A gigantic spiderweb with millions of spiders covers a huge area in a Texas State Park 50 miles east of Dallas. Awesome! RTWT.Friday, August 31, 2007
Gigantic Spiderweb
A gigantic spiderweb with millions of spiders covers a huge area in a Texas State Park 50 miles east of Dallas. Awesome! RTWT.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
New Acquisition
This is a Hano Mana kachina doll. I posted a while back on some Zuni kachina rock art and the role that kachinas play in Pueblo religion.
The place where I bought this had it misidentified, but the artist's inscription on the base that identified him as Hopi-Tewa helped me figure it out with a little research. It also opened up an interesting historical story.
The Hopi are a Puebloan tribe that lives in a series of villages on the three Hopi Mesas (called First, Second and Third Mesas) in northeastern Arizona. They speak a Uto-Aztecan language and have evidently been living in the area for thousands of years.
After the collapse of the Second Pueblo Revolt against the Spanish in 1696, a village of Tewa people, another Puebloan group that speaks a Tanoan language, left the Galisteo Basin in northern New Mexico and migrated west, presumably to avoid the Spanish. The exact details of this journey aren't clear but by about 1700, the Hopi allowed the Tewa to build a village on First Mesa, a couple of hundred miles away from their starting point. The Tewa soon proved their worth by defeating a raiding party of Utes and have been there ever since.
The Tewa village is known as Hano and much later in the 19th century they established a second village at the base of First Mesa named Polacca. The Hopi-Tewa still speak their language that is unrelated and mutually unintelligible to Hopi. They also all speak Hopi, but no Hopi speak Tewa, which has been the subject of a good deal of anthropological research.
The Hopi-Tewa have their own religious beliefs that are similar to but distinct from those of the Hopi. The two groups do cooperate in a number of rituals. This Hano Mana kachina is a Hopi-Tewa one, known in English as the Hano Long-haired Kachina Maiden.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Brave New World
This you tube video is.. I don't know if astounding or terrifying is more appropriate.
I am thinking about the plain of Eastern Montana above the Missouri Breaks or the hills of Kazakhstan- far northeast Kazakhstan, not wired Almaty. it is all going too fast for me.
HT Christina Nealson.
I am thinking about the plain of Eastern Montana above the Missouri Breaks or the hills of Kazakhstan- far northeast Kazakhstan, not wired Almaty. it is all going too fast for me.
HT Christina Nealson.
Vicki Hearne
Her new Collected Poems will soon be available. I look forward to reading (and reviewing) them. Was there ever another first- rate poet who also trained animals professionally, had a degree in philosophy (she was at Yale with Howard Bloom) and whose writings still hearten us in our fight against such as PETA?
HT Margory Cohen.
HT Margory Cohen.
Some Original Educational Advice
From Father Joseph Rutler via The Corner.
"...I'd encourage your youngest one to abandon kindergarten altogether. Almost everything I learned was learned outside the classroom, and school itself interrupted my education. Moreover, school locks you in with your peers. That is a mistake. One's social circle should never include one's equals. From my earliest years I found children uninteresting and always preferred the company of adults. This was an advantage, because I got to know lots of folks who are dead now whom I never would have known if I had waited until I was an adult. - So I have a collective memory - and oral tradition - that goes back to the eighteenth century, having spoken with people who knew people who knew people who knew people who lived then. - The only real university is the universe and a city its microcosm. That is why an expression like "New York University" is foolish. New York City is the university….Instead of school, children should spend some hours each day in hotel lobbies talking to the guests. They should spend time in restaurant kitchens and shops and garages of all kinds, learning from people who actually make the world work….One day spent roaming through a real classical church building would be the equivalent of one academic term in any of our schools, and a little time spent inconspicuously in a police station would be more informative than all the hours wasted on bogus social sciences. Formal lessons would only be required for accuracy in spelling and proficiency in public speaking, for which the public speakers in our culture are not models, and in exchange for performing some menial services a child could learn the violin, harp, and piano from musicians in one of the better cocktail lounges, or from performers in the public subways….So I urge you to keep your child out of kindergarten, because kindergarten will only lead to first grade and then the grim sequence of grade after grade begins and takes its inexorable toll on the mind born fertile but gradually numbed by the pedants who impose on the captive child the flotsam of their own infecundity."
I read somewhere else recently that those who can already read in Kindergarten are viewed with suspicion by the educational establishment as they undercut the need for the system. I could read at "grade 8 level" then, thanks to my parents, Kipling, Life magazine, and Roger Tory Peterson, so maybe I was already launched on a life of rebellion...
Another thought: his opinions sound remarkably like Betsy Huntington's. The OLD northeast...
"...I'd encourage your youngest one to abandon kindergarten altogether. Almost everything I learned was learned outside the classroom, and school itself interrupted my education. Moreover, school locks you in with your peers. That is a mistake. One's social circle should never include one's equals. From my earliest years I found children uninteresting and always preferred the company of adults. This was an advantage, because I got to know lots of folks who are dead now whom I never would have known if I had waited until I was an adult. - So I have a collective memory - and oral tradition - that goes back to the eighteenth century, having spoken with people who knew people who knew people who knew people who lived then. - The only real university is the universe and a city its microcosm. That is why an expression like "New York University" is foolish. New York City is the university….Instead of school, children should spend some hours each day in hotel lobbies talking to the guests. They should spend time in restaurant kitchens and shops and garages of all kinds, learning from people who actually make the world work….One day spent roaming through a real classical church building would be the equivalent of one academic term in any of our schools, and a little time spent inconspicuously in a police station would be more informative than all the hours wasted on bogus social sciences. Formal lessons would only be required for accuracy in spelling and proficiency in public speaking, for which the public speakers in our culture are not models, and in exchange for performing some menial services a child could learn the violin, harp, and piano from musicians in one of the better cocktail lounges, or from performers in the public subways….So I urge you to keep your child out of kindergarten, because kindergarten will only lead to first grade and then the grim sequence of grade after grade begins and takes its inexorable toll on the mind born fertile but gradually numbed by the pedants who impose on the captive child the flotsam of their own infecundity."
I read somewhere else recently that those who can already read in Kindergarten are viewed with suspicion by the educational establishment as they undercut the need for the system. I could read at "grade 8 level" then, thanks to my parents, Kipling, Life magazine, and Roger Tory Peterson, so maybe I was already launched on a life of rebellion...
Another thought: his opinions sound remarkably like Betsy Huntington's. The OLD northeast...
Quote
From Ryszard Kapuscinski's Travels with Herodotus:
"Man knows, and in the course of years he comes to know it exceedingly well, that memory is weak and fleeting, and if he doesn't write down what he has learned and experienced, that what he carries within him will perish when he does. That is why it seems everyone wants to write a book. singers and football players, politicians and millionaires.And if they themselves do not know how, or else lack the time, they commission someone else to do it for them. That is how it is and always will be. Engendering this reality is the impression of writing as an easy and simple pursuit, though those who subscribe to that view may do well to ponder Thomas mann's observation that "a writer is a man for whom writing is more difficult than it is for others."
"Man knows, and in the course of years he comes to know it exceedingly well, that memory is weak and fleeting, and if he doesn't write down what he has learned and experienced, that what he carries within him will perish when he does. That is why it seems everyone wants to write a book. singers and football players, politicians and millionaires.And if they themselves do not know how, or else lack the time, they commission someone else to do it for them. That is how it is and always will be. Engendering this reality is the impression of writing as an easy and simple pursuit, though those who subscribe to that view may do well to ponder Thomas mann's observation that "a writer is a man for whom writing is more difficult than it is for others."
Lift
Congratulations to Rebecca O'Connor whose falconry memoir, Lift, will be published by Red Hen Press. Several of us are vying for stops on her book tour.
Signs that Fall is Coming
Cottonwood leaves are turning
Arrival of Colorado Western Slope peaches. These are from Palisade
And it's time for roasting chiles
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Colorado is...
...the leanest state in the union. I'm very proud. I swear I could feel my body mass index fall when we crossed the state line in March.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Black Forest Bison
Yesterday Connie and I drove to Colorado Springs and took SR 83, one of the "blue highways" rather than the Interstate. Just as we were coming up to a plateau covered with ponderosa pine, known as the Black Forest, we saw this herd of bison on a ranch. The market for bison meat seems to be booming. We have a good selection of it at our local grocery store.
Connie commented that it seemed a rather flimsy fence for bison. Our friends Mike and Kathy Gear raise bison in Wyoming and we've been hearing stories for years about how they tear through fences when it suits them. It's not as clear as I'd like in this picture but there is a double hot-wire inside the barbed-wire fence that's doing the job here.
This herd must have a lot of interaction with its owners. They seemed quite undisturbed having me just over the fence. I've seen cattle way spookier.
This little fellow found me quite interesting and turned to track me as I walked along the fence. His mom could have cared less.
The lead bull for this herd is a huge and gorgeous animal and I was hoping for a good "buffalo nickel" portrait. Of course when I got in camera range he turned and walked straight away from me. Guess that means I'll just have to come back and try again.
A Discovery
On a cricket pitch at Jesus College, Pluvialis discovers why austringers have a reputation for cursing. Also, sounds as though it was a good thing Xtin was there to run interference.
