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The story of the Chessie


The Chesapeake retriever originated in Maryland, developed to suit the climate and the waters of the Bay.
    In 1807, a British ship wrecked off the coast of Maryland. Among the crew and cargo saved by another ship were two Newfoundland puppies. These pups turned out to be great retrievers and were bred with flat- and curly-coated retrievers as well as other dogs to create our Chessies.
    “They love the water and can swim in the coldest conditions,” says Dawn Logan, statistician and historian for the American Chesapeake Club. “They have been bred to have the ability to hunt many hours in the icy waters of the Bay. Today, they maintain the coat, structure and determination to do what their ancestors did.”
    Today’s Chesapeake Bay retrievers are much the same as the first Chessies.
    “When you look back in breed history, photos and drawings of the first Chesapeake Bay dogs, you see they look very much like today’s Chesapeake Bay retrievers,” Logan says.
    The Chesapeake Bay retriever is a relatively rare breed, with only some 2,000 registered with the American Kennel Club.
    “Because of its intelligence and loyalty, it is not a dog for everyone,” Logan explains. “They do not have the love-everyone attitude of a Labrador retriever or golden retriever. They are known to be stubborn and to think for themselves, which can be a challenge in training. Also, they tend to be more protective than other retriever breeds.
    “They were bred to hunt for hours on end, and that is maintained today, so they do best with a job, whether it be hunting, obedience, agility, daily walks — they need something to do,” Logan says. “We want to maintain the heritage and original capabilities of this unique breed.”

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Mel Brooks’ mocking masterpiece

To end its 50th season, Annapolis Summer Garden Theater has challenged itself with one of the biggest and most popular musicals ever to hit Broadway: Mel Brooks’ The Producers. Winner of a record 12 Tony Awards in 2001 and running for more than 2,500 performances, the show sought to hilariously offend everyone — Jews, producers, actors, homosexuals, Nazis … the list goes on. Brooks’ blockbuster set the stage for the kind of hard-to-get ticket that is being matched only by the current hit, Hamilton.
    It’s a big musical, with choreography, music and acting that have to be over the top to work; have you ever seen subtlety in any Mel Brooks movie? Annapolis Summer Garden Theater smartly turned the reins over to local directing veteran Jerry Vess, who strikes a nice balance between the bigness of Broadway and the limits of community theater. A tight, seven-piece band led by Ken Kimble sounds bigger, the original choreography is nicely adapted by Emily Frank, and Anita O’Connor’s music direction helps a talented cast confidently deliver on such songs as It’s Bad Luck to Say Good Luck on Opening Night.
    Costumer Jocelyn Odell brings Brooks’ wacky German vision — think pretzel heads and beer-stein jewelry — brilliantly to the stage. The costumes emulate those that helped make the original so memorable.
    The plot is simple: Down and out Broadway producer Max Bialystock (B. Thomas Rinaldi) ropes in straitlaced and timid accountant Leo Bloom (Nathan Bowen) to stage a purposely horrible musical, Springtime for Hitler, and abscond to Rio with the money they raised when it closes after one night. The wrinkle, of course, is that it becomes a smash hit.
    Rinaldi hits all the right notes as Max, and his body type, voice and attitude are perfect for the role — though opening weekend tentativeness zapped some of the zing from Brooks’ zingers. Late in the second act, when he reviews all that’s happened while sitting in a jail cell, he makes Betrayed masterful: funny, even a touch emotional. 
    Rinaldi and Bowen work well together, evoking a Laurel and Hardy dynamic. Bowen’s baritone lends itself well to I Want to Be a Producer. As actor, he allows Leo’s uptightness to be comical but not unbounded — for that would mean competing with so many unbound characters that Brooks has in store for us. Characters including —
    • Franz Leibkind, the Springtime for Hitler playwright who, on his rooftop with his Nazi pigeons, reminisces about his past (In Old Bavaria), forces Max and Leo to sing along to Adolf’s favorite song (Der Gutten Tag Hop-Clop) and has them swear to never dishonor Adolf Elizabeth Hitler. Josh Mooney, complete with liederhosen and Nazi helmet, is hilarious as Franz, his bright smile and energy surpassed only by his sidesplitting seriousness when tending to the fuhrer’s honor.
    • Roger DeBris, the flamboyant “worst director in New York,” whom Max attempts to sign to ensure the show flops, and his “common-law assistant” Carmen Ghia. Pete Thompson as Roger and Kevin James Logan as Carmen are brilliant together and apart, and bring one of the most popular numbers of the show, Keep it Gay, to hilarious life. Logan’s flaccid fluidity is so beautifully comical that the audience has no choice but to laugh. Playing Hitler during the show-within-a-show, Thompson’s Roger romps mischievously and riotously as he sings Heil myself!
    • Ulla Inga Hansen etc. etc. (a long long name, pure Brooks), the tall, beautiful Swedish blonde who auditions for Max’s next show and becomes his “Secretary-slash-receptionist.”
    Max lusts, Leo longs and Ulla titillates in a complete 180 from Max’s older women benefactors. As the always smiling statuesque Ulla, Erica Miller gives us a syllable-chewing faux Swedish accent that works to perfection in When You’ve Got It, Flaunt It, which gives her body, Max’s libido and Leo’s heart quite the workout.
    • The Usherettes, Ashley Gladden and Amanda Cimaglia, musically narrate, and a fine ensemble provides wonderful voices, dancing and characters, none more uproariously than almost the entire cast in Along Came Bialy, better known in theater circles as the little old lady walker song.
    While there was that tentativeness on the second night, accompanied by some screechy microphone levels, little details like that always work out as a run progresses. Here’s the important thing:
    Annapolis Summer Garden Theater has gone all out for its 50th birthday. With Jerry Vess’ perfectly paced adaptation and a cast that’s having a blast, the company fits Mel Brooks’ comic genius and this big Broadway show onto a local stage. It’s the audience that gets to celebrate.
    Act quickly … several dates are already sold out.

