Mild apologies

... or at least explanation. I have finally tied all the loose ends up on proposals and contracts, and handed in my article on the three amazing pigeons (dodo, passenger, and feral street) to Living Bird. I am now coming up for breath and determined first to spend more time outdoors. Also need a tune up and oil change at the neurologists, and to write about that too. But I have plenty on tap here-- guns and art, sure, and quotes, but most importantly, all manner of book reviews and recommendations, starting with Paula Young Lee's unique, funny, true, and addictively quotable Deer Hunting in Paris.

Pretty Guns Are Meant to be Used

Gil just got a fine Manufrance 16 bore of high grade, and snipe season is still on...

I envy him the meals he is still collecting. We didn't have much of a season here, and it is over. We need rain!

Bella and the Short-faced Bear

I took this picture of our granddaughter last week just outside the Page Museum at the La Brea tar pits in Los Angeles. I guess this is a bit of a teaser as I'll have another post soon with pictures of what we saw inside the museum.

I have to point out that our visit there was a huge hit with Bella, who was fascinated with the mammoths and saber-tooth cats.  

Pluvi is back!

And her new book is coming...

Gun Quote with Examples

A bunch of 37's and a 17

"If an ancient Athenian had to choose between an M12 and an M17-37, he would no doubt have chosen the sexier looking of the two, the Winchester.  On the other hand, an ancient Spartan would have grabbed the Remington or Ithaca and shot the Athenian while he oogled the M12.  Then the Spartan would have walked off with both guns."
(Gil Stacy, who is the MAN on the M37).

Hemingway with Model 12

Gil's gun with snipe

Wyoming Winter

We’ve enjoyed a fairly quiet winter in western Wyoming, and are thrilled with the recent series of snowstorms and blizzards hitting our area. We’ve been in a drought so long it was somewhat a pleasure when I buried the feed truck in deep snow this morning. Even though I was sure that the snow would eventually melt and I could retrieve the truck at that time (can’t be more than a few weeks, right?), husband Jim gave it a few tugs with another truck and freed me.

We had high prices last fall during shipping, so we reduced our sheep numbers, and now learn that feeding a small flock within the one-mile pasture around the house is an easy winter chore.



Our winter guardians, in addition to three burros, are three female Akbash guardian dogs, all of the same lineage. After her battle with wolves last fall, Rena healed up nicely. We wondered, and feared, how she might react to predator challenges after such an aggressive fight in which she nearly lost her life. Rather than having fear or aversion, her reaction has been the opposite – she’s a terror on four paws, and seems to have a chip on her shoulder when it comes to the coyotes in the neighborhood.


Rena is joined in guardian duty by her nine-year old mother Luv’s Girl, and her four-month old half-sister Beyza. Following the Tajik tradition of selecting the pup with the bold carriage, I selected Beyza from her littermates because of her swagger – her tail is often held high, curled over her back, and she has aggressive guardian tendencies, even at this young age. She now goes charging out with mother and sister when a threat is perceived.

Our jackrabbit population continues to be depressed, with a corresponding decrease in the number of golden eagles wintering here. Many more bald eagles are concentrated on road-killed animals.


With Jim home taking care of the critters, in between traveling to speak at conferences, I’m spending as much time as possible working on books, with one adult nonfiction title set for release this fall, and a second recently completed nonfiction manuscript under consideration at a publishing house. I’m hopeful that by the end of the year I can get back to the world of books for young readers, but the publishing world continues to undergo upheaval and finding my place in it is like walking blindfolded.

I.D.

Thesis: Sydney Vale, not a birder, called a female Sparrowhawk a 'Goshawk'. See especially the larger female in Liam O' Broin's book, lower right.

Random Doggage

Bodie training, Albuquerque

Nhubia's new coat, Germany

Daniela's dynasty, Southern NM

Dutch wins his own Desert hare Classic!

Still another quote

"You have to keep producing words, against the odds."

Olivia Lang

One more quote

M. John Fayhee:

"We all eventually reach an age when we realize, to steal a line from “V for Vendetta,” that almost every change you have seen in your life is for the worse."

Links plus

I have accumulated a few...

Federico sent these wonderful reconstructions of Pleistocene "Hominins", saying "These are by far the most compelling reconstructions of 'ancient' people I have ever seen -- admittedly one of the two is just an old school Homo sapiens…  For whatever reason I do find both reconstructions so much more alive and true to life than anything I have ever seen:  I can see that the old sapiens would have lots of stuff to teach *me*, and I can see that the neanderthal is just so close to us -- I can feel how disappointing it would be if we could not communicate with someone like him."

From "Lucas Machias": patenting reconstructed species. Hoo! "What Brave New World..."

Keith Brady sent down this wonderful video on Chernobyl from Canada. I would have eaten the old lady's vegetables-- would you? As Keith said, "She's a peach - got a lot of blood in her body....unlike the BBC guy." If this were a YouTube I would have embedded it. Read Mary Mycio's Wormwood Forest-- in Amazon but the link won't work-- for more background.

Annie Davidson sent this pic-- no link-- via the San Diego Natural History Museum, of a horde of 33 round tailed horned lizard skulls found while cleaning out an America Kestrel nest box in the Chiricahua Mountains of southern Arizona. As we have both species, I must check out some nests; I would love to find a similar one. It looks like an Asian Buddhist skull rosary, and you could make a variant..

From Chas: vulture- safe zones in India. It may be the first positive sign for these necessary scavengers since I wrote up the problem in the Atlantic too many years ago. Wonder what the Parsees are doing...