Suprise Plums
More new yard discoveries. I thought one of our trees was just an ornamental until I looked up and noticed these plums this week. They're small, but sweet and tasty.Shrimping on Horseback?
I'd never heard of it either.
But Belgium is famous for more than ale. Evidently the country boasts a remnant horseback shrimping culture.
How can you tell these are serious fishermen? One of them admits:
Reid's post below on the dog and horse exhibition makes me wonder if any form of this unique working animal bond will survive? If tourism is a draw (and it seems to be), maybe they can print advertisements to the trawling gear?
An ad for any of the good products of Belgian Trappist monks would seem fitting!
But Belgium is famous for more than ale. Evidently the country boasts a remnant horseback shrimping culture.
"Men in bright yellow overalls and sou'-westers ride their plodding workhorses across the sands into the North Sea at low tide to trawl for shrimps in just the way that their forefathers have done for more than 500 years.
"There are now fewer than a dozen left of the hundreds who once plied the same trade all around the North Sea -- in France, the Netherlands and Britain."
How can you tell these are serious fishermen? One of them admits:
"There is such a love story between the horse and the fisherman. Once he
has a horse that works, he is married to the horse. Sometimes we say we like our
horses more than our wife."
Reid's post below on the dog and horse exhibition makes me wonder if any form of this unique working animal bond will survive? If tourism is a draw (and it seems to be), maybe they can print advertisements to the trawling gear?
An ad for any of the good products of Belgian Trappist monks would seem fitting!
Friday, August 24, 2007
Left Hand Brewing Company
One of the changes I've noticed in the twenty years we've been away from Colorado is the proliferation of micro- and mini-breweries here. As Matt pointed out when we talked about this, it's sort of a "return to the future" as in the 19th century where most towns had at least one brewery. Competition in these new breweries seems more intense here than in Southern California, maybe because there are no wineries to speak of to divide people's attention.One of the first of these I noticed back in December was Lefthand Brewing Company located in Longmont up in Boulder County. Their website says they make about a half-dozen styles, but I've only seen two in stores: the Sawtooth Ale (pictured above) and a Milk Stout. I enjoy the ale but can't drink the stout - and I'm a stout lover.
A bright person in their graphics department came up with this simple but distinctive logo. Another bright person in their publicity department got the smart idea of putting one of these stickers in each six-pack. You see these things stuck up all over the place around here - lots of free advertising.
When I first saw these it occurred to me what the origin of the name must be, and I was able to verify that checking with the brewery's website.
When the Boulder County area was first settled by Whites in the 1850s, a band of Arapahoe Indians lived there. The leader of this band was Chief Niwot. Niwot very quickly understood the futility of trying to fight back, and adopted a policy of peace and cooperation with the incoming Whites. In the long run, it didn't do him any good. He and his band were camped with Chief Black Kettle and other Arapahoe and Cheyenne when they were attacked by Col. John Chivington and his regiment at the Sand Creek Massacre. Niwot is not believed to have survived the battle.
Niwot's link with a modern brewing company is the fact that his name means "Left Hand" in Arapahoe. This left-handed chief and his people were abused, but he so impressed White settlers that they put his name all over the landscape. There is a town of Niwot, Niwot Mountain (el. 11,471 ft.), Niwot Ridge, Left Hand Creek, Left Hand Canyon, Left Hand Reservoir, Left Hand Park Reservoir, and Left Hand Valley Reservoir.
Our Roving Correspondent
Phil Grayson is stopping through Magdalena en route to Poland from his last job in Istanbul. I am hoping he will be posting himself soon from Poland, with his own password, but he has given me several travel essays to entertain you meanwhile. Here is the first.
It’s Vrahati Time!
A ways west of Athens is Corinth, and a ways west of Corinth is Vrahati. A little Peloponnesian village on the coast of the Gulf of Corinth, Vrahati has everything you could want in a vacation spot, beautiful vistas, perfect, warm, crystal clear water, loud nightclubs, and umbrellas and lounge chairs set up all along the beach, free for anyone to use, built on the assumption that if you swim and sit out in the boiling Greek summer long enough you’ll pop in to get a soda or beer or something from the café behind you. It has Greek girls, tall and dark and having smoked themselves into a beach-ready thinness, it has cheap wine, great food, and friendly people. Everything, with the exception of hotels.
As far as I could discern, there is one four-star hotel somewhere in Vrahati unseen by me, nothing at all below that, and with beach-camping forbidden by Greek law, it puts the frugal yet law-abiding traveler in a bit of a bind.
As a result, Vrahati is mainly a destination for Greeks, who keep their summerhouses there. This makes it a nice refuge from the tourist traps and conmen of Athens, an escape from post-Olympics inflation, and generally a nice, laid-back way to take in the ease and love of life that you came to Greece for.
One glorious manifestation of this is the siesta. Wake up at dawn, eat breakfast for a few hours, sit around having coffee, shooting the breeze, maybe go for a dip to beat the midday heat, have lunch for a few hours, then crawl into a cool dark room and sleep through the prohibitive heat of the afternoon. The siesta chases off the heat stroke, digests the pig or two you’ve eaten at lunch, and, when everything in town closes down until 4 or 5 in the afternoon, enforces leisure and patience, at least until your body falls (as it will easily fall) into the proper rhythm. The best thing about the siesta, though, is the nighttime. Rolling out of bed around Quittin’ Time, USA has a way of making a man willing and able to stay out all night, wreaking all manner of havoc on the good people of Vrahati, his own body, and the laws of both god and man. And that, my friend, is what vacation is all about. Just ask the bars that open, open!, at 1 am.
All of which brings us back to our original problem, the terrible dearth of hotels. One can nap the afternoon away on the beach, somehow as long as you’re running the risk of skin cancer it doesn’t count as camping, but sooner or later a man has to sleep. Really sleep. On a bed.
Of course, you could bus it back to Corinth and environs, plenty of reasonable accommodations there. Otherwise you could head on further down the coast to any of the other perfect beaches that fill the peninsula, some even with sand in place of the smooth stones that make the beach in Vrahati and most of the rest of Peloponnesia. But those both sound an awful lot like giving up, letting this cold world get the best of you once again, surrendering this little slice of heaven to a bunch of rich foreigners (at least they would be foreigners in America), admitting defeat. And there’s no reason for that when you’re one of the only foreigners in town and the Greek habit of being incredibly hospitable fits together so well with the American habit of abusing the hospitality of others. I discovered this on accident one night, trying desperately, Greek-English dictionary furiously churning, to convince a group of Greek girls to let me sleep with them. Something must have been lost in translation, but I spent the rest of the week napping on the beach and sleeping on their couch. So I implore you, good reader, pack your sunscreen and your puppy dog eyes, and hit up the unsuspecting little town of Vrahati, Greece.
It’s Vrahati Time!
A ways west of Athens is Corinth, and a ways west of Corinth is Vrahati. A little Peloponnesian village on the coast of the Gulf of Corinth, Vrahati has everything you could want in a vacation spot, beautiful vistas, perfect, warm, crystal clear water, loud nightclubs, and umbrellas and lounge chairs set up all along the beach, free for anyone to use, built on the assumption that if you swim and sit out in the boiling Greek summer long enough you’ll pop in to get a soda or beer or something from the café behind you. It has Greek girls, tall and dark and having smoked themselves into a beach-ready thinness, it has cheap wine, great food, and friendly people. Everything, with the exception of hotels.
As far as I could discern, there is one four-star hotel somewhere in Vrahati unseen by me, nothing at all below that, and with beach-camping forbidden by Greek law, it puts the frugal yet law-abiding traveler in a bit of a bind.
As a result, Vrahati is mainly a destination for Greeks, who keep their summerhouses there. This makes it a nice refuge from the tourist traps and conmen of Athens, an escape from post-Olympics inflation, and generally a nice, laid-back way to take in the ease and love of life that you came to Greece for.
One glorious manifestation of this is the siesta. Wake up at dawn, eat breakfast for a few hours, sit around having coffee, shooting the breeze, maybe go for a dip to beat the midday heat, have lunch for a few hours, then crawl into a cool dark room and sleep through the prohibitive heat of the afternoon. The siesta chases off the heat stroke, digests the pig or two you’ve eaten at lunch, and, when everything in town closes down until 4 or 5 in the afternoon, enforces leisure and patience, at least until your body falls (as it will easily fall) into the proper rhythm. The best thing about the siesta, though, is the nighttime. Rolling out of bed around Quittin’ Time, USA has a way of making a man willing and able to stay out all night, wreaking all manner of havoc on the good people of Vrahati, his own body, and the laws of both god and man. And that, my friend, is what vacation is all about. Just ask the bars that open, open!, at 1 am.
All of which brings us back to our original problem, the terrible dearth of hotels. One can nap the afternoon away on the beach, somehow as long as you’re running the risk of skin cancer it doesn’t count as camping, but sooner or later a man has to sleep. Really sleep. On a bed.
