Last Show

This past weekend I went to my 10th show of the season. It was in Red Bluff, which is about 2 hours north. This was the last winter show in California. It was good to see everyone again, but even better because I got to see these three friends for the first time this year.

Rhonda, Marta and her mom Julie

Rhonda is a Dominique breeder who lives in Oregon. She didn't bring birds, but rode down to the show with friends. It was so much fun to see her again, I love to talk about Dominiques with her. There aren't many people who raise our breed, and it's good to get a new opinion. I sent her home with a box of hatching eggs.

The other two ladies are old friends from our 4-H days. They had not been to a poultry show for 8 years. We drove to Red Bluff together and got to yak a lot in the car. The drive was almost too short to catch up on all the news. For those of you who are Marta's friends, she's working as a sign language interpreter now. In the summer she is stationed in a fire lookout tower in the national forest. Julie is retired and spends a lot of time in her huge vegetable garden.

Here are the Dom bantams. They'll spend the rest of the spring in breeding pens, and then I'll ship some of them to other people around the U.S. who want to raise this breed.

The Dominique Bantams

"Meanwhile, back at the ranch...."

Bob found an apartment in downtown Sacramento and will be moving. My house has a basement, where I've stored extra dishes, food, and other things I haven't needed. Bob was in the basement scrounging for things to use in his apartment when he discovered that Wesley had followed him down the steps. I heard, "Kitty, kitty, kitty. Wesley, come here, come here kitty." The cat crawled back further under the house. Bob crawled after him through dirt and spider webs, his voice a little grumpier. "Come HERE, you stinking cat!"

That didn't work, either. So Bob went outside and got the fishing net I use to catch chickens.

He had to crawl back under the house, this time to the furthest corner, where the cat was hiding. When he finally caught Wesley, he dragged him back up the stairs and tossed him into the kitchen hard enough to bounce him off the refrigerator. I don't blame Bob. Wesley can be annoying.

Every day the cat still knocks over the garbage cans looking for things he can play with. I put a brick in the bottom of the bathroom can. It just takes him a little longer to knock it over. Because it's harder, he seems more determined.

The cat is not ALL bad, though. This morning he wolfed down his own breakfast and half of Velcro's. Maybe 5 minutes later, he threw it all back up. But look at this...he threw up in the dust pan!

I thought Velcro was considerate because she always goes out on the back porch to throw up, where there's a concrete floor. I believe Wesley has found an even better solution.

It was a tough morning for the monster. Now he's catnapping.

Jury Dooty

Yesterday I was on jury duty, so I had lots of time to write about what I've been doing.

I have 20 chicks already, 7 white Old English and the rest are Dominique bantams. The hatching is going fairly well and Wesley has not figured out he could jump over the barrier gate yet. He hasn't seemed to notice the chicks cheeping, and has kept himself busy sneaking up on Velcro and Gollum. He's made Gollie angry enough that she's pooped in my chair a couple of times. I'll take that over dead chicks any day.

A couple of weeks ago I got to go to a youth poultry show with my friend Amanda and two of her kids. I didn't have to get birds ready, I didn't have to drive, all I did was have fun.

Amanda's son is second from the left in this class. The kids are going through the movements of inspecting their birds for the judge. Poultry showmanship is rather complicated and requires the children to know and handle their own animals. If the only thing they learned was how to keep their whites clean, that would be wonderful, but by the time they're senior showmen most poultry project kids have quite an education in avian science.

In this class, Amanda's daughter (at the table on the right) and another young showman are walking their birds for the judge. The showmen use a short stick to help guide the bird down the table, turn it around, and walk it back. This is not easy, you should try it some time. Some breeds of chickens are notoriously hard to walk. Birds like Silkies and Cochins, with feathers on their feet, tend to just sit down on the table. Both of these kids are showing Modern Game Bantams. With their long legs and gentle temperaments, they're one of the easiest breeds for kids to train.

The people who organized this show did a great job providing all sorts of activities for the kids. Here is their Champion Row.

This is where the winners from each will go, so the judges can compare them and pick Best and Reserve of Show. Most of the adult shows don't decorate their Champion Row this well.

I had another experience with kids and poultry a little later that week. I had ordered a used book on Amazon and it came like this:

A kid had used the front and back pages to practice the alphabet and to test a stamping kit. There were no marks inside the book. What do you teachers think? Was this a first grader?

