Mostly Obeying
Among the behaviors we were able to train Asher to obey rather easily upon adopting him, the one his is most prone to testing is having him stay out of the kitchen. We do not trust his loyalty on that one when we are not around and make a big effort to keep all food stashed out of view and out of reach when we leave the kitchen.
Asher knows to stay out when we are in the vicinity and he impressively will not go after his ball when it rolls into the forbidden zone. However, he is very consistent about taking a step or two across the line to see if the invisible wall may have been relaxed when Cyndie is busy cooking.
This is how I found him when I came down from the loft for dinner after Cyndie called to me:
He should not be past the refrigerator/freezer doors.
Mostly obeying, you might say.
Regarding the recent Wisconsin election that went the way of Susan Crawford who didn’t offer anyone money for a vote, we are feeling deep satisfaction to have been able to cast our votes for a chance at a better future. A chance is better than none.
When we were communicating with friends about the news of our desired outcome in the election Tuesday night, the topic of overt offers of money for supporting the other guy came up.
Cyndie commented, “I think illegal stuff should be illegal.” It really struck my funny bone. In a logical world, such a phrase shouldn’t need to be uttered. In today’s reality, I would like to wear a T-shirt with the thought printed across the front.
Gosh, imagine if there were enforceable consequences for violating just and ethical laws.
Imagine if the police didn’t seem so willing to fulfill the diabolical edicts of a wannabe dictator. I suppose they are mostly just obeying orders.
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Tolerance Reached
We have tolerated the ever-increasing number of pigeons roosting in the eaves of the barn overhang for the last few years but we’ve reached our limit. Their panicky flapping of departure and arrival each time they come and go gets incredibly annoying but the constant build-up of their shit coating every surface is the worst.
Short of resorting to methods of lethal force, we decided to put up barriers to close off their access to the eaves. Before covering the open areas, we decided to clean out the accumulation blocking the slots in the soffits.
That ended up being more nasty than we suspected it would be. If we don’t end up getting some form of bird flu or other illness from exposure to everything we found up there, it will be a shock.
In addition to the slabs of petrified pigeon droppings, there was a surprising amount of dismembered wings and other pigeon parts, including one entire body. We succeeded in doing some population control by removing several eggs. I was startled several times when a pigeon I didn’t know was still in there suddenly felt the time had come to escape, blasting past my face and almost knocking me off the ladder.
Now when they show up to roost, there is a lot of fluttering like a hummingbird as they struggle to figure out that their favorite spot is no longer available. Cyndie found a whole bunch had chosen to make do by perching on the 2-by-4 rafters for lack of other options.
If they persist there, we will need to add some disincentives to those spaces, as well.
I’d rather not spend any more time on a ladder for a long while. It was exhausting work to wrestle the hardware cloth into position and operate the staple gun at imperfect angles with my back and legs aching and my feet growing more tired of the rungs on the ladder by the minute.
The dang DeWalt heavy-duty stapler I have is supposed to have an “anti-jam magazine to prevent jams and misfires” as well as “easy squeeze technology.” Not on my model. I struggled mightily with both problems. It made for a frustrating combination up on the ladder where leverage is greatly compromised at extended reaches.
The horses were surprisingly calm tolerating our intrusion on their space and showed reasonable patience while we made them wait longer than usual for their afternoon feeding. They may understand what we were up to and appreciate the effort, although they will end up suffering some increase in frustrated pigeon wing-flapping for a little while.
I think they have tolerated the pigeon population explosion about as well as could be expected, but won’t be disappointed if the birds find other places to roost.
If this works as we hope, I will be overjoyed.
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Stupid Bots
Based on the first-hand evidence of my direct experience, I can confidently proclaim that the bots programmed to spam cell phones with calls and texts are missing a key morsel of intelligence. Especially the ones trying to mine votes for the candidate Musk and Trump so desperately seek in the Wisconsin Supreme Court election.
“Help elect… and get rewarded for it. Earn $20 for each Wisconsin voter you recruit – they get $20 too.”
The messages have been relentless. We may have received one or two for Judge Crawford –I delete all of them, regardless of the candidate– but the flood that has been begging (and bribing) for votes for Schimel to serve the power grab by Elon and his pal, Donald, has come non-stop by the quarter hour.
The brilliant technology doesn’t take into account that the campaigners are targeting a person (me) who objects to their message and methods. Smart tech would recognize where the message gets deleted before being read, especially after three, four, or even five tries, and stop trying that number. Move on to a fresh target.