Of course, you could bus it back to Corinth and environs, plenty of reasonable accommodations there. Otherwise you could head on further down the coast to any of the other perfect beaches that fill the peninsula, some even with sand in place of the smooth stones that make the beach in Vrahati and most of the rest of Peloponnesia. But those both sound an awful lot like giving up, letting this cold world get the best of you once again, surrendering this little slice of heaven to a bunch of rich foreigners (at least they would be foreigners in America), admitting defeat. And there’s no reason for that when you’re one of the only foreigners in town and the Greek habit of being incredibly hospitable fits together so well with the American habit of abusing the hospitality of others. I discovered this on accident one night, trying desperately, Greek-English dictionary furiously churning, to convince a group of Greek girls to let me sleep with them. Something must have been lost in translation, but I spent the rest of the week napping on the beach and sleeping on their couch. So I implore you, good reader, pack your sunscreen and your puppy dog eyes, and hit up the unsuspecting little town of Vrahati, Greece.
Phil Drabble
Richard, a commentor below, was kind enough to tell us of this obit for Phil Drabble
Drabble was an old- fashioned naturalist, conservationist, and hunter of the kind we may not be breeding anymore. He kept lurchers and pigeons and hawks, and wrote books like A Weasel in my Meatsafe, Badgers at my Window, and Of Pedigree Unknown.
He was not easily crossed, either. From the Guardian obit:
"Just after Phil Drabble started his 90-acre nature reserve, hunting hounds invaded it and began scattering the deer. When Drabble asked the huntsman to remove them, he was told that the hounds had followed their fox into the reserve, as they were legally entitled to do. After some discussion Drabble went back to his house to fetch his rifle. In full view of the hunt, he pushed in a cartridge. "Now are you going to take them out?" he inquired. They were taken out. Somehow, after subsequent frank conversations with the hunt, he found himself invited to its supporters' dinner."
Read, of course, the whole delightful thing, and raise a glass to his 93 well- lived years.
Drabble was an old- fashioned naturalist, conservationist, and hunter of the kind we may not be breeding anymore. He kept lurchers and pigeons and hawks, and wrote books like A Weasel in my Meatsafe, Badgers at my Window, and Of Pedigree Unknown.
He was not easily crossed, either. From the Guardian obit:
"Just after Phil Drabble started his 90-acre nature reserve, hunting hounds invaded it and began scattering the deer. When Drabble asked the huntsman to remove them, he was told that the hounds had followed their fox into the reserve, as they were legally entitled to do. After some discussion Drabble went back to his house to fetch his rifle. In full view of the hunt, he pushed in a cartridge. "Now are you going to take them out?" he inquired. They were taken out. Somehow, after subsequent frank conversations with the hunt, he found himself invited to its supporters' dinner."
Read, of course, the whole delightful thing, and raise a glass to his 93 well- lived years.
New Dawg
Our friend Henry Chappell over at Home Range writes a good story about getting his new pup: a field-bred (ain't no other kind) mountain cur. She's a cutie.
Incidentally, I'm always impressed by blog posts with dialog.
"You don't say?"
I do. Chappell blogs like a writer of quality print features, which he is. There's dialog, character development, humor and a point. I appreciate the free copy!
Incidentally, I'm always impressed by blog posts with dialog.
"You don't say?"
I do. Chappell blogs like a writer of quality print features, which he is. There's dialog, character development, humor and a point. I appreciate the free copy!
Thursday, August 23, 2007
In Print
Steve has an article in the September/October number of Gray's Sporting Journal, titled "The Power of the Dog". Sorry this doesn't link to the article, available only in dead tree version.And you should check out Pluvialis' review of Mark Cocker's "Crow Country" in the New Statesman.
I'm doing my best to save them from the shame of shameless self-promotion.
Said Spider to the Hummingbird
While it is a documented fact that everything is larger in Texas, some things in neighboring Louisiana are also large.
For example, take the Golden Silk Spider.
For example, take the Golden Silk Spider.
Picking up my new hawk from his breeder a few weeks ago, I spotted one sitting in her characteristically large web strung between two hawk rearing pens. These are familiar spiders to us, since they are common in the woods were we hunt and tend to erect their nets precisely at the height of the human face.
Having one of these things crawl down your back is no fun. Knowing that the bite is not severe or lasting (I've been bitten a few times) does very little to make the experience of brushing them off any less exciting.
Golden Silk Spiders are capable of catching just about anything up to their own size. My kids and I have fed them all sorts of small critters in the backyard---short of anything with a backbone. They seem to have huge appetites.
There are records of these orb weavers eating small birds, especially hummingbirds. I would not have put it past them, but until this day had not seen such a thing myself. Here is a poor picture of it, but maybe you can make out the Ruby-throated hummer struggling to free herself from the spider's web?
(spider on left, hummer on right)
My friend Jenn quickly grabbed a ladder and plucked the bird from the web unharmed. Because we didn't know how long it might have been in there, Jenn offered the tiny bird a drink from the sugar feeder. The hummer drank eagerly, and after a minute or two, buzzed away across the lawn.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Manioc at the Ceren Site
The NY Times and the Denver Post both have articles today on a significant archaeological discovery at a prehistoric Mayan site in El Salvador. Dr. Payson Sheets of the University of Colorado has been excavating at the Ceren site since the late 1970s, a 1,400 year-old site with miraculous preservation due to its burial by a volcanic eruption. I mentioned it in a post last year as a "New World Pompeii" that amazingly has received little popular notice. The picture above shows the reddish-colored walls and floor of a Mayan house at Ceren, buried by gray volcanic ash.The discovery announced today helps answer questions about Mayan subsistence that have deviled archaeologists since the 1960s. It has been well documented that the Maya grew the classic triumvirate (maize, beans, and squash) of prehistoric North American agriculture, but it's been obvious for some time that nutrient weak jungle soils could not have supported the intensive farming of these crops required to support the dense Maya populations. There must have been other crops supporting the Maya that didn't deplete the soil as quickly as maize.
When I was in graduate school at CU, I took several courses from Dr. Sheets (he was on my thesis committee) where this topic was under discussion. One of the prime candidates for one of the other crops was manioc, a woody shrub with a carbohydrate-rich tuberous root, that had been domesticated by Indians in South and Central America. Manioc is usually processed into flour, has very high yields in poor soils, and is not a nutrient depleter like maize. The problem was with the poor preservation of material in Mayan sites in Central American jungles, no one could find direct evidence of its use. Maize appears in the iconography of Mayan glyphs, sculptures, and vase painting, but no one was able to identify anything that looked like manioc.
We had lots of discussions about indirect means of identifying the presence or use of manioc. Apparently its pollen is not preserved or identifiable. Manioc contains toxins that prevent it from being eaten raw. It must be shredded, pulped and processed to remove the poison. An early step in the processing is to peel the root and shred it on a grater.
For a project in a lithic technology seminar, I did a survey of the ethnographic literature on manioc graters and built a replica grater by embedding stone flakes I manufactured into a board. As I had no manioc, I used it to grate potatoes (used them for hash browns!) and then examined the flakes under a microscope to document the wear patterns left by the grating. The idea was even if the board had rotted away, if you found flakes in an archaeological site with that wear pattern, you could posit manioc processing. I'm not aware that any archaeologists working in Mayan sites followed up on this.
This was all put to rest however, by the latest discovery. From the Denver Post:
"Two months ago, Sheets and his team found strange cavities a few inches in diameter in what looked like a 1,400-year-old agricultural field, with raised beds surrounded by paths.
The archaeologists poured in dental plaster, waited for it to harden, and pulled out perfect replicas of manioc tubers - a carbohydrate-rich staple in much of the tropical world today.
With further excavation work, Sheets said, it became clear that the fields were worked just hours before a massive volcano covered the little village of Ceren with ash. Ceren lies about 15 miles west of San Salvador."
The lower of the two plaster casts in this picture is of one of the manioc tubers. That is a cast of a tree limb above it. The Denver Post "dead tree" edition had a great picture of one of the raised beds.
So the question is answered after all these years. You can learn more about other discoveries at the Ceren site at this web site.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Sheep Dogs and Draft Horses
Yesterday Connie and I went to some sheep dog trials at the Colorado Horse Park, a large, beautifully maintained, multi-purpose facility that is just under two miles from our house. Though we've owned herding dogs for years and seen these sorts of events on television, it was our first time to see one in person.
Sheep dog trials I've seen on television are apparently championship events. This was just a local trial and the quality of the dogs and trainers was all over the place. This female border collie, Patty, and her trainer did a pretty good job. Above you see them in front of the judges' stand waiting for the sheep to be released.
Here she is pushing them over to run through a gate.
Patty has gotten the sheep through the gate and is now pressing them in toward the pen.
With the sheep in the pen and her job done, Patty lies down so the sheep don't spook and run out.
Just for the heck of it we brought Sadie along to see what her reaction would be to the whole spectacle. She isn't always the best behaved in strange situations but was a good girl yesterday. She got along well with the working dogs and then we took her around to get a look at the sheep. Sadie was entranced and I took this picture just after she tried to slide her way under the fence to get closer. I don't know if this conveys the quivering intensity of her attention to the sheep. She doesn't come from working stock, but it was great to see the strength of the breed in her.
