About that cry...

Happy Jack in the middle of Jills

I've been calling the sound that Jack makes a cry. This is really an oversimplification ignoring the drama of the symphony he embodies. When he first starts out there is a small quality of a plaintive little cry. "maaaa..." Like that. But then he opens up his throat and he pulls from deep inside. What comes out is a bellow. A bellow that powers through cry, adds in trumpet, accelerates into wailing and releases retching. Raw. Add running around to that 'cry' and you have a small sense of the urgency and power. I've also noticed that his scent range has expanded. It's like an invisible substance. I now have a set of clothing just for visiting buck-land. It is simply not possible to go out to visit and not be marked by him. Frannie tells me that the only soap to really get the scent out is that which is made from goats milk. How lucky am I that my friend Cindy makes goat milk soap for her Hyampom Valley Soap Company?

Eric continues to plow through trail building for all mountain riding. I love going out to see him take the jumps and bend around berms. The dogs like to take the trails too. They have not quite learned to stay off when Eric is on full acceleration down hill. My job is to keep them nearby and position myself for that perfect midair shot. Some of the best positions require me to lay down in the duff. Keebo sees this as an invitation for up close and personal. I have a few blur-fur shots and a small case of poison oak.