russ-stickacres.com Blog

This past fall we had the pleasure to meet Charlie and Angela Voldarski and Angela’s 16-year old sister, Katherine “Kat” Manderfield.

The trio attended our Full Moon Fall Fling with speaker’s Lance Mackey and Tim Riley. Click here for Angela’s weekend account.

Angela’s Blog account gives you the true flavor of the cool wet weekend spent listening to mushers share their stories.

Katherine is signed up for the Jr. Iditarod (click on Jr. I) to be held in Alaska this coming February.

She will be joining our friend, Gladwin resident, Justin Fink in the 140-ish mile race.

Last year, Bethel (AK) resident, Jessica Klejka (prounced CLAY Ka) took the Championship, two seconds ahead of Fox (AK) resident Cain Carter, son of Tonya Mackey and stepson of Lance Mackey, winner of the last 4 Yukon Quest and 2-time Iditarod winner (2007 & 2008).

You can hear Jessica’s story on Dewey’s Sled Dog Podcast. Click here.

Both Katherine and Justin are working hard at training their dogs and obtaining sponsorship dollars. Spaghetti dinners are a tool for success. (If you haven’t completed your Christmas shopping, why not sponsor one of these amazing young adults on behalf of someone on your Christmas list. Both have Paypal…how easy can it get?)

Both Katherine and Justin are homeschooled…

Both have amazing families rallying for them to partake in their dream…

I don’t have a sister, but if I did, I would want her to be like Katherine’s sister, Angela. (Click on Angela)

Her dedication to see Katherine fulfill her dream is nothing short of amazing.

You too, Charlie…that goes without saying.

Until tomorrow ~

Woodswoman

A friend commented the other day about the fact that I rarely show Rustic Russ’ face in the Blog pictures.

I gave it a few minutes of thought and came up with a couple reasons why.

First, I have always liked pictures of people or animals leaving the scene.

Second, in studying the Amish years ago, I was careful not to photograph any adults where they could be recognized. The Amish feel this is mandated by the second Commandment. One Old Order Amish farmer wouldn’t let me photograph a chair. The children, however, may be photographed due to the fact they are not baptized until age 18.

And third, Rustic Russ is usually either moving about (i.e. working) or sleeping. In other words, if he stops, he crashes.

That’s why he likes that hat so much.

Putting up hay. Thanksgiving morning.

Furniture delivery.

Stop for photo op with niece’s Missy & Mindy Jo (in basket).

Trail boss.

Chatting it up with good friend, Iditarod Veteran Jim Warren, at the Full Moon Fall Fling. Rustic Russ’ sister, Billie Jean, in background.

Escorting Raz ~ for round pen work.

Hard work pays off. Nice calm horse. Nice calm rider.

Gettin’ hay with Junior. One of our favorite outings. Once loaded, Junior sits on a hay bale, catches his breath, and shares a gem of a life story of growing up on the farm. Such a gifted storyteller.

First day with new BLM Mustang (recently gelded) and newly-named Traveler. Still a lot of stallion in that horse. He stayed a while, fattened up, mellowed out, and moved on to a great home with a young boy, Ryan.

Together, as one.

Raz and Rustic Russ, riding by the neighbors on a Sunday afternoon trail ride.

Wee House nap.

“If only I could figure out a way to never leave my hand-crafted Dick Proenneke cabin.” (Click on name to see an amazing website. NOTE: We’ve watched every DVD listed on this site until worn out. We refer to our Bear’s Den cabin as the Dick Proenneke cabin.)

“Nope, I’m content. Not leaving the Bear’s Den ’til Spring break up.”

A trip to the “big city” of Petoskey to mother-in-law, Jackie’s. Rustic Russ has that “it’s gettin’ near feedin’ time” look.

Rustic Russ in his element.

Until tomorrow

It dawned on me that some people may not be aware of an amazing, free, audio service for those of you wanting to hear wonderful stories told by people in the dog sledding community. Egil, Ken & Gwen, Buddy, Lance, Zack, Dee Dee, Martin, Dr. Tim and many more.

Brought to you by our friend’s Tim & Gena Dewey and Family of Cadillac, Michigan ~
SLED DOG PODCAST (Click to enter the Looking Glass, Alice…)

Don’t let the word Podcast throw you.
It is: A method of publishing audio files to the Internet for playback on mobile devices and personal computers.

