Showing posts with label Chickens. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chickens. Show all posts

Thursday, May 21, 2009

Eeyore's News and View

I saw this reported a little over a week ago and was going to blog it on Sunday. But it just sticks in my craw, that we go ther and our forces die for them and they can't put up with us just a little.
What do they think of us now, we hold no convictions, at all.
U.S. military destroys soldier's Bibles
The U.S. military is confirming that it has destroyed some Bibles belonging to an American soldier serving in Afghanistan.
Reuters News says the Bibles were confiscated and destroyed after Qatar-based Al Jazeer television showed soldiers at a Bible class on a base with a stack of Bibles translated into the local Pashto and Dari languages. The U.S. military forbids its members on active duty -- including those based in places like Afghanistan -- from trying to convert people to another religion.
Reuters quotes Maj. Jennifer Willis at the Bagram Air Base, north of Kabul, who said "I can now confirm that the Bibles shown on Al Jazeera's clip were, in fact, collected by the chaplains and later destroyed. They were never distributed."
According to the military officials, the Bibles were sent through private mail to an evangelical Christian soldier by his church back home. Reuters says the soldier brought them to the Bible study class where they were filmed.
The Chairman of the U.S. Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Mike Mullen, told a Pentagon briefing Monday that the military's position is that it will never "push any specific religion."

http://www.wmal.com/UniversalSearch.asp?ZIPCODE=20015&index=t&WHERETOLOOK=web&LOOKFOR=military+burning+bibles