If there is any mercy left in the world, I hope it will bring an end to the relentless annoyance of campaign calls today now that election day has arrived for us. I would dearly love to return to my expedition in a political-news-free wilderness.
April Fool’s Day. Well played, Universe.
Cyndie and I will do our part to save the country by our votes. I’m sure we will be key to swaying the election away from the fascist billionaires who seek to rule the world with their buddy, Putin, by eliminating any obstructions still hanging by a thread in the U.S.
According to the Associated Press, Wisconsin’s “high-stakes race has become a proxy battle over the nation’s politics.” It reports that more than $90 million has been spent on the race. If I would just sign Musk’s petition and recruit others to join me, I could earn my own chunk of that heavy spending.
Damn, I miss the days when politicians needed to hide their bribery schemes.
Even though I have been avoiding news media, I am well aware that on Saturday, April 5, people who object to the attack on the citizens of this country by the current administration will be protesting across the land. Like the rallies recently held by AOC and Bernie, like-minded conscientious political objectors can gather and assure each other we are not alone.
I wish it would have more power to actually stop what is going on since nobody else seems to be able to do anything. When do we get to the part of the script where the hero shows up and once and for all dispatches the villain? I mean, at least until the next sequel gets released.
Ethan Hunt? Is this an impossible mission? Jason Bourne? Reacher? Bond? Rambo? Harry Potter? Beuller? Anyone? Someone?
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Feeling (C)old
Three days ago, our temperatures were around 80°F. Welcome to spring in the Northland. That unseasonal warmth brought an overnight storm with heavy rain and loads of lightning and thunder. Most of the day yesterday dragged on with a dreary occasional mist and temps hovering in the very chilly mid-30s.
Around dinnertime, the temperature dropped below freezing.
Just 47 minutes later, it looked like this outside:
Hot and cold weather always bounces back and forth this time of year, so we should be well-adjusted to coping with the changes, but the return of wintery chills and snow never fails to feel like an undeserved punishment.
It’s the final day of March. I could hope that this is the last blanketing of snow we will get for the season, but ever since going through the extreme experience of receiving 18 inches of snow on May 2nd, 2013, I won’t assume we are in the clear until the calendar flips to June.
Cyndie tried convincing Mia to wear a light blanket for protection against the wetness, but Mia wasn’t interested. I figure she didn’t want to look different than the other Mares. All four of them seem to be coping just fine, as they almost always do.
I’ve got coping skills of my own that I’ve been executing. Lounging in the recliner by the fireplace, eating more than I should, adding a few inches and pounds of insulation around my middle, and napping whenever my tired eyes keep trying to stay closed. It feels an awful lot like my impression of what getting old must be like.
My initiative to maintain an exercise routine for back health and strong core muscles has done a disappearing act. Now in my mid-60s, I seem to have experienced a shift of my own from hot to cold. My morning workouts now tend to involve more cerebral pursuits like Wordle, Strands, and Connections in the NY Times games suite and sporadic stabs at Words With Friends competitions.
My aging is getting more obvious now that mental exercise has become just as tiring as my physical workouts once were.
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Missing Spoon
This is why we can’t have nice things. I was mucking manure from the sloppy mud just beyond the roof line of the overhang when Cyndie stepped out of the barn to ask if I had taken the wooden spoon.
My answer was, “What?” because every exchange between us now always starts with the second person needing questions repeated.
Why would I take the wooden spoon? We keep a cup and spoon by the water spigot in the barn for wetting down the incredibly dusty, cracked grains we put out in buckets for the horses. It was missing.
We both separately searched high and low inside the barn to no avail. What critter would abscond with a long-handled wooden spoon? There was probably a small amount of grain residue stuck to the shallow bowl, but that seems like a paltry treasure worth hauling away.
We have several burrowing pests in addition to the cats and possibly raccoons that make themselves at home in and around the barn. I don’t know if the spoon was moved outside of the barn or if it might have been stashed inside somewhere. There are plenty of nooks and crannies where it could end up out of sight.
I’d rather not start moving every item stored within to look beneath it, but I have a compelling urge not to let the thief win. I hate getting outsmarted by pestering critters.
Cyndie has already selected a replacement spoon from the kitchen. I suggested she attach a tether with an awkwardly large bauble on it, as is done for gas station bathroom keys.
