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Traveling the World of Birds

by Joyce McGreevy on July 2, 2018

A rainbow and bush parrot in New Zealand suggest a brighter future for native birds around the world. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

New Zealand birds need vast areas of pest-free forest to survive.
© Joyce McGreevy

Winging It in New Zealand

Some of the best reasons for traveling the world are birdbrained. Consider New Zealand, home to some of the planet’s most amazing birds. But what makes New Zealand native birds remarkable has also made them vulnerable.

A black-billed gull remind a birdwatcher traveling the world that many New Zealand native bird species are in trouble. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

New Zealand’s black-billed gulls are the world’s most threatened gull. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Avian Nation

New Zealand is unique. Until about 800 years ago, its only land mammals were species of bat. With virtually no predators, many bird species evolved beyond fight-or-flight. Why fly when you can safely nest on solid ground?

Over time, the land became home to more species of flightless birds than anywhere else on Earth.

A forest in New Zealand was a paradise for native birds until humans traveling the world arrived as settlers. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

With 80% forest and 0% mammals, New Zealand pulsed with the life of birds.
© Joyce McGreevy

Sitting Ducks

What happened next? People.

As humans arrived, they introduced predators—some deliberately, some as shipboard stowaways. Meanwhile, they cleared forests and hunted.

Some birds would gobble up fermented berries and drunkenly doze off. Hunting became as easy as “scoop it and soup it.”

Soon one of the last places on Earth colonized by humans suffered one of the worst biological losses.

Size Didn’t Save Them

The most astounding lost birds were moa. Some stood 13-foot tall and weighed 600 pounds.

Moa bones and a drawing of moa remind viewers that many of New Zealand’s flightless birds are extinct. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Moa once ruled New Zealand forestland.
© Joyce McGreevy

But after millions of years of safe grazing, moas ended up in cooking pits and their habitat was destroyed.

Since human arrival, at least 51 New Zealand bird species have become extinct.

Protecting the World of Birds

Today, New Zealand goes all-out to restore habitat and protect wildlife. Biosecurity at Customs is strict, so leave those snacks on the plane and thoroughly scrub outdoor gear.

One-third of the country is national parkland. Avian projects by the NZ Department of Conservation engage hundreds of volunteers and are models for wildlife organizations around the world.

The piwakawaka or fantail is New Zealand bird native bird worth traveling the world to see. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

In flight, piwakawaka, or  fantails, are as fluttery as butterflies. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Hidden Birds

Which bird tops the perch? Kiwis, of course! About the size of a hen, the kiwi is wingless aside from nubs under its hairlike feathers. It also has nostrils at the end of its long beak.

The kiwi, a flightless bird, is New Zealand’s national icon. (Image courtesy of New Zealand Tourism)

Despite their awkward appearance, kiwis can outrun humans.
© Tourism New Zealand

As national symbols, kiwis appear everywhere in New Zealand. In the 1800s, kiwis were pictured on regimental badges, and during WWI “Kiwi” became a nickname for New Zealand soldiers, one since adopted by the general population.

Seeking kiwi (the avian variety) can feel like falling for a prankster’s snipe hunt. Kiwi is Maori for “hidden bird” and most species are nocturnal. While guides cannot guarantee you’ll see one, outfits like Real Journeys offer a 50% refund if you don’t. Either way, you’ll have a magical hike.

Such was the case when I went birdwatching on New Zealand’s Stewart Island.

“Don’t they realize we drove all the way from Auckland?” said one disappointed visitor afterward. Alas, kiwis really don’t care how far one has traveled. Nature is not a theme park.

Besides, we’d had the pleasure of sailing to Glory Cove, and then walking in silence, illuminated only by moon and stars. In this loud, light-polluted age, that, too, is a rare experience.

Precocious Parrots

Other terrestrial birds are never shy. Each morning a cheeky kākā, or olive-brown bush parrot, stopped by my garden to pluck wild fruit. Then it would perch nearby, deftly removing the peel.

