Just This

Anna was checking Kevin's beak, he hurt it a month or so ago and we used super glue. I was taking a picture to pass on to poultry people so they could see how well it worked. 

This was the picture.

And then the fun began. No Photoshop, none needed.

Goodbye 2016. Don't Come Back.

Once more I call upon my lovely little hen, #33, to wish everyone a merry Christmas.

The last show for 2016 was in Victorville last weekend, a 7 hour drive through some of the nastiest parts of California. This is never my favorite show, but this time Anna went with me and that made it almost fun. And, of course, it's always wonderful to see my chicken show friends.

There is a movie now available that depicts chicken shows and the people who participate in them.

It was on CMT, but it's available at Amazon Instant video. Anna and I watched it on the plane on the way home from Kauai last month. It can be watched by people who know nothing about poultry shows. Like everything these days, it's too dramatized to suit my tastes, but I guess that's what the public wants. It's what they get, no matter what they want.

I know some of the people in the movie, those in minor parts. Notably Walt (a judge that is criticized early in the movie, and his helper Suzanne). The whining fellow in the movie calls Walt a bad judge. This is so far from the truth. Walt is not only a very good judge, he's also a very helpful fellow, one of my favorite people to see anywhere. And he's nearing 80 and he still races cars. If you watch the movie, you may get the impression that chicken show people are unstable. That's simply not so. I don't know the 3 people who are profiled, but I'd bet they're more down to earth than the movie implies. Even so-called documentaries these days are full of manufactured drama.

I'm trying to forget all the drama from the social and political insanity of 2016. It's difficult because the offending idiot is still being dangled in our faces; each new day expanding our perception of the absurd.

I wanted to go to Standing Rock. Me, an old lady who has trouble shuffling around on flat ground. The rebel within never dies. I sent them money instead, and am so proud of the Veterans who, once again, went in my stead.

Here in Sloughhouse, life is pretty much the same as usual. Bob and Anna are still my roommates. I'm not sure what their plans are (I don't think they know, either.) but I like having them here. "Here" in this picture is at my brother's place in the mountains.

Both the kids are working hard. Anna is a medical assistant for a company that serves people who need assistance. The company is scrambling hard right now to find ways to continue their services if healthcare funds are curtailed. Bob is in a service van, driving all over Northern California. His job is typical of what young people face today. A year ago he was with a company that wasn't well managed, it was very top heavy. He moved to a company that is more savvy and responsive to their employees, and was enjoying working in a place where initiative was rewarded. Then the first company merged with the second company and he's back to top-heavy management. This morning he was sent to Santa Rosa (a 2 hour drive) for a small maintenance job. His pay doesn't start until he gets to the site, and it stops as soon as he heads home. This is the kind of shit young people have to deal with.

One of his friends, a very capable young man, went to two more years of school after he got his college degree, to become an EMT with a fire department. He is expected to work for free for months until they decide whether or not to hire him. The same thing goes on in the law enforcement business.

Being retired, I'm no longer subject to the whims of an employer. When I worked, there were good times and hard times, but my employers were generally straightforward people and as long as their businesses went well (or there were grants - in the edbiz) you could count on a paycheck without the spectre of doom hanging over your head. We all felt like we were working for everyone's benefit.

Now, in my retirement, I raise chickens and show them. I garden, I read, I travel when I can, and even find time to cook a bit. For Thanksgiving I made a Pilgrim Pumpkin Pie. The historians' theory is that the Pilgrims had no flour for pie crust, so they just hollowed out a squash, baked it, then added some custard and baked it some more. As I was making this, I had to wonder where the pilgrims got milk and eggs for the custard.

It looks a little dicey, but it actually tasted very good. I'd make it again.

Finally, here's what keeps me going...a picture from a family Thanksgiving.

There are 5 of us who have seen a lot of years, 7 (one is taking the picture) in the next generation who are all bright, creative, hard-working and very lovable people, and their 5 young ones. Being with family is a joy that keeps you going even when the rest of the world is insane.

Still Alive and Staying Busy

This is Jan speaking. I'm alive and well in Sloughhouse. Blogging has taken a back seat in my life, it seems like there is so much going on but so little of it is newsworthy.

I have been raising chicks since February, the last few are still in the house waiting for an open pen outside. This week I'm sorting through the birds to take a load to the auction on Sunday. It's the same story every year, raise a bunch and cull down to a few I can show.

The show season pretty much ended in April. Anna and I did drive all the way to Fallbrook, near San Diego, to a new show. It was very small, we had to take our own cages for the birds.

