My brother sold his cows this spring meaning I would have nothing to check on during my summer walks (sans Rex. As the grass grew lush, Lloyd contracted Western Feedlots to pasture 140 steers here. (he gets 50 cents a pound gained and he insists I get rent for my pasture) Three cattle liners arrived and empted the terrified animals into our coral. These animals had been given every shot and hormone and were branded and ear tagged before leaving the feedlot. Prodded by electric shocks from yelling drivers, they burst out and broke fences in an effort to escape . The raced around our fields for a half day, some breaking out and going into the coulee. And one group becoming mad that they began throwing themselves at the barnyard fence to get back inside. We settled them for the night in a pen by the water hole. Seems they were more secure in a confined area. Over the summer we have seen them grown and cam down but with the behavior of bulls. They bellow night and day like a chorus of frogs and tear up the ground while making bull holes. I have learned that these animals are full of steroids. (140 Barry Bonds) They are harmless to me but very rough on each other. Today Lloyd came and took home one of the steers that was being ridden day and night by a group of would be bulls. Seems this smaller steer had become a sex object to them. By the time Lloyd arrived, it was lying down surrounded by a pack of rapists. I guess that is what happens to humans in the pen.
I watched a CBC documentary called Frankensteer, that was shot here in S Alberta's feedlot alley. No wonder mad cow and other diseases occur, and e coli (hamburger disease) killing kids. I know I would not eat any meat raised this way, no matter how high the pasture fee paid. .
Chow larry
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friday, July 20, 2007
son finds kitten in Daarfur
I’ve traveled out to Umdukhun on my first trip back to Darfur . My journey here began on a MI-8 helicopter from Nyala, the capital of South Darfur State . During the pre-flight briefing, the engineer stated that we’d be flying at 1000 feet. When he finished and asked if there were any questions, I thought I’d take the opportunity to clarify the altitude (out of curiosity). From the captains seat in the cockpit a thick eastern European accent asked “What altitude do you want to fly at? Today is customer chooses day so its up to you”. I responded but apparently MI-8’s don’t have enough oxygen to make 30,000 feet.
My colleague, a Tajik man in his fifties with several grandchildren returned from one of the schools he was overseeing with a small kitten the children there had given him. Truth be told, the little black-haired furball is probably too young to be separated from her mother but that was long since done. He thought it would be a good idea to have the cat around to look after the insect problem and deal with any snakes in the compound. I asked if a name had been chosen before proposing that we name her “Mugur”; after a Romanian colleague who recently left after he spent nearly 2 ½ years around Darfur . We both get a kick out of hearing the other one calling “Here Mugur, come for your milk. Good girl”. Despite my insistence that foreigners should not domesticate animals, creating dependency then leave; I must admit that Mugurs demands for replacement powdered milk (because the last batch was funner to knock over than actually consume) generally get two grown-men up away from their work to tend to immediately. Oh, she’s not completely black-haired since a curious spout with a freshly painted white door altered her appearance. We’re all getting a little greyer out here though. Our Sudanese colleagues either think its terribly fun or we’re both off our rockers. Jury still out on that one.
It had rained the day prior which results in a bug/insect free-for-all. They were absolutely everywhere. We’d gone to play volleyball and returned just after dusk. When I went to shower I discovered dozens of them attacking the light and right then vowed never again to shower after sundown when I needed to use the light. In my bedroom, I was horrified to discover that, with the mosquito net only partly down, several colonies of ants, flying things I’d never seen before and of course the inevitable mosquitos had made their way around the lack security of the net to be underneath it with little chance of being able to escape even if they choose to. Thankfully we still had power so I turned the fan on high, lifted the net and shook the bedsheets. I was glad I brought a ‘sleepsack’ into which I could completely retreat, though I did take notice of a few visitors walking up my leg.
Early the following morning, as the roosters began their morning routine, I decided that the rooster-call setting I have on my phone alarm needs to change. I can get back to sleep each morning only after convincing myself its not the electronic thing but the real thing (those birds really do a grand impression of a Nokia).