The bush parrot, or kaka, is a New Zealand native bird. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

One bush parrot eats “brekkie,” while another (below) takes wing.
© Joyce McGreevy

A bush parrot, or kaka, displays its wings at Zealandia, a New Zealand bird sanctuary.(Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

© Joyce McGreevy

Though similar to kākās, keas have green plumage. These clever critters endear themselves to some and test the patience of others. It depends on whether the kea—the world’s only alpine parrot—is proving its smarts or dismantling your gear.

Hello, Caller?

One bird you’ll certainly hear throughout the country is the tūī, unique to New Zealand. With two voice boxes, tūī can produce complex songs, from melodious to punk-raucous.

They even inspired a Maori compliment about orators and singers, Me he korokoro tūī: “He has the throat of a tūī.”

Tūī are also mimics. Birdwatchers have reported tūī calls that sound like ringing cellphones.

The tui is unique to New Zealand, a favorite among birdwatchers. (Public domain image; credit: Bernard Spragg)

The white “collars” of tūī led Europeans to call them Parson Birds.
© Bernard Spragg

Pecks and the City

One surprising place to birdwatch is New Zealand’s capital. Minutes from Wellington, one of the world’s hippest cities, is the world’s first fully-fenced urban ecosanctuary.

Zealandia is a sanctuary for New Zealand’s native birds and other wildlife. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Zealandia is a haven for 40 species of native birds.
© Joyce McGreevy

Over 500 acres of valley forest have been restored as closely as possible to their pre-colonized state.

Nearby is Kapiti Island, an important site for bird recovery. But plan ahead—only 50 visitors are allowed each day.

“Extinct” No More

One of my favorite sites is Te Anau Bird Sanctuary. Tourists who bypass it for Fiordland’s more famous attractions are missing out. This tranquil lakeshore setting features birds that are among the hardest to find in the wild. These include takahē, which until 1948 were thought to be extinct.

The takahe, once thought to be extinct, is one of New Zealand’s most unusual native birds. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Unique to New Zealand, takahē have been around for 8 million years. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Seas the Day!

If you like pelagic birds, you’re in luck. New Zealand has the world’s most diverse seabird community. You’re never more than 80 miles from the coast, where the variety of birds includes native species of albatross (the world’s largest seabird), gulls, oystercatcher, petrel, and tern.

New Zealand oystercatchers are seabirds that make their nests near the shoreline.(Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

The shoreline nests of oystercatchers have been disturbed by pests, pets—and
careless beachgoers. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Don’t Pester the Penguins

New Zealand is home to three fascinating species of penguins. (Is there a boring species of penguins?) They are:

New Zealand’s little blue penguins explain why many birdwatchers love traveling the world. (Image © Chris Stephenson/ New Zealand Tourism)

Kororā, little blue penguins (average height 13 inches) . . .
© Chris Stephenson/New Zealand Tourism

New Zealand’s Fiordland crested penguins inspire birdwatchers to travel the world. (Image © Matt Winter/ New Zealand Tourism)

Tawaki, Fiordland crested penguins . . .
© Matt Winter/New Zealand Tourism

New Zealand’s yellow-eyed penguins show why many birdwatchers are traveling the world. (Image © Penguin Place/ New Zealand Tourism)

and Hoiho, yellow-eyed penguins.
© Penguin Place/New Zealand Tourism

Unfortunately, they are also among the most endangered birds—and travelers are adding to the problem.

According to NZ’s Department of Conservation, “Inappropriate behavior by visitors to . . . habitats is an increasing threat to nesting and molting birds. Poor use of selfie sticks and people entering nesting areas is causing stress to nesting penguins . . .  [that] could affect survival rates.”

Does that mean we can’t see penguins? No, but if we truly love them, we’ll do so from a distance. Let’s prioritize ecological respect over social media boast-posts.