Bogus Trend of the Week: Raising Backyard Chickens
The press lays dozens and dozens of eggs.
In all of God's sweet aviary there exists no bird more diabolical and ruthless than the egg-laying chicken. Despite the darkness of this clucking beast's heart, our nation's press has gone on a rampage insisting that more and more citizens everywhere in the United States are choosing to board and feed these creatures in their urban and suburban backyards so they can harvest the eggs.
It is a trend, the press claims. But we know better, don't we? To begin with, keeping chickens is a filthy, time-consuming, and expensive way to keep the pantry filled with eggs. And as this continuing feature has taught its loyal readership, too many of the "trends" reported by the press are actually bogus trends, hyped up by a reporter or her editors to get a lame story into print.
See Jack Shafer's bogus trend stories about the booms in "ceco-migration," shoplifting, church attendance, kids with bombs, dudes with cats, Ivy League women, teenage hookers, teens shopping at the mall, obese teens, and online sales losing "steam." In a July 2008 grab bag, he attacked stories about the rise in locally grown food, the uptick in video conferencing, and an increase in motorcyclers. In 2008, L.E. Leone told the bloody truth about urban farming.Flaunty bogusity in this morning's (May 14) Washington Post Home section feature, "Hot Chicks: Legal or Not, Chickens Are the Chic New Backyard Addition," which claims to have discovered the "vanguard of a resurgent interest in backyard chicken keeping, especially in distinctly nonrural settings." But the closest the Post comes to actually counting chickens is reporting the press run of Backyard Poultry magazine, a bimonthly: It is 100,000. The Jan. 2 USA Today, which reports a "growing number of city dwellers across the country choosing chickens as pets," measures the hen-keeping renaissance by enumerating the size of the BackYardChickens.com community: It is 19,000 worldwide.
For more all-feather, no-bone journalism, see the May 10 Chicago Tribune Magazine, where "Chicken Chic: The Backyard Bird Is Back in Style" claims that chicken keeping is a "craze," is "[w]ay in," and is "a fresh fad." The piece insists that "[m]any an ordinary citizen of many an ordinary neighborhood owns an actual chicken," but never assigns a number to the "many." This is the paper's second example of crying chicken in recent months. The Dec. 15, 2008, Trib discovers "[s]igns of the burgeoning urban chick movement" in the mere publication of Backyard Poultry magazine, the existence of the urbanchickens.net blog, and the fact that a local workshop on raising your own birds sold out in 48 hours.
A bogus trend isn't a bogus trend unless the New York Times has signed on. The Dec. 7, 2008, Westchester Weekly section of the paper contributes "Chicken-Raising Trend Takes Hold in County." The well-to-do folks of that region have been sharing chicken-raising stories, the newspaper reports. It also publicizes the claim that a "growing number of people" are cultivating the birds as an easy way to connect with nature. Then, the story soberly acknowledges that "it is difficult to know just how many households are tapping into the chicken-raising trend." In other words, it's a trend for which there are no numbers. The May 9 Arizona Republic makes similar pumped-up claims about chicken mania in "Urban Chickens the Latest Healthful-Living Trend" before deflating the premise with the admission that it "is hard to know exactly how many people are raising urban chickens."
And so it continues throughout the land. "Urban Chicken Movement Taking Roost in KC Area" (May 11, Kansas City Star) compiles chicken-raising anecdotes and regulatory issues but never puts a number to the alleged trend. "Hot Chicks: More Raising Own Fowl" from the May 10 Providence Journal-Bulletin cites a growing demand for spring chicks but supplies no numbers. The Oregonian (May 14) backs the trend with a story that marvels at how quickly baby chicks are selling out all over town. But don't chick sellers manage their inventory to sell out quickly? If you're in the business of selling chicks, you don't want to over-order and end up with a bunch of unsold adolescent birds playing video games and smoking cigarettes in the store, right? An April 17 Associated Press story datelined Union, Mo., opens with an exciting scene-setter of 1,200 baby chicks peeping and cheeping at the Clearview Feed and Seed store. But the actual story—titled "More Suburbanites, Hobbyists Raise Chickens" on Nexis—undercuts the headline. "Mostly farm families wait to pick up the chicks," the story reports.
If backyard hen keeping is indeed a trend, it constitutes such a long-standing trend that it has ceased to be one. On March 29, 2002, the Wall Street Journal ran a piece about the "McMansion" coops some chicken owners were building for their birds. The April 5, 2004, Arizona Daily Star noted the high attendance drawn by Kim Fox at her chicken-raising speeches in Tucson: "About 50 people attended her last discussion," the Daily Star reported. The Sept. 14, 2003, Seattle Times explored the world of the city's backyard chicken farmers. In the summer of 2003, both USA Today and Newsday profiled the author of Keep Chickens! Tending Small Flocks in Cities, Suburbs, and Other Small Spaces. "We sold 2,000 laying hens last year," the owner of a downtown Houston feed store told the Houston Chronicle for its March 30, 1993, edition. Dialing the Nexis machine back even earlier, we find a syndicated Martha Stewart piece in the April 23, 1986, San Diego Union-Tribune oddly titled "Home-Grown Eggs—Can't Beat 'Em."
Before you place your Web order for chicks, consider the wisdom shared by experienced chicken-owner Jean Moore with the Albuquerque Journal for its July 26, 2003, article about the art of raising egg-layers in the city.
"On the warmth and entertainment scale," Moore said, "they're better than a snake, but not as good as a cat."
Don't raise chickens to save money, advises the Dec. 15, 2008, Chicago Tribune story "Chickens Earn Keep in Chicago Backyards: More Urbanites Have the Critters for Eggs—and Companionship." One chicken-lover says the coop, chicken wire, and feeders set him back $500. A 50-pound bag of organic feed costs $22. You have to secure the coop to keep out raccoons, dogs, and cats. A hawk or a teenager with a Wrist Rocket can waste a free-ranging chicken in a flash. Generally speaking, urban veterinarians don't know how to treat sick chickens. Hens don't start dropping eggs until about 20 weeks, the Denver Post reports, on average three hens will produce two eggs a day, and the birds reach their peak production at two years. There's no way around shoveling the chicken shit, and who the hell likes eggs, anyway? Twitter sounds like something a mutant chicken would say, right? Send poultry recipes via e-mail to slate.pressbox@gmail.com. (E-mail may be quoted by name in "The Fray," Slate's readers' forum; in a future article; or elsewhere unless the writer stipulates otherwise. Permanent disclosure: Slate is owned by the Washington Post Co.)
http://www.slate.com/id/2218390/?from=rss

H1N1 flu deaths and cases edge higher - WHO
H1N1 flu cases rise to 10,243, death toll rises to 80
* Number of new cases in Japan rises to 210
GENEVA, May 20 (Reuters) - The number of confirmed cases of the new Influenza A (H1N1) flu has risen to 10,243 and the death toll has edged up to 80, the World Health Organisation (WHO) said on Wednesday.
Most of the new cases are in the United States, which has seen 5,469 outbreaks of the virus so far, the WHO said as it focuses on the H1N1 virus that has brought the world to the brink of a pandemic.
Another 51 cases have also been reported in Japan, bringing the total number of cases there to 210 and potentially making it more likely that the WHO will declare a full pandemic after it raised its pandemic alert last month to 5 on a 6-level scale.
Health ministers and experts at this week's WHO annual assembly have been discussing how to fight the virus with vaccines and drugs as well as what criteria the WHO should consider when deciding whether to raise the alert level.
Under WHO rules, signs the disease is spreading in a sustained way in a second region of the world outside its North American epicentre would prompt a declaration that a full pandemic is under way.
Ministers have urged the WHO to consider other factors such as the severity of the virus before moving to the highest alert.
Forty countries have confirmed cases of the new strain and nearly all of those who have died were in Mexico, but most patients globally have had relatively mild symptoms.
http://www.reuters.com/article/marketsNews/idUSLK94712420090520