Sunday I went out to a new camp, Jeddid with probably over 9,000 people who have only arrived since the start of June. Most are from Darfur with a handful of refuges from Central African Republic . To get there, we walked through the market to the wadi (a normally dry channel which becomes a river during seasonal rainy periods). There we took a raft constructed with probably one cubic-meter of sticks and fastened with rope to get across to the other side. After we crossed the wadi, we took a ride on a horse-drawn cart through thick mud then walked for about 20-30 minutes to the main part of the camp.
Today we visited a slaughter-area; set up by another agency to provide a common area for people to butcher goats. We’re digging a pit (royal we here… ) for the remains (for hygienic purposes. I guess I’ve never watched an animal get slaughtered so it was an interesting experience. As the goats took up to a minute to ‘expire’, I found it interesting how the other goats so camly waited about. Okay, the few that were tied up were pretty much committed but several weren’t and I began to think these few, free-to-run-for-it goats were pretty much the least-briefed on the outcome animals in existence. “Hey, where’s Bill? He was here a second ago. Oh- he’s over there with a knife on his throat…”
My colleague, a Tajik man in his fifties with several grandchildren returned from one of the schools he was overseeing with a small kitten the children there had given him. Truth be told, the little black-haired furball is probably too young to be separated from her mother but that was long since done. He thought it would be a good idea to have the cat around to look after the insect problem and deal with any snakes in the compound. I asked if a name had been chosen before proposing that we name her “Mugur”; after a Romanian colleague who recently left after he spent nearly 2 ½ years around Darfur . We both get a kick out of hearing the other one calling “Here Mugur, come for your milk. Good girl”. Despite my insistence that foreigners should not domesticate animals, creating dependency then leave; I must admit that Mugurs demands for replacement powdered milk (because the last batch was funner to knock over than actually consume) generally get two grown-men up away from their work to tend to immediately. Oh, she’s not completely black-haired since a curious spout with a freshly painted white door altered her appearance. We’re all getting a little greyer out here though. Our Sudanese colleagues either think its terribly fun or we’re both off our rockers. Jury still out on that one.
It had rained the day prior which results in a bug/insect free-for-all. They were absolutely everywhere. We’d gone to play volleyball and returned just after dusk. When I went to shower I discovered dozens of them attacking the light and right then vowed never again to shower after sundown when I needed to use the light. In my bedroom, I was horrified to discover that, with the mosquito net only partly down, several colonies of ants, flying things I’d never seen before and of course the inevitable mosquitos had made their way around the lack security of the net to be underneath it with little chance of being able to escape even if they choose to. Thankfully we still had power so I turned the fan on high, lifted the net and shook the bedsheets. I was glad I brought a ‘sleepsack’ into which I could completely retreat, though I did take notice of a few visitors walking up my leg.
Early the following morning, as the roosters began their morning routine, I decided that the rooster-call setting I have on my phone alarm needs to change. I can get back to sleep each morning only after convincing myself its not the electronic thing but the real thing (those birds really do a grand impression of a Nokia).
Sunday I went out to a new camp, Jeddid with probably over 9,000 people who have only arrived since the start of June. Most are from Darfur with a handful of refuges from Central African Republic . To get there, we walked through the market to the wadi (a normally dry channel which becomes a river during seasonal rainy periods). There we took a raft constructed with probably one cubic-meter of sticks and fastened with rope to get across to the other side. After we crossed the wadi, we took a ride on a horse-drawn cart through thick mud then walked for about 20-30 minutes to the main part of the camp.