I celebrated my birthday this month. I had lunch at the nearby Sloughhouse Inn with my friends Neva, Charlene, and Mitzi. When all of us worked, we saw each other frequently. Now that we're retired it seems like we only manage to get together once a year. How dumb is that?

Later in the evening Bob and Anna took me to dinner at Cattleman's. Cousin-in-law Beverly went with us. At Cattleman's they make you wear a hat while they sing "Happy Birthday." I assure you, I don't usually wear a hat. Especially not one like this.

Bev is still trying to trap the mama cat in her neighborhood. We took 4 others to SPCA to have them neutered, but the mama is pretty smart. She won't be suckered into the trap. Bev says the mama looks like she's ready to pop more kittens out any time now.

Here are Bob and Anna on the other side of the table.

I got to bring the hat home. Do you think I should change my profile picture?

I got lots of wonderful things for my birthday, gift cards to Amazon and Green Acres, little chicken doodads and kitchen towels, and a lovely bouquet of tulips that Anna brought. While we were at dinner, Wesley helped himself to the tulips.

At first I was worried they'd make him sick. Then I hoped they would. Then I hoped they'd make him sick, but not so sick he'd throw up all over the house. Give him a headache, maybe. They didn't appear to affect him at all, though.

I spent an entire weekend outside in the sunshine in the flower beds. I pulled weeds and spread some more mulch. Because we had a hard frost last fall, there were a few plants that had expired. No problem, I went to Green Acres and used my gift card. When I got there, traffic had already spilled out of the parking lot and customers were parking up and down the nearby streets. I'm not the only gardener who loves that place.

That's what I was up to until yesterday, when I had to drive downtown to serve jury duty. I know I've said this before, but it bears repeating. I HATE driving in downtown Sacramento. I wouldn't mind being there if someone else was driving and I could just look at the old Victorian houses and admire the azaleas, camellias, and dogwoods that are blooming right now. But driving there makes me grumpy.

In our county when you're on jury duty you can check an online list every day to see if the group you're in has to report or not. Sometimes you get lucky and don't have to report at all. My luck ran out on Wednesday.

I got sent with a panel to a courtroom that was choosing a jury. I was doing fine, I was still in the audience and they had picked the jury. Then I got called up to be interviewed as an alternate.

The jury process amuses me. The judge and the attorneys spend a lot of time convincing the prospects to be sheep. The judge points out that it's not cool to have preformed opinions, nor to judge a defendant by how he looks. It's only cool to be totally nonjudgemental until you hear all the facts, then form your opinion only using the criteria the judge gives you. I understand this is how the system works, but it's totally not how humans work, is it?

Most of the people seemed determined to "pass the test" and become a juror. They all spoke very quietly, as if they were benign. None of them ever had anything in their life that would affect their judgement, they all professed to be true, honest, and just. And when the attorneys finally had a flock of good sheep, then they could each use their best techniques to compete in herding them. Baaaaaaaa.

The judge was first to question the four of us who were alternate prospects. When it was my turn, she questioned whether I thought I could be fair. "Yes," I answered. "I am very fair. However I am grumpy."

"You mean that's your personality?" She asked.

"No, I mean I'm not happy to be here today. I totally respect this court and don't take the process lightly, and I understand how serious this is for the defendant. But I have chicks hatching at home and a terrorist cat that might be after them."

The judge smiled. "Well, we all have things in our lives that we might rather be doing, don't we? But we need to be here even when it's not convenient." Then she went through the list of routine questions until she got to, "Have you or anyone close to you ever been arrested or in court?" Well, most of us know someone who's had dealings with the system. What we're supposed to say is that, no matter what horrible thing might have happened to our friend, relative, or ourselves, that was a different time and experience and it will have no effect on our judgement in this case because we are calm, rational, and unswervingly fair.

When the judge asked me this question I said, "Truthfully, the only experience I've had is a routine traffic stop more than 10 years ago. It was a total setup, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, and when I went to court to defend myself I was treated very badly. It was unjust and it was a shock. I have never forgotten that. To this day, when someone cuts me off or uses a turn lane as a passing lane, I say 'Where's that smartass cop now?' But, of course, I know this is a different occasion."

The judge and the two attorneys went around the corner to confer. I think the issue might have been whether the sworn jury might have been adversely affected by hearing an old grandma-type say something negative about cops in a trial where that was going to be relevant. But they let it go and they let me go, picked two other people as alternates, and sent the rest of us back to the jury room where we watched a bad movie until it was time to go home.