About two hours 50 minutes with one intermission.

Thru Sept. 4: Th-Su 8pm, $22, rsvp: ­

Their lifespan is just too short

My German shorthair pointer, Sophie, passed away this past winter after 13 years of memorable companionship. Her absence is almost as imposing as was her presence. A flicker of movement off to the side still makes me turn my head, expecting her to bound up to my side. Returning home, I can’t help but look for her bright eyes shining in a front window as she somehow anticipates my arrival once again.
    “A dog’s lifespan is too short,” author Agnes Turnbull once said, “their only fault, really.” I’ve had the good fortune to know a number of dogs, and almost every one was so special and their passing so painful that right now I can’t bear the thought of going through it again. Of course, I will eventually weaken.
    The variety of dogs to choose from is more diverse than ever. Hunting dogs, or the sporting dog group according to the American Kennel Club, are my preference for both a pet and a field companion, for we share a similar inclination. This group of dogs includes Labrador and golden retrievers, Brittany and springer spaniels, pointers, setters and similar breeds.
    These animals are also more likely to be well behaved and intelligent as those traits are critical to their purpose in the field. They are easily trained as well, and most quickly acclimate to a family setting, ­especially if introduced while young. They do, however, expect to be exercised and taken afield.
    I also like working dogs, bred to perform tasks such as guarding property and persons, pulling sleds, water rescue and such. The more common breeds are the Rottweiler, the Doberman pinscher, the Siberian husky and the Great Dane. All are generally quite intelligent and purposeful, but all require intense obedience training; some are aggressive and need thorough socializing.
    The herding group is attractive as well in that it includes probably the most intelligent and readily trainable breeds. That includes the border collie, the Belgian Malinois, the German shepherd and Belgian sheepdog, as well the Welsh corgi.
    Herding dogs need plenty of exercise — plus opportunity for herding. Actual herding duties are their greatest joy, but gently gathering, directing and ensuring the safety of a family and its young children is a challenge these animals generally find fulfilling.
    The hound group is bred for hunting of a special type. Afghans, wolfhounds, bloodhounds, coonhounds and beagles, among many others, generally do well in more rural or open settings (and not particularly well in urban environments). Their instincts are to track and pursue other animals, relentlessly. Some of these breeds have a distinctive beauty but are particularly single-minded, and this does not always translate well into proper urban behavior.
    Some breeds in the hound group have the instinct to signal their location by howling or baying, something to consider when deciding to acquire one.
    Then there is the terrier group, breeds that originated for vermin control, hunting and (unfortunately) fighting. Today they are known for their energy, alertness and high ­spirits. Most possess individualistic personalities and require firm obedience training and, especially for the larger types, plenty of exercise.
    The toy group is composed of particularly small dogs, or selectively bred smaller versions of larger breeds (the toy poodle, the pug, the toy terriers and the Chihuahua, among others). They are particularly popular in urban environments. Exclusively intended as pets, some are even referred to as purse dogs. They are more easily cared for than the larger breeds and are known for being long-lived and loving animals.
    Non-sporting dogs comprise the largest, most populous and diverse group, including breeds like French poodle, Dalmatian, shar-pei, chow and the bichon frise, types that have evolved from many different roles to become pets and companions. Most have a singular appearance. Few generalities can be made of them because each is so unique. They do, however, share the same virtues as all dogs: loyalty, mirth, innocence, courage, curiosity and unconditional love.
    Now I’ve got myself thinking.

