No, I'm not talking about my first day retired.  Though that qualifies, this tastes sweeter.

I volunteer at the Sawgrass Nature Center and Wildlife Hospital doing things such as helping with the animals at children's parties--there is a charge to the family, bringing revenue to the center--and going to outreach functions.  I love the animals and the mission of the Center.  It's not really about children and visitors.  It's about the animals.  Rescue.  Save.  Return to the wild.  Keep forever if necessary for the welfare of the individual critter.

The focus for native species--such as the Florida Gopher Tortoise--is to rescue, rehabilitate, and release.  Exotic species, those not native to Florida, cannot be released into the wild.  Look at what the illegal python releases are doing to the Everglades.  My favorite captive exotic bunny would also cause problems if he found a mate and didn't get eaten in the process.  SNC has a habitat area to house exotic animals and natives unable to be released.  They can live out their lives and avoid becoming part of the food chain.

The Florida Gopher Tortoise is a keystone species, meaning it is essential to the environment.  They are burrowing animals and share their burrows with other animals, many of whom would die without the accommodations provided them by the Gopher Tortoise.

A couple of weeks ago, I was honored to serve the SNC at the Earth Day celebration at Sandy Ridge Sanctuary.  We took a modest assortment of critters for visitors to meet.  Donna, the wonderful woman who runs the hospital, gave periodic talks about the animals, which I proudly displayed.  One of the animals was a Gopher Tortoise.

Bruce, the tall thin man in the video, is also a volunteer, but one with longevity.  It is obvious to me that he loves the tortoises.  On a weekly basis, he takes them out to allow them to browse for things to eat, helping them retain their natural instincts.  On this day, he asked if it were possible for our little tortoise to have his freedom.  After Donna gave permission and secured agreement from the sanctuary, an abandoned burrow was located, and Bruce got his wish.  I tagged along after Bruce and Donna with my iPhone capturing the moment.

The little Tortoise got his way, too.  

Follow the SNC on Facebook.

GEB

We have two aging King Charles Cavalier Spaniels.  The breed is one of the most popular in the Great Britain.  King Charles—go figure—had a fondness for the little fuzzy critters.  The breed dwindled and morphed into the King Charles Spaniel, which is a Toy English Spaniel.  It is different in appearance than the Cavalier.  Then in the 1920’s, an American took steps to recreate Cavalier breed in its current form. 

They are considered comfort dogs and have a calm, friendly demeanor.  They make good lap-sitters, chair-warmers, treat-beggers, doggie-greeters, and child-occupiers.  They are also playful and, unfortunately, adept little hunters.  I’ve rescued a variety of creatures from small canine jaws and disposed of several as well.

With with all the creating and breeding, several genetic health problems proliferate, among them, early onset mitral valve disease.  Our first Cavalier, Sunshine, died before his tenth birthday from MVD.

Litter-mates Rex and Max are eleven now and are still "heart clear", which is amazing for Cavaliers and a wonderful thing for us humans who love them dearly.  When we bought them, the references said their life expectancy was 10 years, though there is an 18-year-old on record.  What I’ve read recently is more generous, predicting 10 to 14 years.  No matter, I tell them, “Be careful.  Your warranty has expired.”  

Rexy is getting real slow, unless there is a duck, cat, another dog, or little kid in sight.  He is also decidedly quirky.  On walks, he pokes along, ten paces behind, then stops and seems to contemplate what direction to go--or maybe if he should go at all.  He, having become downright nosey, pretends to pee so he can spy on someone or something.  He also has developed severe food aggression, which has earned him a private dining suite—the bathroom, with door secure.   

I always said when comparing the two dogs that Rex was shorter, fatter, more hairy, more cuddly, more friendly, and a good deal dumber.  He doesn’t get consequences and will bring a stick inside to chew ten times in a row.  I take it away each time.  Repeat.  Max—he just chews the stick outside where I can’t see him.  Rex will balance a toy on the edge of the sofa to chew it.  It will drop and Max grabs it.  Repeat.  Rex doesn’t catch on.  Max knows immediately what will happen and positions himself for the snatch and run.

Max is more energetic, but scared of other animals and has always been.  While the breed isn’t known for being barkers, Max is an exception.  I believe, when we brought him home, he read the instruction manual until he got to the Miniature Schnauzer chapter.  He said, “Golly, that looks like fun,” and quit reading.  He has been barking ever since.  I can’t say he has changed much with age.  He’s alway been smart but quirky.

Oh, a parting shot.  Getting two puppies at the same time wasn’t my smartest move.

GEB