Today we visited a slaughter-area; set up by another agency to provide a common area for people to butcher goats. We’re digging a pit (royal we here… ) for the remains (for hygienic purposes. I guess I’ve never watched an animal get slaughtered so it was an interesting experience. As the goats took up to a minute to ‘expire’, I found it interesting how the other goats so camly waited about. Okay, the few that were tied up were pretty much committed but several weren’t and I began to think these few, free-to-run-for-it goats were pretty much the least-briefed on the outcome animals in existence. “Hey, where’s Bill? He was here a second ago. Oh- he’s over there with a knife on his throat…”
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
HOW I GOT INT0 CIA FILES
Suffield Base, 1971. Inspired by Ian Tyson's TV ads against British tank training here, I had agreed to represent the NDP at a protest rally. I took a bus from Calgary and hitched a ride from the highway to the base with a CFCN news crew. Bruce, the reporter, offered me a ride back to Calgary after the rally. We drove past a security fence with a row of armed soldiers standing inside. There were half as many protestors at the gate where a smiling officer waved us to a separate area and invited us for tea with the base commanding officer after the "ruffians" left. Bruce told him that he was invited to go with the military to Cyprus in the fall. The officer quickly rescinded my invite upon learning I was representing not the media but the NDP and had me escorted back to the protestor area. I found myself in a strange mix of protestors from burly IRA men shouting "F the British" to Anti Vietnam Coalition members wearing gas masks to a silent group of ranchers, upset about tanks starting grass fires. Having been raised on a farm and I identified with the ranchers. Smilie said only one spokesperson per group would be allowed to enter the base to address the CO. I became spokesperson for the ranchers as well as the NDP and was marched through the gate along with 4 other protestors. The armed soldiers on top of each building reminded me of Kent State but, I told myself, this was Canada. The CO sat at a table as we took turns petitioning him. We were constantly interrupted by 2 guys in white coveralls filming us and asking who we were representing. As the IRA guy ranted about British tanks and the Anti Vietnam coalition woman claimed nerve gas was made here, I thought I recognized one of the film crew. When it was over we were marched out past a tea trolley loaded with sandwiches for the media. Outside the base my fellow protestors disbursed while I waited for my ride back to Calgary. I began jotting notes about my experience as 3 bus loads of Mounties emerged through the gate and drove off towards the highway. Suddenly the gate house corporal came out accusing me of writing down licence numbers and he grabbed my notebook. On the way to Calgary I related all this to Bruce, who was stunned how it contrasted to what the CO had told the media. He stopped at a pay phone to call a new story to CFCN and the Calgary Herald. That evening both carried a story of massive enforcement for a small protest at Suffield. A week later Bruce called to say his invite to Cyprus had been recinded. Since then there have been break-ins at the office of the MP for Suffield suggesting there probably was nerve gas production. The Brits, including Prince Harry, are now training for a new war and the CIA admit they spied on left wingers in Canada. I found out the cameraman I recognized was one of my High River schoolmates. If I am in the CIA files, I hope Ian Tyson is there with me.
Friday, June 22, 2007
REX LEAVES THE FARM
REX VOBISCUM
I guess I should've noticed that this athletic dog, who could run 40 KPH alongside my truck and jump 6 feet from standing to snatch a stick out of my hand, was beginning to drag behind and scrap going over fences. A few years ago I found him hanging by one leg from a top barbed wire around my coyote proof sheep pen. I cut him down, got him stitched up and he never stopped leaping any wire. After he ran under the back wheel of my truck for a gopher and had $500 surgery, he remained unafraid of moving vehicles. Often over his 10 years here (we got him as a year old dog from a vet, who was asked to put him down but realized Rex was a smart dog who should be on a farm). Rex quickly learned to chase coyotes and deer but not sheep or cattle, magpies stealing his food but not grouse. When he'd return pursued by a pack of 3 coyotes, I'd yell, they'd' flee and, Rex, encouraged, always returned to the chase until I learned to turn back towards the house. He always kept me in sight, even in the midst of digging a gopher hole. It embarrassed me whenever I came down to the bathroom in the middle of the night to see him standing on his doghouse, watching me through the kitchen window. (We got him for a watch dog) Sometimes as I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes I'd glance out and see Rex lying under the ash tree, waiting for a glimpse of me. Rex was the subject of many stories I wrote for my granddaugher, Olivia, who kept asking for more. After a great summer last year, fixing fences and planting trees (Rex always at my side) I murmured "Give me another summer like this!" Today on the first day of summer we buried Rex in the raspberry patch beside Linda's 2 cats, Jezebel and Meuslix. After the long winter sleeping in his cold dog house (except windy nights when Linda let him sleep in the porch), he deserved some good days and nights. But two weeks ago he injured himself jumping a fence. Some ointment he licked, off until prevented by a ridiculous plastic bonnet, cured the cut but he began to have peeing problems. After 2 days at the clinic ( The song "Old Shep" was in my head at this time) the vet found Rex had broken a bone in his penis and blockage to the urethra had cause the bladder to burst. (First time vet had seen this). Attempts to insert a catheter failed and euthanasia recommended. We could have seen Rex after he came to but we chose leave him be and brought him home in a plastic bag and buried him hoping to remember him as he was alive. This morning I choked back tears (over a dog!) On my first walk without Rex (he shamed me to go so many times when I wanted to stay in the warm house). Linda sat in the yard without Rex coming for a pat. We're both hurting but Linda is digging out photos of Rex and I left a note on the vet's bulletin board for a young farm dog, one that will have a tough act to follow.
