The other evening we had the last three pathetic figs in our salad, an anticlimactic cap to a very disappointing garden year. Then last evening on our walk Linda raised the question, "What ever happened to the White House garden?"
As it happens Michelle Obama's garden, which was quite famous in the spring for a time, hasn't been getting much national attention since then. But it turns out to have produced pretty well if the Huffington Post can be trusted:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/10/29/michelle-obama-fall-harve_n_339172.html
Good for the First Lady! Her garden did a whole lot better than mine this summer even if she is, as I suspect, shading the cost figure just a bit. Huffington Post quotes her as saying the garden cost $180.
I'm figuring the real cost of the Ph.D. agronomist who must have tested the soil and planned the amendments was all by itself a whole lot more than $180. And that's leaving out the cost of the round the clock Secret Service guards who had to protect that patch from rabbits and other varmints in a manner calculated not to enrage the bunny and chipmunk huggers. There's simply no way they could have gotten away with fencing that White House garden on the cheap and ugly the way I fence my garden. And there's no way the Secret Service could just blow away any intrusive White House garden bunnies who yearned for a taste of the greenery.
Back here at home I had a visit from two local bunny huggers the other day. They stopped by with their medium sized kinky haired sort of black poodles to ask about the monster pickup truck that Chris the bowhunter parks on the circle near their homes while he's sitting in his tree stand slavering at the chance of putting broadheads into Bambi's mom and dad. I agreed to talk to Chris when I see him about parking his truck in our driveway.
They also expressed concern about the danger to their children of hunters filling the air with far flung arrows. I explained that Chris does not shoot in the manner of Persians raising clouds of arrows to block the sun shining on Spartans so they can fight in the shade. And I assured them that Chris is a very qualified and careful hunter who's unlikely in the extreme to shoot arrows at or anywhere near any children. I didn't feel it necessary to warn them not to dress their children in realistic deer suits complete with big racks of antlers.
On another front, Jas and Kathy left for The Villages on Sunday morning and probably arrived there on Monday night. We've heard no word from them as of yet; but that isn't terribly surprising. They put the Postal Service behind them last Thursday after 35 and 20 years respectively; and now they've put all of us who remain condemned to this chilly northern climate behind them as well.
Not that I'm complaining that Jas is down in Florida and has forgotten all about his older brothers and sister. It's a beautiful sunny day, and the ten point buck spent quite a bit of time earlier chasing does thither and yon about the lawn, over the creek and around the pond. I hope he doesn't wander over toward Chris's tree stand for at least a couple more days. He's pretty magnificent on the hoof.
Gather ye does, buck, while ye may; for at any hour thy time may come.
I will certainly call Al R tomorrow morning at about 10:30 to see if Jas has stopped over there for coffee. Can't count on him to remember to call me.
Showing posts with label deer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label deer. Show all posts
Friday, November 6, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The great circle of life
It's the season of the fawns. Three of the cute little tykes have been gambolling oer the lawn, stretching their little legs, testing the strength of their little haunches. Their mothers move in somewhat more stately fashion.
All very picturesque and life affirming, until one of the mothers ceases to move in stately fashion and comes to just lie there with one unseeing eye staring up at the sky, proclaiming a very inconvenient truth, dead in the middle of the path behind the pond, flies gambolling around that one accusatory eye.
She was still alive the other day, that visible eye occasionally blinking, her breath shallow. She didn't seem to be suffering, unlike that other one with the hurt hoof a few years ago that somehow got himself all tangled up in the wild rose bush where he struggled and struggled. Thankfully this one died on her own, so I was spared the very unpleasant necessity of putting her out of her misery.
But she couldn't stay where she was. So I went out this morning with the tractor and dragged her to a less conspicuous spot. She's pretty well off the path through the old horse pasture, down near where the local kids dragged those rectangular clay drainage pipes and set them up as supports for benches around a firepit a few years ago. Nobody used that firepit this spring; and they certainly won't be using it this fall.
Early on, way back in 1979 or so, Mom got an introduction to the whims of the country just after she and Pop moved into Colwell's old house. Colwell's dog found a deer carcass in the woods and had a grand old time dragging ribs and long bones and big pieces of hide around the lawns. Unlike Pop, Mom was not amused. She wanted me to go down in the marsh and bury the carcass; but by the time the dog got to dragging pieces around there really wasn't much of a carcass to bury.
The good news is that there aren't any big dogs around to tear this new carcass apart and drag pieces of it all over the place; the bad news is that if something doesn't tear it apart it's going to raise quite a stink. I won't be walking the lower loop of the path through the old horse pasture until the cold of winter sets in. Other walkers will just have to take their chances.
All very picturesque and life affirming, until one of the mothers ceases to move in stately fashion and comes to just lie there with one unseeing eye staring up at the sky, proclaiming a very inconvenient truth, dead in the middle of the path behind the pond, flies gambolling around that one accusatory eye.
She was still alive the other day, that visible eye occasionally blinking, her breath shallow. She didn't seem to be suffering, unlike that other one with the hurt hoof a few years ago that somehow got himself all tangled up in the wild rose bush where he struggled and struggled. Thankfully this one died on her own, so I was spared the very unpleasant necessity of putting her out of her misery.
