barf shower sprayed in my face and then what didn't land there rained back down upon our heads. Nathan awoke to sounds of oh god, oh god, oh god! Bless his heart, he had no idea what was happening as I was completely blind and also completely incapable of describing anything clearly, desperate as I was.

Full shower for two at 4am.

And holy hell I appreciate having a partner. Knowing that I will emerge from the shower to find a bedroom de-barfed and ready for sleep, is possibly the greatest gift one can receive.

Anyway... see how simple it is? Barf in the bed = superhuman powers.

The best argument for co-sleeping or the worst? Discuss.

Intersection

2013-05-17T13:48:43-07:00

On the route to school there is a lady. She's a crossing guard. I don't know anything about her. We never interact except to wave hellos as I drive or bike past her post. But I see her A LOT, in part because her job is to be in that spot and I pass by a few times a day, but also because even when I pass by that intersection in the middle of the day she's there. She stays there all day.

All. Day.

She arrives in the morning, rain, snow or shine and holds up her stop sign for children and parents, then when the pedestrian traffic has died down she sits in her car. All. Day. At 3pm she's back at her spot. She knits, she does crosswords, she reads.

I've noticed my estimation of this stranger's life varies greatly day to day. Sometimes I feel sad that she's alone all day at an intersection, other times I envy her the quiet and solitude. I've been puzzled by my diverse responses and then recently it hit me. Her life is seen through my life. Everyone's life is seen through everyone else's life. The personal lens is unavoidable. It's also why people piss us off some days and delight us others. It's always all about us. All about me.

On the mornings when Xi and Echo are arguing over who gets to check and see if the dogs at a house on our route are visible in the window or not, I don't feel sorry for the crossing guard. I kid you not, my girls fight over who gets to say "Brown puppy in the window!". At those times crossing guard lady's silent vehicle and crossword look really fucking good.

On the afternoons when I feel the ache of missing my family, when that old wound opens and pulses with longing, I feel so sad about the crossing guard, so sad that she too must not have her mom or dad or sister nearby to visit during her break. Because otherwise she would, at least through the lens of my life she would.

When money is tight I feel comraderie with the crossing guard. On those days I assume she is budgeting her money and the long trip across town to her apartment is out of the question. When the lilacs are blooming and a warm breeze hits my face I'm certain that this lady, this crossing guard has the most serene and peaceful life of anyone on the planet. A good book, a purpose, and time.

I'm all over the place about this lady.

To be honest I am all over the place in general these days, at turns so sure of myself and place and then so unsure. So uncertain. I took a little break from this blog to think things over. Am I a blogger? Am I a parenting consultant? Am I an artist? Am I a writer? And do I have to choose just one in order to provide for my family? And shouldn't I know this by now? It's been giving me grief because I also want to be a good parent and a homeschool teacher and have a clean house. You can see the struggle.

And I'm not going to pretend that Echo's sixth birthday doesn't have anything to do with it. She is the blood of my blood and her milestones are my own. Her life has been six years long. Six years! Somehow the fact that it's happening, this time passing thing, to someone that I am looking at almost every minute of the day means I can't deny it actually is ocurring. Six years really did pass.

And that means they have passed in my life too.

Turning six, that's not a baby anymore. It makes me look at my life and my choices and tilt my head. It also makes me tender. Echo. She's just perfect. She is everything I would wish for a family. She is everything I wish for myself. It's a strange mix of hardly being able to believe this incredible being exists and the sense that of course she exists, she is the very air I breathe, the molecules that float in and out and dance and shimmer with my every inhalation. And now she's six. Her cheeks are slimmer. Her words are bigger and complicated. Her smell is different. She has friends and ideas and opinions. She was a speck and now she is this... this.

It makes me want to cry with the joy and wonder of it all. And the pain too.

Photo courtesy of Romy.

I'm Alright

2013-05-16T09:06:09-07:00

Everything is great over here. I'm just taking a little break to:

- celebrate the sixth year of one of my MOST favorite people. (I can't believe she's six! This blog started when she was just a babe in arms.)

- think more about my life purpose

Thanks for thinking of me!

S'okay I Scratch Yer Dog's Butt?

2013-05-03T07:45:26-07:00

S'okay I scratch yer dog's butt?