Actually, I’d like to put an alligator clip and wire so we can connect it to the hot wire of our electric fence after each use. That’d send a message. I know better than to do that, though. The most likely one to receive that message would end up being my lovely wife.
Critters – 1 … Humans – 0.
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Find Both
This morning, we built a fire in the fireplace to ward off the chill of the dampness we awoke to after an overnight thunderstorm. The temperature is in the 30s (F). Above freezing, at least. Yesterday, the high nearly reached 80 degrees. The bouncing of spring, I guess.
We met Jeremy! He is the new person who will be our primary contact with This Old Horse. As such, he will be the person delivering bags of grain for the mares.
On his first visit, he came bearing seven new bags. Literally, new bags. They are paper bags instead of the woven plastic previously in use. I didn’t handle them, but Cyndie reported they seem like they will rip easily. One had torn when Jeremy loaded it in his car.
He drives a Subaru and is a big lover of cats. Interesting seeing the enhanced logo he added to his car since the car brand markets itself so very strongly as a dog-friendly automobile. Meow.
How about a puzzle exercise for your Saturday morning or whenever you happen to read this? There are two things to be noticed in each of the following photos. Try your eyes and see if you can figure out what my crazy mind is thinking.
One is easier to spot than the other.
Click the thumbnail below for solutions…
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Sad Truth
No matter which side of the current democracy debate happening in the U.S. is bombarding my inboxes, they share a common trait: it all comes down to the almighty dollar. Apparently, Elon Musk offered up $1 million to entice voters to pick the Republican party’s favored Wisconsin Supreme Court judge. At the same time, the latest email from MoveOn.org in the name of Robert Reich outlines “the most sweeping assault on the American mind in modern history.” It goes on to tell me “we need a massive movement” and then asks if I will help in the form of $5.00 a month.
So much for my dream of wandering in the wilderness for four years to avoid news of the most despicable people to ever gain control over every branch of our once reasonably sound government.
Since the current administration of evil-doers is rushing to slash funding of practically any government program you can think of that was created to help people, all those organizations that were barely functioning on what little money they received are now looking to the citizens for more cash. The occasional fund drive weeks of public radio and television will become full-time pleas.
The sad truth is that when Public Radio begs me one more time to give even more than my current amount of sustaining donations, I may need to tell them I can’t afford any amount if the Social Security program falls under the destructive cash-grab by the kleptocrats in office.
How many ethical judges will be able to survive the methods of achieving autocracies that have sadly been proven successful throughout history?
If only someone would have warned us this might happen and encouraged citizens to get to the polls and vote to save our democracy last November. I guess they should have also offered a cash incentive bonus.
To their credit, MoveOn did send me one protest effort that didn’t immediately ask for money. The “HANDS OFF” national day of action (Saturday, April 5) looks to rally thousands of people across the country for nonviolent protest of the brazen power grab underway. I fully support their intentions but don’t believe for one second that protests by the masses will worry the bullies in the White House one bit.
I’m not sure whose attention we need to get in order to turn this ship around. We can stop shopping at every big corporation’s retail businesses, but it seems like it’s the power holders in Russia who have control over the U.S. now. I don’t think they care one bit about the possible collapse of our economy. Wait. What am I thinking? That is probably an integral part of their plan.
They let the Orange-One and Musk think they are all powerful and getting wealthier by the minute while Putin sits back and watches Russia’s one-time nemesis of global order and Olympic competition wilt away into irrelevance. If I were Musk and his boss-in-crime, I’d be supremely cautious around high windows and flights of stairs in the presence of Putin’s goons. As far as theories go, seems plausible enough to me.
I wonder if goon is a high-paying position. Remember, it’s all about the money, and one probably needs to keep their goons contented to the extreme.
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Unintended Kick
I got kicked by Mia the other day. Sort of. It was rather cute, really, since no damage was done, and I don’t believe either of us was at fault.
Cleaning up manure while the horses milled about before we brought out their buckets of grains, I was moving through the short alley between the two sides of the overhang. I had my back toward Mia as I walked, and I didn’t notice her decision to follow in my direction. I suspect one of the other horses caused Mia to suddenly pick up her pace, and she sped up to make it through the alleyway and stay out of their reach.
It is almost unbelievable how quietly such a large animal can move. As I was in mid-step, my heel was up, and the bottom of my boot was exposed behind me. I felt the contact of something on the bottom of my foot before I knew what was happening.