This is the real danger behind the Swine Flu (at least at the present time)and it will only get worse, and when the services start to suffer for lack of attendance at work and the police, fire and water services start to fail, then you will see real panic.
Hospitals swamped amid flu fears
Reporting from Washington -- On Long Island, N.Y., hospitals are scrambling to bring extra workers in to handle a 50% surge in visitors to emergency rooms. In Galveston, Texas, the local hospital ran out of flu testing kits after being overwhelmed with patients worried about having contracted swine flu.
At Loma Linda University Medical Center near San Bernardino, emergency room workers have set up a tent in the parking lot to handle a crush of similar patients. In Chicago, ER visits at the city's biggest children's hospital are double normal levels, setting records at the 121-year-old institution.
So far, few of the anxious patients have had more than runny noses. But the widening outbreak of swine flu, also known as H1N1 flu, is exposing a potentially critical hole in the nation's defenses.
Across the country, emergency care facilities are straining at the seams even though the outbreak is relatively small and the federal government has launched a mammoth disease-control effort -- dispatching antiviral drugs to states, attempting to contain the limited number of cases and beginning to develop a vaccine against it.
"It is a major Achilles' heel in our state of readiness," said Dr. Irwin Redlener, director of the National Center for Disaster Preparedness at Columbia University. "If we get a situation that is really out of hand with large numbers of people affected, I fear that our hospital and healthcare facilities simply won't have the materials or even the staffing to respond," he said.
Redlener and others are quick to point out that the outbreak is still a long way from such a critical stage.
Of the 136 cases of H1N1 flu authorities had confirmed in the United States as of Thursday night, only a handful required hospitalization.
By contrast, the Department of Health and Human Services' moderate pandemic influenza model, based on the last flu pandemic in 1968, envisions 90 million Americans becoming infected and 865,000 requiring hospitalization.
"If the outbreak stays in what I would characterize as its present mild form, I think we're in great shape," said James Bentley, senior vice president at the American Hospital Assn. "The key question becomes how many people at any one time have the flu, and how many people have it severely."
Prompted by the global SARS and avian flu outbreaks this decade, federal health officials and hospitals nationwide have been working to beef up preparations for possible disease outbreaks, helped by more than $2 billion in federal grants.
Hospitals have increased their supplies of staples such as face masks, and many have trained employees to care for patients out in the field.
In the last three years, California has spent more than $400 million to upgrade its readiness, including purchasing three fully equipped mobile hospitals and nearly 7,200 ventilators to respond to an outbreak of respiratory illness.
... The rest of the story can be read at
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-swineflu-hospitals1-2009may01,0,6976867.story