Lusby and Spooks

Lusby was so full of energy when we acquired her that I concluded she was nuclear-powered. Thus the name Lusby, for the location of the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant. The one thing she does not do much of is lie around doing nothing.
    Her breed has been identified as a North Carolina dog, a species with ties to the dingoes that crossed the Bering Strait with migrating humans, and she is very independent. She will not fetch for my wife Clara or me but will fetch for children who visit the farm to cut their own Christmas trees. If she remembers visitors from previous visits, she will show off by running at high speed in circles. She loves to ride in the back seat of my pick-up truck but will not ride with me in the golf cart.  
    A rescue dog from death row in Georgia, Lusby has become a true farm dog. She considers herself the guard of the farm. She has nearly eliminated the ground hogs and has helped reduce the rabbits that occasionally invade the garden. When large birds fly above the farm, she will run beneath them barking, which is her effort at keeping them airborne.
    She guards the farm by staying outside all night but lets us know by around 6am that it’s time for us to let her in so she can take a rest.

•   •   •
Spooks was a Norwegian forest cat who arrived at Upakrik Farm on Halloween night in 1995.  He scared Clara that night when he jumped seven feet two inches from the ground to the window ledge of the bathroom and his two green eyes stared at her as she brushed her hair.  He then jumped five feet from the bathroom window ledge  to the window ledge of our bedroom, where I fed him cat treats. As he was a stray, we did not allow him to enter the house that night. We fed him outdoors for several days until Clara let him inside. Upon entering the kitchen, he sat in front of the refrigerator, where my wife swears she heard him say milk.
    After spending several weeks searching for his owner without success, we adopted him. Soon Spooks became my cat and followed me around the farm, becoming a great mouser. He was also an acrobat. He climbed a tree every day, then came down head first like a squirrel.
    While I was replacing barn siding, Spooks studied the beam-and-rafter arrangements. The next thing I knew, he was meowing from a beam feet in front of me. I laid a plank between the roof, where I stood, and his beam so he could join me.  He then climbed to the peak of the barn roof, where he enjoyed the scenery.
    While I was cleaning gutters on the house, Spooks climbed the ladder and joined me on the roof.  As he stayed after I climbed down, I waited to see how he would come down. He came down the ladder one rung at a time, head first. We later learned that squirrel-like descent is a characteristic of a Norwegian forest cat.