In a blink, Mia’s large body was brushing past my shoulder and into the clear ahead of us. That bump against my boot didn’t make sense. A fraction of a second later, I knew exactly what it was.
Most special for me, as I was carrying on with my manure cleanup, Mia approached in a way that very much felt like she was attempting to offer an apology for the strike.
I think I should do some work on my awareness of an entire 360° around me at all times when in proximity of the horses. Obviously, relying on my ears is not sufficient.
I’m lucky I didn’t suffer a bad outcome this time. It’s best I don’t expect luck to save me when it comes to the next surprising horse movement that is bound to occur while I am standing near.
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Plastic Goats
Sure, we could get goats to control the patches of poison ivy on our land, but we don’t need large swaths eaten down to a moonscape. We want a more targeted approach and one that will cost us less than goats. We are taking a shot at using plastic and/or cardboard to cover specific patches where the problem plant is most entrenched.
The hope is to turn just a select strip into a miniature moonscape. Since this method kills everything beneath the plastic, it’s not different from spraying entire swaths with a solution of vinegar/salt/dish soap concoctions, so we may experiment with that in a different location. Cyndie donned protective gear and worked to cut out the woody stems of poison ivy with berries that are very easily seen right now. She left her good gloves behind with Asher to stand guard.
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The horses came over to see what was up and lingered in the vicinity for a short while, grazing the dead grass and any new sprouts beneath that might be showing up.
I decided to make myself useful and worked to cut out the grapevine stems from the other side of the brush where Cyndie was working.
Anywhere on our property that we don’t regularly walk through is pretty much guaranteed to have grape vines seeking to become the dominant species, bending branches and entire trees down into submission. Trying to keep them at bay could be a full-time job. I yanked as many strands as possible from the branches of the bushes that were being swallowed and made a pile of vines.
I guess we worked for longer than Asher could stay awake.
We’ll wait a growing season and then see if we can encourage a desirable ground cover to fill in areas that have been under our plastic version of leaf-munching goats. The weather patterns of the last two years produced the largest expansion of poison ivy since we’ve lived here. It would be nice if we could make some headway in the other direction this year.
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Vines Again
While walking through the woods yesterday with Cyndie and Asher, we decided to knock down as many of the broken and tipped trees and branches as we could reach and deal with using my pruning saw. Inadvertently, that ended up including freeing up some trees from the grip of vines as we came upon them. For as much energy we have put toward de-vining our trees over the years, it continues to surprise me to find how many we must have overlooked. In addition to that, there are plenty where vines were cut out previously but have resprouted, requiring another round of attempted eradication.
One common vine we have seen many times in the middle of the fully shaded woods grabs a firm hold on the bark and has a very impressive web of roots tangling great lengths across the forest floor.
Out of curiosity, I did some image searches for similar-looking vines on tree trunks, and to my surprise, the most common and repeated match identified it as poison ivy. Oops. Really?
I have a pretty good handle on identifying the three leaves of poison ivy plants and have never seen any greenery on these hairy vines on the trees, so I never connected the two. Also, I have never experienced a rash outbreak after messing with the vines in the woods, which surprises me since I react pretty easily when having contact with the low-growing plants in the sunny expanses around our property.
I consider myself lucky and will be giving these vines in the woods a little more respect when coming across them in the future. I will definitely be looking more closely for signs of the telltale leaves in the woods during the growing season.
Part of the problem probably stems from the fact that we don’t see very far into the thick woods off the trail during the growing season, and there are so many green leaves that we’re less likely to spot poison ivy leaves among all the others. Out on the edges where it grows in the sun, it is very easy to see.
While standing in the middle of a section of the woods off-trail yesterday, I spotted a curious pattern of young hornbeam (also called ironwood) trees that had sprouted around the trunk of a large poplar tree.
I am curious what led to this arrangement. The way the hornbeam trees are growing in something of a circle mimics the pattern of new growth after we cut down a tree, and the energy stored in the roots sends up a ring of new shoots around its circumference. Could something like that have happened here, and the poplar (a much faster-growing tree) just happened to emerge in the middle of them? I don’t really know what else to think, given my lack of education in the intricacies of tree species and their growth. Whatever, it is certainly an interesting sight.
Much more common and easy to identify are the numerous grapevines sprouting up from almost everywhere, but especially from places where we have cut them out before. That plant is VERY good at spouting new life from any fragments left in contact with the ground.
This time of year, before any leaves have sprouted open, is prime time for us to do vine hunting… again.
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Relative Something 