I guess I should've noticed that this athletic dog, who could run 40 KPH alongside my truck and jump 6 feet from standing to snatch a stick out of my hand, was beginning to drag behind and scrap going over fences. A few years ago I found him hanging by one leg from a top barbed wire around my coyote proof sheep pen. I cut him down, got him stitched up and he never stopped leaping any wire. After he ran under the back wheel of my truck for a gopher and had $500 surgery, he remained unafraid of moving vehicles. Often over his 10 years here (we got him as a year old dog from a vet, who was asked to put him down but realized Rex was a smart dog who should be on a farm). Rex quickly learned to chase coyotes and deer but not sheep or cattle, magpies stealing his food but not grouse. When he'd return pursued by a pack of 3 coyotes, I'd yell, they'd' flee and, Rex, encouraged, always returned to the chase until I learned to turn back towards the house. He always kept me in sight, even in the midst of digging a gopher hole. It embarrassed me whenever I came down to the bathroom in the middle of the night to see him standing on his doghouse, watching me through the kitchen window. (We got him for a watch dog) Sometimes as I was at the kitchen sink washing dishes I'd glance out and see Rex lying under the ash tree, waiting for a glimpse of me. Rex was the subject of many stories I wrote for my granddaugher, Olivia, who kept asking for more. After a great summer last year, fixing fences and planting trees (Rex always at my side) I murmured "Give me another summer like this!" Today on the first day of summer we buried Rex in the raspberry patch beside Linda's 2 cats, Jezebel and Meuslix. After the long winter sleeping in his cold dog house (except windy nights when Linda let him sleep in the porch), he deserved some good days and nights. But two weeks ago he injured himself jumping a fence. Some ointment he licked, off until prevented by a ridiculous plastic bonnet, cured the cut but he began to have peeing problems. After 2 days at the clinic ( The song "Old Shep" was in my head at this time) the vet found Rex had broken a bone in his penis and blockage to the urethra had cause the bladder to burst. (First time vet had seen this). Attempts to insert a catheter failed and euthanasia recommended. We could have seen Rex after he came to but we chose leave him be and brought him home in a plastic bag and buried him hoping to remember him as he was alive. This morning I choked back tears (over a dog!) On my first walk without Rex (he shamed me to go so many times when I wanted to stay in the warm house). Linda sat in the yard without Rex coming for a pat. We're both hurting but Linda is digging out photos of Rex and I left a note on the vet's bulletin board for a young farm dog, one that will have a tough act to follow.
Monday, June 11, 2007
COYOTES GET GOLDIE
Linda has been calling her pet cat Goldie each morning for 3 days. She usually lets Goldie and Cairo (both neutered) in for food in the morning. Today she was calling me away from my politics show on tv. Despite all the lush green growth, llamas reaching over fence made a hole for ewe and lamb to crawl through. We got the ewe and lamb back into the pen and I set to fixing the fence. Grr! Something smelled very bad so I sent Rex into the grass and we found a grizzly murder scene. Damage to throat area indicated coyotes, who kill sheep by grabbing them and choking. They probably killed her as competition for food. I dug a hole and buried the remains with Linda witnessing over the fence. Her past 2 pets, Jezabel from Washington DC and Muslix, born here, are buried in the raspberry patch. We will plant a tree over Goldie. Wish coyotes did not take cats after a $100 neutering! Life is hard on pets but already Linda has found 4 new kittens, one of them golden orange in colour.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
Getting Rid of the Cows
I was ready to tell him the grass not ready yet when I learned my brother, lloyd had just sold the herd! After wondering what Rex and I would do all summer in empty fields, Lloyd showed up with nephew Wes to put in electric fence and troughs for steers. Lloyd Green, a friend who pastures steers, was a big help on how to install water injectors with anti bloat medicine (Dad used to puncture bloated cows and sometimes save them). My brother brewded about letting his cows go but offer was too good). He looked for anything to call it off. That old bull goes with the bunch or all stay. Okay okay. Night before the cows were collected by liners, there was a ruckus among the cows. In the morning big old #80 was on the front lawn eating Nancy's flowers. Lloyd yelled and she (#80) farted and took off. Could there be any doubt our late father was behind this final salute?