It’s easy. Pick a Podcast that you are interested in and press play.

I have to warn you, they are addicting. Just like the sport of dog sledding.

I’ve listened to every one…many, many times.

They are informative, funny, “real”, and the stories will touch your heart.

Tim and Gena’s jovial banter-like (Lucy & Ricky/Sonny & Cher) introduction to each episode is like a warm-up band at a headliner concert.

Their thoughtful and well-researched questions relax the participant and allow the speaker to open up and share their life story with little prompting.

They are great to listen to at the end of a long day. A true elixir. Try it ~ you’ll be glad you did.

Hmmm…which one tonight? Frank Turner or George Attla? George wins my attention for the 6th time.

Frank will have to wait for tomorrow. Jon Little on deck.

Until then ~

Woodswoman

“I like pigs. Dogs look up to us. Cats look down on us. Pigs treat us as equals.”
Sir Winston Churchill

Pigs get a bum rap.

They are possibly the cleanest animal on the farm.

They are strong.

They can be a watch dog of sorts ~ they bark at strangers.

They play.

And they are extremely smart. Actually smarter than a dog.

Here, see what I mean. Just click here. As Rustic Russ would say “That’s what she said.”

So when Polly gave birth to her little ones, I knew we were going to have a delightful experience. Similar to a litter of puppies, minus the puppy breath. (And who doesn’t get intoxicated on puppy breath?)

But, like any living creature taken into our custody, they require our care.

In reading about piglets, the outlook was bleak. The survival rate was determined by so many factors. Piglets can not get cold ~ not even a slight chill.

Also, they may suffocate or be crushed by their mother’s weight. The stories I read told of entire litters being snuffed out due to these factors. Still, we refused to be a statistic.

First came the clipping of the teeny-tiny razor sharp wolf teeth. This is a necessity if you want your sow to be comfortable and nibble free. It also cuts down on injuries when the little ones start playing rough with their litter mates.

However, clipping wolf teeth is easier said than done. We waited until Day 2, then took one little piglet at a time. I held the piglet and Rustic Russ maneuvered the clippers (a.k.a Leatherman). We learned real fast that we had to act quickly. Polly was making attempts to hurdle the pen and come pay us a visit. Bear aren’t the only protective mothers in the forest.

By Day 3 the piglets were getting extremely mobile. They were also starting to form distinct personalities.

Names were being formed. I opted for women and men of the Bible. Esther – white with spots, Ruth – little Blonde, Naomi – Red with black spots, Phoebe – Red with white stripe, Jacob – white spotted male, and so on.

We had decided we would be castrating all but one of the males.

We chose Daniel as a future boar. Daniel was the first little piglet born to Polly. He was also the largest. He was beautiful ~ a rust shade of red similar to that of an autumn leaf. He was magnificent.

We named him Daniel because he was daring. While we were busy with the other piglets on birthing day, he would venture up to his mother’s face to nuzzle. Me, being frantic about her grabbing him in her mouth for a frustrated tasty morsel, kept telling him to escape danger. “Run, piglet, run”! However, the minute I looked away for a second, he ambled right back up to her face.

After the drama of the birthing was done, I recall telling Rustic Russ that the first born reminded me of Daniel in the Lion’s Den. So the name stuck. He grew to be a beautiful red boar with an adventurous personality.

Once weaned and ready to leave our farm, he went to AC Ellen’s, who coordinated with her friend, and fellow gentleman pig farmer…who also happens to be our local Sheriff, Dan Bean (click on name), to have our Daniel eventually father a litter with their chosen stock.

And as you would know it, Rustic Russ and I ended up buying Daniel’s offspring from Sheriff Bean when they were ready for sale. We bought two gilts (females) and a boar. We named them Cicely, Roslyn and Maurice. (Our “Northern Exposure” trio.) They were good stock ~ from our Daniel. And decendants from our Polly and Bacon.

Farm life is tough. It is about caring. It is about walking out into the cozy barn in the dead of winter with a mixture of warm oatmeal, honey, bread and milk for them to slurp up and nod in appreciation, giving them a scratch behind the ears or rub on the rump before retreating from the barn.

The caring starts from Day 1. As it did with Weebles.

Weebles was named before the others due to his immediate need for nuture. Not a name from the Bible. It was a name from the heart.