Yes, just don't touch the hole where his poop comes out.

Why?

Just... so that you don't get poop on your finger.

When it's warm I like to bring Henry to recess duty. I think it's good for the children to have something from the "outside world" come into theirs. I can feel everyone's blood pressure drop several notches just by watching this soft yellow thing drowse in the sun.

And he's such a good sport.

They seriously drape themselves over him. From the moment of our arrival he has at least six kids at all times stroking him in some fashion or other, petting his fur in the wrong direction, studying his teeth, analyzing the position of his tail. And asking questions. Constantly.

Why do you kiss him? Does he smell bad when you kiss him?

Afterward he's exhausted - not physically because he's eleven now and I carry him all the way to school in the bike trailer - but emotionally. It takes it out of him being the recipient of all that love.

Why does he lick that part?

Afterward I let Henry sniff his way across the broad complex of connected sporting fields. It's like a green grass pesticide version of the Saskatchewan prarie in the middle of Missoula- jumping grasshoppers, crows, and little brown birds. Today it was just the two of us as Echo had a fever and stayed home to be nursed by papa and break her personal record for consecutive hours listening to Lemony Snicket (NINE). Henry and I meandered across, glancing at each other with gratitude and some serious knowing-each-other-inside-out. Before I had fully acknowledged the thought of getting back on the bike he was already making his way over to hop in the trailer, kind of sleepy, definitely smiling.

Does he eat oranges?

It's fun seeing him at this end of things, no longer the anxious puppy crying at every moment of separation, stealing a twinkie wrapper from the gutter and bolting for home, getting humped at the dog park. Now he's a gent, fully at ease and chilled out with the confidence of having this dog thing wired.

Does God let your dog run?

Yes

Oh, gosh God sure loves yer dog.

Do Over

2013-05-01T07:56:47-07:00

When I come downstairs in the morning I feed Henry, the cats, and Ken the guinea pig. Then I open the blinds. Then I wake up the computer. Then I slice fruit for the girls. It takes about five minutes. This morning I hadn't even got to the fruit part when the girls started fighting. They fought over a stool because, you know, when you want to fight anything is possible.

I hate it when they fight.

But instead of pulling my hair out and flailing dramatically at them with my words - both of these responses were on the tip of my proverbial tongue, I said: "Woah! Look how you are starting the day!" Because seriously, we had been out of bed for mere moments.

Kids don't actually want to fight. They aren't non-beings that don't feel the anxiety and awfulness of contention. They, like me and you and everybody else, just get there. Quickly and without realizing it they are in battle. I suggested a do over.

Do over!

They went through the scenario, this time treating each other well as they discussed the use of the coveted stool. It worked. They skipped off to their respective days with joy in their hearts.

I love do overs. I wrote about one here about an interaction with a stranger on the plane, and another one here about a mother and child at the park.

Here's to do overs!

The Basics Still Pop Up

2013-04-29T09:17:56-07:00

F*** PRAISE

At the soccer games some kids have parents on the sidelines that give them advice and praise when they do things "well" or "right", and these kids look to the sidelines constantly. When they miss a goal? Glance to the parents. When they kick or do something praise worthy? Glance to the parents. From where I stand the kids' game experience is filtered through the lens of the approving or disapproving parents.

This isn't what I want for my kids.

Our girl is like a mexican jumping bean, leaping from one thrill to another all over the field. Sometimes she's stoked because her teammate hugged her after a goal. Other times she's just simply pumped because soccer is crazy fun! When she looks at us we mimic her spastic enthusiasm - for no reason other than that she's silly-happy. At the game on sunday Echo had some technically successful moves and her coach bellowed out GOOD JOB ECHO!!! Our girl, who never hears these words, lapped it up. Her spastic joy movements spiked. But she didn't look at us. She just started running crazy again, all over the field, not even necessarily trying to repeat the great thing she was praised for. That praise she received seems to have nothing to do with how she feels about herself, or about soccer in general.

That's what I want for my kids.

Heck, that's what I want for myself. I want to write in spastic joy, not because my last post got thousands of shares and I want to repeat that, but because it's fun and feels good. I want to draw or sculpt, not because my last photo on Facebook got several "likes" but because it stirs my spirit to make things. Unfortunately praising children for the "good" they do has been the parenting ideal for decades and decades. My very make-up has been shaped by this tenant and it's hard to shake.