I've spent a lot of time out in the flower garden, too. Anna and I planted a lot of flowers, it takes me at least an hour every day to hand water and keep weeds pulled. Note: don't ever plant morning glories, they come up by the thousands, must be related to kudzu.

Bob and Anna are fine, they both leave for work early every day and get home late at night. It's really no problem having them here because I don't see that much of them.

Wesley and Gollie, the house cats, are fine also. I had them tested for feline leukemia after the feral cat and Biscuit succumbed to it, but they tested clear. They had been vaccinated, but sometimes that doesn't work.

There are 2 new feral cats outside. Both have clipped ears, so someone took them to SPCA and had them neutered and given rabies shots before they were dumped here. I guess that's a good thing. One is the ugliest cat I've ever seen. We call her Ally. She looks like a starved opossum. I don't have a picture of her yet. When she's hungry she stands on the back steps and yowls like a mountain lion.

The other cat is a little black one. It stays in the weeds at the perimeter of the back yard and shows up every afternoon for some food.

I can't see that either of these new cats actually catch mice, but they also don't bother the chickens or the pigeons. Ally can walk down the sidewalk with pigeons sunning themselves on the lawn, and the pigeons don't even move. The black cat never comes into the yard.

July was very hot here, most days over 100 degrees. I did my chores early and late and stayed indoors during the hottest part of the day. Mostly I read. A book every day and a half, so I read over 20 books last month. My ancient Kindle finally just gave up and died, so I transferred everything to my iPad. I've found I prefer reading on it, anyway.

I've had problems with the horses. Blue Top is 30, Dusty is 20. Last fall BT was really thin and we worried he wouldn't last the winter. I started buying him pelleted feed, though, and now he's doing much better, fat and sassy. While I had him penned so I could feed him, Dusty was in the pasture. When the green grass came up, he foundered. He's doing better, though the summer-hard ground keeps him limping.

I have no idea if I'll find the inspiration to blog much. I haven't moved on to Instagram or Twitter. I do read Facebook, or at least I did until election season started. Right now checking Facebook is like peeking through the small windows in an insane asylum. I don't like seeing people I love in the throes of political insanity.

Why?

I have had a set of Tupperware plastic canisters for at least 25 years. A couple of years ago, the lid on a medium canister split. This is the sugar canister. I don't care about sugar. Bugs don't get into sugar. So I just put a piece of plastic wrap over the top and scrunched the lid back on.

Two weeks ago, or maybe more – I lose track of time – the kitchen was painted. That made me look at all the old, crappy stuff as I was moving it in boxes.

I thought, "I should get a new canister set for my nice, clean kitchen."

So I looked online. I couldn't find anything I liked. There was nothing as easy to keep clean as my old Tupperware. So I considered new Tupperware. It would have cost a small fortune for that. I just decided to keep my old stuff, give it a good cleaning, and see if I could procure a new lid for the broken one.

I found the part on the Tupperware site! I decided I should also buy new lids for the 2 larger canisters that get used a lot. So I called the phone number. There was a fellow who picked up the phone. A genuine English-speaking fellow. I told him what I wanted and gave him the part numbers. He doodled around with his computer for a minute then came back to me. "The large lids are only available in black," he said. My old ones are green. "That's okay," I said.

He told me there was no charge for the lids. "What?" I said, "It's only the medium one that's cracked, I just want the other two as spares, I'm happy to pay for them." He said, "No, you only need to pay $4.78 for shipping."

Wow! I felt so proud of myself for actually taking care of a problem. And on the phone, no less. I'm not great on the phone.

So this is what arrived only a few days after.

There is no replacement for the cracked lid. There are two black large lids and a replacement (updated model) for the medium canister. If I want to use it, I have to put the old, cracked lid on it.

The part number for the new canister is not even close to the part numbers for the lids.

Why does this always happen in my world?

Show Season is Winding Down

There are only a couple of poultry shows left in this season, one in Red Bluff and one near San Diego. Red Bluff is just a couple hours' drive up the valley. San Diego is quite a drive, but I'm going to try it. The length of the drive doesn't bother me, it's having to go through Los Angeles. I may be timing the drive so I do that at 3 a.m. just to avoid the traffic.

Here are some of my traveling buddies.

#33

This is the first bird that won Best of Show for me, my hen #33. She has been to 20 shows. In addition to BOS once, she has 17 blue ribbons, has been been Best of Breed 10 times, Best RCCL and Best Bantam twice, and Reserve RCCL 3 times. I mostly take her to shows because she keeps herself in wonderful condition and she likes to show. Laying eggs is not her thing, she only lays by appointment. She has produced maybe 6 chicks over the years.

