A LIGHT IN THE WORLD WENT OUT

The world got a little smaller today . . .




Little Bella-Boo came into our family a little over a year ago, about the day after I picked up this latest contract and left for parts unknown.


I didn't even know we had a new doggie, until I came home a couple weeks later and wondered what the hell did a raccoon come into my bathroom and crap all over the place ? ? ?



Bella was a Carolina RedBone CoonHound - an extremely rare breed, cousin of the Bloodhound, widely used for hunting bear, raccoon, and cougar in the Carolinas.



My daughter rescued Bella from a cardboard box on the side of the road by Jerry's Quickmart in Whispering Pines, North Carolina. Bella was covered with ticks - her mother had been hit by a car, and there was nobody to take care of Bella.




My daughter raised Bella from a pup.

Bella was a good member of the pack.
Here is Bella hanging out with Tiny, the Jack Russel Terrier.

I was out with Bella today - it was her off-leash time - then she broke and ran for a squirrel.







She never saw the truck that killed her.

All Good Dogs Go to Heaven. Bella is in Paradise now, chasing squirrels . . .

RAINBOW BRIDGE

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.


All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.


They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster.


You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.




Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together . . . .

Puppy Dog wonders where is Bella-Boo . . . ? ? ?

I was going to do a Halloween post, with all those goofy photos of the doggies in their Halloween costumes. Due to this death in the family, Blog STORMBRINGER is suspending operations for 24 hours.


SEAN LINNANE SENDS



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RARE SNOW DAY, SOUTHERN PINES

Some of my military readers will recognize my town. The defacto capital of the mythical Republic of Pineland, Southern Pines NC is a quaint anachronism; the first time you pass through you'll think you've just made a journey back in time about fifty or sixty years .







O'Donnells Irish Pub












Dog Tiny inspecting her Kingdom






When I go down the road with Tiny, she always insists on taking the wheel.






Haus StormBringer

SOUTHERN SNOW

Home for the weekend, and I brought the snow with me!







More pic's of this historic occasion to follow . . . I gotta get outside and PLAY in it, first ! ! !

DAWGS

I HAD to post this article because the last time I made it home the kids surprised me with a puppy - our Bella-boo is one of those Redbone's. Now I've got a new dawg to train - it only took me the better part of two years to sort out my Tiny Tiger, the Jack Russel from Hell. At least Bella is a little more steady in the nerves than my Tiny; she'll make a fine tracking dog, she's got the super-dooper sniffer nose for it . . . . . . S.L.


From the





Three New AKC-Recognized Dog Breeds: Bluetick Coonhound, Boykin Spaniel and Redbone Coonhound

by Lindsay Barnett


The American Kennel Club has announced that three new dog breeds -- the bluetick coonhound, the Boykin spaniel and the redbone coonhound -- will be eligible for AKC conformation competition beginning Dec. 30. The new breeds will bring the total number of breeds recognized by the AKC to 164.

The bluetick coonhound (left) is believed to be descended from the French staghound and English foxhound, and blueticks were originally classified as members of the English foxhound breed.

Blueticks and English foxhounds went their separate ways in 1945 because, according to the AKC, bluetick breeders "didn't want to follow the trend toward producing a hot-nosed, faster hunter. Proud of their larger, cold-nosed and resolute, if slower hounds, they named their breed and maintained their own hunting style."

As a result of these breeding practices, blueticks are known for their endurance in addition to their signature coloring, for which they're named. A bluetick named Smokey is the mascot for the University of Tennessee.


The Boykin spaniel (right) -- named for the breed's originator, L. Whitaker Boykin -- hails from South Carolina and is that state's official dog. (This fun fact got us wondering whether California has an official state dog; it doesn't. But a number of other U.S. states do; for instance, the American foxhound is the state dog of Virginia and the Louisiana Catahoula leopard dog is the state dog of Louisiana. For reasons unclear to us, the Great Dane is the official dog of Pennsylvania.)


According to legend, the Boykin breed got its start in the humblest of manners: the breed's forerunner, a sturdy little stray who was given the name Dumpy (no joke), was found wandering near a church in Spartanburg, S.C., in the early 1900s. One of the parishioners, Alexander White, took Dumpy home. After spending some time with Dumpy, White thought his personality lended itself to hunting; it just so happened that White's hunting partner was Boykin, a skilled dog trainer. Boykin took over Dumpy's training and soon discovered the dog was a natural at hunting wild turkeys; soon, a breed was born. Although the original Boykin spaniels were wild-turkey hunters, the majority of those used in the field today hunt ducks and other water birds.

Young-adult literature fans may remember the redbone coonhound (left) from Wilson Rawls' novel "Where the Red Fern Grows," which made us weep in our youth and, even now, causes us to well up a bit thinking about it. Redbones are descended from red foxhounds brought to the U.S. from Scotland and Ireland in the 1700s and 1800s, and they're known for their speed, agility and prowess at treeing game.