Here's to the next generation.

ATTACHMENT ISN'T JUST FOR BABIES

In other news...

Echo now sleeps in her mini bed next to ours. It seems like a personal challenge she has taken on and she's simply determined that this is how things will be from now on. I like it that she is making a choice free from parental or societal pressures. It feels like her personal flower is blooming at the precise pace that makes sense for her. And somehow for me this translates into a knowledge that she is becoming herself, a marvelous dynamic interesting self all her own.

I'd say four out of five nights she joins us in our bed sometime in the early hours. The other night she found me in the bathroom brushing my teeth before my own bedtime and she wanted me to help her fall back asleep. I was thinking we should just get in the parents bed because I was looking forward to some serious zzz's and the short nature of Echo's bed means that I can't actually sprawl out and pass out.

But my girl wanted to "sleep in her own bed" and was hoping I would help her, then get up and get in my own bed. How I resisted! How this sounded a lot like postponing sleep! I tried to talk her out of it, but I was also totally aware of how stupid that was in the middle of the night with a half-conscious child. I inwardly railed against my circumstances. Then I remembered how long I nursed this girl. I remembered how long I carried this girl. I remembered how far I have pushed my strength in order to escort this being through this world in a way that felt good to us both.

Hell, my body and will can do anything for this child.

Suddenly my complaint of bent knees in a too-small bed seemed so paltry. If I was able to do all that I have been able to do - physically, emotionally, and psychologically in order to meet my own parenting goals in the past, I certainly can sleep (or not sleep) in a too-small bed for twenty minutes until my girl drifts back to dreamland.

EMPATHY, WHY DO I FORGET YOU SOMETIMES

I have a personal quirk that is sometimes difficult to manage. I like to walk the dog early in the day. It sounds like I simply have a preference for this time period but really it's more than that. As the day goes on, if I haven't taken a dog walk yet I feel anxious. I say it's because of the needs of the dog but it's also for me. Taking a walk is a need of mine. Also, once the walk is imminent and my mind is turned in that direction I am super impatient. Super. Impatient.

Yesterday, by the time we did tasks, picked up snacks for soccer, attended the Wild Walk Parade, and finished the soccer game itself I was ready for the dog walk, but Echo wouldn't go.

She had caught whiff of some possible computer time and in kid logic I think it seemed to her if she refused to go that possible computer time would happen and happen soon. My adult logic was like: Are you f-ing kidding me? Kid, your PARENTS ARE LEAVING. We aren't leaving you here, you aren't having computer time, and I will pick your ass up and manhandle you into the stroller. But I kept my cool. I swept the floor to still my impatience. Nathan and I got curious about Echo's stance. She gripped the chair she was sitting in, refused to elaborate and repeated that she. was. not. going.

Stalemate.

I swept for a long time. Then I finally asked if I could hold Echo. She consented to a hug. But the hug turned into holding. The holding turned into connection and empathy. Going for a walk just doesn't sound good huh? You're tired from your game and it sounds delicious to curl up and watch Planet Earth huh? That DOES sound good. I love Planet Earth. Now that we were on the same team I gave her some more information about my perspective - how I like to take good care of our dog, how I think of the dog walk as a task to complete, how I would be more open to Planet Earth after the walk because I will feel more relaxed and willing to let it last longer because I wouldn't be hurrying that part. Nathan and I also offered to walk the same loop but at a quick pace.

And somehow it all worked out. Empathy is invisible but powerful. Even with a time lapse camera you wouldn't be able to see it actually doing it's thing, but you certainly can feel it taking affect.

Invisible empathy in action.

*********

(No) praise, attachment, empathy. The basics still pop up.

I Love This

2013-04-27T08:40:57-07:00

Almost a month after spring break Echo sent this message to Bella via Facebook:

Dear Bella,

During spring break you were using my favorite towel when we went swimming at the Y. And I got mad at you because I like to use my favorite towel and I said "That's the towel I use!" and I started to rip it off you. Now I regret how I pulled it off you. I just wanted you to know because I don't like the feeling of pulling a towel off someone so I wanted to write you this note. And I am sorry I did that.

