Uh Oh, Who's This?

Girls! Girls! Over here...who the heck is this?

There's a strange cat staring at me through the fence.

Mollie: "How the heck am I supposed to know?"  Carla: "And why should we care?"

Because it doesn't have a clipped ear, it could be a kitten machine.

Although, except for the orange tinges it does look more like a boy.

Right after I took this picture, Rosie (the Enforcer) sent it high-tailing off behind the shed.

This looks suspiciously like one of Wesley's siblings. I had trapped 3 and was keeping them in a pen. One day one of them made a break for it, ran right past me and out the door. A week later there was a smudge of gray and white kitten on the highway, I assumed it was dead.

Maybe there were actually 5 kittens?

What's the story, Linda? (Linda is Wesley's mom.)

Linda's not telling. What happens in the wood shed stays in the wood shed.

Foiled by the Guvmint

Thank you for all the good wishes, but I can't go to the Tucson show this time. I never did find anyone who could go with me. PP, most of Bob's friends are working two jobs just trying to pay their rent. Cousin Nancy can't go because she has a grandbaby due any day (otherwise that would be fun). Carlotta just got back from vacation in Mexico and needs to show up at work once in a while. Yes, I'd have to stay in a motel for a couple of extra nights, which would mean the birds would be in their small carriers for quite a while longer than usual.

I decided I could handle all this, anyway, and started making plans and writing out my entries. Then...screech...ran into a road block.

Every state has different requirements for bringing poultry across their borders. Some, like Texas, won't let ANY birds come in from outside. I think that's more to avoid competition than disease because they'll let Texans haul their birds to other states to show them, then bring them back home.

Most of the states require blood testing and a certificate that shows the birds are free of disease. In some states you can test the birds yourself, or they'll test the birds at the show for you.

California does not require any of that, nor I think does Washington, Oregon, or Nevada. We can pretty much just load our birds and head off to each others' shows without a hassle.

If you want a certificate here, however, it's going to cost at least $30 a bird and the guvmint gets involved. I like to take 10 birds to a show. That's a lot of money.

An alternative is to get your whole flock tested and certified. That appears to cost about $100 right now. It could change in the future. Right now the department of chicken inspecting is working off special funds, so they don't charge for having the testers travel to your flock.

So I've filled out the papers and hope to get the flock tested soon. Once I have my NPIP number, I won't have to worry about having chickens confiscated at a state border. Well, except Texas if I wanted to go there.

The next show isn't until December. It's in California. Meantime I'm trying to keep the birds in good condition. It isn't always easy.

This little girl has molted and is getting her new feathers. To celebrate, she went to a poop party. You have to clean things like this up the minute you find them, or the feathers will be permanently stained. For some reason, the white pullets love to poop on each other.

So I brought her in and washed her. Wesley helped me get her dry.

He's very good at keeping an eye on the chickens.

Decisions

I'm not good at making "yes or no" decisions. In my life, everything is a definite "maybe."

I'm trying to decide whether to load up the show troupe and head for a show in Tucson. I'm not expecting to duplicate the wonderful results of the last show. For one thing, the show in Tucson is the national show for Rose Combs, which means the competition in my birds' class (RCCL) will be much stiffer.

The problem is, I've often said that when I get a decent bird, I'll throw it in the car and take it everywhere. I like to go to poultry shows, but could never justify the time and expense of getting to remote shows for birds that weren't real competitors.

Now I have some decent birds. And the next show is a 14 hour driving trip away, and I can't find anyone to drive with me. Most of my friends still have jobs or children. I can probably do this by myself if I plan it right. It will just take me longer. The worst part will be Tucson on Sunday, knowing there's a long trip home.

Entries are due today. It's time to put up or shut up.

BEST OF SHOW!!!!

Can you believe it? I have been hoping to get Best RCCL (rose comb clean leg) with a Dominique bantam this year. This little pullet got Best RCCL, then Best Bantam, then Best of Show. What a thrill.

It's really exciting when your bird is one of 20 on Champion Row. That is a row of cages set up for the class champions. The judges then look at these finalists to choose the show winners. The suspense has exhibitors chewing their fingernails.