A penguin crossing sign in New Zealand reminds people to respect the world of birds. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

When penguins come ashore to breed and molt, we humans need to give them space. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Becoming Bird-minded

Something I observed about Kiwis (the human variety) is that they are passionate about protecting native birds. There’s even a campaign for NZ’s Bird of the Year.

We should all be so bird-minded.

A collage of five common birds reflects the joys of birdwatching while traveling the world. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Wherever we go, we’re traveling the world of birds. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Because as the campaign’s roster shows, 45% of New Zealand’s native birds are “in trouble.” In North America, 30% of native bird populations are in decline. Worldwide, nearly 1,500 bird species face extinction.

Oh, I see: When traveling the world of birds, tread lightly. Earth is a fragile nest and its balance is in our hands.

A bird’s egg reminds the viewer that the world of birds is fragile. (Image @ Joyce McGreevy)

Nurture their future.
© Joyce McGreevy

Find bird-friendly tips here and here. Discover birds of New Zealand here.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

Walking New Zealand

by Joyce McGreevy on May 29, 2018

Glenorchy Pier, the gateway to many spectacular hiking trails, is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Glenorchy in New Zealand’s South Island is a gateway to many spectacular hiking trails. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The Wordplay of Pathways

Everyday English reflects the wordplay of pathways. We speak of “getting off track,” or taking “the path of least resistance.” We express disappointment as being “led up the primrose path.” We tell new friends, “I’m glad our paths crossed.” For me, however, while walking New Zealand, I learned an entire new vocabulary.

Glenorchy’s wooden pathway leads into the wetlands and is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Glenorchy’s boardwalk takes birdwatchers into the wetlands. 
© Joyce McGreevy

In New Zealand, a walker’s paradise, pathways crisscross language and the land like skeins of light.  Ancestors of the Maori walked the entirety of the country naming landforms and waterways. Today, walking is the Kiwi way, from short local bush walks to the 1,900-mile Te Araroa (“Long Pathway”).

Kiwis Walk the Talk

Here, walking is no mere footnote. Surveys show that for New Zealanders of every age and ethnicity, walking is the most popular recreation—by a mile kilometers.

Walking pathways around Waiheke Island’s beach and bush are a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Waiheke Island offers serene walks through bush and beach. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The origin of the word path is itself a kind of path. It begins, as many pathways do, with clear signposting: “Take Old English back to Old Frisian, then hang a right at Middle Dutch and keep going until you reach Old High German.”

These early words for path evoke footsteps:  paþpæþ pat, pad, pfad. But the ultimate origin for path has disappeared into the forests of time.

A walking pathway in Mangawhero Forest Walk in Tongariro National Park is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Mangawhero Forest Walk in Tongariro National Park meanders through
Rimu, Matai, and Kahikatea trees. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Step Right Up

Let’s go wandering through the present. From the mainlands of North Island and South Island to smaller islands like Waiheke, pathways beckon.

A short path says, “Come on in! Plenty of views, no waiting.”

Walking pathways in Devonport’s Victoria Hill are a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Devonport’s bucolic walks are just a 10-minute ferry ride from the city of Auckland. 
© Joyce McGreevy

A steep path says, “Not so fast. Good things happen in steps.”

Steep wooden steps along a walking pathway in Queenstown challenge visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown’s topography is truly on the up and up. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Urban pathways are keen to get you where you’re going. “Hurry along! Hurry along!”

Island pathways are more laidback. Sun warms them, breezes ruffle their grasses and your hair. They whisper, “Wherever you’re headed, here’s nice, too.”

Grassy path toward Waiheke's Te Motu Vineyard is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Waiheke’s Te Motu Vineyard is a gentle 20-minute stroll from Onetangi Road. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Sometimes you meet the perfect companion, and if you’re lucky, you’ll walk the same path for a while. As people in New Zealand like to say, “Sweet as!” (Sweet as what, you ask? Just “sweet as.”)