But she couldn't stay where she was. So I went out this morning with the tractor and dragged her to a less conspicuous spot. She's pretty well off the path through the old horse pasture, down near where the local kids dragged those rectangular clay drainage pipes and set them up as supports for benches around a firepit a few years ago. Nobody used that firepit this spring; and they certainly won't be using it this fall.
Early on, way back in 1979 or so, Mom got an introduction to the whims of the country just after she and Pop moved into Colwell's old house. Colwell's dog found a deer carcass in the woods and had a grand old time dragging ribs and long bones and big pieces of hide around the lawns. Unlike Pop, Mom was not amused. She wanted me to go down in the marsh and bury the carcass; but by the time the dog got to dragging pieces around there really wasn't much of a carcass to bury.
The good news is that there aren't any big dogs around to tear this new carcass apart and drag pieces of it all over the place; the bad news is that if something doesn't tear it apart it's going to raise quite a stink. I won't be walking the lower loop of the path through the old horse pasture until the cold of winter sets in. Other walkers will just have to take their chances.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
You better watch out Bambi, Bob is back
The house is smelling wonderful right now because I've had two big pork roasts in the oven since about noon. But that's not the big news.
The big news is that Bob the crossbow hunter was here setting up his tree stand earlier. He hasn't been around since I saw him get that doe in early December. A nice clean shot. She ran maybe twenty yards and then laid down next to the creek. Bob told me that he's also gotten three bucks on the property this year. So the score to date is Bob four and deer minus four. Things are just as they should be in the great circle of life. There are still plenty of the lily bud ravagers running around so I wished Bob well in getting a bunch more if he can.
Bob mentioned that his son is heading back to China with his family soon. He's a missionary there. Bob tells me that it varies depending on the province; but the Beijing authorities have been reasonably tolerant of Christian missionaries. Bob's son must be a pretty brave man, for the Chinese government has not been at all tolerant of the Falun Gong people they've been persecuting for the past few years. There are some pretty shocking but credible stories out there about the things they've been doing to Falun Gong folks. Bob said his impression is that the Chinese government is moderating it's oppression in general as a result of all the world attention from the Olympics and all; but it's hard to be sure.
Time will no doubt tell; but the view of time in China's governing circle is a bit different than here. There's a famous quote out there about one top Chinese leader's response in the 1970's when asked his opinion of the French revolution. He said, "It's too early to tell yet." For those of you who went to high school in the last thirty years I'll add that the French Revolution happened in 1789 or thereabouts.
The big news is that Bob the crossbow hunter was here setting up his tree stand earlier. He hasn't been around since I saw him get that doe in early December. A nice clean shot. She ran maybe twenty yards and then laid down next to the creek. Bob told me that he's also gotten three bucks on the property this year. So the score to date is Bob four and deer minus four. Things are just as they should be in the great circle of life. There are still plenty of the lily bud ravagers running around so I wished Bob well in getting a bunch more if he can.
Bob mentioned that his son is heading back to China with his family soon. He's a missionary there. Bob tells me that it varies depending on the province; but the Beijing authorities have been reasonably tolerant of Christian missionaries. Bob's son must be a pretty brave man, for the Chinese government has not been at all tolerant of the Falun Gong people they've been persecuting for the past few years. There are some pretty shocking but credible stories out there about the things they've been doing to Falun Gong folks. Bob said his impression is that the Chinese government is moderating it's oppression in general as a result of all the world attention from the Olympics and all; but it's hard to be sure.
Time will no doubt tell; but the view of time in China's governing circle is a bit different than here. There's a famous quote out there about one top Chinese leader's response in the 1970's when asked his opinion of the French revolution. He said, "It's too early to tell yet." For those of you who went to high school in the last thirty years I'll add that the French Revolution happened in 1789 or thereabouts.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Violence, passion and politics in Collegeville
Linda woke me this morning to see the end of a battle between two bucks down toward the creek. It was easy to tell who won because one of the bucks departed the field; but now they're both back and chasing the herd of does around. They were too far away and the action was too violent for me to notice earlier; but now I see that one buck is missing his right antler and the other buck is missing his left. Furthermore the left antler buck is a mere stripling with a couple of prongs, while the right antler buck has a much bigger half rack.
Talk about symbolism. They've both chased one of the does down into the woods where I can't see them now, so who knows how the contest will end.
That left antler upstart may have cleared the field and thus won the right to chase Lady Liberty around to his heart's content down in Washington for the next four years; but up here in Collegeville hope is still alive.
Update: 85 90 80 79 ;<)
Update 2: This morning we saw the right antler buck limping after the does; so apparently he drove the left antler buck from the field of eros. Something is wrong with his right rear leg. Here's hoping he was able to score while we were at work because the battle apparently cost him pretty dearly. He's half crippled just as winter approaches; not a good thing. The world of the wild is tough on the weak.
Talk about symbolism. They've both chased one of the does down into the woods where I can't see them now, so who knows how the contest will end.
That left antler upstart may have cleared the field and thus won the right to chase Lady Liberty around to his heart's content down in Washington for the next four years; but up here in Collegeville hope is still alive.
Update: 85 90 80 79 ;<)
Update 2: This morning we saw the right antler buck limping after the does; so apparently he drove the left antler buck from the field of eros. Something is wrong with his right rear leg. Here's hoping he was able to score while we were at work because the battle apparently cost him pretty dearly. He's half crippled just as winter approaches; not a good thing. The world of the wild is tough on the weak.
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