Love Echo

Echo,

It was no big deal for me. I'm sorry I was stubborn. I love you and miss you so much! C u soon!

Xoxo, Bella

This towel episode had been weighing heavily on Echo's mind. Sometimes, when falling asleep at night she'd recount it for me, weeping with regret. She was tentative to bring it up with Bella again, too embarrassed to remind her sister of her less than cool behavior, but eventually it got too much for her. Since Bella spends the majority of her school year at her other house we did our best with modern technology. When the return note came through Echo's body slackened with relief and delight. The weight had been lifted.

Days later we were talking about the Lemony Snicket series and the (excellent!) point the book makes about people being neither purely "wicked" nor purely "noble" but rather a mix of the two. Together we talked about actions that we both have taken that might be considered "wicked". Number one on her list was not one of the times she has violently attacked her middle sister but, The Towel Incident.

I'm so glad I have access to this girl's mind and emotions. I'm so glad I can help her release those emotions. And I am so glad for sisters.

Sweet, sweet, sisters.

Ducking the Witching Hour

2013-04-24T08:44:37-07:00

I'm guessing that every family has a witching hour. We do. Ours is from about 4:30pm until 6pm. Xi is home from school but done with her after-school snack and chill-out time. Echo is in the living room, finishing up a game of whatever she has concocted. And I can see the two ships start to converge. They are a little adrift, a little at a loss. Things could go either way at this point, they could dive into a game together and play until I drag them away for dinner, or....

well the "or" is horrible. They might argue about the jump rope hitting the edge of the rug. Or argue about the crack in the couch cushions. Then tension rises until basically they are both on the lookout for any possible conflict. I hate it.

Yesterday I decided to duck it. I decided to basically chaperon them through the witching hour by engaging them in an activity. Xi wanted a "listen and do" activity but I didn't find anything good on the internet and so decided to write my own. A "listen and do" activity is one where the participant listens to a series of instructions and, well, does them. This is what I came up with:

Draw a tall box.

Color it with red stripes.

Write the word BOX under it.

Add five plus five and write the answer, very small, somewhere inside the red-striped box. (For Xi: Subtract 105 from 115)

Draw five clouds at the top of the page.

Draw a roof for the red-striped box.

Draw hills in the background.

Put a fence on them.

Draw seven chickens in grass.

Circle the smallest cloud.

Draw a curvy path to the red-striped box.

Color the biggest chicken orange.

Put a tree in the scene.

Give it six apples, two are laying on the ground.

Color the apples in the tree red.

Color the apples in the tree brown.

Put three flying birds in the sky.

Underline the largest one.

Write your name backwards in the left, bottom-hand corner.

Turn paper over and make a list of five things that describe you.

Xi's five things to describe herself: 1. nice, 2. fun, 3. loving, 4. almost always happy, 5. loves bananas

Echo's five things to describe herself: 1. full of ideas, 2. active, 3. long hair, 4. love for nature, 5. love parents

They were absorbed for forever! And I made dinner really peacefully. They wanted to try again.

Divide your paper in half with a line.

Draw a fat bunny with eight turds on the left-hand side.

Circle the seventh turd.

Color all turds primary colors.

Draw a toy dangling over the bunny’s head.

Attach it to something.

Give the bunny something soft to sit on.

And a friend that isn’t a bunny.

Give the friend a hat.

Point an arrow at the hat.

Write the name of the bunny and the friend somewhere near them.

Draw an angry man on the right-hand side.

Give him a shack to live in and a dog.

Make sure the dog has a place to hide if he needs to.

Color the dog the color you get when you mix red and blue.

Draw 4 rainclouds in the sky above the man and dog.

And a lightning bolt.

Add up the number of turds and the number of clouds and write this in the bottom right-hand corner.

Draw flowers around the shack.

Draw hearts between the bunny and friend.

Send one of those hearts to the man.

Write your full name in the top-right-hand corner of the page.

Flip the paper over and write your top five wishes.