None of the old timers could remember a Dominique bantam ever winning Best of Show. I'm happy it's one of mine that has that honor.

Egad!

What is it?

A.  a bird's nest
B.  a lintball
C.  a new hair do

None of the above, actually. It's a new hair DON'T. Don't bother to mess with curlers. The last time I did that was probably 20 years ago and I had forgotten what happened. Luckily I didn't get the permanent that was recommended when I complained about my straight hair. This experiment will wash out. I hope.

If not, I have a nice assortment of little hats.

I have to catch and wash chickens today for Bakersfield. It freaks them out when you have something different on your head. Really. Cats and dogs don't seem to notice, but birds are very conscious of hairdos and hats. But they don't see the same colors we do, so they won't notice that the pink hat clashes with the red t-shirt.

Guys don't notice those things, either.

Wesley

The Kitten has an official name. It is Wesley. Those of you who know Uncle Bernard know he has a wonderful old cat named Wesley. This is Uncle B's Wesley:

I don't want to embarass this grand old fellow by tacking his name onto such a brat. So, my Wesley was actually named after this one:

Wil Wheaton played Wesley Crusher on Star Trek, The Next Generation. The character was an annoying teenager. Aside from his mom Beverly, no one liked him much. In fact, the term "The Wesley" is a trope that describes a character who a series' creators like, but the audience dislikes.

And that would be my Wesley. My friends and relatives are animal lovers. Wesley is so darned cute and wants to play with everyone, they always bend down and try to pick him up. After a few minutes, I'm off to the bathroom to find some bandaids and my friend or relative is pushing (no, make that TRYING to push) the kitten away without drawing more blood. Wesley has actually improved a lot. He isn't mean, he just has poor judgment and is too nosy. Maybe by the time he's 4 or 5 he will outgrow that. In the meantime, if you come to my house don't stand with your hands in your pockets or you'll have a kitten hanging from your pants leg.

Wesley disgusts Velcro. He either treats her like one of his toys, or uses her as a mattress.

I can't even get a picture of Wesley with Gollie together. She won't often allow herself to be in the same room with him. She made the mistake of running from him when he was a tiny kitten and soon became something for him to chase. Now, when he's bored, he hunts her down and chases her from whatever comfortable spot she's found.

The other animals aren't very fond of him either. When I was washing birds to show, Wesley had his eye on the entire operation. He has never bothered one of the chickens, but he has that look, doesn't he?

Teenaged kittens are not easy. When Velcro was a teenager, she figured out how to climb up under the covers at night and bite our toes. Charlie would hang himself across the back of your chair, with his paw around your neck for support. I don't know what Gollie did as a teenager. She was always in the house, but she hid until she was 2 years old.

Wesley is a helpful teenager. If you don't close the bathroom door behind you, he takes great joy in sneaking in to unroll some toilet paper for you. Or, even more fun, you'll unroll what you need and he leaps up at just the right time to grab the bundle and run off with it. He doesn't get very far, maybe just down the hall, where he rips it up and turns it into several toys.

Small bits of paper are favorite toys. Wesley finds them in the garbage cans and plays with them all over the house. He is very skilled at pulling things out of drawers and dropping them on the floor. One day he pulled all the plastic forks out of a picnic carrier and dropped them on the floor. Just the forks. I'm still finding them in strange places.

In this house, you cannot leave a cell phone on the counter. Wesley knows they slide very well and make a cool noise when they hit the floor. Also that provokes humans almost as well as knocking over their half-filled coffee cup.

Whatever chores I have in the house, Wesley likes to help. You have seen him hanging onto the broom, so I can use him to clean the floor. He also likes to dust furniture, especially with a feather duster. I can't wash dishes without him perched next to the sink. Water does not deter him.

But mostly, Wesley likes to cook. When you get a bowl out, the kitten climbs into it.

Bob was trying to make a tossed salad one night. He couldn't keep Wesley out of the bowl, so he made tossed Wesley instead.

The kitten loved it.

When I tried to make muffins, he swiped a paper liner and played with it. I didn't even see him on the counter, he was so quick.

I can't leave fruits or vegetables in plastic bags on the counter. One day I came back to the kitchen to find 4 bell peppers rolling on the floor. Another time it was a pineapple.