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And what our cats see in us

What could she see in him?    
    I’ve often wondered that about my friends’ husbands. Even more often, about their dogs.
    Husbands are more ambiguous. Dogs are absolute.
    Love me, love my dog, my grandmother taught me, was the rule of friendship with a dog fancier — which my grandmother was not. Not, love me, love my husband.
    Other people’s husbands may be more attractive than your own; often must be, as they’re so often switched. But nobody’s dog is more beautiful, suitable or satisfying than your own. Rarely do people divorce their dogs. When they do, in come the rescuers — about whom you’ll read in this week’s paper. Apparently, we do better at choosing our dogs than our husbands. Or perhaps our dogs are better company than our husbands.
    My husband and recent dogs — Labrador retrievers Max and Moe, short for my family name, Massimo — are nearly perfect: Especially the dogs, as their slight imperfections died with them.
    (My success in choosing partners has not come without trial and error. What I saw in Slip Mahoney — a dog you can meet at — nobody outside my household understood. If Slip hadn’t bitten them, he’d chewed up their shoes or through their screen door. Then there was my early husband. Now I claim those errors as proof of the wisdom I’ve gained through experience.)
    Still, my friends’ significant others — dog and human — often call to mind another piece of my grandmother’s advice: There’s no accounting for taste, she told me. That’s what the lady said when she kissed the cow.
    What you see in your husband is a question one dare not ask. (Or do I? How about for our next Valentine’s Day issue?)
    About what you see in your dog — you, me and everybody else waxes eloquent. You’ll read those testimonials in this week’s annual Pet Tales, our Dog Days of August special issue.
    Readers joined contributors in sharing their stories — and pictures — of animal companionship. The stories are wonderful; they bring tears to my eyes and laughter to my heart and lips. For, as Sporting Life columnist Dennis Doyle reminds us, mirth is among the gifts we get from our dogs.
    About our cats, the tales are different. Cats are superior beings; just ask them. The question with them isn’t what people see in their cats. It’s what their cats see in them.
    Read on to learn what we see in our dogs and cats. You’ll find stories of love between species exemplified in intuitions of mood and will; shared spaces; improvisations comic, sad or dramatic; gleeful welcomes; improbable alliances; and partnerships that help us be ourselves and go beyond ourselves.
    You’ll also find insight into caring for your animal companions from Bay Weekly’s nine Sponsoring Pet Partners for this issue. I’ve learned, and I expect you will too, something of the scope of veterinary and boarding options and how our pets’ wellbeing depends on the food we buy.
    I hope you enjoy this issue as much as I have.

Sandra Olivetti Martin
Editor and publisher;

Old-school effects and good storytelling make a cool chiller

Something is scratching at Martin’s (Gabriel Bateman: American Gothic) bedroom door. While he shivers in terror, his mother chats with an invisible friend, Diana.
    There is something lurking in the dark, ready to attack when the bedside lamp goes out. Martin watches in vigil night after night as the thing in the dark tries to come closer.
    When it gets Martin’s father, he turns to his estranged stepsister, Rebecca (Teresa Palmer: Triple 9), who has had her own troubles with a creature that lived in bedroom nooks.
    Can Rebecca save her brother from a menace no one can see? What is the hold Diana has over their mother? Why hasn’t everyone in this movie run to Eddie Bauer to buy camping lanterns?
    This movie about primal fears both thrills and entertains. For his feature directorial debut, David F. Sandberg expanded a short by the same name (available on YouTube) into a thoughtful, interesting, old-fashioned horror movie that focuses on creating a sense of dread. He plays smartly on the idea that Diana can come from any dark space, be it an empty room or an archway in an old house. He then fills the frame with shadows, making us unsure of where the threat will come from. This sense of uncertainty builds tension and keeps visual interest.
    Sandberg also chose to use mostly practical effects. This means that when someone is thrown across a room or a shadow disappears behind a door, it’s not a trick of a computer but an actual event captured on film. This gives the events weight and realism often lost in a world of CGI.
    The other strength of Lights Out is its cast. Bateman is the rare child actor who isn’t cloying and who can carry a scene. Palmer is also a rarity for a horror lead as she neither gets unnecessarily naked nor acts like an idiot when problems arise. The bond between the two is believable and sweet.
    Lights Out gives us storytelling rather than quick jump scares. If you want bloody monsters popping out from every corner, you may be disappointed. Check out the short version on YouTube to get a sense of the movie’s tone before you plunk down your cash. But if you’re looking for a thrilling reason to run up your light bill, Lights Out is worth the ticket.

Good Horror • PG-13 • 81 mins.