Elsewhere at the Horse Park we caught just the tail end of a draft horse show. Here teams pulled a loaded sledge over a course in a timed event.
I learned that draft horse shows include events where people ride draft horse breeds.
Finally we got to see some well-trained and gorgeously groomed animals pulling smart carts like this one.
And this one. I learned one other thing while walking through the parking lot to get to our car. Horses of this size require large over-size horse trailers to haul them around.
Snakes in a Box
This story tells of two Denver men who planned to murder a man who owed them $60,000 by forcing him to put his legs in a box filled with rattlesnakes. Sounds like I moved to a tough neighborhood.
Recommended Reading
Fellow falconer, writer and digger-to-dogs, Teddy Moritz of New Jersey, offers her recent fave reads and allows us to share them with you:
"After reading Lyall Watson's wonderfully informative book 'Elephantoms' about his youth in South Africa and the disappearing herd of elephants, plus a knowledgeable but shadowy native figure named Kamma, I read his book 'Jacobson's Organ'. Goodness, there's more to scent than I imagined. Some of his explanations help make sense (so to speak) of how the dachshunds' noses perceive their environment.
"On a totally different topic, do read Kate Braestrup's 'Here If You Need Me'. Whoever thought the Maine Game Wardens would have/need a chaplain, much less a female chaplain? An absolutely heart wrenching, heart warming, heart breaking, heart filling book, overflowing with love, wit and humor. I only hope Ms. Braestrup writes again, and again. Matt, hug your children as you read it."
Thursday, August 16, 2007
International Falconry Festival
A carnival of pics of things we love here. Thanks to Jevgeni Shergalin.
Zaca Lake Fire
The LA Times today reports on the Zaca Lake Fire that has burned 116,000 acres in the Los Padres National Forest north of Santa Barbara. The fire has been burning since July 4 and is about to spread east into Ventura County. The USFS estimates that it will be sometime early in September before it is contained. A co-worker who was visiting relatives in Tehachapi last week told me that she could see and smell smoke from the fire there, almost a hundred miles away.
I regret to report that the area near Figueroa Mountain that I posted on here and here last year appears to be burned over.
I regret to report that the area near Figueroa Mountain that I posted on here and here last year appears to be burned over.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
A Farewell to Alms
Last week the NY Times' estimable Nicholas Wade had a review of a new book by economic historian Gregory Clark, A Farewell to Alms: A Brief Economic History of the World. Apparently the crux of the book deals with how the English economy was able to benefit from technological change during the Industrial Revolution at the turn of the 19th Century. Clark seems to move from economics into anthropology and genetics to explain the behavior shifts in the English population that allowed them to take advantage of the new technologies. He studied historic wills in England from the 1200 - 1800 period to come up with this information:
"Generation after generation, the rich had more surviving children than the poor, his research showed. That meant there must have been constant downward social mobility as the poor failed to reproduce themselves and the progeny of the rich took over their occupations. “The modern population of the English is largely descended from the economic upper classes of the Middle Ages,” he concluded.
As the progeny of the rich pervaded all levels of society, Dr. Clark considered, the behaviors that made for wealth could have spread with them. He has documented that several aspects of what might now be called middle-class values changed significantly from the days of hunter gatherer societies to 1800. Work hours increased, literacy and numeracy rose, and the level of interpersonal violence dropped.
Another significant change in behavior, Dr. Clark argues, was an increase in people’s preference for saving over instant consumption, which he sees reflected in the steady decline in interest rates from 1200 to 1800.
“Thrift, prudence, negotiation and hard work were becoming values for communities that previously had been spendthrift, impulsive, violent and leisure loving,” Dr. Clark writes."
Though the book isn't available until next month, Clark is already being roundly attacked for advocating Social Darwinism. I will reserve my judgements until I read the book, but I have a tendency to wince when economists venture outside of economics. We had quite a bit of fun a couple of years ago with an economist who insisted that Paleoindian hunting of Pleistocene megafauna was the result of "accidental encounters" - something you could believe only by ignoring the entire archaeological record on the subject.
Clark is doing innovative and provocative research. The first issue that occurs to me is how accurate is his data. How many poor people actually wrote wills in the period he studied? Does his sample really represent the family sizes of poor people? I look forward to reading if and how he addresses this issue.
"Generation after generation, the rich had more surviving children than the poor, his research showed. That meant there must have been constant downward social mobility as the poor failed to reproduce themselves and the progeny of the rich took over their occupations. “The modern population of the English is largely descended from the economic upper classes of the Middle Ages,” he concluded.
As the progeny of the rich pervaded all levels of society, Dr. Clark considered, the behaviors that made for wealth could have spread with them. He has documented that several aspects of what might now be called middle-class values changed significantly from the days of hunter gatherer societies to 1800. Work hours increased, literacy and numeracy rose, and the level of interpersonal violence dropped.
Another significant change in behavior, Dr. Clark argues, was an increase in people’s preference for saving over instant consumption, which he sees reflected in the steady decline in interest rates from 1200 to 1800.
“Thrift, prudence, negotiation and hard work were becoming values for communities that previously had been spendthrift, impulsive, violent and leisure loving,” Dr. Clark writes."
Though the book isn't available until next month, Clark is already being roundly attacked for advocating Social Darwinism. I will reserve my judgements until I read the book, but I have a tendency to wince when economists venture outside of economics. We had quite a bit of fun a couple of years ago with an economist who insisted that Paleoindian hunting of Pleistocene megafauna was the result of "accidental encounters" - something you could believe only by ignoring the entire archaeological record on the subject.
Clark is doing innovative and provocative research. The first issue that occurs to me is how accurate is his data. How many poor people actually wrote wills in the period he studied? Does his sample really represent the family sizes of poor people? I look forward to reading if and how he addresses this issue.
Fear and Loathing
In a recent comment, Black Dog Lady (BDL) said of animals, "They are born knowing." A great line that reminded me of another one from Anna Sewell's Black Beauty, which my kids are listening to on CD:
"God had given men reason, by which they could find out things for themselves; but He gave animals knowledge . . . which was much more prompt and perfect in its way..."
As to BDL's question of why some people hate animals, my feeling is that it is not so much an inferiority complex as a "mortality complex."
BDL, I agree with you completely that being close to a good animal is a humbling experience, but I doubt seriously that these people have been close to very many animals of any kind.
I think what those who want to eradicate domesticated animals see in them are little reminders of our own inevitable death. And it scares them.
How far do you have to look to see pets suffering and dying around you? Not far.
Humans are relatively long-lived animals. A man can outlive 7 or 8 dogs, watching each of them suffer from time to time and all of them die. If he was uncomfortable about that, and about his role in it, might he be sympathetic to the notion that it would be better if no more dogs were born?
Maybe. But the kind of person who lives with animals through their births and deaths is unlikely to be so scared of death and suffering, per se.
Such a person likely understands that the great enjoyment of sharing animals' lives comes at a cost of seeing their death and suffering. If this person is also a hunter, a farmer, a butcher, a biologist, so much better will he know this.
The lesson I've learned (entirely common to people with like experience) is that life is absolutely worth living--children are worth having, dogs are worth keeping---despite the fact that pain and death are necessary parts of it all.
The people who, on the other hand, choose not to live with animals (or children), and have little or no experience of them from childhood or in their daily lives, are much less likely to intuit this balance or imagine it could be worth any suffering.
If they choose not to eat meat (not to mention hunt or approve hunting!), so much further can they stand apart from this essential knowledge about life.
I am not saying all animals' rights activists are urban, childless vegetarians, but to whatever extent that demographic informs the movement, you can bet personal inexperience of (and fear of) death contributes much to their fervor.
As to the middle ground and any hope of reaching it by the opposing sides on this issue, I say it's impossible so long as we insist on including the extremists in the conversation.
There has to be at least one gram of shared belief between parties for there to be any hope of compromise. I have more faith in the US and Iran coming to terms than I have in a satisfactory compromise on this issue.
Is it that bad? Is there nothing we agree on? What about humane animal husbandry standards? Basic animal welfare. Can't we agree on that?
Mary and I can agree on that. Patrick and I can agree on it. The head of Baton Rouge animal control and I can agree on that. And I could find grounds for agreement with most any animal welfare group (and there are MANY) who do not insist that humans cease to keep animals.
Let this question define the dichotomy: What is the solution to the many and serious problems associated with the keeping and breeding of domestic animals?
A) The destruction of all domesticated animals
B) Something else
If you think there must be some other solution(s), you are one of us.
"God had given men reason, by which they could find out things for themselves; but He gave animals knowledge . . . which was much more prompt and perfect in its way..."
As to BDL's question of why some people hate animals, my feeling is that it is not so much an inferiority complex as a "mortality complex."
BDL, I agree with you completely that being close to a good animal is a humbling experience, but I doubt seriously that these people have been close to very many animals of any kind.
I think what those who want to eradicate domesticated animals see in them are little reminders of our own inevitable death. And it scares them.
How far do you have to look to see pets suffering and dying around you? Not far.
Humans are relatively long-lived animals. A man can outlive 7 or 8 dogs, watching each of them suffer from time to time and all of them die. If he was uncomfortable about that, and about his role in it, might he be sympathetic to the notion that it would be better if no more dogs were born?