Want to take her picture? No problem, just bring out the camera and #33 runs through her Top Model poses for you.

#28

This is #28, a pullet that did really well this year. She isn't as sprightly as #33, but she has excellent color. Barred and cuckoo females are often very dark, the color on their wings and back is muddied with gray. This girl and her sisters have very sharp color with a 50/50 white and dark pattern. All the judges liked her except the very last one who judged. He didn't place her at all and marked "too light" on her card. He needs to study the Standard of Perfection. He also judged the large fowl at the same show and placed my best LF pullet last because of her (excellent) color. This happens sometimes. I'm hoping the other judges will be able to pull this judge aside sometime soon and bring him up to speed.

The two girls above are bantam Dominiques. This is a large fowl Dominique that I've been showing.

#25

He's not an outstanding bird, but he's adequate to show. His tail could be better if he had wider tail feathers so there was no gap between them, and longer sickle feathers. The sickle feathers are the main tail feathers. Below is a picture of an ideal Dominique male.

This is from an old picture of an actual bird that was retouched by Schilling (a renowned poultry artist) to show the ideal. #25, the bird I'm showing, could be "gamier," which means more upright and have less body mass. #25 also could benefit from a neater comb and smaller wattles, and a fuller tail. Until I find a large fowl that meets these criteria, I'll just keep showing the one I have.

I do raise a few large fowl chicks a year, maybe a dozen. I would prefer to find an ideal bird and buy it to show, I don't ever intend to raise a lot of LF just to get a good one. Large fowl eat too much and take up too much space, compared to bantams. They are also harder for me to handle. When I first got #25 he'd been free ranging up in Oregon and he was one tough fellow. I could barely hang onto him. It took a lot of work to tame him for showing.

So this time of year I have fewer birds than at any other time. I raised 200 bantam chicks last year and have about 50 bantams left. Next week I'll be mailing off 6 more to people in other parts of the country. There are about 25 birds in breeding pens, I'm collecting their eggs and hatching them. The others are spares I'm keeping. I have 10 old hens in a spacious outdoor pen in case I need to do some linebreeding. I have probably 6 extra males in case something happens to their brothers that I'm using for breeding. I hardly ever lose a chicken. The pens are predator proof (at least they have been, knock on wood), the birds are healthy. But sometimes a male will prove to be infertile or a female will not be a good layer, so it's wise to keep spares.

I have hatched 18 bantams and 5 large fowl chicks so far this year. This is my least favorite part of showing chickens. I hatch and brood the chicks in the house. That's noisy and dusty and I hate it. But if I want to raise birds that will be big enough when the late summer shows start, I have to start in winter, and the incubators and brooders are not reliable when they have to function in a building that isn't heated and insulated. So, it's inside the house...

...the house with boxes stacked everywhere, the house that's already the scene of so much chaos right now. I need to get things back in order. Or maybe I need it to stop raining so I can get outside and enjoy the tulips, the camellias, and the lilacs that are blooming.

Still a Grumpy Mess

I still have no furniture. Everything is still in boxes that are stacked all over the house.

Before I can empty at least 4 of the boxes back into my antique bookcase, it needs to be moved. That takes 3 men. This is a really busy time of the year on a farm, it's hard to find 3 guys at once, they're all out working really hard.

Last week they were kind enough to squeeze in some outdoor work for me. The "killer" storm that was supposed to hit California wasn't near as bad as advertised but we did get about 10 minutes of very brisk wind. The sort that moans and whistles just outside the rattling windows. That knocked down a few trees here in Sloughhouse and took the entire top off the old Signorotti hop kiln, a local landmark.

Three of the trees were on my property. Two fell into the horse pasture. They rested on the fence but didn't break it. Tightened it nicely, in fact. The other was half a tree in the yard. It fell right next to my ancient Chevy truck. Nothing here was damaged. I have a tree service come every other year to take out and trim problem trees. There's still plenty for them to work on. But the guys from Davis Ranch came over with a tractor, a trailer, and a couple of chain saws and made quick work and a stack of firewood.

An observation: the "killer" wind didn't even blow the tarp off the bale of hay next to the fence. Nor did it blow the blooming tulips over. I don't think it reached the ground. Can wind do that? Just stay about 20 feet up in the air?

I'm hoping for some time soon to just be able to go through the boxes and get the house back in order. I hate disorder, it makes me crazy. Maybe I haven't cleaned up the mess just so I can blame disorder on my craziness?

