Photo Phriday: Gramma Turkey

My Mom is attempting to en-Dale all of the turkey poults. Especially the one on her right shoulder.

La la la, the turkeys lurve me so.

There's something very warm down the back of my neck.

Vicious and Dangerous

"I have spoken with citizens who have had multiple problems with pit bulls. They've gone after people, dogs and even cats. They're an aggressive dog. Because of their strong bite, they can latch onto you or another animal and cause tissue damage."

-- Sioux City Councilman Aaron Rochester*

HT to Terrierman for this news story.

The city councilman who led the drive to ban pit bulls in Sioux City is waiting to find out whether his Labrador retriever will be euthanized for biting a neighbor.

Councilman Aaron Rochester said Tuesday he has appealed Sioux City Animal Control's determination that his family's yellow lab is vicious after Saturday's incident, which resulted in an emergency room visit and five stitches for the injured neighbor.

...

At 4:45 p.m. Saturday, a man and woman who live in the neighborhood walked by the Rochesters' home in the 1300 block of 46th St. The lab was sitting on the front porch. As the couple walked by on the sidewalk, the dog ran off the porch and jumped the man, Groetken said.

The neighbor suffered a scratch to his right leg as he tried to push the dog away, some marks on his chest and bites to his thumb that required five stitches at a hospital emergency room.

Yep, that's right. The man responsible for the homelessness and deaths of how many children's pets -- dogs that never bit anyone -- has been willfully harboring a vicious and dangerous dog.

"He is a great watchdog. My speculation is, he was watching our children and may have thought they were in danger."

Yes, Councilman, that is your feckin' speculation. Since you weren't home while you were casually breaking the leash law that is meant to keep us all absolutely safe all the time, it's quite reasonable to replace facts with this speculation --

That your loose, unsupervised, vicious dog has paranoid fantasies about innocuous neighbors out for a walk.

Since your own paranoid fantasies make it A-OK to kill other people's pets based on what you confabulate as their "breed," I guess it makes sense that your dog's paranoid fantasies make it just fine to go bite the passer-by who looks like he's got a panel van full of candy and a clown costume back home.

And, on a totally unrelated note, why is it that smug douchebags always own crazed untrained yellow Labradors named Jake?

Is it because they believe that such animals are idiot-proof? While this notion would reflect some unexpected self-awareness, it too is a fantasy. As Mr. Rochester has proven, idiots are far too ingenious.

Sorry Jake, you have to die because your owner is a jackass. And because you actually bit someone for absolutely no reason.

Unlike the other smooth-coated, square-headed dogs your owner has killed.


* Whose only other newsworthy career achievement seems to be voting to ban unapproved porch furniture that didn't come from Pottery Barn. 'Cuz that's just trashy.

Competency

Sam seems to be the oldest dog from the seizure. Will he live long enough to retire to a soft bed in a warm house?

I realize that I haven't posted an update on the Montana English shepherds since the finish line trial date was continued from May to July. Trial date is now July 13.

NESR put plans to send me to Billings in June on hold; I expect to be there in July. I'm trying to set up the farm so the SLOH can manage all the chores while I'm gone.

The court held a competency hearing for Kapsa yesterday.

The judge denied the county's motion to post bond for the value of the animals and allow them to be placed into homes.

Kapsa is selling puppies born to animals that either escaped capture in December or were concealed elsewhere. The court has declined to allow the county to do anything about the animals still under her control.

Two NESR representatives arrived in Billings today to help with dog care and training and continue working with the volunteers.

Fundraising efforts to pay for the dogs' care continues. AWFA is holding another online auction of donated items to raise money; bidding starts Saturday.

The ersatz "Montana News" -- the lunatic website of a convicted felon with an ax to grind -- is lurking under a false identity on the open English shepherd discussion list, has violated the copyright of one list member, and is claiming to its brain-dead readers (both of them) that this benefit auction of wool, dog treats, purses, etc. is "NESR selling the dogs to the highest bidder." No, I am not going to link to convicted felon Donald Cyphers' website. You can find it in the googles.

The Billings Gazette continues to provide stellar coverage of the case. Their young staff regularly restores my faith in the profession of journalism. And their web extras -- video, PDFs of court papers, photo galleries -- should be a beacon on the hill for other, larger-market newspapers that are frankly lazy. This, people, is how it's done.

Poult Love

Turkeys have no personalities.
Turkeys will drown in a rainstorm.
Turkeys are born looking for a comfortable place to die.
Turkeys are stupid.

Like everyone else, I've been exposed to casual, "everyone knows" anti-turkey propaganda my entire life.

Not just from "everyone says" and popular culture, either.

No less a pastoral luminary than Gene Logsdon devoted a memorable chapter to turkeys in The Contrary Farmer.

I reproduce his advice to would-be turkey raisers in its entirety, from memory:

"Don't."

Understand this about me.

I like intelligent animals. Even those that -- as our friend The Donald said of goats -- are too intelligent for their place on the food chain.*

I like sturdy animals.

I like animals that meet me at least halfway in my efforts to keep them alive.

I like animals that meet my eye.

I don't have much use for stupid, delicate, suicidal, autistic animals.**

And I bought turkeys anyway.

And I am in love.

The fifteen Narragansett and Bourbon red poults came from the hatchery two weeks ago.