Maybe. But the kind of person who lives with animals through their births and deaths is unlikely to be so scared of death and suffering, per se.
Such a person likely understands that the great enjoyment of sharing animals' lives comes at a cost of seeing their death and suffering. If this person is also a hunter, a farmer, a butcher, a biologist, so much better will he know this.
The lesson I've learned (entirely common to people with like experience) is that life is absolutely worth living--children are worth having, dogs are worth keeping---despite the fact that pain and death are necessary parts of it all.
The people who, on the other hand, choose not to live with animals (or children), and have little or no experience of them from childhood or in their daily lives, are much less likely to intuit this balance or imagine it could be worth any suffering.
If they choose not to eat meat (not to mention hunt or approve hunting!), so much further can they stand apart from this essential knowledge about life.
I am not saying all animals' rights activists are urban, childless vegetarians, but to whatever extent that demographic informs the movement, you can bet personal inexperience of (and fear of) death contributes much to their fervor.
As to the middle ground and any hope of reaching it by the opposing sides on this issue, I say it's impossible so long as we insist on including the extremists in the conversation.
There has to be at least one gram of shared belief between parties for there to be any hope of compromise. I have more faith in the US and Iran coming to terms than I have in a satisfactory compromise on this issue.
Is it that bad? Is there nothing we agree on? What about humane animal husbandry standards? Basic animal welfare. Can't we agree on that?
Mary and I can agree on that. Patrick and I can agree on it. The head of Baton Rouge animal control and I can agree on that. And I could find grounds for agreement with most any animal welfare group (and there are MANY) who do not insist that humans cease to keep animals.
Let this question define the dichotomy: What is the solution to the many and serious problems associated with the keeping and breeding of domestic animals?
A) The destruction of all domesticated animals
B) Something else
If you think there must be some other solution(s), you are one of us.
Tuesday, August 14, 2007
A loss and a win
As was feared, The Yangtze River dolphin is officially extinct.
"After more than 20 million years on the planet, the Yangtze river dolphin is today officially declared extinct, the first species of cetacean (whale, dolphin or porpoise) to be driven from this planet by human activity.
"An intensive six-week search by an international team of marine biologists involving two boats that ploughed up and down the world's busiest river last December failed to find a single specimen."
The loss is even worse, if this is possible, because it was not only the first large mammal to disappear in 50 years; it was, according to the Independent, the first genus in 500. (But surely so was the Thylacine?) HT Odious.
On the other hand, the black- footed ferret of our plains, once feared extinct, is bouncing back faster than expected after a slow start. I do wonder about VERY long term survival-- like the sage grouse and a fox ( I am uncertain of the taxonomic status of the fox), it lives entirely within the area of the Yellowstone Supervolcano.
I await comments from John Carlson who worked with the species when its status was precarious.
"After more than 20 million years on the planet, the Yangtze river dolphin is today officially declared extinct, the first species of cetacean (whale, dolphin or porpoise) to be driven from this planet by human activity.
"An intensive six-week search by an international team of marine biologists involving two boats that ploughed up and down the world's busiest river last December failed to find a single specimen."
The loss is even worse, if this is possible, because it was not only the first large mammal to disappear in 50 years; it was, according to the Independent, the first genus in 500. (But surely so was the Thylacine?) HT Odious.
On the other hand, the black- footed ferret of our plains, once feared extinct, is bouncing back faster than expected after a slow start. I do wonder about VERY long term survival-- like the sage grouse and a fox ( I am uncertain of the taxonomic status of the fox), it lives entirely within the area of the Yellowstone Supervolcano.
I await comments from John Carlson who worked with the species when its status was precarious.
Terrorist Cockfighters?
Patriot Act "Sneak & Peek" warrants used against redneck chickenfighters in Tennessee.
Of course they would NEVER be used except against terrorists. HT Tam.
Of course they would NEVER be used except against terrorists. HT Tam.
"Scouts banned from eating burgers and bangers - because of religious beliefs"
This is not the Onion, but a real headline from England. (Would be that or California).
"The location is Brownsea Island in Dorset, the starting point of Scouting where Lord Baden-Powell led the first expedition.
"Those young pioneers caught rabbits and then skinned and cooked them on an open fire.
"Some 300 modern-day Scouts (the word Boy was dropped in the 1960s) settled down to a meal prepared in a 'kitchen marquee' and consisting entirely of vegetarian food - so as not to offend any religious faiths.
""Clare Haines, a spokesman for the Scout Association, said: "It was really to do with religion that we were not able to provide sausages and burgers and all that kind of food."
(Snip)
"She added that campfires had been banned on the National Trust-owned island after a massive woodland blaze 30 years ago."
(Snip)
"In the middle of the island stands a huge marquee fitted out with industrial ovens and fridges stocked with vegetarian food.
"Next to it is a large, covered canteen and stage where bands have performed in the evening during the five days of celebrations.
"There is also an Internet cafe set up with ten lap-top computers to allow home-sick youngsters to keep in touch with their families around the globe."
(Snip)
"Hundreds of solar powered lights line the walk ways across the island to avoid anyone tripping over tent pegs, and each cluster of tents is illuminated by strings of electric lights powered by generators.
"David Massen, a Scout leader from Bradford, said last night: "A lot has changed with the way Scouting works since 1907." "
" "For example, Baden-Powell could just take his Scouts out on a boat for a fishing trip, whereas if I want to do the same I have to take a two-hour training session and write a four-page risk assessment statement." "
"The location is Brownsea Island in Dorset, the starting point of Scouting where Lord Baden-Powell led the first expedition.
"Those young pioneers caught rabbits and then skinned and cooked them on an open fire.
"Some 300 modern-day Scouts (the word Boy was dropped in the 1960s) settled down to a meal prepared in a 'kitchen marquee' and consisting entirely of vegetarian food - so as not to offend any religious faiths.
""Clare Haines, a spokesman for the Scout Association, said: "It was really to do with religion that we were not able to provide sausages and burgers and all that kind of food."
(Snip)
"She added that campfires had been banned on the National Trust-owned island after a massive woodland blaze 30 years ago."
(Snip)
"In the middle of the island stands a huge marquee fitted out with industrial ovens and fridges stocked with vegetarian food.
"Next to it is a large, covered canteen and stage where bands have performed in the evening during the five days of celebrations.
"There is also an Internet cafe set up with ten lap-top computers to allow home-sick youngsters to keep in touch with their families around the globe."
(Snip)
"Hundreds of solar powered lights line the walk ways across the island to avoid anyone tripping over tent pegs, and each cluster of tents is illuminated by strings of electric lights powered by generators.
"David Massen, a Scout leader from Bradford, said last night: "A lot has changed with the way Scouting works since 1907." "
" "For example, Baden-Powell could just take his Scouts out on a boat for a fishing trip, whereas if I want to do the same I have to take a two-hour training session and write a four-page risk assessment statement." "
"And if California slides into the ocean..."
.. it may be better for the rest of us!
A debate in the LA Times begins by framing the issues thus: "There's wide agreement that most dogs should be spayed and neutered." Really?
But worse is to come. "I am a volunteer humane advocate going against you, Bill, a paid lobbyist and profiteering dog breeder allied with a PR firm that unsuccessfully defended Big Tobacco and fought against a living wage law. Birds of a feather, readers!" [See Eric at Classical Values, also quoted earlier here, on the mindset of "activists"]
(Snip)
"Not once have I seen an e-mail response from a breeder, puppy mill or pet store saying that they will save these animals' lives. It would mean one less family to which they could sell a puppy or kitten at a profit. These profiteers not only fail to help, they are now frantic to stop those of us who are demanding a change.
Who do you trust? Those who sacrifice or those who profit?"
So now all breeders are blood- drenched profiteers, while only animal rightists love and do right by animals.
Oh wait, dog haters do too. Here is a columnist in the same paper who also supports mandatory spay neuter (he recently also caused a controversy by writing that he hated people in the military though admitting he had never met any):
"I used to believe that I hated dogs. But now I realize that I'm apathetic about dogs, as I am about any animal that is not delicious. Dogs to me are a lot like flounder.
"What I've come to realize is that what I really hate is you, the dog owner. Because you're the one who honestly believes that your dog is sentient and that he loves you. Your ego is so grandiose that you can't see that your dog is just using you. Yes, your dog loves you, but only in the way that Anna Nicole Smith loved old, rich men. Yet you honestly believe that your dog's love is particularly meaningful because your dog is special -- almost human, really. In fact, you think, he's an almost-human that happens to be a lot like you. He is a lot like you if you happen to assess colleagues by smelling their butts and enjoy publicly eating your own vomit."
As a dog owner and breeder who has taken a loss, not a profit, to breed rare and useful dogs that could not even be expensively exempt under the proposed law, I am nearly speechless.
Sorry, Mary, but there is no compromise with fanatical hidden agendas (no more domestic animals) or invincible ignorance and arrogance.
Molon Labe*.
HT Margory Cohen & Reid.
*"Come and take them"-- what the Spartans said to the Persians when ordered to surrender their weapons.
A debate in the LA Times begins by framing the issues thus: "There's wide agreement that most dogs should be spayed and neutered." Really?