I do have a big mouth. Sometimes it makes other people squirm, but mostly it serves me well.

Life Goes On

Life goes on. Sometimes it just doesn't seem interesting enough to blog about. I assure you, however, that Velcro is the only one here who has been snoozing the days away. (2 dangling prepositions, do I get a prize?)

My time has been divided. First, I had to watch all of the second season Sherlock Holmes shows before they expired on Hulu Plus today. That wasn't easy. The shows are 90 minutes long, and I have difficulty finding that much time to devote to watching even the best that TV has to offer.

Second, I'm halfway through a trilogy. The books are on my Kindle and I have no idea how long they are, but I'm guessing at least 800 pages each, of fairly small type. The night I started reading the first book, I neglected sleeping. Now my sleeping schedule is a mess. (It's not that I can't sleep, it's that I don't enjoy being caught still in my pajamas at noon.) The books are the Crossroads trilogy by Kate Elliott. They have huge eagles that carry people around, and flying horses. Sort of like War Craft, only in written word. I started the first book over a year ago and put it down after the first chapter, for some reason I can't remember. When I returned to it recently, I restarted at the beginning. Now I've read a book and a half, and the story still seems very familiar to me. I don't honestly know if I've read this series before, or if it's just similar to something else I've read.

There was a time when I could remember all my own business and everyone else's as well. I took French and German both in high school, at the same time. I had no problem memorizing 30 vocabulary words for each class on the bus on the way to school in the morning. Now I can't even remember my own cell phone number, I have to write it on the phone. The number is available somewhere in the phone, but I can't remember where.

Memory problems have plagued my third task. I've been trying to learn a new mantra. My old one was 9 words that I learned from Bob's cousin Joe. I think they're Chinese numbers that have something to do with balancing the universe. I decided I needed a new mantra that I could use to balance myself. The universe will have to take care of itself. After some research I settled on the Hindu Maha Mritunjaya mantra. This is it:

It's only 10 words. I don't count "om" because I already knew that one. I've been working on this for 2 weeks and still can't remember it. I even got a 42 minute recording of it for my iPhone. A chanter repeats the mantra 100 times. Okay, so I fall asleep after about 10 of them, but I feel like half my brain is missing. When I was young this would have taken 10 minutes to master. The mantra may have restored some balance to my life, but it hasn't restored my short term memory.

Another thing I've been dealing with is how to keep Wesley out of the incubation room. I don't have chicks yet. They're due tomorrow. But I know once there are chick sounds emanating from the incubators and brooders, Wesley will be on the prowl.

I know this because he can't even leave simple things like lemons alone. Wesley knows that if something is round, it rolls.

And if it rolls, you can push it off onto the floor, then roll it under the refrigerator or the stove. He also knows how to get over, under, or on top of everything in the house. He prefers places where people yell at him to get down. Throwing things at him pleases him even more.

On top of the refrigerator, looking for something to push to the floor.

I came up with 3 possibilities to keep the cat out of the hatching room. First, I could have a door installed. The opening is 40 inches. A custom door would cost a LOT of money. It would also take up a lot of space when the door is open, and it wouldn't allow heat to go in from the adjoining room (where the pellet stove is).

A second option would have been a shock collar and transmitter. I can't begin to tell you how attractive this solution seemed, especially if it came with a remote control. But there wasn't enough distance between the transmitter and the pathway the cats have to take to get to their litter box. Also, Wesley is just a bit vindictive. I was concerned a collar might drive him to some new evil behavior.

I finally settled on this option:

It's an extra high, extra wide gate. Katherine advised me not to get a cheap mesh gate because I'd probably stomp it to pieces when it became too annoying. So I got this one. It looks nice. It installed easily. It opens easily with one hand and closes shut automatically. I'm afraid the extra-highness won't be enough to keep Wesley from jumping over it when the chicks hatch. So I saved the box it came it and will use it to block the top of the opening. So much for looking nice. Also, you might notice the small riding crop hanging at the top left of the picture. I might have to use that to keep the cat from prying his way into the room.

There were some fun things that happened around here last week, too. I actually got outside and worked in the flower beds. I threw away the old, cheap, solar-powered lights that lined the walkway and bought some new, cheap, solar-powered ones. 

It was Bob's 28th birthday. He threw himself a pizza party. Brent (left) and Jon (right) were the first of his old friends to show up. 

I don't bake cakes anymore, the guys don't eat sweet stuff like they did when they were kids. I guess cake and beer is not a good pairing.

