View allAll Photos Tagged Fetch
taken during one of the snow storms ,I was hiding behind the battery building and noticed this dog playing in the snow.
Toronto Beaches Winter Stations
In the Belly of a Bear by Caitlind r.c Brown, Wayne Garrett and Lane Shordee
I saw the man throw the ball for the dog in the distance so took this quick shot, all at the wrong settings. I intended to take a few more but that was the last throw before home time
Rot-chan plays fetch with Cookie-pang
For the Dal House Forum's quarterly banner contest: Theme - Pets
Just thought that on this day I would share an amazing moment from my recent polar bear adventure. Who ever thought that a polar bear would play a game a "fetch & retrieve" with us?
Now before anyone gets the wrong idea ... of course, I'm joking. It's April Fool's Day!
We did however get to observe this magnificent polar bear frolicking around in the icy waters, having the best time in the world playing with this stick. Amazing that it would even find a stick out in the waters off Kaktovik seeing how the closest trees are literally hundreds of miles away.
This adult polar bear played relatively close to our boat for quite some time ... to the delight of all of the camera shutters clicking away. LOL. They just really seemed to have such a grand time playing in those icy waters while passing their time waiting for the ice to freeze.
When I look at this amazing bear ... especially into its eyes ... I can't help but want to help tell their story of their struggle for survival. Please help in their protection and that of their environment as well.
Thanks so much for stopping by to view and especially for sharing your thoughts and comments. The blog featuring this and many other polar bear images is available for viewing at www.tnwaphotography.wordpress.com
© 2015 Debbie Tubridy / TNWA Photography
Chaco returning a stick out of the Rio Grande, with the Sandia Mountains and a building storm as backdrop. North of Corrales.
De Hoge Veluwe
Copyright - All images are copyright © protected. All Rights Reserved. Copying, altering, displaying or redistribution of any of these images without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited
Birches
By Robert Frost
When I see birches bend to left and right
Across the lines of straighter darker trees,
I like to think some boy's been swinging them.
But swinging doesn't bend them down to stay
As ice-storms do. Often you must have seen them
Loaded with ice a sunny winter morning
After a rain. They click upon themselves
As the breeze rises, and turn many-colored
As the stir cracks and crazes their enamel.
Soon the sun's warmth makes them shed crystal shells
Shattering and avalanching on the snow-crust—
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
You'd think the inner dome of heaven had fallen.
They are dragged to the withered bracken by the load,
And they seem not to break; though once they are bowed
So low for long, they never right themselves:
You may see their trunks arching in the woods
Years afterwards, trailing their leaves on the ground
Like girls on hands and knees that throw their hair
Before them over their heads to dry in the sun.
But I was going to say when Truth broke in
With all her matter-of-fact about the ice-storm
I should prefer to have some boy bend them
As he went out and in to fetch the cows—
Some boy too far from town to learn baseball,
Whose only play was what he found himself,
Summer or winter, and could play alone.
One by one he subdued his father's trees
By riding them down over and over again
Until he took the stiffness out of them,
And not one but hung limp, not one was left
For him to conquer. He learned all there was
To learn about not launching out too soon
And so not carrying the tree away
Clear to the ground. He always kept his poise
To the top branches, climbing carefully
With the same pains you use to fill a cup
Up to the brim, and even above the brim.
Then he flung outward, feet first, with a swish,
Kicking his way down through the air to the ground.
So was I once myself a swinger of birches.
And so I dream of going back to be.
It's when I'm weary of considerations,
And life is too much like a pathless wood
Where your face burns and tickles with the cobwebs
Broken across it, and one eye is weeping
From a twig's having lashed across it open.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile
And then come back to it and begin over.
May no fate willfully misunderstand me
And half grant what I wish and snatch me away
Not to return. Earth's the right place for love:
I don't know where it's likely to go better.
I'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
What could be better than a nice game of fetch on a sunny Sunday afternoon? Flynn says he doesn't know!!
Flynn, despite all his behavioural issues we've had to deal with (& continue to work on!), has always been a pretty good dog to go potter about in the countryside with. He rarely strays too far ahead & his recall is great. He always keeps an eye - or an ear! - on what I'm doing... if I stop, Flynn will usually either stop too, or turn around automatically & come back to check in with me. He isn't shy with strangers, but also isn't inclined to run & jump at people & he tends to avoid other dogs. If he hears or sees something unusual, his instinct is to let me know & then usually, he'll return & let me handle it. He might chase after a squirrel, or pheasant but never tries to catch them! Flynn does love to play fetch but unlike some border collies I've met, he isn't *too* obsessive about toys - so, if I put the ball away, Flynn will happily go do "dog stuff" for a while - trotting about & sniffing.
Haha, the only thing Flynn's not so great at, (even at nearly 9yrs old), is accepting that the slow hoomans he walks with sometimes like to stop for a time! Walks are for walking after all - not lazing around! I took this near the only bench in the entire wood... The bench where I was *supposed* to be having a nice sit down & a break. Flynn did kindly...allow... me to rest my legs for a minute or two, while I gulped down a quick drink. However, it wasn't a very restful experience, as I was keenly away of Flynn's intense gaze fixed on me & the very second he saw I'd had the last sip from my cup, Flynn decided that I'd had enough of a rest now. He began hopping about & woo-wooing: "Come on, come on! We've got stuff to be doing!!". We were out with his elderly brother Barney & another hooman & like me, they both wanted to continue having a longer break, enjoying the sunshine. However somehow, at Flynn's insistence, I found myself back on my feet, playing a game of fetch, until our companions were ready to go. Judging from his up-curled tail, Flynn felt pretty pleased with himself!