But worse is to come. "I am a volunteer humane advocate going against you, Bill, a paid lobbyist and profiteering dog breeder allied with a PR firm that unsuccessfully defended Big Tobacco and fought against a living wage law. Birds of a feather, readers!" [See Eric at Classical Values, also quoted earlier here, on the mindset of "activists"]
(Snip)
"Not once have I seen an e-mail response from a breeder, puppy mill or pet store saying that they will save these animals' lives. It would mean one less family to which they could sell a puppy or kitten at a profit. These profiteers not only fail to help, they are now frantic to stop those of us who are demanding a change.
Who do you trust? Those who sacrifice or those who profit?"
So now all breeders are blood- drenched profiteers, while only animal rightists love and do right by animals.
Oh wait, dog haters do too. Here is a columnist in the same paper who also supports mandatory spay neuter (he recently also caused a controversy by writing that he hated people in the military though admitting he had never met any):
"I used to believe that I hated dogs. But now I realize that I'm apathetic about dogs, as I am about any animal that is not delicious. Dogs to me are a lot like flounder.
"What I've come to realize is that what I really hate is you, the dog owner. Because you're the one who honestly believes that your dog is sentient and that he loves you. Your ego is so grandiose that you can't see that your dog is just using you. Yes, your dog loves you, but only in the way that Anna Nicole Smith loved old, rich men. Yet you honestly believe that your dog's love is particularly meaningful because your dog is special -- almost human, really. In fact, you think, he's an almost-human that happens to be a lot like you. He is a lot like you if you happen to assess colleagues by smelling their butts and enjoy publicly eating your own vomit."
As a dog owner and breeder who has taken a loss, not a profit, to breed rare and useful dogs that could not even be expensively exempt under the proposed law, I am nearly speechless.
Sorry, Mary, but there is no compromise with fanatical hidden agendas (no more domestic animals) or invincible ignorance and arrogance.
Molon Labe*.
HT Margory Cohen & Reid.
*"Come and take them"-- what the Spartans said to the Persians when ordered to surrender their weapons.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Bird "Bleg"
Which as readers of blogs know is a Blogger's Beg.
I am going into this season birdless as well as almost utterly penniless. Next year should be better but is... next year.
I am mainly interested in Goshawks, Sakers, and (probably crossed with Saker) Gyrs (better health down here).
Gosses I probably have to get myself (all NM permits taken so no "passagers" available here) though if a breeder has an unclaimed individual...
Saker and Gyr females are probably too valuable to let go even this late. But if anyone knows or knows of a male going begging or in need of a home let me know.
I am NOT looking for an older problem hawk and would look such a gift "in the mouth" so to speak. I need a hawk that is unafraid of or inexperienced with dogs to work with them in pursuit flights.
Thanks!
I am going into this season birdless as well as almost utterly penniless. Next year should be better but is... next year.
I am mainly interested in Goshawks, Sakers, and (probably crossed with Saker) Gyrs (better health down here).
Gosses I probably have to get myself (all NM permits taken so no "passagers" available here) though if a breeder has an unclaimed individual...
Saker and Gyr females are probably too valuable to let go even this late. But if anyone knows or knows of a male going begging or in need of a home let me know.
I am NOT looking for an older problem hawk and would look such a gift "in the mouth" so to speak. I need a hawk that is unafraid of or inexperienced with dogs to work with them in pursuit flights.
Thanks!
New Gorbatov
John Carlson of Prairie Ice gives us a link to new work by Vadim Gorbatov and a review of Cormac McCarthy's The Road.
Bones
Some bones from the beach: my sister Karen and her husband George excavate some seal and whale bones on the east coast.
Nest
From the book files: Bratislav Grubac from Serbia, writer and photographer of the good book Suri Orao (Golden Eagle) and fellow Mongolia- phile, sends this entry for Eagle: a Steppe eagle nest on the ground in Mongolia.
A Real Afghan
I have been trying to get over 100 illos for the Eagle so have been very busy but visual images are pouring in. So it's time for Photoblogging!
First: a real hunting Afghan from Afghanistan. According to our friend Jutta Ruebesam: "She was found in the streets of Kabul by a member of a German organisation. She was nearly starving. So they cared for her for some years and brought her to Germany when they left Afghanistan."
Intact of course. European dog folks don't share our fetish for neutering. She will doubtless be bred to German racing and lure coursing lines. Notice her "pattern" coat, not long like a show Afghan's. Jutta also says she is as tiny and muscular as our Atai. She should know-- she has seen and photographed both. Her name, oddly for a German dog, is "Dusty".
First: a real hunting Afghan from Afghanistan. According to our friend Jutta Ruebesam: "She was found in the streets of Kabul by a member of a German organisation. She was nearly starving. So they cared for her for some years and brought her to Germany when they left Afghanistan."
Intact of course. European dog folks don't share our fetish for neutering. She will doubtless be bred to German racing and lure coursing lines. Notice her "pattern" coat, not long like a show Afghan's. Jutta also says she is as tiny and muscular as our Atai. She should know-- she has seen and photographed both. Her name, oddly for a German dog, is "Dusty".
Presidential Note
Just saw a story on the presidential candidates' (both parties) penchant for evoking Teddy Roosevelt's policies in their rhetoric.
Question: Which do you think will be first to support hunting rats with terriers in the White House basement, or coursing coyotes with greyhounds in Yellowstone?
Question: Which do you think will be first to support hunting rats with terriers in the White House basement, or coursing coyotes with greyhounds in Yellowstone?
Overland Journal
Steve has an article "Riding with the Eagle Hunters of Mongolia" in the Summer 2007 number of Overland Journal. This link does not bring up the article, available only in dead tree version, but I received my copy last week and it's well worth subscribing.
New Arrival
Congratulations (I believe) to Pluvialis who has just gotten her new goshawk. I assume she's accepting donations to her Red Bull fund.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Ida Hurt 1931-2007
Ida Marie Hurt, 75, of Baton Rouge died Sunday, August 12, at the Ollie Steele Burden Manor on Essen Lane.
Hurt was born October 1, 1931, in Albany, Georgia, to forester Henry David Story and Marie Agnus Story. Hurt moved with her family to Amite, Louisiana, as a young girl and later to Baton Rouge where she would remain. The former Ida Story married William “Bill” Hurt of Amite in 1953 and did not remarry after Bill’s death in 1978. The couple had no children.
Hurt received one of the first degrees in medical technology from Southeastern Louisiana University (1955) and worked in that field almost 50 years, witnessing its evolution from manual laboratory procedure to sophisticated computerized analysis. Hurt’s unusual education, pioneering career and independence after the death of her husband exemplify the maverick character so familiar to her friends.
Ida Hurt was a lifelong enthusiast of outdoor pursuits. As a child she shagged downed birds and squirrels for her father and handled his dogs on midnight hunts for opossum and raccoon. She later joined her husband at deer camp, enduring the ribbing of his friends and drinking Scotch; she killed her first deer there and silenced the doubters. In the last decade of her life, Hurt became an aficionado of the art of falconry, devoting every Saturday to flushing game for a friend’s trained hawks and cleaning the kills.
Hurt is survived by her pampered parrots, Corky and Chico, whom she called her “children”; by her brother, Dave, of Fitzgerald, Georgia; her nephew, Dave, also of Fitzgerald, GA; her nieces, Susan and Kelly, of Homerville, GA and Oceanside, CA, respectively; and by her circle of friends and admirers, including Cheri, Jessica, Karen and Matt. She is preceded in death by her husband, Bill, and her little fat dog, Dingo.
Hurt was born October 1, 1931, in Albany, Georgia, to forester Henry David Story and Marie Agnus Story. Hurt moved with her family to Amite, Louisiana, as a young girl and later to Baton Rouge where she would remain. The former Ida Story married William “Bill” Hurt of Amite in 1953 and did not remarry after Bill’s death in 1978. The couple had no children.
Hurt received one of the first degrees in medical technology from Southeastern Louisiana University (1955) and worked in that field almost 50 years, witnessing its evolution from manual laboratory procedure to sophisticated computerized analysis. Hurt’s unusual education, pioneering career and independence after the death of her husband exemplify the maverick character so familiar to her friends.
Ida Hurt was a lifelong enthusiast of outdoor pursuits. As a child she shagged downed birds and squirrels for her father and handled his dogs on midnight hunts for opossum and raccoon. She later joined her husband at deer camp, enduring the ribbing of his friends and drinking Scotch; she killed her first deer there and silenced the doubters. In the last decade of her life, Hurt became an aficionado of the art of falconry, devoting every Saturday to flushing game for a friend’s trained hawks and cleaning the kills.
Hurt is survived by her pampered parrots, Corky and Chico, whom she called her “children”; by her brother, Dave, of Fitzgerald, Georgia; her nephew, Dave, also of Fitzgerald, GA; her nieces, Susan and Kelly, of Homerville, GA and Oceanside, CA, respectively; and by her circle of friends and admirers, including Cheri, Jessica, Karen and Matt. She is preceded in death by her husband, Bill, and her little fat dog, Dingo.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
More Discoveries at the Whydah
Last summer I had a post about underwater archaeology at the wreck of the Whydah, a pirate ship that sunk in a storm off of Wellfleet, Massachusetts in 1717. The NY Times today has the story of the recovery of 12,000 pound mass of corroded metal from the sea floor under the wreck. Researchers think that it contains seven cannon and many other artifacts that are rusted and congealed together. I'm sure that they'll be years in the lab picking it apart.
