Curiosity

Among many things, Sage is intensely curious.  I call her my entomologist, which is a good thing to have around when you're a fly fisherwoman.  She is like a little kid, exploring all things bug.  

She has the usual dog curiosity, sniffing pee-mail left along our running route, cocking her head at strange sounds, hiding behind my legs as a unusual shape approaches.

But Sage's curiosity is different.  She really does remind me of a budding scientist.  Maybe it's because she is the puppy of a forester?  She doesn't wade through a creek, but burrows her nose into the water, looking at nymphs, pawing at a rock to see what is under it, or standing absolutely still listening to a bird call.  

Of course, I think her mind is working the whole time.  When she is in a river, Sage will look up at me, as if she is asking hey, Mom, what's this bug?  Her eyes shift back and forth from object to me, waiting for my reply.  It's a March Brown Sagie.  

The dogs, my dogs, have adopted the rhythms of the house.  Quiet during the day, activity in the mornings and evenings.  All of us seem to enjoy the stimulation of being outside, away from desks and computers.

While Sage engages the bugs and birds, Murph and I watch, curious about Sage's curiosity.

Murphy's day.