I had a surprise in the mail from Colorado. My blogging friend Linda sent me a handmade rose.

I have it on the sideboard with some of my other favorite things. What fun!

A remarkable thing happened last week. One of the Ancona hens laid a huge egg. It's 3.8 ounces. Here it is with two normal sized eggs.

Please note the nosy cat in the background, pretending like he's ignoring the round objects. We know what's on his devious little mind, don't we?

(The text after the refrigerator picture somehow got perverted into the picture. I'm leaving it that way. You can just ignore it, too.)

Cumberbitch

Not having a television (nor wanting one) I often don't participate in current trends. I used to know more about those when I still worked, because I'd hear others talking. One of their favorite shows was Breaking Bad. I finally watched it about 4 years after it had started. I found it on Hulu Plus and was curious. I watched 3 shows. The first one was totally yucky. Sure, the acting was good, but the story was very depressing. Finally, halfway through the third show, I turned it off and never went back. 

Most "popular" shows don't hold my interest very long. I don't watch any of the CSIs, if I watch anything with blood and gore, I have to cover my eyes.

I do regularly watch Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert because they're smart asses and I fear they are the only true voices in news. I know, they don't have "real" news shows. That's what's scary. I have watched and enjoyed Doc Martin. It's sometimes silly, but I love the background scenery. I've watched some Australian series for the same reason. I stuck with McCloud's Daughters until they killed off my favorite main character, then never went back. I loved the corny Saddle Club series, but didn't watch it after the 3 original girls were replaced.

Just last week Bob finally talked me into trying Sherlock Holmes. I did, and I love it. It's more like watching a series of movies, those shows are very, very long. But they're fun and interesting.

This is Benedict Cumberbatch, who plays Sherlock. I'm sure all of you already know that. I sort of knew it, I've been avoiding everything with this actor in it for a couple of years now. I'd see him on a talk show and turn the channel. I just didn't see anything special about him. He seemed homely and dull. I haven't watched the newest Star Trek movie because he's in it. He just seemed borrrrring. 

But when I finally saw Sherlock, I became an instant fan. A Cumberbitch.

I don't always figure out what's going on in the show. I had to watch one of them twice because I couldn't discern what was reality and what was not. (It wasn't any better the second time.)

The last time I had this much fun watching a show, it was FarScape, which I saw at least 5 years after it had been cancelled. I ended up buying the complete set of DVDs and watched them all at least twice.

I hope I haven't missed this, if it's already happened in the show and I just didn't catch it, but I'm dying to hear Dr. Watson reply, "No shit, Sherlock!"

Plodding Along

When Bob came home yesterday, I was sitting at the computer. He glanced around at the messy kitchen and asked, "Soooo, what did YOU do today?" (Well, for one thing, I did NOT wash the sink full of his dirty dishes.)

I had an answer all ready for him, though, because of my new "organizational" tool. A while back, I bought a pad of one-week calendar pages. The plan was to list items that needed to be done, each with a little square that I could check off when the task was finished. Except about two weeks into this plan, I discovered that I resent being told what to do, even if I'm telling myself. So, instead, I wait until the end of a day, and make a list of things I accomplished. That way, all the boxes are checked off.

The first thing I had done is set up the chicken breeding pens. Here is a chart that took me two weeks to figure out.

It makes no sense to you, does it? That's okay, it barely makes sense to me. This shows all the pens and the leg band numbers of all the birds. At this point all of the birds are included. It's going to be difficult to identify such a variety of chicks. After the first month, I'll be selling the extra adults and only concentrating on the best ones. I haven't start saving eggs yet, the hens are not laying reliably yet. Also, I still need to set up the incubators.

In the meantime, I've been collecting the miscellaneous unfertile eggs for the past two months. I keep them in covered, raccoon-proof buckets.

The fertile pigeon eggs go into the buckets, too. When the buckets start to stink, I load them up and take them a mile away, to the end of the property, right next to the creek. The raccoons and opossums can have a feast. I never leave old eggs anywhere in my yard because I want the wildlife to stay at the creek. Usually I use the golf cart to haul eggs. Yesterday I used my car. I did such a good job tarping the golf cart for the winter that never came, I didn't want to unwrap it. It might rain this week.

Once in a while, a pair of pigeons will sneak eggs past me and hatch some babies. These are two that I had to bring in this week and feed by hand. See their poor little, pecked heads? Their parents did that to them to get them out of the nest. Those parents will be going to the auction next time. Don't you think these two look like miniature seagulls?