According to the article, the Whydah is apparently the only shipwreck that can be definitively tied to pirates:
"Charles R. Ewen, a professor of archaeology at East Carolina University and a co-editor of 'X Marks the Spot: The Archaeology of Piracy,' said anything new from the Whydah was significant because it was the only pirate ship that had been 'unequivocally found' and offered clues about the pirating life.
'It sank with everything,' Professor Ewen said, 'so the material you find with it is very good at comparing with other ships. It’s very important for history and capturing what it was really like to be a pirate, as opposed to Johnny Depp.'”
Got that, Heidi?
According to the article, the Whydah is apparently the only shipwreck that can be definitively tied to pirates:
"Charles R. Ewen, a professor of archaeology at East Carolina University and a co-editor of 'X Marks the Spot: The Archaeology of Piracy,' said anything new from the Whydah was significant because it was the only pirate ship that had been 'unequivocally found' and offered clues about the pirating life.
'It sank with everything,' Professor Ewen said, 'so the material you find with it is very good at comparing with other ships. It’s very important for history and capturing what it was really like to be a pirate, as opposed to Johnny Depp.'”
Got that, Heidi?
This Story Has Legs
I just saw this bizarre story in today's Denver Post. In Valencia County, New Mexico, just south of Albuquerque, two human legs were recovered from an irrigation ditch last month. No other body parts were found, and though the legs were found several days apart, they were both wearing the same type boot and both had had replacement knee surgery. By tracking down the serial numbers on the artificial knees they were able to identify the victim.
Got some pretty sharp CSI work going on down your way, Steve.
Sorry for the pun.
Got some pretty sharp CSI work going on down your way, Steve.
Sorry for the pun.
More Cold Warriors
Here are a couple more shots of some Cold War aircraft from the Mojave flight line. Above is a MiG-15 with my son Travis, age 11, in for scale. This is a Korean War era plane in a two seat trainer variant, I believe a MiG-15UTI.
Pictured above is a white F-86 Sabrejet, another Korean War veteran, with the nose of a second one peeking out from the hangar. In the late 1990s when I took this picture, these two planes were still earning a living towing targets for gunnery practice under contract to the Air Force. Later the company lost the towing contract and put the F-86s up for sale. If I'd had $50,000 to spare in 1998 I could have bought one.The gray painted aircraft in the picture are all Vietnam War era F-4s. These planes had all been mothballed at the "boneyard" at Davis-Monthan Air Force Base in Arizona. They were brought back up to flyable status and flown to Mojave where special radio flight controls were installed. This turned them into remotely-piloted drones, officially designated QF-4s, which were also used for target practice.
Larissa gets fired
In favor of two illiterate interns. Sometimes I despair of the magazine world.
Go here to see what they are missing as she blogs on harsh truth and loving lies.
Go here to see what they are missing as she blogs on harsh truth and loving lies.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Extremophiles
Owners of animals (and we must be in the majority among Q. readers) ought to check out Prairie Mary's recent essay, "Two Tails of the Social Dog," an excellent response to the state of polarization over animal issues that accounts for much of the chatter on this blog.
She pegs a few of us in the latter camp, but is not unkind, and I must say, not entirely unfair.
I cringe to see myself listed among the likes of certain NFL luminaries, but I can't tell you I wouldn't rather be caught at a cock fight than a PETA rally. At least, I've met a couple cock fighters I liked.
Mary's essay defines the middle ground, rarely mentioned, where "the sensible center continues on. Daily and quietly [managing] their own lives to support what is around them and accept the ordinary blessings of good things like dogs and cats."
And she makes the very important observation that the fates of people and animals are simply inextricable:
If you haven't already, read the whole thing.
"When it comes to domestic pets, a terrible thing has happened which I should have foreseen and which has unforeseeable consequences itself. The extreme end of the humane movement has been matched by the development of growing organization at the other extreme which has no name yet but an equally militant and intransigent nature...."
She pegs a few of us in the latter camp, but is not unkind, and I must say, not entirely unfair.
"Partly these dog-owning defenders are entirely respectable hunters, including those who work with hawk-and-hound pairs; aficionados of classic working breeds like the big cart-pulling or flock-guarding dogs developed in rural Europe; citizens who feel the need for protection in their own homes; but then go along a continuum to criminals who keep dogs to alert them against law enforcement or competing criminals and those who promote dog fights for betting and blood sport."
I cringe to see myself listed among the likes of certain NFL luminaries, but I can't tell you I wouldn't rather be caught at a cock fight than a PETA rally. At least, I've met a couple cock fighters I liked.
Mary's essay defines the middle ground, rarely mentioned, where "the sensible center continues on. Daily and quietly [managing] their own lives to support what is around them and accept the ordinary blessings of good things like dogs and cats."
And she makes the very important observation that the fates of people and animals are simply inextricable:
"In short, animals are a part of human culture -- have been for a very long time -- and are symptoms, manifestations and causes of everything human. As people go, so go their animals. They are not separate entities that can be considered apart from humans, so much as extensions of those humans...."
If you haven't already, read the whole thing.
BBJ
A few days ago, the Denver Post had this article on efforts by the FAA and the General Aviation Manufacturers Association to streamline the regulations for certifying interiors for luxury private aircraft. Currently these interiors are required to meet standards set for commercial passenger aircraft and this is difficult when private owners want to do different things:"Until now, VIP air travelers have had to seek exemptions, often a long and costly process, when they wanted to upgrade jet interiors with such amenities as large bedrooms; bathing facilities; big dining areas with LCD lighting - or spiral staircases."
snip
"Sometimes, the answer is no. The agency denied a request for a glass disco dance floor in a Boeing 777-200; it also has declined to allow chandeliers."
I said in a post last month that I had worked in the aviation industry and that one of my jobs had been in this business, custom aircraft completions. The Post article spends some time discussing Boeing Business Jets, or BBJs, which was one of the aircraft that we worked on. A BBJ is essentially a Boeing 737-700/800 available for a custom installation. That aircraft gives you an interior space of approximately 900 square feet to be configured as the customer would like.
I pasted in the pic above of a BBJ owned by Ty Warner, who made his fortune in Beanie Babies. It is not an airplane that we worked on, but I got to see it often in the Santa Barbara Airport (Warner has a home there) and admired its unusual paint scheme. That's a crew waxing and polishing the hull and nacelles in the picture.
I learned that painting these aircraft is a big deal, and you can easily spend $100,000 to $200,000 or more on a custom paint job. Most of the clients we dealt with wanted fairly plain exteriors, not much different from an airliner. The primer (to ensure none of the rivets show) and paint are very important in calculating the weight and balance of the aircraft as they add about 800 - 1000 pounds of weight.
Another thing to notice in this photo is the blocked windows. BBJs are delivered with the full complement of windows down the sides of the hull. In cases where some interior installation like a galley, or shower, or bedroom blocks the window, it's usually pulled and a metal plug inserted. You can see quite a few of those on this plane.
Of the BBJs we worked on we really only had two that were painted in a somewhat unusual manner. One had a light blue top (actually kind of a UNC Tarheel blue) that gradually faded out into an off-white below the window line to give a cloud-like effect. Another faintly resembled Warner's: it was mostly a bright white with a gold stripe along the window line that broadened out to completely cover the tail in gold. This customer originally wanted to use gold leaf, but we were able to dissuade him from that impracticality. Not long before we were due to deliver this plane, the company that the owner was the CEO of underwent a very public and scandalous bankruptcy. He was able to sell it to a Russian oligarch, apparently an intimate of Putin's, who based it in Siberia after we delivered it.
Months later we received a series of grumpy telexes from Yakutsk, complaining that the BBJ's plumbing kept freezing while it was parked on the tarmac. Plumbing inside the cabin is assumed to stay heated and is never insulated. Plumbing between the pressure vessel of the cabin and the hull is wrapped in electrical heater tapes or blankets that are turned on when airborne to keep them from freezing. We explained that none of these are turned on while the plane was parked outside in the Siberian winter, so yes it would freeze. For a reasonable price we offered to come up with a custom ground heater system for them but they seemed to lose interest.
Oh, and I actually saw that glass disco dance floor that the FAA refused to allow on the Boeing 777. One of our suppliers was building it for another completion center, and they showed it to me while I was visiting to inspect work they were doing for us. It was for a Middle Eastern customer, and the bulkheads and cabinets that fit around it were of the most awful shade of metallic purple. The scale was enormous, designed to fill the middle third of the plane. I never found out what their fall-back plan was.
UPDATE
I unearthed this photo last night of a BBJ prior to receiving its paint job. They were flown down to us from Seattle with only a light protective coating over the aluminum hull. We had a bird control problem in this hangar and the plastic sheets draped over the fuselage are there to protect it from bird droppings.
