Early Duval With Rusty

Urban walking for Rusty is a trial. He loves the woods and back country among the mangroves. The city fills him with dread such that I wonder what his previous lives consisted of. Whatever it was he did not enjoy himself.

So I feel it my obligation to get him used to that which makes him nervous, gently and over time he will learn to trust me. I wondered a bit when I saw this sign, a discount not for locals...quite possibly a smart move.

For Rusty danger lurks over his shoulder so every now and then he stopped to look back and check. Nothing showing- for now.

Cheyenne was a honey badger when it came to downtown. She preferred the smells of urban walks and didn't care about anything much as she stumped around.

I used to walk her early in the day to help her cope with the heat, Rusty does fine in the heat so I was out early to spare him the crowds. I think it helped a bit.

I like having the time to wander early in the day. The light has it's own quality early in the morning and this time of year it doesn't start to get light before seven. Abandoned shoes as a form of artwork:

 The particular curved balconies of some Key West homes:

 The morning light illuminating the tops of the buildings in the middle of Duval Street.

I saw quite a few help wanted signs in store windows. Expect to pay rent between twelve hundred and fifteen hundred a month to hold down a twelve dollar an hour job. Paradise indeed!

 But there is free water from time to time.

 We made it! Now let's see how soon the wife can show up with the car.

Pretty soon it turned out and Rusty was swept off the mean streets of Key West to live another day.

Niles Road, Summerland Key

I keep hoping irritating people will go home but so far no dice. Parking in the turn around is apparently what they do in New York and Michigan but luckily my Fusion sedan is small enough a few back and forths got me turned so I could loose the dog of war on some unsuspecting mangroves. 

I could hear the sounds of conversation up the trail, New Yorkers doubtless picnicking but Rusty was even less keen than I to make pointless small talk about the weather and the water and he turned around to lead me into the woods for some exploring.

I like that he likes the back woods. Cheyenne lost her taste for these places long ago so it has been years since I wandered around here. One time I even heaved the hundred pound Labrador onto the bridge and we walked all the way to the very end of the trail.

Rusty is not a water dog. He sniffs the bushes...

...which gives me time to play with the iPhone camera.

Land crab holes.  I am learning new techniques for the iPhone camera so I trust one day I shall have a chance to get a decent picture of the startling orange and blue crabs that live down these holes and move as swiftly as the wind:

Rusty Goes Boating

I had asked Robert to give me a hand to get my boat on it's trailer. When we moved to Cudjoe Key from Ramrod the nature of our life on the water changed. On Ramrod our canal emptied all the subdivision into Newfound Harbor where on Cudjoe we live on a canal hardly used it is so short. On Ramrod we had lots of boating destinations in the bay where we could anchor and swim with splendid views. On Cudjoe we have no destinations on the shallow bay worth boating to within 20 minutes of our house. So we swim in the canal and enjoy the water next to our home. Quick and efficient. Thus our boat has had no use for a year or so since we got bored with Cudjoe bay.

Robert too has been busy in retirement and when it became evident my little skiff wasn't moving without some attention we decided to get his World Cat in the water and get the job done with a tow. My house is across the bay from the haul out slip in Cudjoe Marina. It turns out Robert hasn't been pleasure boating himself for a many long months...

So we slowly launched the big heavy boat (Robert worked and I pressed occasional switches) and discovered one battery was dead. 

While Robert cleaned the leads I introduced Rusty to the boating life. And he was mighty reluctant, so much so I had to hunt him down and carry him to the accursed boat and lift him in. If I didn't leash him to the boat he fled ashore. It was hot work and took three goes to convince him I wasn't trying to kill him, though he was never sure throughout the ordeal.

The battery was taking a  charge, Robert refreshed himself with cold water though Rusty refused his on the grounds drinking might kill him, he was that paranoid by now. 

We crouched on the rather comfortable front seat and Rusty watched Cudjoe Gardens float serenely by as we left the safety of land.

 Robert's brute, Salty Dog was entirely at home trotting round making sure everything was okay leaving my quivering lump of fur slobbering pathetically on my leg. 

 It was a lovely afternoon with a cool fresh breeze to take the edge off the heat.

It was awkward holding my dog with one arm around his waist, partly to reassure him and partly to reassure me he wouldn't make a break for dry land. Had he not been so terrified it would have been companionable, as though we were on the couch at home.

We took less than twenty minutes to chug down Robert's channel, cross the bay and approach the entrance to my canal.

 Naturally Salty Dog took an interest in our landfall.

Home sweet home. I helped Rusty off the boat and he darted for the stairs. The last I heard the dog flap clattered and he was gone. Which was a relief. He hadn't drowned, I hadn't got wet apart from sweating copiously, and now I could focus on getting my immobile skiff to the boat ramp where my trailer was waiting.

At fourteen feet my little boat was easy to tie off and drag back across the bay to the marina. It was a walking pace job and we chatted as we went. I suggested we take the dogs (poor Rusty) and sandwiches to an island forty minutes away for a walk one day soon. Robert wanted to take a full on picnic with grill and meat. He is much more the organizer than am I.

This kind of day is perfect: Circumnavigating Cudjoe

 But this wasn't at all bad:

Pulling the skiff out of the water onto the trailer was a little too involved for photography but in the fullness of time I got my seven dollars worth of marina  ramp hauling fees and the boat was on the trailer which we had parked here earlier in the day. Robert and Salty Dog went home around the corner on the World Cat.

 I drove home three miles by land.

I backed the boat into its resting place, trying to convince myself of the value of boating these turquoise waters despite the endless maintenance and salt water corrosion. It was a relief to see it parked securely on the trailer though... 

Young Rusty was glad to see me wagging his tail shyly and I made a fuss of him before he retreated to his safe place to sleep off his jangled nerves.

Yes I do  want less stuff but it sure was nice being out on the turquoise water. Hmm I need to think about this.

No Name Key Deer

When people ask where they can find Key Deer, the locally produced small white tailed deer now native to the Lower Keys, I send them to No Name Key. And here they are:

 They caused a  bit of a road block  as cars stopped to enjoy the view.

Let's face it: watching deer, even small ones, graze is a bit like watching paint dry but one feels a certain obligation to stop and stare so I did and here are my pictures:

You aren't supposed to feed them or molest  them or run them over with your car. The Key Deer refuge people keep score and you will see notices about how many they have found dead. Occasionally people decide to shoot them and even eat them but for the most part they are essentially outdoor pets.

People whose gardens they wreck tend to dislike them and refer to them disparagingly as stunted white tailed deer and they were nearly wiped out sixty years ago but thanks to endangered status and the institution of a refuge they are now doing quite well and some can be seen even on Cudjoe Key occasionally. They can swim and they do sometimes to establish themselves on islands away from Big Pine Key.

The best story I've read of how Jack Watson saved the Key Deer I have linked here. Much funnier a story than you might expect: LINK 

Crossing the bridge back to Big Pine Key under a blazing evening sun. The bridge leads to No Name Pub a place to drink beer, eat pizza and reflect on Key Deer if you feel so inclined.