Houndin Round in Bosque Farms

This Sunday I took a sojourn down I-25 from Santa Fe, exiting just south of Albuquerque some fifteen minutes. It is there, along the sleepy dusty banks of the Rio Grande, that tall stands of Cotton Wood Trees abound that form an oasis. In this high and dry Northern New Mexico region the Bosque is where life is celebrated in narrow strips of green on either side of the Rio Grande River.

It is now winter, but life still congregates along this waterway. I stop my car to take in the enormous flock of snow geese who have chosen Huck's winter fields to congregate. There are hundred of white birds, some swirling and diving to the congregation below, some simply resting and sunning themselves. I notice a couple of taller more muted gray birds, the sand hill cranes whose numbers have diminished while the snow geese have grown since my last visit a few weeks ago.

I am en route to my friend Karen's ranch, a special artists celebration of life along our "Nile", our Nile---The Rio Grande. Karen Kuehn is a photographer of note (see photographs on this blog) and has goats, chickens, geese, 1 donkey, 2 tortoises, two horses, and seven adopted shelter dogs. That's right, seven. All well fed, exercised, loved, groomed, and excessively happy critters.

Despite the animal load, the farm is fantastic, in its lyrical themes, gardens, a resting boat resting on the ground with large painted Tibetan Buddha eyes, and airstream trailer where visiting photography students stay in week long photography workshops with Karen, several out buildings, two raised pools, and Karen who greets me with her large bright smile and warm arms.

That is not all that greets me. There is Taco the tiny and genuflecting chihauha, there is Chewy a Chihuahua/beagle or is it
Jack Russel whose short white paws rest on my lower shin, Ike (as in Eisenhower) a bird dog with large brown spots and freckles looks lovingly up to me in his yellow eyed gaze, There is the leader of the pack, Miss Luanne a true hound dog who seems ill placed in a state devoid of fox hunting, Shadow, who as her name implies lies back from the group low to the ground in her sweet and retiring dachshund fashion, and my favorite Tank, a large gentle yellow and cream colored Pit Bull whose warmth and intelligence makes him seem so very present. Lastly, there is the least greetable and smallest member of the group, Lucy, an elderly and spunky black Chihuahua, whose socialization has improved remarkably from her first days here roughly a year and a half a go. I sit and stroke their coats, trading Chihuahuas in my lap, reaching over them to the larger dogs and extending greetings and kind words. I feel welcomed by this Mediterranean styled greeting. There is no sense of embartassment in expressing enthusiasm or love amongst these creatures. No one needs to tell them to tell others thatn they love them before its too late. They embrace the here in now in all its fullness.

Karen and I sit down to a cup of tea to catch up before we head out to ride the horses. The dogs settle down, a couple of cats on the periphery make there way above the dogs. We speak of friends and the economy, an upcoming night at the Lensic with Annie Liebowitz, plans for the summer, and review a picture of a dog on Craig's List named Tank who looks almost identical to her Tank, only his ears have been trimmed, something neither of us is terribly in favor of.

We head outside with the hounds in toe, Karen to her boy, I to the ever handsome and richly brown gelding, Twist. Both horses are frisky this sunny winter morning. Brushing, picking feet, lugging saddles, pads, and bridles, we settle on our feisty mounts with a dog audience outside the corals perimeters. They loyally await our return, politely moving out of our large human movements, awaiting our free arms and embraces.

What I garnered from this dance with Karen's dogs was the true joy of cohabitation with canines. The essential ingredient here was that Karen's dogs communicated well amongst themselves and with me and Karen. It was clear that they felt safe and complete and loved by Karen. If only we humans could draw from this knowledge of understanding the importance of respecting others boundaries while appreciating our specialness, the world could get a glimpse of the harmony I found with Karen's hounds along the Bosque's banks.