Better tighten up you security, in good and bad times people will always steal for drugs, but as the economy gets worse it will get worse.
Man reportedly took school's solar panels to buy drugs
OROVILLE -- A man who took dozens of solar panels from the roof of a Chico school stole them to buy drugs, according to his attorney.
Christopher Bess, 32, of Chico entered into a surprise plea bargain in court Tuesday.
He pleaded no contest to a single charge of receiving stolen property. He admitted having a prior "strike" on his record relating to a 1999 assault conviction, which increases his maximum potential sentence to seven years in prison.
He was already awaiting sentencing on a drug charge at the time of the plea bargain.
Prosecutors agreed to dismiss six additional stolen-property counts against Bess related to other items recovered with some of the missing solar panels from a Chico storage shed in March.
It was learned Tuesday that Bess was initially identified on surveillance videos taken near Little Chico Creek School, where 46 roof-top solar panels valued at nearly $50,000 were removed in mid-February.
Prosecutors said Bess was being held in jail on the unrelated drug charge, when guards covertly recorded a telephone call he made to another man asking him to move the solar panels out of two rented storage units on Highway 32.
Chico police then recovered 17 of the panels from the storage facility, along with other stolen items, including more than $100,000 in property taken from a nonprofit veterans group in Chico, according to the prosecutor.
A second man, who was videotaped standing next to a truck with Bess near the elementary school, has reportedly been asked to help police recover the remaining solar panels, according to Bess' attorney, Tracy Tully-Davis.
She said Bess chose to accept the plea bargain rather than risk as much as 15 years in prison if convicted at trial on all counts.
The defense attorney agreed there was strong evidence linking Bess to the stolen solar panels.
Based on the school surveillance videos, police initially arrested Bess on a felony drug-transportation charge, to which he subsequently pleaded guilty, according to deputy district attorney Robert Thomas III.
Bess was being held on the drug charge in the Butte County Jail when he was recorded placing a telephone call to a man in Nevada and telling him to "empty out" the Highway 32 storage sheds, where slightly less than half of the solar panels were later recovered by police.
In the storage units, which were being rented under the name of Bess' girlfriend, were bicycles stolen from Chico State University and lawn-care equipment taken from a Nord Avenue apartment, according to Chico police reports.
Also recovered was miscellaneous property, much of it cold-weather gear, stolen in February from Caring Veterans, Inc. on Rio Lindo Avenue, a non-profit group in Chico that assists military veterans.
Tully-Davis said Bess was stealing to support a drug habit.
"What was found in the storage shed, his
behavior, is indicative of a drug addict going on a run," the suspect's lawyer observed.
http://www.chicoer.com/news/ci_12409050

Saturday, January 31, 2009

Eeyore's News and View

We are going to be changing up for a while, i'm got permission from a friend and author to feature his stories on the Saturday's on the blog. So i will be posting one or two chapter from a few of his stories each Saturday for a while. Saturday on the blog has been devoted to Prep Talks. My idea of prep talks is to try to introduce to you ideas on how, especially now with the way the economy is to help you become a little more self sufficient. The author is Jerry D. Young, he has several published books one is called Shipwrecked and the other is Mr. Man. You can get both on Amazon.
He is also has them in ebook.

Missouri Rafter – A Vignette
Big Joe Brandon ran the last screw down tight with the cordless screw shooter. The project was complete. “Let it rain or shake all it wants’ to, now.” Joe said as he put up his tools.

He had no sooner put everything away and brought a cup of coffee out onto the new, massive deck than two of his young friends stopped in to check on him. They had started out as two of his children’s friends that had found Joe fascinating to be around, and had become friends with him on their own right.

“Hey, Blue, Tony. What are you two up to? No good, or I miss my guess. You know where the coffee is.”

Both young men helped them selves to Joe’s near bottomless pot of coffee and came back out on the deck. Blue took a seat on the bench seat built around the perimeter of the deck and Tony sat down across the wrought iron table from Joe.

“See you got it done,” Blue, said, looking around the roofed deck. It was disproportionately large, considering the small size of Joe’s house.

“Yep. Thanks to you two. You’ve both got a spot, if things get bad. You know that, I hope.”

“Sure, Mr. Brandon. And thanks. Didn’t really do that much,” Blue replied.

“Couldn’t have handled those billets of flotation foam without damaging them, without your guys’ help.”

Tony looked over to where Joe’s custom sixteen foot Jon boat was tied off to the railing of the deck. It was wider than most Jon boats that length and had two twenty-horsepower Mercury outboards to power it. There was a small console on one side amidships for the steering wheel and instruments. “See you moved the boat. And have a boat anchor down for the deck.”

Joe grinned. “Yep. All ready to go. The water comes up, up she goes with the water, or stays up if the ground liquefies.”

“When do you think, Mr. Brandon?” Blue asked.

“No way of really telling. But I think soon. The way they’ve been raising and reinforcing the levees since Katrina, the next major flood is going to turn into… should I say it? Megaflood. The same amounts, plus some, in my opinion, is getting channeled into smaller and smaller areas with the levees. When those levees break, and they will, naturally or with some help, it’s going to be worse than the ’27, ’37, and ’93 floods. By a factor of at least five. In my opinion, of course. You know the county FEMA director doesn’t like me spreading my opinions around, so keep it to yourselves.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Brandon. We both need to get back to work. Congrats on your deck. It’s sweet.”

“You sure it will hold my three hundred pounds if I come?” Blue asked, finishing the coffee in his cup and putting it on the table besides Tony’s.

