The day began with heavy rain and ended with a warm sun. It’s like that these days. I went to meet Zip at my usual time—between 4 and 4:30. I never see him, but he appears about 10 seconds after I sit down in the deep Adirondack chair my friend Mosie Miller, my Amish neighbor, built for me two years ago. I got my big wildlife/bird lens for outdoor shots, and I was waiting for a bird to show up to try out the camera outside.
(Above photo by Maria Wulf)
Zip has decided to be my camera assistant. He seems to grasp the idea of the camera—he should; he is in it enough—and curls up in my lap while leaving my camera hands-free. While I waited for birds (they did not come), I scratched and stroked Zip, as usual, and he purred and curled up in my lap. On her way to the barn, Maria was walking by and got the photo above.
The other two are selfies that I took.
The photos capture the reality: Zip watches with me when I point the camera, and I watch with him when he’s thinking of hunting. It’s a partnership of sorts, a new one for me. Some day, I’ll understand more about this creature who landed in my life like a drone from the sky and turned it around.
He took a short nap while I waited for the birds. Then we sat together and watched for his nemesis, the chipmunk on the stone wall. I think he’s figured out the tunnels she uses but hasn’t figured out how to get into them. He ought to team up with Bud (who is no longer allowed out of his yard; he loves to run off into the woods where some bobcats and coyotes would love to have him for lunch.)
Then, it was Zip’s turn. He stood in my lap and focused on the rock the chipmunk he’s hunting usually pops up in. I think it’s a she, and she’s clever. When she pops up, she looks for Zip, and he spots her. Their eyes lock for the longest time. At some point, he loses his excellence and jumps towards her – she is about 15 away – and vanishes in a flash.
He walks over to the stone wall, stares, and sniffs, but she has built a web of underground tunnels that she doesn’t reappear. I had to return to work, shaking my head about this dog and his impact on my life.
He is some partner and some kind of watch cat.
He never bothers me when I”m pointing a camera or photographing a flower. Our meeting always ends with Zip spotting something he wants to kill and setting off. In between, he is the most affectionate animal I’ve encountered, although I have to be honest. Zinnia is a close tie.
I still don’t know what to make of Zip, but I am grateful to have him as my outdoor photo assistant.
