Our neighbor swears that the first hundred feet of airspace is ours.
We are regularly invaded in the summer by this commercial endeavor
Scenic, sure, but it frightens the livestock, and the dogs hate it. They all leap to their feet, barking emphatically, when they hear the whuumph of the burner in the distance.
Rosie has developed a three-dimensional case of Mailman Syndrome.
She and Pip chase through the hayfield barking, snarling, and leaping into the air.
And the balloon runs away every single time. Success!
Next time, she will surely jump high enough to catch the trespasser.
Dogs. Dawgs. Other critters. Life as Oliver Wendell Douglas. Live heirlooms, both flora and fauna. Self-sufficiency. Suffering not a fool to live. Land stewardship. Turnip trucks, and those who have not fallen therefrom. Training things. Growing things. Search and rescue. What is this bug and what is it doing under my desk light? Embracing the reality that Nature Bats Last.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Photo Phriday: Aerial Invader
Labels:
dog behavior,
farm dogs,
farm life,
just fun,
Random weirdness
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We have regular ultralight traffic. Perhaps because a lot of really large birds like eagles frequent our place, the dogs have decided that ultralights only merit a look and a shrug.
ReplyDeleteThe chickens on the other hand fly (literally) into a major panic when they hear them.
According to this article FAA regulations set the minimum altitude as 1000 ft above the highest obstacle within 2000 ft horizontally of the aircraft. So find the highest objects within 2000 ft of your farm and the balloon is required to be 1000 ft above that or the pilot is in violation of FAA regs.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.pilotoutlook.com/balloon_flying/14_cfr_part_91_section_91_119_minimum
Albuquerque has lots of balloons, though not as many as it used to, and features an international festival that features several hundred of them. Dogs seem to nearly universally hate them and you can track a balloon's path over a neighborhood by the wave of barking just ahead of it. Booker the Chessie hasn't had one come right over him yet, but when they go by at a couple of hundred yards when we're on the river his interest seems to be "If that big one comes over here, you're going to shoot it, aren't you?"
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