Xi's five wishes: 1. have a puppy, 2. farm, 3. cat, 4. $1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000, 5. even more love

Echo's five wishes: 1. farm, 2. nurse again, 3.marry Elliott, 4. win the lottery, 5. Fala (future dog)

What I loved about this project:

1. peace

2. that there was no right way to follow the directions and the varying delightful results

3. insight into who these girls are! "even more love", "full of ideas" - such a great window into their interior.

4. watching their faces in rapt attention, waiting for me to read the next direction.

5. It doesn't even matter what the directions are! I could have written almost anything.

And in case you are curious, we had an enormous salad for dinner, accompanied by an enormous platter of oven-baked french fries. Yum!

Ideally I Would Have Skipped the Persuasion Part Altogether

2013-04-22T07:42:25-07:00

From now on all of my posts will be about soccer.

Just kidding.

But really those soccer games! I tell you it's like a whole parenting universe shrunk down to a bite-size and potent chunk. There are other kids doing things and I have thoughts about those things. And there are other parents doing things, and by god I certainly have thoughts about those things. And then there are MY KIDS!

Xi came to the soccer game this time and as we were arriving she was getting Echo psyched about her opponent, a local Orthodontics team in green jerseys. She was pretty sure Echo's team would win. And there it is that competition thing, the part I have been cringing about, the part I was worried other people would impose on my family, and the first time it reared up was in our own van. I ended up saying: "Well win or lose it doesn't really matter because you still get to do all the fun parts either way. You still get to run and cheer and kick and all that good stuff."

Then I crossed my fingers that mere words could land in the hearts of my girls and make a difference.

Then, unrelated to this conversation, Echo wouldn't play the game.

Our worst nightmare! Okay, now that I read those lines it sounds a bit dramatic. The other night I woke up and Echo was nowhere to be found. Not in bed! In the middle of the night! I went into complete shock but before I FREAKED out and died of fear and sorrow that our littlest was taken in the night I went pee. In stumbled Echo - returning from (irrationally) having gone downstairs to find me - alive and well. Phew. So, a child disappearing is our worst nightmare, but in the world of sports, having the kid that simply won't go onto the field even though the game is starting is at the very least, nerve wracking.

She was nervous. Too nervous and she wanted to go home.

Nathan and I pulled out all of the logic we could.

- her team needed her to be the fifth player

- her team needed her to help them protect the goal and get the ball

- she had chosen to play soccer and this is what "playing soccer" means

- they built the team with the notion that Echo would be the fifth player and it isn't really fair now to not be that fifth player

- she was nervous last time and remember how much fun it was?

- it would feel better after she started, perhaps she should just get out there and give it a shot

- Xi is here to see the game and she really wants to see her sister play

- we're asking you to trust us. We think this is really something you can do.

- You can look to make your own fun, you can look for opportunities to have as much fun as possible.

But Echo was serious. She. Wasn't. Playing. Meanwhile the coach was calling for her and the game had actually started. We poured on the empathy.

You're cold.

You're nervous.

Oh man. That's hard.

Nathan and I were exchanging OH SHIT! glances as all of our words just rained down on the resolute girl.

Because here is the truth folks. You can't make kids do anything.

I wanted her to join her teammates. I also wanted her to have fun. I wanted her to want to play. But she didn't want to and even if I dragged her out there I couldn't make her actually play. Even if we threatened her with punishment we couldn't make her have fun or like soccer or do anything different than what she was doing. And of course I wasn't going to punish or threaten. Of course I am only ever going to use empathy and information because my relationship with my girl is more important than all of the drama possible at a kindergarten soccer game.

Still I wanted her feet to move.

In the midst of it all I was able to slip in some self-empathy. I noticed I was embarrassed. And I was panicked. I wanted to run away to our van and get out of there.

And then for no discernible reason Echo hugged each of us in turn, fiercely, with her eyes pinched closed. She ran out onto the field and had the time of her life. She was feisty and involved in every play. She was running and grinning and narrating her every move: "Uh uh uh...", she said to the ball, "Not so fast! You can't get away from me!!!" She had the time of her life.

We asked her about it later. Away from the epicenter of pure emotion she was able to break it down for us. The opposing team was a new one and that made her nervous. The field was new too. And there was an additional kid on her team too. All of this made her more nervous than before. The thought that inspired her to play though is that she remembered how much fun she had at the last game and she wouldn't even have a chance to have that kind of fun if she didn't play. And then once she was in the game she made a point of looking for all the fun she could find, and this literary girl knows very well that telling the story of playing the game while playing the game is a guaranteed source.

