The Call of the Wild; or, My Lupine Roots--by Buster

Blogbuddies:

It's Buster, the feral Wonder Dog here, getting in touch with my inner Beast.

Things are blooming, the girls are both "in season" (and off-limits!), and my little brainstem is filled with testosterone and atavistic urges. I want to howl.




So it's off for a tour of the Connecticut Wilderness! I must put meat on the table.




Well, maybe not...

Ever try to get past an angry mother goose? Even us wolves have our limits!





The little guys are sort of cute. I have some stuffie toys this soft.

Anyway, the Mayflowers are out!


And Dad says that the Hendrickson (Ephemerella Subvaria) hatch is over! Not a single mayfly on the river!


But I'm thinking: "Is there a herd of caribou that I can take out?"



We wolves must affect an appropriately fierce and noble demeanor. I shall practice my deep-throated growl.

Pretty soon, those alpine strawberries will be ready to eat!


In the meantime, I'll stand on the high ground overlooking the Farmington River valley and strut about like the primordial alpha canis lupis that I (think) I am.


Okay--enough time starving in the Wilderness!

There's nothing like Mom's kitchen, some warm, left-over chicken, and...



My good friend, Alvin!

Cheers,

Buster