“It’ll hold. You know what’s under it.”

“Bye, Mr. Brandon,” Tony said. Blue waved as they walked over to Blue’s massive Ford four-wheel-drive crew-cab dually pickup truck. It had a six-inch lift, and enough bumper guards and the like to armor a tank.

Joe shook his head and took the boy’s cups into his tiny kitchen to rinse them out. He decided to lay down for a bit. That work had tasked him more than he would admit.


When he woke, Joe checked the cable news, the internet forums he was affiliated with, and then spent some time on the Amateur Radio bands, checking in with the local two-meter club. Satisfied that nothing un-toward had happened while he was asleep, Joe decided to add a few things to the deck from the house. “Be my luck to float off without a bug-out-bag or nothing,” he muttered.

What he moved was far more than a BOB. There were several twenty-four gallon Rubbermaid ActionPacker totes with equipment and supplies for an emergency. A couple of wheeled Coleman Twenty-five gallon X-treme coolers would take last minute fresh foods and frozen drinking water bottles to keep them that way.

Not even Joe was predicting the rains to start the next day. But… It was only showers.


Three weeks later the area between the Mississippi River and the St. Francis River, including the Little River Drainage District, was water soaked. Both rivers and all the huge ditches of the Little River Drainage District were full to the brim, and then some.

Had the rain stopped then, things would have been fine. Very wet, but fine. No major damage. But the rains didn’t stop. They intensified. Dramatically. A day or so after one large stormy rain front went through, another would be getting close.

It was more than even a few of the newer, reinforced and heightened levees could take. And none of the levees could take the explosives used on them to divert the river on the side away from those that used the explosives.

Joe turned out to be right. It was worse than the floods years earlier. Much worse. When the water got over the street on which Joe lived, he moved a few more things to the deck, and pulled the pins that held the deck in place on its foundation. There was no movement, but Joe could see the water rising on the heavy beams that made up the base of the deck.

Walking to the far end of the thirty-foot long deck, Joe checked his Jon boat. It was still on the trailer, but it was trying to lift. Another foot and water would be in his house. Another two feet and it would be in his neighbors’ houses. Including those that had evacuated early. There was a call out now for further evacuations, but on Joe’s street, at least, it wasn’t happening.

Joe had to smile at some of the calls he was hearing on the police scanner and the CB. People were beginning to panic, even where the water was only a few inches deep. The Amateur Radio Operators he was talking to were all in pretty good positions. Six of the twenty-one in their group had left early on. The rest, besides Joe, were out of the immediate danger area. Only Joe had chosen to stay and sit out the flood.

The next time Joe looked water was two inches higher than the floor in his house. Nothing to do. He’d already moved everything to the highest points possible with Blue’s and Tony’s help. They were out now helping other people.

Suddenly Joe felt the deck move. It was now afloat. By only an inch or so, but the water was still rising quickly. He looked up at the sound of a yell. It was Blue and Tony in Blue’s truck. There were half a dozen people in the bed, many clutching suitcases and garbage bags of belongings.

“You doing okay, Mr. Brandon?” Blue yelled over.

“Just like my plan!” Joe yelled back, holding up his right hand, thumb up.

“This is the last trip in the truck,” Blue said, not quite as loudly. “We’re going to go get my boat. There’s a bunch over on the ditch didn’t get out. We’ll be back for them. You call if you need help.”

Joe waved and nodded. He wasn’t one to wait on others. It took only minutes to transfer to the Jon boat and fire up the twin twenty-horsepower Mercury engines. He backed the boat carefully away from the trailer it was floating above, and then moved it out into the street. He looked back at his house on its corner lot. The deck was rising slowly at the rear of the house.

Against the light current of the raising water, Joe headed for the streets on either side of the large drainage ditch that split the town into two sections. The water in the ditch was running with a strong current.

Moving along side each house in turn on one street, and then the other, Joe moved stranded people from their homes to the remaining dry land in the area. That small patch was becoming smaller by the minute. The refugees were being helicoptered out as fast as they came in.

“Going to loose a lot of equipment,” Joe told the national guardsman helping people out of the Jon boat. “Bridge over Polecat Ditch just went.”

“Nuts!” said the guardsman. “I need to report this!” The last person out of his boat, Joe backed it away from the new, temporary shore, and headed back into the fray of recovering those that waited too long to leave.

