Adaptive Management

Foresters would like you to believe that the term: "adaptive management" came from them.  It is usually applied to trying silvicultural practices on small scale stands, seeing what works and what doesn't work, maybe trying something else, or tweaking, in essence embracing change and adaptation.  

But I really suspect it was mothers who invented the concept.  Living with children, trying to wrangle living, squirming, hurting, playful, excitable, powerful living beings every day requires a long view and the ability to adapt quickly.

And so it is with Sage and Murphy.  First Murph.  I suspect, as I have mentioned, that Sage's injury is something Murphy is zeroed in on.  She can probably smell the medicine, sense the fear in Sage, and certainly is aware that routines have changed.  Murphy has always demonstrated her fears through pacing, panting, and pawing.  The three Ps.  And for the past two days she has been doing all three.   But yesterday, finally, she calmed down for awhile (although as I write this she is panting).  Perhaps it is the compression band-aid that is gone.  Or maybe she has grown accustom to the smells.  Or really, she realizes that there seems to be more treats involved in this process, and some alone time with me on late afternoon walks around the neighborhood.  Life with Murphy is a tad bit better.  A tad bit.

Yesterday morning Sage, realizing she had to go to the vet, removed her band-aids on her own.  So I sheepishly walked into the vet, caring the shell of her compression leg band-aid.  Every one smiled.  Think they'd seen that trick before, Sage?  It is interesting, though, that after the band-aid removal, Sage has not put weight on the leg.  Not unusual said the good surgeon.  

Sage spent yesterday tethered to a pole I have in the backyard that supports one of my crazy birdhouses.  She laid in the sun then the shade.  Then she retreated to her soft crate.  But late tonight, after dinner al fresco in the back yard, she put a little weight on the leg.  Gingerly.  Ya-hoo!

So, today is a new day.  We're juggling a lot here.  But friends and family have made generous offers, each one appreciated.  I long to stand in a river casting flies, and can not wait for the moment when Sage is doing her solo synchronized swimming next to me.

Murphy's day and Sage's day 3 of recovery.