Frankie: Last Symbol of Freedom

A Comfortable Life

I readily admit I have a pretty comfortable life, but don't mistake me for a pet. The animals around here don't think of themselves as pets or the more politically correct term "animal companions." All the horses, dogs, and cats understand that without Dangerous and Trea life would be difficult. None of us worry about where our next meal will come from. The horses punctually wait at the fence morning and night knowing they will be fed. Max and I eat our fill from a full dog dish, and Trea's cats help themselves to whatever they want when they are hungry. While we know who feeds us, Dangerous and his wife value each of our unique personalities and treat us as individuals.

Their attitude towards animals is probably more easily understood in the relationship we all have with Frankie Lane. Frankie is the rooster pheasant who lives in our backyard. You may have already guessed the origin of his unique name. Frankie Lane was the 60s western ballad singer of notable tunes like Bullet in My Shoulder, Raw Hide, Bowie Knife, Mule Train, and other western tunes. In fact, Bullett in My Shoulder is the only song Dangerous knows by heart. You ought to get him to sing it for you sometime or maybe not.

Frankie Patrols the Fence Line

Like Frankie Lane the signer, Frankie the pheasant is the last of his kind. Without our small island of open space in a sea of urban blight he wouldn't have a place to live. Today, his island sanctuary is surrounded on three sides by large single family houses and expensive twin homes. Frankie, as if he had another option, has chosen our place to make his last stand, and like the other critters living on our unique farm in the middle of all the suburban sprawl, Frankie works hard to maintain his dignity and independence as the lone surviving wild rooster pheasant around.

Spring Plumage

Today, Frankie is a mere shell of himself. He lives under the sheep camp, coming out to pick through the horse manure for grain. He sulks along the fence lines hoping I won't catch sight of him. When I do, I can't help myself, and send him back over the fence with a quick charge and bark. While Frankie isn't too impressive during the winter months, you ought to see him in the spring.

We know spring is really here when Frankie starts preening, strutting, and crowing. In full plumage, he announces to his nonexistent rivals that he is ready to do battle. While trying to attract the hens that never come, he is ready to take on any rival who might invade his territory. Even in his loneliness, Frankie maintains his dignity by acting like the rooster pheasant he is.

I suspect that Frankie doesn't have much time left as civilization encroaches more and more on his isolated island. I think Dangerous tries to protect him because he sees a bit of himself in Frankie. Like Frankie, Dangerous and his buddies are anachronisms in their own time. The life they value has passed, but like Frankie the pheasant, they won't give up easily. Dangerous is already planning our first wilderness adventure, and when he gets back he will probably replant the pasture again to give the horses a bit more grass and Frankie a place to hangout one last summer. Love to hear from you!

Crash!

Little Mill Cross Country Ski Trail

Even for an engaging sheep dog like myself winters are long. I get a break every day around 3:00 PM when Jerry the mailman shows up. He drives slowly by the fence so I can run along barking at him. He usually stops, leans out his jeep, and pets me. Later, the kids from the elementary school walk by. They run along the fence with me in hot pursuit on the other side. On a really good day, the UPS driver stops to drop off a package. Unlike Jerry, the UPS driver doesn't think I am friendly or cute. He usually throws the package over the fence and speeds off. In my opinion, these are relatively safe ways to kill time during the winter.

Dangerous, as his name implies, is not so easily entertained. When he isn't downstairs planning a spring, summer, or fall riding or hiking event, he is dreaming up some risky, crazy thing to do or try. This winter, at age 63, he decided to learn to cross country ski. As you can see, American Fork Canyon is beautiful this time of year. However, rather than snow shoeing like past winters, Dangerous let his Rec Center buddies convince him to try skiing.

Carl and Don Teaching Dangerous to Ski

Well, you would think that Dangerous could keep up with two 77 year old men. Even though he is 14 years younger than both of them, Dangerous forgot they are experienced skiers, and retired coaches with above average athletic ability. Carl coached basketball at the high school and college level, and Don's high school football teams won a number of state championships.

Undeterred, Dangerous bought skis, boots, and poles thinking he would give it a try. Using their best coaching skills, Carl and Don patiently tried to teach Dangerous to ski. They showed him how to snow plow down steep hills. They taught him how to fall to avoid serious injury, and after considerable coaching effort on their part, they thought he was getting the hang of it. Dangerous even sneaked in a few trips on his own to practice his newly learned techniques. With growing confidence, he skied effortlessly uphill. He gracefully glided across snow covered meadows, and with a few falls, made it down most hills.

Dangerous Before His Accident

Carl thought Dangerous was ready for the big time. Last week, he took Dangerous to a local ski resort with miles of groomed cross country trails. Everything started out great. They skied up hill and across flat, snow covered meadows without incident. Dangerous even made it to the bottom of a number of hills without falling. However, when he limped back into the yard last Thursday afternoon, he wasn't smiling. All he would tell me was that he fell "ass over tea kettle" coming down a hill. To add to his humiliation, he walked back to his truck carrying his skis and nursing a wrenched knee and sprained ankle.

Well, if you know Dangerous, he isn't done with skiing. By next week, he will be back on the "bunny hill" trying to perfect the snow plow to avoid another serious CRASH! I really wish he would give up skiing and start snow shoeing again. All he had to fear when snow shoeing was being buried in an avalanche or having a heart attack, and best of all I always got to go with him. Love to hear from you!