The cats also need to have order restored. Biscuit just lays in his bed, temporarily on top of the dining room table. He's wise, he knows that's a safe place.

He would prefer to sleep on furniture. I loaned the wheelchair to a friend last month. When she returned it, I left it in the living room to use as a chair. Biscuit tried to make it work for him.

It didn't work for me, either. The floor is high in the middle and low on the edges, so the wheelchair rolls down into the wall. 

Gollie doesn't mind all the chaos so much. It gives her new places to hide. But she's been in this house for 13 years and wants her familiar hidey holes back, too.

Wesley takes advantage of chaos to make more messes. He pulls things out of the boxes and uses them for toys. 

To add to the catfusion around here, I'm having to take all the cats in to a new vet this week. Today is Biscuit's appointment. The mangy little black cat that was hanging out on the porch this past year got sick and had to be euthanized. I had just managed to start petting it, it was really a sweet little girl. Except I found out at the vet's it was a boy, and that it was in the last stages of feline leukemia.

I'm pretty sure Wes and Gollie have been vaccinated for that. But I can't find the box their papers are in, and their old vet has retired. I doubt Biscuit was ever vaccinated for anything until he was neutered at SPCA last fall. Biscuit spent time on the front porch eating out of the same bowl as "Little Girl," so I need to have him tested. If he's negative, the inside cats should be safe. He shares feed and water bowls with them in the house. If not, I'll need to take the others in, too.

I'd like to say thank you to the lowlife butthead who dumped a sick cat out in the country. Someday I'll get to catch someone doing that and they will suffer the wrath built up by years of others committing the same sin.

Still a grumpy mess.

What Just Happened?

Some of you readers know how long we in Sloughhouse have been battling the county department of waste management (DWM). Their enormous dump mountain hovers over all of us in the rural eastern part of Sacramento County. It has been a long, tedious journey to get DWM to just honor their word.

Their first word, when they sited the dump in our area more than 45 years ago, was that it would only be used for 25 years, then it would be closed and turned into a park.

At the end of 25 years they came up with a grand plan to turn it into a regional super dump instead. That's when we started fighting back. It took at least 5 years to kill that plan. We didn't succeed in closing the dump, but the size was limited. To accomplish this we, the citizens, had to attend countless board of supervisors' meetings downtown Sacramento. Also we had to speak at state water quality control meetings and state waste management meetings. Are you like most people who hate speaking in public? So were we. We had to overcome that.

One of the things the county did along the way was procure property around the landfill as a buffer zone. Not to buffer US from their dump, but to make sure there would be no development near the landfill. There was no threat of development from the Sloughhouse side of the dump. We're a farming community, on an active floodplain. There has been no new building allowed here for a long time. The land on the north side of the dump, however, had been bought by a developer who threatened to put apartments on it, and to sue the county if he wasn't allowed to do that. This developer routinely buys land around landfills in other locations and pulls the same trick.

So the county drew a circle around its dump and claimed it didn't need environmental documents to confiscate the land because it was only changing ownership, not function. The land, they said, would be open space forevermore. They even wrote that into the county general plan. Until a couple of years ago when it was changed to: "...forevermore, or unless the supervisors or DWM changes their mind."

And then they changed their mind. Probably pushed by the board of supervisors to make some profit off all that land, DWM decided to put a complex of recycling businesses on the Sloughhouse side of the buffer zone. We went through another round of idiotic public meetings, studies, environmental documents, all the same crap that is done on county employees' work time, but us citizens have to take time off our jobs to attend.

If you're a citizen like me, you study all the documents for at least 2 weeks, then write and rewrite your comments, editing them up to the last minute. Citizens only have 3 minutes to speak at most public meetings, if you want to make all your points it takes a lot of work to craft a short, efficient speech. Gut twisting work. The last thing you want to do is fail and go home thinking that you could have saved your community if only you'd had a better prepared speech, or if you'd only been able to persuade a couple more people to attend the meeting.

Last week I was mailed notice of yet another meeting. DWM would be at our local community planning council (CPAC) to give us an update on their plans. Oh goody.

I didn't bother to write anything this time because there were no accompanying documents to read for comments. And the bottom line is, the details don't really matter. What matters is the lies. Someone needs to just keep reminding them about their lies. I can do that without a script.

I inadvertently sat next to the new director of DWM. I had never seen him before. When the meeting started and DWM was asked to give its presentation, it surprised me when he stood up and walked to the front of the room.

"I am here tonight to let you all know," he said, "that we have withdrawn our plans to develop the buffer zone." We're not reworking them, we have no further plans, the buffer zone will remain open space."

We won.

How did that happen?