As the early days passed, we watched Weebles with hope. At first he appeared to rally. It wasn’t that he was a runt. I would say Ruth was the actual “runt” of the litter. She was a runt, but perfect in every way. Weebles simply wasn’t healthy. He was the one out of ten that failed.

As days passed, we knew Weebles wouldn’t be growing to be a magnificent pig like his siblings. We did what we could to make sure he was comfortable. He was. He was with his mother and siblings like he should be.

Upon arriving home from work one day, I was greeted by Rustic Russ who displayed a quiet reserve. I’ve come to know that means he is waiting for an opportunity to talk about some important issue in the day’s events. He told me Weebles had died earlier in the day.

Later that night, after an especially quiet dinner, I had learned Rustic Russ buried Weebles in the special place in the woods reserved for our beloved dogs, and Cali, our 16+ year-old cat.

It seemed fitting. He was only here for a short time, but wiggled into our hearts, just like he snuggled into the depths of the Carhartt jacket the night Rustic Russ carried him from barn to cabin, and back to barn again, on that opening day of deer season on a cold November day.

Until tomorrow ~

Woodwoman

Time’s up!

The winner is announced!

Grace Liu from Chicago!

She wins the awesome DVD “Dog Gone Addiction” by talented filmmaker Becky Bristow!

(And thank you Becky for donating your film to our RR contest!)

Russ Stickacres,

Grace

Thank you Grace ~ Please contact me and provide your address for a speedy mailing of your new DVD!

Perhaps next year at this time, you will be in our Zip Code! Rural northern lower Michigan!

I can’t help but post some other comments by some local mushers. Perhaps you will see bits of yourself among these gals and goals.

First, Ellen Southern , from Serendipity Ranch, tucked in the woods on secluded acreage bordering a buffalo farm near the Jordan Valley.

As I sit here fighting with the internet connection and pondering on your simple question of goals, it becomes apparent that its not a simple question given the position I am in at this point in my life.

So your answer is for me to be the best servant any animal could hope for year after year and hope they wont mind if I stop for a coffee now and then.

Note by Woodswoman: The coffee pot is always on at Ellen’s. A visit at Ellen’s leaves you filled with good talk, and warm friendship. Ellen is a good servant both at work, as Animal Control officer, and at home as keeper of the Ranch.

Next, Joy Cowles, Bellaire, MI.

My number one goal for 2009 is to survive totally on my own. At age fifty -two (three in Jan.) this statement perchance requires some explanation. I have spent the last ten years care giving for my parents. They have both passed away in the last year.

I could have made different life choices but willingness to accept the choices I’ve made and move forward is part and parcel of the life learning experience. I am fortunate to have friends and family willing to support me with encouragement during this time of change in my life. So number one goal is a year of surviving on my own recognizance. Joy Cowles

Note by Woodswoman: Joy is multi-talented and driven. A combination for success.

Next, Mary Frances “Francie” Dorman, “Wanta Be Kennel” Bellaire, MI.

A few weeks ago after a wonderful snowy morning of running India, my GSD, with three of Last Chance’s sweethearts, I had a heartfelt talk with Rustic Russ. It is becoming apparent that my most compelling goal for 2009 is not very probable. At least not for 2009. It is probably not realistic for me to aspire to be a real musher with a competitive dog team (that is so hard for me to say because I can be so fiercely competitive). After a great deal of thought I am also realizing that I can be happy as a recreational musher with a small team.

Having even a short term plan is settling me. My 2009 dream will have to wait. You will see me grinning with excitement as a spectator at mushing events and on the trails. SEE YOU THERE!!!

Note by Woodswoman: Francie’s energy and enthusiasm for dogs/mushing and life will make dreams turn into reality.

Thanks to everyone else who took the time and submitted their goals and shared their dreams, especially our good friend, Tim Riley, whose plans you will hear more about very soon.

“If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things.”
Albert Einstein

See you tomorrow for “Weebles ~ the piglet ~ Part 2″

Woodswoman

(NOTE: Pictures within story are Polly’s offspring.)

Something just didn’t feel right this past fall. Deer hunting season came and went and I felt a void. Then it dawned on me. We don’t have any pigs in the barn this winter. I love pigs. I adore them. I love to feed them. And they love to eat. Jams, jellies, yogurt. Yogurt is their favorite. And breads. And pizza.

