Before the big rain, we could take the pups way down the side of the Lake.  These pups are Catfish and Macie. They are out of Spud and Sugar--Sugar goes back Old Rowdy and Belle.  These pups are 'on the move'.  They are what I called red ticked.  Catfish has red spots on his side and Macie is just ticked on the side.   They are pretty pups.  I am enjoying working with them.

Another Snow

 If your life turns as sour as lemon, make lemonade.  If you have another big snow day, make snow ice cream.  We are making the best of it as we are snowed in--again!

Cora On The Tree

 Cora on the tree in the woods near Galla Lake!    She runs loose while our other Feists are in kennels.  She is a little spoiled and thinks she is special....well, she is!  Cora is out of Tie and Bonnie Sue Parker.  When we do bred her the sire will be Spud.  She is two years old, very smart, and easy to handle.

Rain, Rain

 Lake and pond are full after our 48 hour rain.  I walked around the Lake yesterday morning and today I could not even get down the little road to the Lake.  This crane visited us on the pond and I took the photos from the kitchen with the zoom.

January is half over and we are dreaming of spring and planting garden.  Will not be long.

Tucker Fights A Bear

Cindy and Paul Peavyhouse own Tucker--a son of our old Belle Starr and Max.  He looks almost identical to Belle.  Belle met a wild hog once down in Louisanna and if the boar was not shot he could probably have gotten her because she would not quit.  That is what Tucker did when he met his bear.  Another time our Belle timbered a squirrel off a 30 foot cliff and fell to the bottom.  Anyhow, we are so happy to share the story of Tucker and the bear and want you to know up front that he survived this.  He may move a little slower but the heart is still there.  Below the first photo I am posting the Peavyhouse email and then below the second picture I am posting Abe Lincoln's poem about the Feist and the bear.  Thanks so much to the Peavyhouse family for sharing Tucker's story with us!

 Larry,

When posting pictures on facebook of the dogs, we realized we hadn't told you about Tucker's run in with the bear. On Jan, 7, 2012, he tried to tackle a bear one evening on our farm. As a result, we nearly lost Tucker! After a 3+ hour surgery, the vet removed 2 ribs and repaired a punctured diaphram. His spleen and part of his intestines were in a large hernia on his belly and had to be put back in place. $2600.00 later and many sore days later he has made a full recovery. Just goes to show you that these little dogs aren't afraid of anything. I have no doubt he would try again if he had the opprtunity. All of the vets at the hospital marveled at his strength and determination. They didn't give him much chance of survival at first but as they got to know tucker they saw what a fighter he was. He became the talk of the area and a little bit famous. Attached some photos after he got home from the hospital. Hope you can open them.

                                                                                                                                                 

 Paul and Cindy Peavyhouse

Dedicated to Peavyhouse's Tucker!!! 
Here is Honest Abe's poem about a bear hunt and
a gritty Feist (Fice) dog written about 1845!  

THE BEAR HUNT
A wild bear chase didst never see?
Then hast thou lived in vain.
Thy richest lump of glorious glee
When first my father settled here,
'Twas then the frontier line;
The panther's scream, filled night with fear
And bears preyed on the swine.
But wo for Bruin's short lived fun,
When rose the squealing cry;
Now man and horse, with dog and gun,
For vengeance, at him fly.
A sound of danger strikes his ear;
He gives the breeze a snuff;
Away he bounds, with little fear,
And seeks the tangled rough.
On press his foes, and reach the ground,
Where's left his half munched meal;
The dogs, in circles, scent around,
And find his fresh made trail.
With instant cry, away they dash,
And men as fast pursue;
O'er logs they leap, through water splash,
And shout the brisk halloo.
Now to elude the eager pack,
Bear shuns the open ground;
Through matted vines, he shapes his track
And runs it, round and round.
The tall fleet cur, with deep-mouthed voice,
Now speeds him, as the wind;
While half-grown pup, and short-legged fice,
Are yelping far behind.
And fresh recruits are dropping in
To join the merry corps:
With yelp and yelp--a mingled din--
The woods are in a roar.
And round, and round the chase now goes,
The world's alive with fun;
Nick Carter's horse, his rider throws,
And Mose' Hill drops his gun.
Now sorely pressed, bear glances back,
And lolls his tired tongue;
When is, to force him from his track,
An ambush on him sprung.
Across the glade he sweeps for flight,
And fully is in view.
The dogs, new-fired, by the sight,
Their cry, and speed, renew.
The foremost ones, now reach his rear,
He turns, they dash away;
And circling now, the wrathful bear,
They have him full at bay.
At top of speed, the horsemen come,
All screaming in a row.
"Whoop! Take him Tiger--Seize him Drum"--
Bang--bang--the rifles go.
And furious now, the dogs he tears,
And crushes in his ire.
Wheels left and right, and upward rears,
With eyes of burning fire.
But leaden death is at his heart,
Vain all the strength he plies,
And, spouting blood from every part,
He reels, and sinks and dies.
And now a dinsome clamor rose,
'Bout who should have his skin.
Who first draws blood, each hunter knows,
This prize must always win.
But who did this, and how to trace
What's true from what's a lie,
Like lawyers, in a murder case
They stoutly argufy.
Aforesaid fice, of blustering mood,
Behind, and quite forgot,
Just now emerging from the wood,
Arrives upon the spot.
With grinning teeth, and up-turned hair--
Brim full of spunk and wrath,
He growls, and seizes on dead bear,
And shakes for life and death.
And swells as if his skin would tear,
And growls, and shakes again;
And swears, as plain as dog can swear,
That he has won the skin.
Conceited whelp! we laugh at thee--
Now mind, that not a few
Of pompous, two-legged dogs there be,
Conceited quite as you.

Abraham Lincoln