Chesapeake Curiosities

A small building in the Rhode River is built up over the water like a duck blind. But it doesn’t quite look like one, and it’s surrounded by Smithsonian Environmental Research Center land. What is it?
    The structure, an instrument shed, was built in the 1970s, according to Kristen Minogue of Smithsonian Environmental Research Center. Initially it was one of a series of similar stations that monitored the Rhode River. The stations provided data on water chemistry as well as the flow of sediments, nutrients and water. This location is no longer a monitoring station, but others in the network still provide long-term data on the health of the river.
    While it was a monitoring site, the shed housed equipment that operated automatically. Scientists picked up samples weekly. In the 1980s, Smithsonian scientist Tom Jordan spent 24 hours conducting a study from a boat tied to the shed.
    The shed now holds equipment for other projects. It’s recently been used to house hydrophones — underwater microphones — that track fish movement.
    “We use hydrophones in our tagging projects to track how different animals in the Bay move. We attach ultrasonic tags to fish and crabs, and the hydrophones enable us to listen and record the signals those tags emit. One of our postdocs is also using them to listen to the sounds animals make underwater,” said Minogue.
    “The little shed is a testament to almost 40 years of tracking the health of a single river,” Minogue added. “ And the fact that it’s now used by osprey is a symbol of hope. Back when it was built in the 1970s, osprey in the Chesapeake had just hit an all-time low, and now we see them all over.”

Has a sight stymied you? Does an oddity bewilder? Your curiosity may be featured in an upcoming column. Send your questions to

Just passing through

A big mother of a terrapin the size of our cast-iron frying pan lumbers from the swamp beyond the small garage, up the stones and through the poison ivy and, without stretching her long neck for a glance backward over her carapace, heads non-stop across our lawn toward the far woods to lay her eggs.
    She is my first sighting of this summer, already August, and in recent years all turtles have been scarce.
    She will dig a hole in the lawn or by the swamp at the edge of the locust trees, maybe two or three holes to confuse us, then pump out eggs like ping pong balls.
    No foxes seen this year, and, oddly, no raccoon or possum has yet to show. So this year none might dig the eggs, and within a couple of months, while waving off the bald eagles, I can escort the hatchlings to the cove.
    For a minute I turn away; when I look again, no sign of her.

Crop rotation keeps you harvesting into winter

If you planted potatoes, you could already be harvesting. Since potatoes are grown in wide rows, the ground they occupied will be ideal for planting a fall crop of peas and snap beans.
    If you have harvested cabbage, broccoli, cauliflower and kohlrabi, use the space vacated for okra. If you planted a spring and early-summer crop of snap beans, the free space can be used for planting fall and winter crops of carrots, beets, kale, collards, turnips, rutabaga, radishes and ­lettuce.
    Please note that the replacement crops are different from those planted in the spring. This practice, known as crop rotation, is a very effective means of minimizing disease problems.
    As soon as the first crop of sweet corn is harvested, consider planting large Ford Hook lima beans. Leave the corn stalks in place, with the lima bean seeds planted between them so the emerging seedlings will use the stalks to climb on, making the harvesting of the lima beans easier on the back. Lima beans grow best during the warmest part of summer.
    If you are not a fan of lima beans, consider using the area for growing cabbage, Brussels sprouts, broccoli, cauliflower, kohlrabi or radishes after the corn stalks have been removed. In place of pulling out the corn stalks, cut them down as close to the ground as possible and push the lawnmower over the stumps. Transplant the seedlings between every third or fourth stalk.
    Fall and winter vegetable crops absorb residual nutrients from the soil. Plants do not utilize all of the nutrients applied at planting time and as side dressing. Unless these nutrients are absorbed by the roots of plants, they will leach down into the groundwater. If you don’t plant a fall crop to absorb those residual nutrients, you should sow a cover crop of winter rye at the rate of three pounds per 1,000 square feet.
    Fall crops tend to be sweeter than spring and summer crops. The combination of warm days and cool nights promotes the translocation of and accumulation of sugars in the edible portions.
    Fall-grown peas can be harvested until the first killing frost. Carrots and beets can remain in the garden all winter long and harvested as needed providing the ground is not frozen hard. If you plant three different varieties of Brussels sprouts — such as Churchill, Oliver and Diablo — you can enjoy eating fresh Brussels sprouts from early October until January.
    To maintain the organic matter concentration in my garden soil, I sow winter rye between the rows in late September, before mid-October. The late planting of winter rye minimizes competition for water and nutrients and does not shade the crop but protects the soil from erosion and allows you to walk in the garden when the soil is wet without getting mud on your shoes.