Both the bluetick coonhound and redbone coonhound will join the Hound group, naturally; the Boykin spaniel will become the newest member of the Sporting group. The new breeds are the first to receive official recognition from the AKC since the Irish red-and-white setter, the Pyrenean shepherd and the Norwegian buhund were admitted to the exclusive purebreds-only club in January.

Top photo: A bluetick coonhound. Credit: Diane Lewis / American Kennel Club

Middle photo: A Boykin spaniel. Credit: Bill Simmons

Bottom photo: A redbone coonhound. Credit: Christine Smith

SITREP MONDAY 23NOV09

Back home in North-by-God-Carolina for a hard-earned week's leave . . . one of the occupational hazards of being a modern-day Road Warrior is getting the laptop to sync with the wireless server, wherever you are . . . this is usually not a problem EXCEPT FOR the router at the apartment back in ChicagoLand requires it's own software that took over & usurped my normal wireless card utility . . . it took me all day yesterday to battle through the thing . . . FINALLY had the gizmo giving me 18 Mbps . . . then down to 1 Mbps . . . then up to 24 Mbps . . . then back down to 5.5 Mbps . . . SHEESH ! ! !


OK doing battle with this Thing ate up all my time and now I've got to run downtown, turn in the rent-a-car, then blast over to Ft. Bragg for a meeting with THIS American Hero:





Full report (and MORE) to follow . . .


. . . S.L.

A MOMENT IN TIME

This is about a brief moment in time, a simple thing that took place once, and this is as much of a war story as I will ever tell.

It was the early nineties, after I had returned from Okinawa. I was working as a survival instructor at the Special Warfare Center. As you can imagine, the SWC survival school covers a little more than just which roots and berries you can eat, or how to catch fish and game. It's called S.E.R.E. - Survival, Evasion, Resistance, Escape; I've briefly referred to it in Blog STORMBRINGER. I was working the Evasion team in those days.

Anyway one cool night in early fall I'm out on a rural dirt road, on the side of a hill in the northern part of Moore County. It was a pitch black night; looking over the land as it sloped far away toward the lights of downtown Southern Pines (near where my house is now). I could make out a faint glow in a bowl shaped area which is the swampland of Camp MacKall, and the brighter lights of the Rockingham Speedway. Out of habit I'm constantly making geographical references, I'm constantly orienting myself to the terrain, and this night I could make it all out.

So I'd parked the white panel van, had gotten out and was standing on this absolutely deserted dirt road on the side of a hill. I was waiting to make linkup with a group of soldiers who were going through the training; the scenario was I was some sort of underground operative, assisting them in their evasion.

The hill was behind me, directly to my front the shoulder of the road dropped off and there was the usual wall of pine trees. Of course stretching out for miles I could see in front of me, across the tops of the pines, what I'd described above; the distant city lights. All around me it was absolutely pitch black; a moonless night in the woods in the Carolinas is like black velvet soaked in black ink.

While I was waiting I became aware of an almost imperceptible woosh! sound from somewhere above and behind me. I looked up and for a moment I could make the outline of a giant owl. It flew right above me only an arm's reach above my head. The thing was huge, six foot wingspan if it was an inch. It was dark, the giant bird was darkness against black ink of the sky, and it was only there for a split second but somehow in that split second I could make out every detail of it's feathers, right on down to the individual strands of each feather, almost as if it was an ink lithograph.




All this in just a split second, and then it was flying away. I could feel it's wings beating the air, I could feel the air on my face, it was like the feather's on the tips of its wings practically brushed against my face.

From that point on, that moment always made me think of the song by Peter Gabriel:

Solsbury Hill

Climbing up on Solsbury Hill
I could see the city light

Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night

He was something to observe
Came in close I heard a voice

Standing stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice

I did not believe the information
Just had to trust imagination
My heart going boom-boom-boom
Son, he said, grab your things I've come to take you home
Eh, don't quit

To keep in silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut

Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut

So I went from day to day
Oh, my life was in a rut

'Til I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut

I was feeling part of the scenery
I'd walk right out of the machinery
My heart going boom-boom-boom
Hey, he said, grab your things I've come to take you home
Eh, back home

When illusion spin her net
I'm never where I want to be

And liberty, she'd pirhouette
When I think that I am free

Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes but still can see

No one taught them etiquette
I will show another me

Today I don't need a replacement
I'll tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart going boom-boom-boom
Hey, I said, you can keep my things They've come to take me home


That song always meant a lot to me after that night. I don't know the meaning of that song and I doubt anybody else other than Peter Gabriel himself does either; but it always made me think of that brief moment in time, that brief split second in my life when I could make out every minute detail of that bird's feathers as it swooped directly above me in the total darkness.

If I want to get symbolic about it, that was the beginning point in time when I started living in Moore County, and I was looking out over the land that I was to make my home, the land that would be my kingdom and my playground, the place where I would cool my heels between deployments, over the next couple of decades.




I love Moore County. If I have my way, it is my wish to die there.

STORMBRINGER SENDS