If you are Canadian and intend to protest fracking, is it not detrimental and self-contradictory that you are dancing around while burning tires?
For the past fortnight we have endured a heat wave, with a still wind temperature cracking the pavement sidewalk at 30 degrees. On the odd occasion whilst sat with my back against the tree log, I have caught a whiff and a reminder of the past, death; in its most odious scented form! Yesterday was as bad as it could get, so I decided to trace the departed source. Upon which, I discovered that there had indeed been a murder most foul, for under a large laburnum bush lay a dead ‘jasper’ (adult male rat). From snout to tail it was at least two foot long. The thought that mystified me was what ever killed it had not taken it for its tucker; after all it’s the law of nature to do so?
As I have used controlled poisoning in the past to lace a few deep rat holes, I knew that this termination had not been the result of such. Rather than take a chance and toss the departed creature over the hedge, I buried it deep less it had been poisoned. I had no wish to see the poison work twice, just in case a buzzard or some other carrion claimed it.
As late evening approached to a sensible cooler temperature, I whistled the dogs and we moved off into the fields for a
clearing patrol casual bimble. I tend to be a bit loud as we walk the fields as it gives the pheasant’s and partridges time to scatter with their young, as well as the rabbits and foxes. Hannah the young pup tends to walk point as lead scout, and Joss the elder is happy to be tail end charlie, obviously I assume the role of team commander (well, why have two dogs and bark yourself)?
As we turned the corner of the cut track I saw some thing dark flash across the corner of my peripheral vision, which I presumed to be a weasel. The lead scout took off like a rocket through the chest high meadow, though I called her back as she knows weasels are classed as friendly forces (without them we would be inundated by rabbits). Either the lead scout had lost comm’s, or she had disobeyed a direct order, as there followed a high pitched-hissed-scream, then silence, save for the movement and sound of high swishing grass, as the lead scout re-appeared wearing a Staffordshire Bull Terrier grin. I summonsed the scout and cajoled her, promising her a place at the cats & dogs home as her fate, iron discipline being my trademark. Click the pic for a true Staffie grin…
On with the final leg of the
patrol walk, upon which, I noticed that Joss was no longer watching our six-o- clock, he too had decided to abandon his position of responsibility and left our rear exposed. His movement was easily followed as the long grass gently swayed, comm’s were once again down as I was receiving no response from my ordered commands, which is some thing that has never happened in the past with Joss. Lead scout was ordered to sit and stay, and observe her arcs , as I crawled walked towards Joss’s position.
Joss was stood with his
weapon snout covering the object of the pitched scream, it was another ‘Jasper’ now deceased, as long and as big as the one previously found. Lead scout, was summonsed and Hannah approached gingerly and sat next to her kill (they always say the first is the hardest, and it gets easier thereafter).
Many a field disciplinary action has been rescinded, after a singular act by the individual gained redemption for their sin. Hannah’s court martial was dropped on the spot, her reward being a
field promotion small bonio treat (the last one in my pocket) much to the disgust of the old ‘time served’ tail ender, who turned in disgust and blundered across country cutting a new trail leading back to the fence gate (knowing full well that there was a half tin of bonio treats awaiting).
This time “Jasper’ was tossed unceremoniously over the high hedge to allow nature to benefit from its demise. Hannah now has two confirmed kills accredited to her; it appears I chose her name wisely. Joss will always be tail end charlie, as he is the most passive Staffie I have ever owned, he would only ever chase after a ‘Jasper’ if a bonio treat was taped to its back, even if caught, he would probably sit and share it with him.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way… It’s a jungle out there! Yours Aye.
So I am watching Nik Wallenda walk the Grand Canyon. And I can’t help but to think that this is not a career that has a lot of longevity. Nik is halfway through or so and doing fine:
His father, Terry Troffer, and his uncle, Mike Troffer, are serving as his safety coordinator and chief engineer in charge of the rigging of the wire. Terry Troffer is communicating with Wallenda during the attempt via Wallenda’s earpiece.
“I’m really not that worried,” Terry Troffer said on TODAY Friday. “I know his capabilities. I’ve been through it. I walked the wire for 38 years, so I kind of know what’s going through his mind at that time. I’m just kind of watching everything and how he’s feeling. We communicate back and forth. If he’s got a question, I try to look for the answer for him right away.”
Also on site watching his walk is Wallenda’s wife, Erendira, who is an eighth-generation circus performer, and their three children, Yanni, 15; Amadeus, 12; and Evita, 10. Wallenda is making the walk in jeans and a T-shirt while wearing his special high-wire shoes, which are part moccasin, part ballet shoes, and were custom-made by his mother, fellow wire walker Delilah Wallenda.
14 minutes gone on the skywire. Keep going Nick… (Update: He got it!)
The puya chilensis, a native of Chile, is a very sheepish plant. And the Royal Horticultural Society (RHS) at Wisley promised the public that it would finally bloom. (The Surrey green thumbs have not been fertilizing puya chilensis with its normal food, sheep, but have settled on an alternative. No surprise that it is called the sheep-eating plant.)