A friendly Paradise duck takes a step along a path in Te Anau inspiring visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

At Lake Te Anau in NZ’s Fiordland,  Paradise ducks and other birds tag along with hikers. 
© Joyce McGreevy

The “Ara” Variations

The word for path in Maori is ara, and New Zealand’s first people have many other names for pathways. There’s ararātā, the path of native Rata trees, and ararimu, if the trees are Rimu. Or you may come to two paths, ararua; a blocked path, arapuni; or the pathway’s end, arapito.

In New Zealand’s mountains or along its coasts, one may encounter the sacred path, or aratapu.

A stone plaque at Queenstown Hill inspires visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown Hill is known in Maori as Te Tapu-nui, “the mountain of intense sacredness.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Some paths possess deep patience. After a long solitude, they welcome a lone hiker with birdsong.

A walking pathway in the New Zealand bush invites visitors who are walking New Zealand to listen to the bird songs. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Put away the earphones. Even when you cannot see native birds, you’ll hear their songs
© Joyce McGreevy

Some paths begin gently and rapidly become challenging.  A Maori proverb says, “If you bow your head, let it be to a lofty mountain.”

Walking pathway in Queenstown Hill’s rugged terrain challenges visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Queenstown Hill is a steep, demanding, and ultimately rewarding hike of several hours.  
© Joyce McGreevy

“Basket of Dreams,” a public sculpture by Caroline Robinson’s graces a walking pathway and delights visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Persevere until you reach the “Basket of Dreams,” a sculpture by Caroline Robinson.
© Joyce McGreevy

Mindful Walking

A path can be metaphorical, even when it’s literal. What’s better than a long walk for sorting things out in one’s mind?

Wild mushrooms growing along a forest pathway on Queenstown Hill symbolizes mushrooming troubles that visitors who are walking New Zealand can consider and even resolve on mindful walks. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

If troubles seem to mushroom . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

A tree stump by a walking pathway on Queenstown Hill symbolizes problems that may have visitors who are walking New Zealand stumped. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Or you’re totally stumped . . .
© Joyce McGreevy

Tree roots on Queenstown Hill symbolize how visitors who are mindfully walking New Zealand think through issues and get to the root of a problem. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . .  a mindful walk in the woods can help reveal the roots of an issue.
© Joyce McGreevy

A tree branch on Queenstown Hill serves as a symbol to visitors who are walking New Zealand that they may be grasping for the wrong things. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A path may drop hints: “You’re grasping for the wrong things.”
© Joyce McGreevy

Other Pathways

The path along a mountain ridge is called arapae, a path for the brave. But not all pathways are on the land. The horizon is a path for the eye, the sky a path for imagination.

A view down Lake Wakatipu to The Remarkables mountain range in Queenstown Hill is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Hikes in The Remarkables mountain range offer tranquil views of NZ’s longest lake, Wakatipu. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Shadows and the rays of rainbows form pathways, too. And then there is aramoana, the sea path.

A view of a vintage sailing ship seen from a walking pathway on Devonport’s Victoria Hill is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The views from Victoria Hill above Devonport in NZ’s North Island are pure storybook. 
© Joyce McGreevy

What Pathways Do You Walk?

We’re all on some kind of path. We may choose it, stumble upon it, change it, or create a whole new path.

And oh, I see now, after the beauty of walking New Zealand, if we keep our eyes open, whatever path we’re on can become aratoro—the path of discovery.

In the wordplay of pathways, it happens one step at a time.

A view from a walking pathway toward Glenorchy Lagoon is a treat for visitors who are walking New Zealand. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

A walk to Glenorchy Lagoon is the surest way to inspiration. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Special thanks to Cleone Blomfield and Annette Caswell for their insights and hospitality in Queenstown and Glenorchy. 

To explore New Zealand on foot, start here.

Comment on this post below.

The Dogs on the Bus

by Joyce McGreevy on April 24, 2018

Meg Vogt, creative thinker and owner of Dogs Rule! welcomes canines on her dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Dog’s Rule! is a (p)awesome bus service based in Sullivan’s Gulch, Portland, Oregon.
© Joyce McGreevy

Creative Thinking for Canines
in Portland, Oregon

Driving with a 12-pack isn’t usually the smartest idea. But when the “12-pack” is a dozen adorable dogs, it’s genius.