This is a pair I have actually been encouraging to nest.

It's a pair of Copper Black Archangels I bought at the Ferndale show.

I've also had a chicken in the house all winter. You might remember Grandma, the ancient Old English Game Bantam hen. How old is she this year? Twelve, I think. She was a little feeble at the beginning of winter, but springtime is starting to perk her up.

I hatched 4 of her eggs last year. One of her sons actually placed at a couple of shows. At one, he was Reserve of Variety. I'd be quite happy if she lays again this year, but she's already made her contribution to the gene pool around here, I just don't want her dying for lack of care.

I had a lot of items on my "To Do" list than involved taking care of the birds: cleaning pens, catching and moving them around, trimming nails and beaks, weighing them (important for the bantams) and making sure everything is under cover because it's supposed to rain this week. If I keep saying that, maybe it will.

Here are some other things that I'd marked off the list.

Take a picture of Gollie in her little bed, to show you all that it does fit the proper size cat.

Take a couple of pictures around the yard. I almost hesitate to show these to folks in the rest of the country, who are still frozen under snow. It has been very warm here in California. The daffodils are actually almost finished blooming.

The camellias are making a good show.

The ones further away from the house have flowers that show signs of needing more water. I will run a hose out there. I just kept expecting we'd have rain. We did. It just wasn't enough. But it might rain this week.

I finally set my Texas Mt. Laurel outside. I'm keeping it in a pot on the porch, away from the cottontail rabbits that chewed off the Mt. Laurel seedlings I had planted in the dirt.

I also have some blooms in the house. The orchid Anna gave me last year has bloomed again.

I moved it to a slightly bigger pot and evidently it really likes its window space.

Wesley doesn't bother it, but he has been busy trying to get to the baby pigeons (bad boy), and "playing" with Biscuit through the screen door.

This is what I see through the window by my computer - Biscuit glaring at Wesley with hate in his eyes. If he could get through the door, I'm sure he'd try to kill the kitten. On the other side of the door, Wesley thinks it's all a game.

I have to be very careful to keep the door tightly closed. I'm not sure if having Biscuit neutered would solve the problem or not. He does fine in the woodshed with the girls, and seems to be keeping new ferals from settling here. I haven't checked off any boxes for this. Maybe I could add one that says "Wesley still alive."

There are two more boxes I did get to check off my list yesterday. First, I got my hair cut. Only two hours later and it's already a mess. Like my crooked finger? I shut that in the door of my truck 30 years ago. But I digress, I include this picture to show you the two boxes I'm pointing at in the background.

Those are priority mail boxes. The asparagus has just started to come in, so I actually got my act together and mailed some to Linda in Colorado and Merlene in Texas. Last year I waited until April, when it was way too hot. Colorado and Texas are still frozen, so maybe the asparagus won't arrive as a box of green mush this time. Keep your fingers crossed. That's one thing about a crooked finger, by the way, it crosses very well.

Expensive Toys

Sigh. That was an expensive roll of industrial strength towels. Wesley pulled the roll out of a box, tore off the wrapping, then shredded it as best he could. I was only out of the house for an hour.

The cat has lots of toys. Here's a bowl full of them on the living room floor (bottom left). But he knocked over the silk poinsettia instead.

And pulled off one of the flowers to make himself a NEW toy when he got tired of making artistic shapes out of the towels.

A half hour later I had to chase him out of the kitchen window, where he was happily munching the leaves off a little violet I'd won in the raffle in Fresno. It had to spend the night in a chicken pen.

Wesley knocks over trash cans. Not for food, for wads of paper and other things he can use as toys. He gets into drawers and fishes out our socks. He knocks our iPhones onto the floor, especially if there's an incoming call and he doesn't like the ring tone, but also because he knows they slide well on the linoleum. Can't find your phone? Check under the stove.

Wesley doesn't just enjoy irritating humans, he also bothers the two old cats. He likes to climb into their beds, right on top of them. Velcro's bed is big and she tries to just ignore him. That usually fails when he starts kicking her and trying to bite her ears. Gollie's bed is very small. She's the only cat that fits in it. Wesley doesn't care, as long as he can make her mad, he'll stay in her bed.

The only annoying thing Wesley doesn't do is climb the curtains. I don't have any.

Lost in Fresno

I've only been to the fairgrounds in Fresno maybe 10 times over the years. It was always easy, go down Hwy 99 to Fresno, take the offramp that has the "Fairgrounds" sign, then follow the same signs along the way. Right at Chance St., then left into the fairgrounds.