Thinking about the void of pigs this fall made me think back to a very special little guy named Weebles. Here is his story:

Several seasons ago, on the opening day of deer season, our young gilt, Polly, was about ready to become a sow. She was in the beginning stages of farrowing, or giving birth.

We had bought Polly at an early age, along with Bacon the boar. and a bred gilt Molly. Turns out Molly never did have a litter, and when we went back to the original owner, he refused to make it right. We had paid a hefty sum for a bred pig and it was not to be. Rustic Russ and I were naive and were easily duped by that pig farmer.

However, Polly more than made up for it in our minds. She was an awesome, terrific pig. And good looking. She was a beautiful solid red, with a long slender frame, but nice hams. Her face was perfect, with a personality to match.

Molly, not so much. In fact, Molly was the most homely pig I had ever seen in my life.

When it came time for our Polly to finally deliver, we knew, as she was showing signs of having milk. Rustic Russ got right in with her and assisted with the delivery. He knelt by her head and rubbed and caressed her, telling her it would be alright. She would look at him with those small pig eyes and then look straight ahead. Her body would ripple and shake in contractions. Knowing what she was experiencing, I felt doubled over as I stood with towel and blow dryer in hand. As she delivered a piglet, RR would hand it off to me so I could rub it down and dry it off before putting it on her teat. After one attempt with the hair dryer, that was tossed to the ground. Who needs such frivalities, especially in a barn.

I was so scared I was almost shaking. I had read too many books about pigs getting nervous, especially their first time farrowing, and eating their young ~ alive. I couldn’t bear the thought.

As she systematically delivered each little one, we got into a good rhythm. They were all colors. Bright red, red with black spots, red with a white stripe around it’s middle, white with black spots, blonde. So tiny, but so tough. I could hardly hold them as they squirmed. I was shocked by their strength. As they screamed for their mother, she started looking up and taking her focus off her birthing, so I had to act fast.

One little piglet didn’t seem right. He was breathing funny, shallow. He acted like he would be sleeping and then snap out of it, only to do so again. We put him on her for milk, but kept an eye out.

Once the birthing was done, Rustic Russ and I were so proud. Proud of our wonderful mother, Polly. I was relieved she didn’t get nervous and attack her young. We, too, were both exhausted by the process.

Rustic Russ and I like to do things natural, so we had a big pile of straw for bedding and Polly had made a nest. However, there is a good chance of the sow laying on her piglets and suffocating them in the first couple days before the piglets are strong. Polly was being careful as she had her “post labor” meal. However, I was grateful that Rustic Russ had made a little shelter at the end of the stall, like a dog house with a tiny little door that the piglets could enter and get away from their mother. Within the house, there was a heat lamp shining down on the corner bed of straw. We could peek in the removable top and see the ten of them as they lay in a heap, grunting and groaning, toasty under the heat lamp. Polly would lay with her head by the opening, breathing her hot air into the enclosure, reminding the piglets of her presence. Upon feeding time, when Polly called them with a single low grunt, they would slowly amble out and make their way to her side. Of course, as days went on, they would scramble out and race to their milk source, Polly, upon her first call.

The first night, we were worried about the little runt. He just wasn’t looking the same as the others. We had given him a small dose of Pen G antibiotic to help fight off any bacterial infection that might be the cause of his lethargy.

I had retreated to the loft for the night when Rustic Russ appeared on the vertical loft ladder with a tall Rubbermaid container. “Here, grab this please.”

“What is it?”

“That little guy, Weebles. I think he needs to be in where we can keep an eye on him.”

So up in the loft he went. Until now, he hadn’t had a name. But Rustic Russ thought Weebles was a good one. And it fit.

He seemed o.k. in the tall container, tucked next to us. We talked a bit about the day’s events and then drifted off to sleep, hoping the best for Weebles in the morning. At least he was toasty in the cabin loft in this mid-November weather.

I awoke sometime later with a start. I had heard some shuffling/scooting/crinkling in my sleep. DARN MICE I thought! It took me a minute to focus and realize Weebles had gotten out of the container and was wandering around the 12″ perimeter of our bed in the loft. I screamed for RR to wake up and help me find him! I frantically searched in the dark, trying not to think of the horrible outcome that may take place ~ a long 7′ drop onto the floor below ~ surely he would not survive the fall. Plus, the house dogs would be shocked to see a guest appear in that fashion in the middle of the night.