The 2 liners of steers got stuck inside the pasture same place as last year. One had to unload in the field and terrified steers charged out and went through the electric fence and down towards the coulee. Lloyd phoned sister, Louanne, who soon was there with 2 horses. We kept one load of steers in the corral while Lloyd and Louanne rounded up the others. At one time Lloyd phoned from his horse to ask if they were in my trees. Nope. Seemed this second load had vanished, until we noticed the gate into the corral down. The #2 load had broken in to join #1. I moved my sheep and llamas out of the way and we put the combined group back by water hole for the night and hoped they would calm down. Next morning Lloyd, Lou and Wes came to repair the fence and we eased the doggies out into the pasture. Lloyd installed a water injection system copied by Wes while at work for an oil company.
It's Sunday now and crazy calves are settling. Water system works great and at 28 degrees is good. I'd still prefer cows to walk amongst but without them should make for a nice winter and spring for Lloyd. Hope Dad doesn't send us any more messages.
The 2 liners of steers got stuck inside the pasture same place as last year. One had to unload in the field and terrified steers charged out and went through the electric fence and down towards the coulee. Lloyd phoned sister, Louanne, who soon was there with 2 horses. We kept one load of steers in the corral while Lloyd and Louanne rounded up the others. At one time Lloyd phoned from his horse to ask if they were in my trees. Nope. Seemed this second load had vanished, until we noticed the gate into the corral down. The #2 load had broken in to join #1. I moved my sheep and llamas out of the way and we put the combined group back by water hole for the night and hoped they would calm down. Next morning Lloyd, Lou and Wes came to repair the fence and we eased the doggies out into the pasture. Lloyd installed a water injection system copied by Wes while at work for an oil company.
It's Sunday now and crazy calves are settling. Water system works great and at 28 degrees is good. I'd still prefer cows to walk amongst but without them should make for a nice winter and spring for Lloyd. Hope Dad doesn't send us any more messages.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
compost
Sun May 27.
Great sunrise this morning. Walked out to robin and meadowlark serenades. Dug grass around 10 of my new spruce trees until my knee began to ache. Let the sheep out to pasture and went in to have a bath. Linda as usual left me bathwater to use and then pump out onto a tree (birch today.) Her tulips are looking ragged after the snow a few days ago, but they refuse to die in a sea of yellow and red. A few potatoes popping up from the cold cold ground Everything is 2 weeks late but determined to do its cycle. Toady's projects: cut up dead caragana wood and pile it (Linda does latter) and to clean out barn (why did I bathe?) I added 2 small truck loads onto pile by the garden house so water running off roof soaks into the pile. There will be compost next fall and eventually, I hope, my remains are added to it.
PS Talked to son in Darfur and had email from Toronto son saying he may be out this summer to see his sister when she is home from Pakistan before going to live in Uganda (her birth place)
Great sunrise this morning. Walked out to robin and meadowlark serenades. Dug grass around 10 of my new spruce trees until my knee began to ache. Let the sheep out to pasture and went in to have a bath. Linda as usual left me bathwater to use and then pump out onto a tree (birch today.) Her tulips are looking ragged after the snow a few days ago, but they refuse to die in a sea of yellow and red. A few potatoes popping up from the cold cold ground Everything is 2 weeks late but determined to do its cycle. Toady's projects: cut up dead caragana wood and pile it (Linda does latter) and to clean out barn (why did I bathe?) I added 2 small truck loads onto pile by the garden house so water running off roof soaks into the pile. There will be compost next fall and eventually, I hope, my remains are added to it.
PS Talked to son in Darfur and had email from Toronto son saying he may be out this summer to see his sister when she is home from Pakistan before going to live in Uganda (her birth place)
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