One time Wesley tried to make applesauce.

Another time, he offered to crush the strawberries for shortcake. He doesn't even like shortcake, except for the whipped cream part.

He never eats what's on the counter, you could leave meat there and he wouldn't bother it because it's not a cool toy.

I have found one thing that Wesley will leave alone.

Onions.

There's one last thing Wesley does that doesn't set well with me. When I wear my fluffy bathrobe, he likes to suck on it.

Maybe I could wash it in onion juice.

Foul Times

I spent two weeks trying to write civil comments to the county's newest DEIR. Their project, once again, would turn an open space buffer zone into a strip mall for recycling industries. The problem for us in Sloughhouse is that would be located on the south side of the county dump, which is the side we see. In no stretch of the imagination is junk related "industry" compatible with a scenic farming area.

The problem is, the buttheads at the county are more determined than ever. They have snuck in and changed what was written in the last General Plan amendments, they put on "public" meetings that were merely plans to allow them to claim there was public input, and they keep trying to find a plan that will float.

The comments we wrote to last year's DEIR were only used to camouflage the same crap in this year's DEIR.

I may have started with an ounce of respect for county government and for the people at the dump. I have since lost that. As I said, it's very hard to write civil comments when all you'd like to do is tell these slugs what losers they are.

Okay, so all that is finished for another month or two. The issue will go on to the so-called "Planning" department. One of the fellows on that board used to be head of the dump. How do you suppose that will play out? Then the issue will go to a board of supervisors that seems to have no interest in anything but pushing through whatever developers want. Please prove me wrong on that, I'd be happy to apologize.

This stuff always puts me in a foul mood. I think I've said before that it becomes difficult to write a pleasant, chatty, blog until the government-induced mood dissipates. But while I was waiting to be able to write, I did some reading.

First, I kept reading everyone else's blog. It's such a joy to see YP's prize-winning photos of the English countryside, and to see Celi's peafowl (I'm so envious) and kittens. I enjoy reading Linda's tales from Colorado, and Carson's donkey tales from New Mexico. When I read John Gray's blog entries I'm always thankful I don't have more animals than I do. When I read Hippo's, I'm often glad I live in California and not in Angola, but that's because I'm not very adventurous. I love his family and admire his inventiveness and hope his toe doesn't kill him because I want to keep reading about his life.

I also read some books. First was Slow Apocalypse by John Varley, who is a scifi writer. This book is earthbound and barely fiction of any kind, the story entirely believable. It reminded me somewhat of The Last Days of the Late, Great State of California, except the disasters in Varley's book seemed more plausible...not a huge, instant, cataclysm, but a slow one in which everything we take for granted eventually disintegrates and people have to take care of themselves. I know, there are a lot of those tales going around right now. This one isn't completely depressing, so it appealed to me.

Just previously I read Containment, by Christian Cantrell. It's more of a scifi apocalypse story, about a human colony on Venus after the environment on Earth fails.

Another book I read was Zealot, by Reza Aslan. My sister-in-law Maureen brought it to me. I have been interested in ancient Mediterranean history since I took a class in it at UC Davis many years ago. One of the reasons I appreciate Zechariah Sitchin's books is the detail about that time. Our western culture is infused with a simplistic Christian understanding of that history that isn't shared by everyone else in the world. It's interesting to read about it from many different perspectives and see how the pieces might actually fit together.

I am usually always reading at least one health or philosophy book. This past month I read Naked Calories, by Jayson and Mira Calton, and Diabetes Rising by Dan Hurley. I have to say that since I read Primal Body, Primal Mind by Nora Gedgaudas, all these other books are pretty shallow. If you want to read one book that explains it all, read Nora's.

Now I'm reading 2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson.

I'm also working with my chickens. This weekend I'm taking 20 or so to the auction. There are a couple I would rather give to someone who just wants backyard chickens, and a few that are show quality. But I need to get the numbers down, so it's off to the auction on Sunday at the crack of dawn.

Everyone here is fine. Bob has been on Kauai for a week with his friends, and will be back soon to start looking for an apartment in town. I'm starting to look forward to that.

I named the kitten, finally. I'll tell you about that next time.