Last night I also remembered another design feature of the Boeing 777 with the glass disco dance floor. In a different part of the plane there was another glass floor. This was a circular "prayer floor" about nine feet in diameter set into the deck that had motorized bearings set on its edges. These were controlled by a GPS device that turned the floor so that indicators etched into the glass were always oriented toward Mecca. Passengers answering the call to prayer could be certain they were facing the right way.
I don't know what the FAA thought about that. It seemed a little incongruous next to the big disco dance room, but I guess there's a time to pray and a time to play.
The eagle film
I have had about twenty people send me this so thought I should just post it myself. Below is a typical response from me:
It is a trained golden taking a roe deer at the annual meet at Opocno in the Czech Republic. They take them as easily as a Goshawk takes a hare. The young woman in the photo below (after a day there-- notice roe as well as hares) is a friend of ours and a real adventurer-- we "sent" her for a month's winter hunting in Mongolia with Canat and the eaglers when she was just 17! She is now flying an eagle in Scotland. She has Opocno film as does a friend in Albuquerque who has also been.
My friend then then asked if it was a bagged quarry:
Wow! What an incredible photo. All those birds seem to be in fine mettle. I
assume the roe deer was released at the opportune moment - and not
wild-flushed.
Not at all ! Those mustard and rapeseed fields are full of roe and hares and they just walk in a line to flush, at which point the designated eagler (or eaglers-- some actually fly casts) let their birds go. I have seen a dozen such films-- now must somehow get to go there! ( I have seen films where TWO flush).
Eastern European falconers have a highly developed sense of sport and tradition and would never use bagged quarry, unlike the pragmatic Kazakhs who will to demonstrate prowess at a meet.
That eagle easily handled that roe. Much more easily than did the golden taking
a fox in that Spanish film you sent a link to a while back. That fox repeatedly
bit the eagle. I am assuming it was a young eagle, as it appeared to grab the
fox in the hindquarters (big mistake).
Agreed. Inexperienced eagle and probably falconer. Bagged quarry is unknown in western Europe but probably wise for eyasses, and they aren't allowed passagers. Every USA eagler I know flies passage birds caught at a couple of years old and they know to catch the head first!
How did the Mongolian eaglers handle a woman falconer? My hat's off to her!
Kazakhs are very barely Muslims-- more animist with a Muslim veneer, and not only drink tons of vodka but celebrate legendary warrior queens and take strong females in stride. They kicked Saudis out when, after the Russians left, they came as missionaries and wanted them to stop drinking and veil their women.
Two quick tales: Canat, who is a self- described "man of science", wanted us to visit a shamaness for a consultation. Teasing, I asked what the young (Kazakh) imam with the falcon would say. Deadpan (and knowing quite well it was funny) he said "He drinks with her at the Red Door Bar".
When young Lauren came here to visit she was still under age for the bar, but as we have wine at the table (and I drink vodka) I asked whether she had wine with dinner. She replied "I don't know-- all I have ever drunk was vodka with the Kazakhs". She stuck with vodka.
A month, in midwinter, traveling alone with Canat (as a very protective father figure, granted) on horseback, from hunting camp to hunting camp in the Mongolian back country six hundred miles west of Ulaan Bataar, up near the Siberian (Tuvan) border. Still some good kids out there for sure.
Lauren, second from right...
Monday, August 06, 2007
... And what was that thing in the background?
This:
Here is a hint.
I must blog some of the books in the background of this shot one of these days, especially those plain ones on the right.
Here is a hint.I must blog some of the books in the background of this shot one of these days, especially those plain ones on the right.
Bookplate
Reid has been after me to do this one for ages.
Let's see: here is a slice of bookcase (yes, Carel, you are in there too). Take out that black one in the center.
There it is:
See the bookplate?
Let's zoom in. Can you read it?
When I found it in a store in Berkeley over a decade ago, I couldn't believe the price, even for a nice Norman Douglas without a bookplate-- about as much as a modern novel today. I asked her if it could possibly be correct and she replied "It's been here for years and you are the only one who ever noticed!" She gave me this clipping which charted the course of the book's progress:
Douglas was a rather disreputable old travel writer and novelist who was a friend of Lawrence, though I cannot imagine two more different temperaments. This book, a novel is his best known work, but this travel book is a better book. He was also a mentor to the wonderful (and dazzlingly beautiful) English food writer Elizabeth David, who introduced English readers to the glories of French and Mediterranean cooking after WW II (Betsy Huntington said David's books taught her what food was). And he did the only funny indexes (indices?) I have ever seen-- more on that some other time.
She and Douglas (and Graham Greene and Harold Acton and other notables) are all characters in this novel, Lunch with Elizabeth David. There is also an excellent biography of David by Artemis Cooper, who also edited this collection of pieces by Querencia favorite Patrick Leigh Fermor.
Let's see: here is a slice of bookcase (yes, Carel, you are in there too). Take out that black one in the center.
There it is:
See the bookplate?
Let's zoom in. Can you read it?
When I found it in a store in Berkeley over a decade ago, I couldn't believe the price, even for a nice Norman Douglas without a bookplate-- about as much as a modern novel today. I asked her if it could possibly be correct and she replied "It's been here for years and you are the only one who ever noticed!" She gave me this clipping which charted the course of the book's progress:
Douglas was a rather disreputable old travel writer and novelist who was a friend of Lawrence, though I cannot imagine two more different temperaments. This book, a novel is his best known work, but this travel book is a better book. He was also a mentor to the wonderful (and dazzlingly beautiful) English food writer Elizabeth David, who introduced English readers to the glories of French and Mediterranean cooking after WW II (Betsy Huntington said David's books taught her what food was). And he did the only funny indexes (indices?) I have ever seen-- more on that some other time.
She and Douglas (and Graham Greene and Harold Acton and other notables) are all characters in this novel, Lunch with Elizabeth David. There is also an excellent biography of David by Artemis Cooper, who also edited this collection of pieces by Querencia favorite Patrick Leigh Fermor.
PETA Opines On Animal Breeding
Lending her support to Verlyn Klinkenborg's comments of July 30, PETA director of Domestic Animals and Wildlife Rescue & Information Daphna Nachminovitch had this to say about the value of breeding animals [emphasis mine]:
"Given the current dire shortage of homes, no breeding is responsible. Every time someone buys a puppy or kitten from a breeder, a shelter animal loses its chance at a home and pays with its life. Breeders kill shelter animals’ chances to find good homes."Also deadly to shelter pets? PETA!
John Burchard on Mule Birth
Dr. John Burchard puts in a scientific perspective on the mule birth below:
"Not exactly my area of expertise, but ...
"Mule sterility results AFAIK from mismatched chromosome sets. I don't know the
details in this particular case, but in general any considerable difference in
the arrangement of homologous genes on the chromosomes causes problems at
meiosis because the chromosomes can't pair neatly, resulting in non-disjunction
of some chromosomes or parts of chromosomes. That in turn results in aneuploid
gametes or zygotes, most of which are not viable.
"Since in such a case there is a considerable random element in what happens at
meiosis, there may be a remote but non-zero chance of producing a euploid or
nearly euploid gamete, which if paired with a gamete from a non-hybrid parent
might very well produce a viable offspring. It doesn't say who the sire of the
foal was, but presumably a jack or a stallion, not another mule.
"Chromosome incompatibilities seem to result in male sterility much sooner than
in female sterility. I'd have to think a bit about why that is so, but it is
certainly a well-known observed fact. "Bengal" cats are hybrids of Felis
bengalensis (the Asian Leopard Cat) with F. catus the domestic cat. F1 males
are sterile. F1 females are fertile, but must be backcrossed to domestic cats
for at least a couple of generations before you get fertile males. Several
other cat species crosses behave the same way. I think there are also non-cat
examples, though I can't offhand think of them."
I would add that in some falcon hybrids there is often reduced fertility in F1 males.
"Not exactly my area of expertise, but ...
"Mule sterility results AFAIK from mismatched chromosome sets. I don't know the
details in this particular case, but in general any considerable difference in
the arrangement of homologous genes on the chromosomes causes problems at
meiosis because the chromosomes can't pair neatly, resulting in non-disjunction
of some chromosomes or parts of chromosomes. That in turn results in aneuploid
gametes or zygotes, most of which are not viable.
"Since in such a case there is a considerable random element in what happens at
meiosis, there may be a remote but non-zero chance of producing a euploid or
nearly euploid gamete, which if paired with a gamete from a non-hybrid parent
might very well produce a viable offspring. It doesn't say who the sire of the
foal was, but presumably a jack or a stallion, not another mule.
"Chromosome incompatibilities seem to result in male sterility much sooner than
in female sterility. I'd have to think a bit about why that is so, but it is
certainly a well-known observed fact. "Bengal" cats are hybrids of Felis
bengalensis (the Asian Leopard Cat) with F. catus the domestic cat. F1 males
are sterile. F1 females are fertile, but must be backcrossed to domestic cats
for at least a couple of generations before you get fertile males. Several
other cat species crosses behave the same way. I think there are also non-cat
examples, though I can't offhand think of them."
I would add that in some falcon hybrids there is often reduced fertility in F1 males.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)