BeeZee CEO (canine executive officer) – smart, funny, better than a wise grandmother…

Being the progeny of a Rat Terrier and Blue Heeler, I have both hunting and herding genes. I'm a Mountain Feist. This historic hybrid that began in the 17th century gets mentions in a poem by Abraham Lincoln and the diary of George Washington. We evolved from terriers and scent hounds bred in the South to hunt, rat and tree, get rid of vermin, track game and, eventually, earn a reputation as good companions.

My Aussie blood makes me want to round up anything with two or four legs, mostly people who are fearful – being a rescue that came with a huge suitcase of issues, their fear triggers my defenses and I want to cut them out of the immediate herd. Oh, my human is right there, and I know better, but that hybrid vigor makes me really smart and one tends to work the system, you know…

I was born to love wildlife. I love to inhale those scents. I love to roll in them and get that intoxicating fragrance all over me. But most of all, I love to eat. I have a serious jones for canned wild caught red salmon, but my greatest breed-related achievement was in late 2010 shortly after my human took me home from Middleburg Humane Foundation when I treed a big old hairy raccoon during a brisk outing in fields next to where we lived. It was totally fun to "glare" that raccoon up a tree not once, but twice!

(Human: That raccoon was huge with a lovely massive shimmering pelt, mostly white and longer than its legs. I contacted the now late Shelley O'Higgins, a huntsman who knew wildlife and described in detail my new bestie's encounter. Shelley said: "That's a boar 'coon – he's vital to replenish the gene pool, so few live that long – it's a testimony to 'survival of the fittest.' Glad you let it be." I wish I had a video, but memories must suffice: BeeZee standing on hind legs, front paws on the trunk – and those eyes locked on the boar coon, hissing, spitting and growling ferociously from his safe perch. BeeZee didn't speak or yap; a low rumbling from deep inside and that laser glare kept that enraged coon treed. It was quite a dramatic encounter: BeeZee was awesome, and that boar coon was wise enough to stay put, but to be honest, once was enough.)

Within a mile or so of Middleburg, there's lots of wildlife where my beagle pals live. They have that invisible fence, which really freaked me out learning how to respect it, but I'm pretty okay now when I stay there and need to wear a collar. I love my beagle pals and they love to hunt. But I don't sing the way they do when we pick up a scent in their yard. Beagles are so cool, especially when they're making a joyful noise. Tally Ho!

Me? I'm a scent & sight- hound. I'll pick up a whiff, my eyes alert for the merest glimpse, and I'm away. Fleet feet take the lead over the nose – I keep my eyes peeled. I can't sniff and run. But my beagle pals can. We have fun.

Bears give off a great scent, but most of them are wary of us. I think we should be wary of them, too. They're big and strong and they smell – they smell totally not like deer or fox or raccoons, boar or ordinary-sized ones. Bears smell really wild. Even black bears can be dangerously aggressive if they feel at all threatened or cornered, especially a mama with cubs.

A black bear has been a regular visitor where my beagle pals live. Their human stocks her bird feeders year round, attracting hummingbirds, big birds, little birds, and bears. Note the nice clear daytime photo of what happened to that human's favorite birdfeeder. The night photos of the black bear are too dark, but there's a video of the bear handling a feeder with care to open the hinged lid to consume the contents without destroying it.

(Beagles' Human: "I like that bear, but he seems to be gone. A couple weeks ago, I took the bird feeders inside. The bear came back one time, but I haven't seen him lately so maybe he's hibernating. My birds are complaining, and I'm going to put their feeders back. Four years ago, a momma with four cubs visited here pretty regularly for a while – bears are highly attracted to the chestnut trees behind my place. I think this young bear is one of those cubs. His visits are exciting.)

Well, my beagle pals had two different reactions to the last time that bear came to visit where they live. One ran inside, and the other was out there, almost nose to nose with that bear with only the invisible fence between them. But her human got her back inside before they could escalate hostilities, so to speak. My beagle pal is one tough cookie: she wouldn't have backed down, but it wouldn't have been pretty...

If it's cold enough and food's short, black bears tend to hibernate for the winter. The birds will be happy, that's for sure, but remember that birdseed can be fatal if devoured by dogs. We're your best friend – please keep us safe.