Ideally I would have skipped the persuasion part altogether. It didn't feel good at the time and it also didn't feel effective. And as it turns out there is a reason for this. When kids are in the throes of intense emotion they aren't able to process in the same way. Echo couldn't hear us about "fifth players" and "commitment" because she was deathly nervous. We said the words anyway because we were panicked and felt short of time (The coach was calling! The game was starting!) but if I had it to do over again I think I might go for empathy first and just suck it up and wait for a bit while that empathy sunk in.

Apparently, a person is actually incapable of complex thought when dealing with intense emotions. It's part of the human survival design. When confronted with a raging lion or anything else terrifying and life-threatening (like a soccer game) the part of the brain that deals with complex processing shuts down. It shuts down and boots up the reptilian brain. Your brain doesn't want you to have complex thought in these situations, it wants you to charge up your self-defense skills, like running away really fast or charging headlong - whatever it takes to stay alive. It doesn't want you weighing the odds or thinking about it too much.

Only after the threat has passed, only after the emotions have been processed, does the rest of the brain turn back on. This is why explaining to your children about the rules and consequences of hitting while the child is in an enraged, flailing state is like throwing words into the wind. They don't stick.

Empathy. (Time passing). Information.

Oh but that part in parentheses can take forever! Waiting for emotions to shift enough for the complex brain to take back over is the most trying part of parenthood.

In Homeschool You Can Say Penis and Vagina

2013-04-19T08:08:58-07:00

The wolf report is amazing!

The image I have of myself is that of a blind person tick, tick, ticking my white cane, as this school thing unfolds. Echo wanted to do a "report on wolves" so we got books and read them. This led us to Never Cry Wolf - the movie (and book) about Farley Mowat in the Alaskan wilderness and this led to more nature videos and more books. I was fine with this alone as Echo (and the rest of us) were soaking up great information. But Echo had an official report in mind, something that became obvious when she let me know we needed a piece of posterboard.



Posterboard? Okay.



As we trundled along her vision slowly emerged and continued to surprise this mom. Eventually it became apparent that part of the project would include a good deal of dictation. We now have two tightly spaced and typed pages covering wolf behavior. This is titled "WOLF NATURE, by Echo Manidra McTague" and was the report, or so I thought.



But there was still the posterboard. We printed off a few photos, which I thought would be a bit of "decoration" but then Echo started orating and I realized it was my job to keep my pencil moving recording her words. When she started in, detailing the wolve's mating rituals, I scratched along trying to keep up. When she started to say: "The female is usually on the bottom because the male needs to be in position to stick his penis into her vagina..." I stopped her.

She's right, of course. And eloquent I might add. But I also remembered that she wanted to present this report to Xi's class at the Montessori School. I quickly played the scene in my mind. Yep, that wasn't going to work as many many children have not received any form of the "birds and bees". My five-year old, a renegade from the outside homeschooling world, describing the actions of penises and vaginas, complete with a picture(!), wasn't going to fly.



She was put off by having to edit. But I love what she came up with.



"Above this explanation is a picture of two wolves in the process of preparing this year's pups."



Vague yet informative. Perfect.



Hierarchy has been a hot topic. Echo keeps making fierce eye contact with our cat, daring him to challenge her authority over the couch cushion.



Wolves hunting moose of course!



But my favorite part of the report is this:



    It has changed since then, fairly, but humans used to, and still do, have hated wolves and thought them to be killers. This is not the true nature of wolves of course, but it is a sad truth that humans have had to hate wolves as they do now. Although humans hate wolves there has never been any sign that a healthy wolf in North America has ever attacked a human. And there might never be.

Humans have mostly caused their own fear of wolves from taking away and gathering plants in the forest. This doesn’t seem harmful but it takes away the wolves’ grass-eating food such as moose, caribou, mountain sheep, elk and deer. So, wolves are forced to go onto farmer’s land and kill farm animals such as hens, roosters, pigs, and sometimes sheep.

I never thought I would love dictation so much!