He joined up with Blue and Tony in Blue’s runabout. They couldn’t go in the shallower waters that Joe could, so each boat worked the areas they were best suited. Joe could tell Tony and Blue would prefer that he would evacuate with the others, but he was, he knew very well, too stubborn to do it. Even at seventy-three, he was determined to go with the plan he’d been working on for years.

But Joe did have limits. He headed home well before it got dark. And when it got dark, it got really dark. With the cloud cover and continuing rain, and no power, the night became primordial. Until Joe fired up a Coleman lantern. Fortunately there was a breeze blowing that kept the mosquitoes and other insects at bay. It didn’t do much for the other various critters that, like the people, were in the process of losing their homes.

Joe kept a short frog gig handy to chase off the animals that tried to get out of the water and onto the deck. Dogs and cats with collars, he let come aboard, even giving them some water. Those without collars he kept off the deck, with some regret. He just couldn’t take every animal on board what was now a raft and the only flat dry spot around, except for roofs. And there weren’t many of those left.

As the water rose, so did the strength of the currents. Houses were starting to float off their foundations and were being swept away by the current, with some being knocked down by debris in the water, including other houses.

It was something that Joe couldn’t control and was a real danger for him. The current took his home, and the house upstream, and then the one downstream. The debris load was getting heavier and Joe had to fend off things drifting into the raft much of the night.

The stout vertical posts with heavy metal rings around them connected to the deck kept it in place, but Joe was beginning to worry about the posts giving way and setting him adrift. His anchor might not hold in this current. But when morning came, the deck was still floating, now on top of fifteen feet of water. Joe looked around the area. There was very little to see but debris filled water. No houses or other man-made structures except for the occasional power pole that had survived. There were the tops of some trees, almost every one of which was carrying a load of animals.

Joe was eating breakfast when Blue and Tony came up in Blue’s boat. “Looks like you picked up a few passengers,” Tony said, nodding at the dogs and cats all hunkered down together like family at one end of the deck.

“Yep. Take’em off to a shelter, will you? They’re beginning to annoy me.”

“We came to get you, Mr. Brandon. Time to get you to dry land.”

“No can do, boys,” Joe said. “You know good and well I’m not leaving my stuff behind to the waters or to looters.” Suddenly Joe was pointing a stainless steel short barreled Snake Charmer .410 shotgun just off to one side of Blue’s boat. Joe pulled the trigger and Blue and Tony jumped.

“Another one,” Joe said casually, reloading the Snake Charmer. “That’s seventeen, so far.”

Tony and Blue watched the dead Cottonmouth snake float away and then looked back at Joe. “Dogs been waking me up all night when one got too close for comfort. Speaking of which, let me help you load them up in your boat.”

“Come on, Mr. Brandon. Go with us,” Blue pleaded, grabbing the first dog Joe walked over to the boat and helped over the side.

Giving it up as hopeless, Tony and Blue loaded up all the cats and dogs and headed for the nearest shoreline. “We’ll be back, Mr. Brandon.”

The two young men were good as their word. When they showed up the water had dropped by two feet and a boat full of media types were interviewing crusty old Joe Brandon. As they’d come up, Blue and Tony had heard at least three shots, all from the Snake Charmer.

Blue pointed to another dead Cottonmouth drifting with the current as he edged the boat up to the raft. “Come on, Mr. Brandon. Your turn.”

“Nope. Got too much to lose here. The water is going down. Be down back in its banks in a week. Got enough supplies here to last twice that. Got some more dogs for you, though.”

Joe had totally ignored the reporters when Blue and Tony came up. He transferred the dogs to their boat, took his seat again and looked at the boat full of reporters and camera people. “Oh, Yeah. You were asking?”

“Why the raft, Mr. Brandon? What prompted you to build a raft in your back yard?” asked one of the reporters and then thrust a microphone toward Joe.

“Didn’t. Built a deck on the back of my house. It became a raft when the area flooded. Convenient, huh?”

“I think it was more than sheer convenience,” said another of the media personnel. “From what we’ve been told, you planned this from the start.”

“Get a clue, lady,” responded Joe, grinning. “Even as good as I am, I can’t plan floods. They sort of just happen as God sees fit.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said the woman as most of the other media personnel laughed.

“Nah. I know that. Just ribbing you a little.” Joe got up from where he was sitting on one of the bench seats around the deck and went over to the table bolted to the deck. He picked up a percolator and poured himself another cup of coffee before going back to the bench. “Any of you want coffee? Pretty good brew, if I do say so myself. These fine young, helpful gentlemen can attest to that.” Joe nodded toward Tony and Blue, still keeping their boat close.