Quietly, RR gently lifted him from near the side of our bed and put him back into the container. Time for Weebles to go outside and join his 9 other siblings and mother. Nice try, but Nature needed to be in charge this time.

Down the loft ladder they went. Rustic Russ bundled up and carried Weebles tucked down in his Carhartt jacket, close to his chest, as left the cabin and made his way through the dark woods and back into the barn.

To be continued…

Woodswoman
Reminder: You have until Tuesday evening to enter the contest! (Scroll below for details.)

Tonight, as I was preparing to join Rustic Russ in the kennel for feeding time, I heard the dogs increase their barking intensity for a moment, but didn’t think twice. I just thought they were excited seeing Rustic Russ swing that ax to add frozen meat chunks to their hearty meal. As I came around the front of the cabin, Rustic Russ was flying by, running full speed toward the cabin door. I turned my head, following his image as he ran, and yelled “What happened?” He responded “Jeff“.

I was still confused, as I wondered why he was running toward the cabin, in the opposite direction of the kennel, and Jeff. However, before I could enter the fenced kennel area, Rustic Russ was already bounding past me, through a maze of dogs and punchy snow, for the circle of Jeff (a.k.a. Rock Star) with a roll of vet wrap in his hand.

Now those of you who know Rustic Russ, know he moves slowly. He acts with purpose and resolve and is a calculated man. He thinks before he talks, however he’s quick with a witty response.

He is probably the funniest man I know. I’m guaranteed several hearty laughs each day.

However, what you don’t know is that he is fast – lightening speed fast. When his son Steven was 17, I saw them race through a field, to the power pole and back, on a bet. Needless to say, Rustic Russ out ran that athletic young boy. So, when I saw Rustic Russ running, literally for Jeff’s life, I knew we had trouble on our hands.

Upon going to the circle, it was evident there was a problem. Blood dotted the snow all around the circle. One of Jeff’s front feet was bleeding profusely. Rustic Russ took a roll of bandage and wrapped Jeff’s foot, swooped him up in his arms and quickly carried him to the cabin for further investigation.

Ignoring the fact that the cabin carpet was being stained with blood, RR unwrapped the bandage and checked the injury. Thank goodness it wasn’t on the pad (hard to heal). It appeared to be a bite mark, but then it could have been the chain getting wrapped around as there was additional trauma, slight but suspect. It happened so quickly ~ Rustic Russ did not see another dog near Jeff when he heard the commotion and looked over his way.

Keeping Jeff quiet while Rustic Russ tended to feeding, the bleeding stopped.

We gave him Dermaxx for pain, which made him relax in the wood heat of the cabin. We also popped a Cephalexin for an antibiotic. Cleaning the wound (with Jeff also checking it out), we could see we were out of the woods. He was going to be fine. I had called Dr. Dale’s emergency line, while Russ was feeding, just in case to make sure he was the Doctor on call. He was.

Upon all the drama settling down, Rustic Russ looked at Jeff (who never takes his eyes off Rustic Russ) and said “Hey, if all you wanted was to come in the cabin, why didn’t you say so?” You see, Jeff (a.k.a. Rock Star), is, and always had been, on Rustic Russ’ main team.

Tonight was just a reminder that we mushers have a lot to contend with on a daily basis.

Our lives are based on lives of service. Service to the dogs. And this extends out to our families. Christmas dinners revolve around our feeding times. It is a 7 day a week job. Never a day off.

We assess purchases by measuring it against our lives as mushers. “Hmmm…that dinner in a restaurant is the cost of a bag of dog food.” “That new battery for the truck is the cost of a couple bags of dog food.”

So when things get tough and uncomfortable, we tend to stand up and defend our passion. The passion of dedicating our lives to sled dogs. We, in other words, have opinions.

We get worked up over contents in dog foods, whether to feed meat raw or cooked, feed meat or straight kibble, too many snowmobiles on the public trails, global warming or record breaking low temps, de-worming practices, sprint or distance, Siberians or Alaskans, Iditarod or Yukon Quest…

Don’t blame us. It’s our passion that makes us crazy.