I knew I wanted heritage breeds, and to work on conserving these genetic resources through both breeding and market development. I was also planning to get a few commercial broad-breasted birds, which would be invited to Thanksgiving and Christmas this year. My heritage poults won't be big enough in time. We do a big bird at Thanksgiving, and the old breeds grow slowly.

But it seems there is a run on turkeys this year, and all the hatcheries are out. I was lucky to get my Narries and Bourbons.

First thing I noticed when I opened the box at the post office is that they were coming right at me -- pecking and full of piss. Aggressive? Seemed so.

Turns out, notsomuch.

Here's the truth about normal, non-industrial turkeys. They are active, engaged, lively, and curious about everything. They are not particularly delicate, as hatchling poultry goes. Our turkey-mentor friend Carolyn assures me that "These are the ones with Life Force." And there are lots of things they love.

Things turkey poults love

Heat lamp
Hard-boiled egg
Dog tongue on mah butt
Shiny stuff
Weeds, especially lamb's quarters and amaranth
Perch on top of brooder
Red stuff
Ride on hand
Perch on finger like parakeet
Fly
Amherst College Class of 1987 gold signet ring (see shiny stuff)
Sit on lap
Be petted and fussed over
Shoulder ride
MAMA!!!

And turns out, I am the Mama.

I have never been the Mama before. The chickens are tame and meet my eye, but mainly do their own thing. The guineas are simply wild. The ducks are convinced that we will most likely eat them in the morning; domestic in their habits, but not tame. But when I opened the box of poults, they imprinted on me, and humans in general. They run to me for attention. They call for me when they are distressed, and periodically when they are lonely or bored. The meaning of their three-note contact call is unmistakable.

I'm old enough to remember when autistic human children were created by bad mothers. All the experts proclaimed this, and Reader's Digest made it a universally known fact. And old enough to remember when someone grokked that the reason the mothers of autistic children seemed disconnected from their kids was that the children did not have the normal human behavior that elicits bonding. (Probably being told by "experts" that they were the ones who f'd up their screaming, stimming, touch-intolerant, non-verbal, zero-eye-contact kids did not help matters further.)

Well thus it is with the poultry.

The ducks, while cute for the first few days, and somewhat amusing in their absurdity now, are autistic poultry. I have no love for my ducks. They do not meet my eye. Any that don't earn their keep will be sent to freezer camp. Talk about a refrigerator mother.

The turkeys have successfully played the baby card. By treating me as their Mama, they've made me their Mama.

Don't get me started about eventually eating the grandkids.

* He may as well have been describing the vast majority of pet dogs, no?

**Keeping in mind that many exotics who are labeled one, two, or all three of the above are simply animals who have a life niche that includes specific, non-negotiable needs. Meet those needs and the animals are clever, vigorous, and imbued with the will to live. Fail to meet them through ignorance and sloth, and you've killed your captive.

Iguanas, for example. Croak all the time because of errors in temperature, lighting, and diet made by their incurious owners. Give them the right warmth, full-spectrum light, and a varied vegetable diet with adequate calcium in the right balance with phosphorus, and they grow into impressive terror-lizards that will send your dog running for cover. With this one, I'll concede the "clever."

And I don't expect a captive wild animal to meet my eye.

Domestic livestock are another matter.

Blood Boiling

A righteous man regardeth the life of his beast.

Proverbs 12:10

YesBiscuit posted this story about a mother and son who left dogs in their vehicle on a hot day. The dogs died, and the two were arrested and charged with animal cruelty.

Were these people negligent? Did they demonstrate terrible judgment? Should the state punish them for the cruelty they carelessly inflicted on their dead pets?

Of course. Stupid is no excuse.

Were they intentionally cruel?

Doubtful.

But while I was off working with doggy friends this week, came this story.

Reader's Digest version: Show dog handler, who is being paid by the owners of said show dogs to take them places where they can win the ribbons and points and placements that prove that they are better than all the other dogs who don't have those things, leaves seven large, mostly hairy, dogs in a van overnight. Confined in crates. On a day when it reached 90 degrees by 9 am.

By 9:30 in the morning, six of them were dead.

The times do not add up. What happened to the three hours between when the woman claims she found the dogs in distress and when she arrived at the veterinarian?

Sweet dreams, sleepytime princess.

If "the garage was too hot" what about her friggin' house? Where she was sleeping? Where are these moneymaking status symbols beloved pets stored housed when "off campaigning with the handler?"

Now, if a couple of ignorant Phish-following transients become criminal scum when their dogs suffer and die from being left briefly in a vehicle that is their only home, what is a paid dog-show handler who is too lazy to provide proper husbandry to animals that are in her power? A canine professional who cares for her own needs for eight hours before considering the animals that are caged and helpless in her vehicle?

I guess we'll find out.

Someone who takes money to "care" for animals needs to be held to a higher standard of husbandry than a down-and-out pet owner. This young woman grew up in the world of "the fancy" and vehicles crammed with crated dogs. The facts about heat stroke in canines cannot have been obscure to her.

Photo Phriday: Not Your Mama

My lap! Who the hell do you think you are?

Monochrome

I nearly stepped on this large, spectacular moth in the woodshed this afternoon.

I thought he was perfectly monochrome until I cropped in the photo; click the image for big, and you'll see the blue on his legs and a little on his wings, too.

What is he?

Update: Giant Leopard Moth