But I hadn't been to Fresno in a couple of years. And everything had changed.

Now there are two more freeways. I was trying to get to The Big Fresno Fair, marked on this map with an X.

When I exited Hwy. 99 at the "Fairgrounds" sign, it didn't take me to a surface street, it put me on Hwy 180. I kept watching the offramp signs from 180, but there was never another reference to the fairgrounds. Finally, when I saw an exit at Peach St. I knew I'd gone too far. So I took Peach. I knew from past experience to turn off Peach when I saw palm trees.

Uh oh.

I didn't remember palms on Peach. When I got nearer, I could see they had just been transplanted, there were wires holding them up. There was a lot of construction and I was worried they'd removed the palm trees from where they used to be, and I wouldn't recognize the turn off without them.

With detours and other distractions, I was soon in the middle of a residential area with no clue where to go. My trusty iPhone showed me where I was, but it wasn't much help. I used the old technique of asking for directions. It took me 40 minutes to find the fairgrounds.

I assume that when all the construction is finished the fairgrounds signs will be put back up. Several times I was thankful I wasn't pulling a horse trailer to this event. I had just as much trouble getting out of Fresno at the end of the show. The bad part about all of this is that now I have no correct route in my feeble brain, nothing I can rely on in the future. Maybe I will be able to hitch a ride with someone else.

The show is in a nicer building these days. It's bigger and not so dark, and there was a big area with tables where people could sit and visit. That's what they were doing when I got there.

The exhibition cages are to the left. There are sales cages at the back of the building, along the wall. I love shows where the management has made an effort to provide places where people can gather and talk.

Something fairly new to poultry shows are Oriental and American Game classes. This show had lots of entries in both. Game fowl are shown in separate cages that the exhibitors bring. Game fowl are unpopularly known as fighting cocks. Not everyone who raises them fights them, however. Now these people have a way to get together and share their birds in a more wholesome atmosphere.

This is a group of Oriental Game exhibitors.

Some of the more traditional exhibition poultry people have also started raising and exhibiting game fowl. Here, my friend Katherine is setting up a cage for her bird. He ended up winning the award for Best Small Cock. (Have fun with that.)

The American Game Fowl were set up just outside the door. Most of those exhibitors are Hispanic.

Some people don't like having game fowl at exhibition poultry shows. I watched these new people a lot and what I saw were guys who had brought their families enjoying a great time with their birds and friends. And they all bought refreshments and raffle tickets and bought and sold birds in the sales area. It was all good, it just took a little more work on the part of show management to make things run smoothly.

Here is a more typical scene at a poultry show.

People love their birds. This lady had a huge big Langshan. She was proud to show him off. I can only imagine how hard it would be to wash that chicken in my kitchen sink. I think I'll stick to my bantams.

I took my Dominiques and a couple of white Old English Game Bantams. I also took a pair of white OEGB for the raffle, which benefits the poultry club that puts on the show. I love my whites but they very seldom place. The two I showed did not place. But the two in the raffle won first place and $50!!

This was a very clever thing the show management did. Once there was a blue ribbon on the cage, people bought tons of raffle tickets to win these birds. I had a great time waving the ribbon and the $50 bill around and once I'd gloated to all my friends, I donated the money back to the show. Kept the ribbon, though. The birds were won by a young 4-H boy. He and his family were overjoyed to have them, which made me feel great, too.

My Doms were Best of Breed and Reserve of Breed again. One was up for Best RCCL, but the judge gave that award to a teeny tiny Sebright. He came around later and told me he really liked my birds, he just liked the Sebright better. Cool.

Here's the judge, Conor Keegan, examining the Dom bantams.

They put a rope across the aisle when the judge is busy there. Conor was a senior 4-H poultry kid when Bob was first in 4-H. I remember seeing him in showmanship classes then. Now he's a licensed judge. Again, cool.

In the raffle, I won a little violet in a planter. The show was finished by 3:30. By 3:40 I was in my car with the birds loaded, determined to make it home before dark. Except for the additional 45 minutes trying to get out of Fresno, I would have. It was a fairly quick drive home once I found the right freeway.

Wesley has taken a perverse interest in the violet. I have had to put it in a chicken cage with the door closed. He's stretching his paw through the bars trying to get to it. He doesn't even do that if there's a chicken in the cage. What a pain in the butt.

One more show to go.