There’s a saying that addictions come in a pair, with a spare. With sled dogs, there is no need for any other addiction. This is about all you can handle. Financially, physically and emotionally.

So when the weather isn’t cooperating, or your dogs are sick, or you perceive another person, perhaps musher, has done something to upset you, try to remember Mark Twain’s famous quote.

“It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”

Here’s hoping for a quiet, drama-free week leading up to the holidays ~ Happy Monday everyone.

Woodswoman

And since we are in the Christmas spirit, let’s have another Russ-Stick Ramblings Contest!

I bet you are so excited, you can’t see straight!

The prize…

“Dog Gone Addiction” DVD by filmmaker, Becky Bristow.

Read more about it:

Are you looking for a great story to watch this winter? The
International award winning film ‘Dog Gone Addiction’ has been
re-released for the holiday season. Dog Gone Addiction has been shown
at film festivals across North America and Europe and won numerous
awards and accolades including;

Best Adventure Film, Explorers Club film festival, New York,

Best Adventure Sports Film, Taos Mountain Film Festival, New Mexico

Special Jury Award, Whistler Film Festival, British Columbia.

Dog Gone Addiction follows three women in the 1000 mile Yukon Quest
sled dog race from Whitehorse, Yukon Territory to Fairbanks Alaska.
The film shows the women’s struggles to overcome -60dgr Celsius temps,
exhaustion, sick dogs, mountain passes, and the remote wilderness of
the Yukon and Alaska to achieve their goals of not just finishing but,
racing the toughest sled dog race on earth. Included in the DVD are 55
mins of extra features, commentary from racing legend Hans Gatt, and
tons of footage showing all the characters that make up the Yukon
Quest race.

For a teaser of this film please visit
http://www.wildsoulcreations.com/teaser.html

OK, folks. You know the drill.

Come up with a short blurb.

Topic: What is your number one goal for 2009?

Win a dog sled race?
Have a baby?
Make a million bucks?
Learn to drive a dog sled?
Retreat into the Bush?
Train a lead dog?
Come hang at Russ-Stick Acres with Dee Dee/Ryan and Tim in August?
Learn how to ride a horse?

Email us at: contestgiveaway@russ-stickacres.com (sorry, cut and paste please)

You will have until 10:00 p.m. Tuesday night (December 16th) to respond.

(I’m allowing some extra time for mushers to get in off the trail.)

The winner will be randomly selected.

Actually, Rustic Russ will be picking the magic number this time.

Ready, set, go!

Woodswoman

To coin a phrase from the David Bowie song from the year I graduated High School, changes… they are a blowin’ in the wind.

Wait, that’s two songs.

I hesitate to bring this up, but find it noteworthy.

Last Friday, Jeff King (a.k.a. Rock Star) finally saw an end to what has been possibly the most difficult ride of his life.

The sentence portion of his lengthy court battle was played out and brought to an end. (Click on end.)

This test of endurance is now over. Finished. End of story. As we say in the kennel, scrape your shoe and move on.

Mr. King may now get down to business. The business of racing his sled dogs.

We wish you luck Mr. King, Rock Star.

According to Martin Buser’s website (Click on website), the Discovery Channel series on Iditarod will not be renewed.

If you wish to express your opinion on this issue, Martin has the contact information on his site.

Tonight is the Full Moon. Beauty and grace. Almost surreal. As I walked up to the Wee House I drank it in.

It’s difficult to sleep in my Wee House. The five large windows flood the room with the soft moon light and the lure of the woods.

As I doze off, I mumble those words that have been spoken by many since it’s inception by Margaret Wise Brown in 1947…Goodnight Moon .

Some things don’t change. And that allows us to sleep at night.

Until tomorrow ~

Woodswoman

Yep, the craziness just keeps on getting crazier.

Regulation = money.

Tired of “Big Brother”?

Tired of “The Man” telling you what you can and can not do?

…Sticking their nose into our own personal business?

Check out the latest…taxing gas emissions of cows. Yep, cows. (Click on cows.)

But don’t give up. Help is out there.

Please take a few moments to read Joel Salatin’s “Everything I want to do is Illegal” article.

You won’t be sorry…it’s brilliant.

Even if you aren’t a farmer, or ever want to be a farmer, it’s written for you.

Read on…right on!

‘Nuff said…

Woodswoman