Meet creative thinker Meg Vogt, affectionately known as the Dog Bus Lady of Sullivan’s Gulch. When Meg launched Dogs Rule, a bus service for dogs in Portland, Oregon, the locals really got on board.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt and dogs on the bus pose for a “pack portrait” in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Ryan LaBriere)

The dogs on the bus go woof-woof-woof all around the town—en route to leash-free parks.
© Ryan LaBriere @LabrierePhoto

Dogged Devotion

Throughout her life, Meg has solved canine challenges that would overwhelm most people.

Consider Mr. Diego.

Viciously attacked as a puppy, Mr. Diego was soon making his mark on the world—specifically on its inhabitants. But Meg, who was then a dog walker, spent years working through his issues, gradually enabling him to socialize peaceably.

Mr. Diego the white Scottie went from troubled pup to poster dog thanks to Meg Vogt’s creative thinking. (Image © Meg Vogt)

By 2015, Mr. Diego had become the poster pooch for the local humane society. 
© Meg Vogt

Chelsea, a retired police dog, had degenerative myelopathy. Every morning, said Meg, she’d “ease the dog’s rear end into a special wheelchair and drive to a park where Chelsea could chase after squirrels.”

“We totally bonded. Still, I told myself that when Mr. Diego and Chelsea passed, I would move on to a real job. But there was no way. I had all these soul connections with dogs.”

After a series of remarkable careers—paginator at USA Today, audio engineer, video producer, camp counselor, radio show host, and concierge, Meg had found her real job.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt, Max the poodle, and Grendel the Irish wolfhound howl for fun on the dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Meg, Max, and Grendel practice howlistic therapy.
© Joyce McGreevy

How Much Is That School Bus in the Window?

In 2008, Meg bought an old school bus and figured out how to operate it on the drive home. She parked it beside the house that she shares with her very supportive wife, Deb (“Not a Dog Person”) Bridges. Then she invited the neighborhood over.

Families, children, and other creative thinkers paint the Dog Bus in Sullivan’s Gulch, Portland, Oregon. (Image © Meg Vogt)

Sullivan’s Gulch neighbors gather for a paint-and-pizza party.
© Meg Vogt

The dog bus was born. And wow, did it ever bus a move. Who let the dogs out? Oh, I see: In Portland, Oregon this is not a rhetorical question.

Blue Rover, Blue Rover

Recently, I joined Meg on her rounds. Our destination?  Thousand Acres—open land, berry bushes, and a delta. It’s off-leash paradise.

Because her passengers lack opposable thumbs, Meg uses house keys that clients entrust to her. Eagerly anticipating their day out, the dogs trot to the bus door, race up the steps, and take their usual seats.

Dogs of several kinds board the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Why chase your tail when you can catch a bus?
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s Spring Break. Several dogs are on vacation, taking their humans with them, so we’re down to a six-pack and a bonus pup.  Our seven riders range from petite Moe to a pony-sized Irish wolfhound named Grendel. (Which technically makes Grendel a Beowulf-hound.)

Now add Meg’s “god dog” Piper the Scottie, Ida the yellow Lab, Max the French poodle, Porter the black Lab, and Finn the fantastic medley. It could be a recipe for chaos. Instead, it’s like the best buddy movie ever.

Grendel leans his massive head out the window, breezing. Moe snuggles. Porter seems pensive, as if composing a bestselling bark-all. Max, Ida, and Piper look out the windows. Finn reclines but casts a supervisory look over the pack.

Several dogs gaze out the windows of the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

The dogs are poised for that first sight of green fields.
© Joyce McGreevy

Go, Dog, Go!

The dogs somehow contain themselves as Meg parks. Once out the door, they run merrily down the path, splitting off occasionally to run in broad, looping arcs.