“It is good coffee,” Blue said.

Everyone in the other boat declined, despite Blue’s words. So Joe continued, “Sure I planned on the deck floating when it flooded or when the big quake comes. Baring I’m sittin’ on a sand blow or crevasse, should be just fine when the ground liquefies.”

“So you knew this flood was coming?” asked one of the reporters.

“Well, yeah! Being the student of history I am, all it took to figure out a big flood was coming was to look at the levees and the weather patterns. Too much water in too little space and you’ve got a flood.”

Blue and Tony knew Big Joe fairly well. Both saw the way he was watching the reporters when he made his next statement. “And, again, history teaches us, that during floods involving levees, some human being will invariably knock down or dynamite said levee to protect his property at the expense of others.”

There was murmuring among those on the other boat. One, looking to be the eldest of the bunch asked, “Sir, are you saying that someone blew one of the levees?”

“I’m not saying anything of the sort. Not exactly. But iffin’ it was me in that boat, I’d be finding me another boat, and ask a few people with the most to gain for the flood to come this way, rather than the other way. Might get some interesting answers. You can tell them Big Joe sent you.”

“Is that what they call you? Big Joe?”

“Some do. Back in the day I sort of had the reputation as being an eccentric. A bit bigger than life, some of them said. Never really thought so, myself.”

Blue and Tony saw the Cottonmouth coming up over the back of the runabout and started to shout a warning, but Joe beat them too it. “Might want to knock that there Cottonmouth snake off your boat so’s I can get a shot at it.”

There were screams and scrambling in the boat. Overloaded as it was, it didn’t take much for it to tip and dump all but one person in the water. There were more screams as those in the water scrambled to get away from the snake. Most opted to head for the deck, since its surface was lower to the water than the side of the boat.

Joe took the time to shoot the snake before it could bite anyone, and then helped people get onto the raft. He began handing out blankets from one of the totes fastened securely to the deck’s floor.

“Hey, Joe!” Blue called.

When Joe turned around he saw where Blue was pointing. There were two more Cottonmouths headed for the boat and the raft.

A very scared young woman asked Joe, “Aren’t you going to shoot them?”

“Only if I think they’ll cause trouble. And… Yep… They got a head of steam up and are probably as upset as you’ll see one.” Casually Joe lifted the Snake Charmer up and out at arms length, sighting down the barrel. He waited for a moment before he squeezed the trigger.

Both snakes stopped swimming and began drifting with the current. Most of those on the raft with Joe had begun backing away from the edge where the snakes were approaching. After the shot they moved back to stand around the table on the deck. “I could use some of that coffee, now,” said one of them.

“Sure.” As Joe took cups from another tote the sound of rain hitting the roof of the deck made most of the people look up. Thunder sounded and lightning flashed. “You boys better head for dry land with them dogs,” Joe told Blue and Tony.

The two exchanged a look and then Blue fired up the big twin engines on his runabout and took off at high speed.

“And you,” Joe said to the lone cameraperson in the other boat, should come on board. I have static discharge rods on the roof so we shouldn’t have to worry about lightning. You, on the other hand, are a sitting duck.”

The man put down his camera and grabbed a paddle from its storage rack on one side of the boat. He made a few strokes and then transferred from the boat to the deck, with the camera.

With the long step he took from the boat to the deck, the cameraman almost went into the water, but Joe grabbed him and got him on board, with the camera intact. But the movement sent the boat sharply backward, away from the deck.

“Uh, Biscuit?” Joe said, calling the boat owners name, “You might want to swim out and get your boat.”

“What! For crying out loud! Didn’t one of you tie the boat off when I nosed in to the raft?”

There were looks all around, but no one said anything. “Well, I ain’t swimming after it,” Biscuit said. “You guys just going to have to pitch in and buy me a new boat.”

While the group of media people were arguing with Biscuit, Joe slipped into a raincoat, got into his Jon boat, untied it from the deck, and went after the rapidly disappearing runabout. He came back a few minutes later and tossed the painter to Biscuit. “You might want to tie it up yourself.”

“Yeah.” But Biscuit didn’t tie the boat. He went over the railing of the deck and stepped into the boat. “You bunch of idiots nearly cost me my boat. You’re on your own!” Biscuit started the engine on the runabout and took off in the heavy rain.