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One is American, the other speaks with a soft Scottish accent

When our expanding family moved from our small house in Annapolis proper to a larger abode in Cape St. Claire on the Broadneck Peninsula, we were greeted by one of the more garrulous and distinctive birds in America, the crow. A large flock of the all-black avians was ensconced in and around the many trees that abounded in our new neighborhood.
    They did not sound like the crows I had grown up with long ago in Pennsylvania. These Broadneck crows seemed to have a different call all together, a low-pitched, nasal caw quite unlike the brash, raspy caw-caw-caw I was accustomed to hearing. It was as if these birds were possessed of a strong but soft Scottish accent.
    I discovered that not only did they sound different from the crows of my youth, the American crow (Corvus branchyrynchos), they were an altogether different species: the fish crow (Corvus ossifragus). Their numbers are significantly less than the American crow, but they are common to the wetlands and river drainages throughout the eastern and southeastern United States.
    Smaller than the American crow but not by much, the fish crow is otherwise a very similar bird. They are all black, quite intelligent and dine omnivorously on anything edible, including crustaceans, fish (living and dead), fruits, small reptiles and mammals and, unfortunately, the nestlings of other birds.
    Those ebony rascals ranged through our Broadneck neighborhood for a number of years — until one spring I heard the additional calls of the American crow echoing around the houses. At first I thought it was a melding of sorts, but after a day or so I realized the truth. A battle for territory was going on.
    The fight — and it was a loud one — lasted for the better part of two weeks. After that the nasal, Scottish accent of the fish crows that we had become accustomed to was replaced with the raucous caw of the American crow. This species then dominated our neighborhood for the next 20 years.
    A few weeks ago, however, I began to hear that Scottish burr once more. Their calls seemed to be everywhere at once as they began flitting through almost every copse of trees in the area.
    I then realized I had not been hearing crows of any kind for some time, years perhaps. Doing a little digging, I discovered that the reason for this absence had been a dire episode for crow populations in general.
    West Nile Virus, first identified in 1937 in Uganda, showed up in the United States in 1999 and within three years was widespread across America. A mosquito-borne infection that hit about 20 percent of humans with flu-like symptoms (and worse), it proved particularly deadly to all species of crows in the Americas.
    Ultimately, the fish crow proved somewhat more resilient (50 percent mortality once exposed to the disease), than the American crow (over 90 percent mortality). The overall crow population across the nation collapsed to about half of its previous abundance. Now that precipitous decline appears to have leveled out if not reversed.
    There is hope and some scientific evidence that both species are increasing in resistance to West Nile, but the change is slow. In the meantime, the territory of the more disease-resistant fish crow is expending due to the relative absence of the once-abundant American species.
    Today, it is once again pleasurable to hear the understated voice of the fish crow echoing about the Tidewater. Though sometime in the future the species may be again challenged for territorial supremacy, I am delighted to be remaking its acquaintance.
    Note: The raven, the largest bird of the genus Corvus, is also seen in Maryland but much less commonly. Ravens are noticeably bigger than both American and fish crows. Many of those around the Chesapeake favor purple and black.

Conservation Note

    The Atlantic States Marine Fisheries Commission made a decision in 2012 to manage Atlantic menhaden as a critical part of the ecosystem rather than a single species and reduced the allowable commercial harvest. The results were an improvement in species population.
    Now, at the first sign of success, the Commission is considering increasing the commercial harvest.
    Communicating your displeasure at this action could reinforce the Commission’s resolve to protect the species: ASMFC, Menhaden Management, 1050 N. Highland St., Suite 200 A-N, Arlington, VA 22201 or A personal written and mailed comment gets exponentially more consideration than an email.