Meg Vogt and dogs enjoy a run at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Best dog run ever!
© Joyce McGreevy

There is no happiness like that of dogs roaming free.

“Ida Idaho” spots a puddle and knows just what to do.

Dogs enjoy a puddle at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Dive in!
© Joyce McGreevy

Dogs frolic at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Max and Grendel show off for the pup-arazzi.
© Joyce McGreevy

Porter, the quiet one, turns daring explorer, scouting the perimeter.  Piper and Moe hold court with adoring fans.

Finn wades into the water. There is no branch so big, no stick tossed so far, that he cannot retrieve it.

A dog carrying a branch frolics at a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon, thanks to creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dog bus. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Finn branches out.
© Joyce McGreevy

The Leader of the Pack

When it’s time to go, how do you gather a pack of dogs from 1400 acres? The secret is to be Meg Vogt. At her call, all seven come running. Together, they lope along as one big family and board the bus.

Creative thinker Meg Vogt and her dogs stroll through a leash-free dog park in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Anyone who thinks the dog bus is a trendy business is barking up the wrong tree.
The only high end in this labor of love is Grendel’s.
© Joyce McGreevy

To be tuckered out after a day of fun is the best kind of tired in the world. While the dogs rest, Meg shares her story.

Incredible Journey

“I was that white kid on the Rez,” she says.  “It was a beautiful experience, growing up in Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin.”

Most nights, Meg would take her bedding out to the screened-in porch. There she’d sleep with her dog Carly, whom her mom had rescued as a puppy.

“It was sweet waking up to the sound of an Evinrude motor on the lake. I’d get in the canoe with Carly in front. Then I’d take off across the lake, go hiking in the National Forest. That was my childhood.”

Lassie (and Buddies), Come Home

One by one, the dogs are returned home. I feel like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, sad to bid farewell to my new friends.

Neighbors and dog visit with creative thinker Meg Vogt on a porch in Sullivan Gulch, Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Max loves Meg’s dog bus so much, he watches from a balcony for its arrival.
© Joyce McGreevy

It’s the community, says Meg, who helps keep her bus running. When the dog bus needed a new transmission, folks pitched in. “Sullivan’s Gulch is a good community that way. We all take care of each other.”

Meg Vogt and Štĕpán Šimek are creative thinkers and Sullivan Gulch neighbors in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Meg chats with Sullivan’s Gulch neighbor Štĕpán Šimek . . .  
© Joyce McGreevy

A passerby, Monique, chats with Meg Vogt, whose creative thinking led to the dog bus in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

. . . and a delighted passerby named Monique. 
© Joyce McGreevy

Dog Tales and Winding Trails

Now Meg hopes to fund a multi-purpose space for dogs and humans called Rawhide Ranch. So she’s writing books. There’s no shortage of material:

Her richly lived life has doglegged around the world. (Although we’ve only just met, Meg and I discover that our paths had crossed years earlier. We’d both been volunteer radio hosts at KAZU in Pacific Grove, California.)

There’s true love conquering all as Meg’s wife faced down metastatic colon cancer. Deb played soccer between rounds of chemo and went from having a 6% chance of survival to becoming a world-class race walker.

A little dog named Moe rides the dog bus, a product of Meg Vogt’s creative thinking in Portland, Oregon. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

When Moe lost a twin, the pack cheered him up.
© Joyce McGreevy

Then there are Meg’s “myku,” her version of haiku. Doggerel? Hardly! But the dogs clearly are muses:

        Shut down your keyboard.

        Come! Take in the morning light.

        Can you smell the rain?

Creative thinking at its off-leash best.

 

 

That night, I make a wish on the Dog Star: May Meg’s dog tales and other writing find a loving home. And may the dog bus and the dog pack always roam free.

A license plate from the dog bus in Portland, Oregon reflects Meg Vogt’s creative thinking. (Image © Joyce McGreevy)

Long may their tails wag!
© Joyce McGreevy

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

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