They didn’t like it much, but there wasn’t much to be done about it, except to take a seat, huddle under a blanket, and accept Joe’s renewed offer of coffee, tea, hot chocolate, and snacks. Joe got on the radio and let the authorities know where the media were and asked for a boat to pick them up.

Joe had to grin when he was patched through to Tony on his cell phone. “Got some human passengers for you this time,” he told Tony. “I think you know how to find us.”

Tony was laughing when he closed his phone. In rain suits now, the two headed back to the sunken town in the heavy rain. It took almost an hour for them to work their way through the obstacle course the area had become as the water continued to drain away faster than the rain could raise it. It wouldn’t be long before only shallow draft boats like Joe’s would be able to navigate the flood waters.

Blue and Tony could only shake their heads as they idled up to the deck. It seemed Joe was holding audience. There was a burst of laughter, and then another, as Joe entertained the group with the telling of some of his most notable escapades.

“Ah,” he said when he saw the boat, “Your transportation is here.”

It was with some reluctance that the group of media left Joe’s deck, an island in the middle of what was still a huge lake, to take seats in the runabout.

“Any chance you’re going this time?” Blue asked Joe.

“You know better. Now you’d better skedaddle. You’ll be hard pressed to make it without bottoming out. The water is going down fast.”

Blue and Tony were pummeled with questions about Joe on the trip back to the nearest dry land. While maintaining his privacy, they were happy to corroborate the things Joe had told them, and add a few more lines to the Legend of Big Joe Brandon, now commonly known as the ‘Missouri Rafter’.

End **************

Copyright 2008
_________________
Jerry D Young

We will finish up with two posts from a friend at a forum he frequents. This week i will focus on chickens. They were posted by 230gr a while back but good solid info.

Amish chicks on deep litter
My sister hatches out custom orders of chicks and ducks for local pickup. They exclusively use eggs specially obtained from Amish flocks that free range on pasture. The chickens are not show birds but are known for being robust and healthy. She gave me 10 chicks from her extra buffer stock for free; 3 White Cochin and 7 Rhode Island Reds. Since we where starting fresh this year, we like we keep them on when they are grown. The coop was filled with dry leaves and grass to a settled depth of 6 to 8 inches, below that is a layer of old compost, then soil. A 250W heat lamp was suspended about 2 ½ feet above the litter’s surface. It is warm, dry and very absorbent. When the chicks are chilly, they gather in the circle of warm light. The chicks are now 12 days old, doing fine and feathering out. There is no mess or smell and we have not added any more litter. As small as they are, they have scratched little pits all over the place and had thoroughly mix in their droppings. In fact, the surface of the litter is so clean, when my toddler grandson managed to get in with the chick (which he absolutely loves) and proceed to crawl and roll all over the coop trying to catch them. When he was finally extracted, he was still clean (relatively speaking). As this litter slowly composts, small bugs and worms will come to dine. The chicks will feast on them and have even more incentive to scratch and mix the litter.
http://frc4u.org/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=26&t=237

Culling your flock
My original title was “feeling up Amish chicks” but my wife did not approve of that.

As I expect to have considerably more chickens than I care to winter over, I will need to do some culling. Choosing only to retain the best birds for your flock is in knowing what to look or feel for.

This is a side by side comparison that applies best to the same age, breed and sex of chickens.
You need to feel the body under the feathers for:
1. heart girth- this is the rib cage just behind the wings.
a. Wider means more lung and heart space
b. The wider birds also produce the most meat
2. width of the back along it’s length-
a. indicates means more digestive organ space
b. the wider the more meat especially if wide between the thighs
3. width behind the thighs-
a. single best indicator of egg producing potential
b. should be wide and not taper
4. fleshing on the breast-
a. indicates amount of meat potential
b. also general condition and heartiness
5. pelvic bone spread- for a laying hen and varies some what with the size egg they lay
a. 3 or four figures width indicate a good daily layer
b. her vent should also be large and moist
6. pelvic to keel distance- for a laying hen
a. 3 fingers or less are not good layers
b. 4 fingers or more are good layers
c. the abdomen should be expanded, large, soft and pliable
7. observation of laying time
a. The very best laying hens tend to lay before 10 am
b. These are your best breeders so gather their eggs for hatching.

Note: I recommend that you refrain from remarks about choosing a wife this way too as women fail to see the humor in it!
http://frc4u.org/phpbb/viewtopic.php?f=26&t=234