I Survived Christmas . . .

. . . and now it's into the deep freeze and a winter of content with the herd. More adventures coming.

Red Chief on Wheels: Bikin' with Little Santa

Watched Red Chief all day Thursday and Friday, and although it was a slushy mess outside we took to the streets and went to the park, which we had all to ourselves. He insisted on wearing the Santa hat. His bike has a name: Buffalo. I wonder who suggested that.

Birthday Boy

Happy birthday to my little boy, who is now 24. Yikes. Here he is with his crazy canine Ali Baba. The last time the Illini went to the Rose Bowl, Tim was two weeks old. The Illini are finally in the Rose Bowl again, and Tim will be a daddy to a little boy due January 10.

Thunder in the Streets

Time to migrate back to the herd and do some real running. Hibernation and occasional running just don't make it. So, it's brush off the snow, put on the running shoes, and romp in the streets Thursday night.

Wild Innocence Attacked

If you have seven minutes to spare, please watch this. It takes a while for the narration to start, but listen to it closely. A well-done video, but it makes my blood boil. This cruelty against the Yellowstone buffalo must stop.

"Stamping flint feet, flashing moon eyes"

I'm not a big poetry nut, but I just had to share a poem I recently came across. Hey, it's about buffaloes. From "The Ghosts of the Buffaloes" by Vachel Lindsay, a Springfield, Illinois native who penned this in 1914:

"And the wind crept by
Alone, unkempt, unsatisfied,
The wind cried and cried-
Muttered of massacres long past,
Buffaloes in shambles vast...
Snuffing the lightning that crashed from on high
Rose loyal old buffaloes, row upon row.
The lords of the prairie came galloping by.
Buffaloes, buffaloes, thousands abreast,
A scourge and amazement, they swept to the west.

With black bobbing noses, with red rolling tongues,
Coughing forth steam from their leather-wrapped lungs,
Cows with their calves, bulls big and vain,
Goring the laggards, shaking the main,
Stamping flint feet, flashing moon eyes.
Pompous and owlish, shaggy and wise.
Like sea-cliffs and caves resounded their ranks
With shoulders like waves, and undulant flanks.
Tide upon tide of strange fury and foam . . . "

Beasts at the Castle of the Princess

Red Chief and Flower

Flower, who as a youngster lived in a flower shop (she also resembles the skunk named Flower in the movie Bambi), is always quite vociferous. Here her mouth is open while giving me a squeal.

Buster. Because he just looks like a Buster. This is one of his favorite perches, on a warm computer.

The Princess and Red Chief decorate the castle exterior.

"Adventures" presents the debut of Flower and Buster, brother and sister felines at the home of Princess and Red Chief. I was enlisted to help with Christmas lights.

An Evening with Mr. Baba

It's always an adventure when son Tim brings over his "crackhead" hound, Ali Baba, who shares a rare still moment with me in a chair. Ali's unclipped ears remind me of someone.