Stonehenge is perhaps the most famous prehistoric monument in the world. Begun as a simple earthwork enclosure, it was built in several stages, with the unique lintelled stone circle being erected in the Neolithic period in around 2,500 BC. Stonehenge remained important into the early Bronze Age (2,200–1,500 BC), when many burial mounds were built nearby. History and Research
Well, its that time of the year again, when, as dawn broke this morning at 04:55 hrs, a mixture of 21,000 pagan’s, druids, mystics, truth seekers, shamans, aged hippies, new age travellers, students, nutter’s, drug addicts, ‘Japanese tourists’, and five hundred ‘Coppers’; all attended the Summer Solstice at the open air asylum known as Stonehenge. Go back in time and you would have added several marines to the list (yours truly being a SNCO, and one of them). Not through choice, but through necessity, as one of my marines had attached himself to a party of Norwegian blue-eyed-blonde students (all female) in a pub in Salisbury, who were heading off to the
asylum gathering to party hard prior to sunrise. The problem being, the marine with the breaking strain of a warm chocolate bar was required (as were we all) to attend a final four hour ‘team’ exam at 09:00 hrs, followed by a course photograph at a specialist establishment known as ‘Winterbourne Gunner’ (History of the Defence CBRN centre)! Fortunately the lunatics throng attending the asylum gathering tend to swell in heavy numbers around two hours before sunrise, we had five hours to find him and kidnap him from his bevy of beauties, other wise the shout of “watch your fingers mate”! would have reverberated around the guardroom as the cell door slammed behind him; not only that, but collectively we would have also have failed the ‘team’ exam. We approached the gathering in almost pitch black conditions, and noticed a group of illuminated ‘Bobbies’ upon which the predicament was explained. After much radio chatter the bevy of (by now scantily clad chanting) blondes were discovered, as was a disgruntled bootneck; who was even more so after the group photograph that day, as I put him on ‘watch-on-stop-on’ duty the following weekend, over his birthday!
A midsummer day’s scene: Revellers rise at dawn to celebrate the solstice with drumming and dancing ‘QUOTE’ from an elderly lady druid; “The scene was so emotional that even a group of police officers were stood with tears in their eyes”~ (Er, no… They had just pepper sprayed a violent drug addled hippy to restrain him)!
Should you be the praying sort, please add Oklahoma to your list. They have had quite a rough day with brutal tornadoes:
A tornado at least a half mile-wide with 200mph winds churned through Oklahoma City’s suburbs Monday afternoon, killing at least 51 and causing significant property damage for the second day in a row, forcing rescue crews to search for survivors in the debris of flattened homes, businesses and two schools.
Amy Elliott, a spokeswoman for the Oklahoma Medical Examiner’s Office, said the death toll is expected to rise. Oklahoma City Police say seven of those deaths were children at Plaza Towers Elementary School, which was hit by the tornado, Fox 25 reports. Oklahoma police also told Fox News’ Casey Stegall, on the ground in Moore, Okla., that at least four people were killed at a 7-11 convenience store.
I can think of several blogger and reader friends who live in this region. I hope they, their friends, and family are okay.
Happy Easter (or a late Happy Passover) if you are celebrating it today. Don’t be too sad if your bunny ears do not fit. Someone’s bound to take a picture. And before you know it, it’ll go up on someone’s blog. Just sayin’:
There is one place I am not dying to visit (when I transfer to Japan) called the Aokigahara Forest. Of course, I have not read the novel Kuroi Jukai. . .
Standby Shipmates, do not despair. Monday may be the most depressing day of the year. Get on yer peacoat, batten down the hatches, and put a smile on your lips. If you want to blame anyone, Melanie McDonald, of Anglian Home Improvements, is your huckleberry. She commissioned the study: The survey shows a clear link between natural daylight, mood and motivation. Thank you Melatonin, I mean Melanie.
I first noticed that breastfeeding acquired a militancy when I went to college. Perhaps it was Berkeley, perhaps it was the time. But I stumbled across a woman breastfeeding her daughter in the airport, in full view, without any effort to cover up. I walked past them and thought it odd. The baby was happy, like Maggie from the Simpsons, on her bottle. And after that, I saw 2-3 women doing the same. (Although none were quite so open about it as the airport lady.)
I applaud Time magazine for its eye-opening cover photo of a breastfeeding mom. The Cutline quotes some readers who are scandalized. Well, good. The photo is a good wake-up call that breasts are not just ornaments. It’s nice to see cover girls using them for the purpose God made them.
Granted Time’s cover is a bit edgy. Mom Jamie Lynne Grumet is shown suckling her camo-clad 3-year-old.
Nursing’s the most spiritual experience in the world? Someone’s got to get out the house more often.
They say that pet owners start to resemble their pets. Pete Glazebrook sort of looks like his prized vegetable:
Can you imagine cutting this onion up? Watery eye city. . .
Yes, I may be a linguist, but I simply do not speak this green thumb language:
Anything man can do, Mother Nature can do better. Unfortunately there are too many gardeners, landscapers, nursery people and misinformed others who apparently don’t believe this to be true, otherwise why do we continue to see Crape Myrtle trees being disfigured every spring for no reason?
This practice of topping trees, often called crape murder, does nothing but disfigure the tree and leads to small, pencil thin branches that are disproportionate, add nothing to the tree’s value and in many cases weaken it and make it more susceptible to pests and disease. Some claim it leads to more blooms but others say that’s an old wives tale.
There you go, the wrong way to prune a Crape Myrtle. My brain is one ounce heavier.