Younger people don't know, and older ones forget, that it was not only (or even) liberal Democrats who  saved  our wilderness areas in the last twenty or thirty years. The always contrary (and always interesting) Dave Foreman reminds us, here of what the PC would think of as some unlikely wilderness advocates. Remember (judge, senator) Jim Buckley? Libby's late parents were of that ilk too.

More, and worse, soon.

A Texas pig tale

This story was told to me at the Spur by a friend from east of here. Names have been changed or removed to protect the embarrassable.

My friend told me:

I know you are aware of the problem feral hogs have been causing. There were only three deer taken this year on our family deer lease, the worst harvest in about ten years. Martin Chavez, who farms the same property we hunt, has been allowing one of his sons to trap the hogs in a big cage that fits on the back of his 2- ton stakebed truck. The kid then hauls the pigs twenty five miles to town and sells them for about 30 bucks for each-- not bad work for a kid.

 Years ago,  my city cousin elected himself to be the spokesman for our group. After the unsuccessful season, he decided that the farmer and his trapping operation were somehow responsible for the deer vacating our property.  So, he called Chavez, and told him that since he, the spokesman, was paying for the hunting rights, all the animals, including the hogs, belonged to him. He ordered him to remove the cage immediately, or it would be destroyed and hauled off. The farmer reluctantly agreed to send his boy out to remove the trap.

 That evening, the self- satisfied hunter was enjoying a quiet meal in a big city about two hundred miles from the ranch. The phone rang, and he answered.  It was Chavez, the farmer. "Martin here. I sent my son down to get that trap and he just called to tell me it has fourteen hogs in it. Now you better get your ass down there and get your pigs out of my trap, else I’m calling the sheriff!”

 Perhaps my cousin will be more careful with his demands in the future.

Soliloquy

Matthew Makarewicz tipped me to the best barbecue in Kansas City last year, and I really wanted to revisit Nicholas Payne's soliloquy from Thomas McGuane's 1971 Bushwhacked Piano ,  even before he requested it. Now imagine two guys shouting it out in unison in Harvard Square in about 72, laughing so hard they are falling down, each trying to one- up the other-- see a few posts below. Here you go, Matthew!

Payne has just been asked by his girlfriend's odious parents, the Fitzgeralds, what he believes in. They have already condescended to him about "fun" and dismissed his recommendation to read Samuel Butler ("We have"; Payne: "Do it again.")

"The mother told Payne that they had had enough of him. "We merely asked what you believed in, " she said. "We had no idea it would precipitate nastiness."

"What I believe in? I believe in happiness, birth control, generosity, fast cars, environmental sanity, Coors beer, Merle Haggard, upland game birds, expensive optics, helmets for prizefighters, canoes, skiffs, and sloops, horses that will not allow themselves to be ridden, speeches made under duress; I believe in metal fatigue and the immortality of the bristlecone pine. I believe in the Virgin Mary and others of that ilk. Even her son whom civilization accuses of sleeping at the switch...

"I believe that I am a molecular swerve not to be put off by the zippy diversions of the cheap- minded. I believe in the ultimate rule of men who are sleeping. I believe in the cargo of torpor which is the historically registered bequest of politics. I believe in Kate Smith and  Hammond Home Organs.  I believe in ramps and drop offs...

"I believe in spare tires and emergency repairs. I believe in  the final possum. I believe in little eggs of light falling from outer space and the bombardment of the poles by free electrons. I believe in tintypes, rotogravures and parked cars, all in their places. I believe in roast spring lamb with boiled potatoes. I believe in spinach with bacon and onion. I believe in canyons lost under the feet of waterskiers. I believe that we are necessary and will rise again. I  believe in words on paper, pictures on rock, intergalactic hellos. I believe in fraud. I believe that in pretending to be something you aren't you have your only crack at release from the bondage of time. I believe in my own dead more than I do in yours. What's more, credo in unum Deum, I believe in one God. He's up there. He's mine. And he's as smart as a whip.

"Anyway, you get the drift. I hate to flop the old philosophy on the table like so much pig's guts. And I left out a lot. But, well, there she is."

Soon, perhaps, "The Shining City."

Italian

I have specific tastes, and in shotguns they run to side by side English prewar (pre- Great War!) doubles, and certain classic American pumps. Generally I think current Italian guns are beautifully made, striking guns, but often overdone, if not as baroque as the products of contemporary Austrian houses. They do make a lot of practical over and unders, but I don't  love that configuration.

So it was with no huge expectations that I opened a mail from Luciano Bosis about a new gun he had completed, and was thunderstruck. No. 623 is my favorite new gun in a decade or more, with over- the -top wood combined with lean, minimalist lines, and classic fine scroll engraving. The dimensions (below) are such that it would be a pleasure to shoot for most right- handed shotgunners.

This is a gun well beyond my pay grade, but, on the off chance any of my readers wants it, I asked Mr Bosis for its specs. If you are a serious contender, leave  a contact in comments and I will give you his email; or just Google up his site, and tell him I sent you.

Some specs (I can provide more):
"Queen" Model Round body 28 bore by Luciano Bosis (NEW gun)
Barrel length 29"
Choked 7 tenths and 9 tenths, equal to Imp Mod and Full. (Chokes can be adjusted).
Solid concave rib
LOP 15"

You will have to ask Mr Bosis for the price. "if you have to ask, you can't afford it" may well apply.

Happy Birthday Mary!

Just got up this pic of my mother, taken last week a bit south of Boston where she lives, near most of my family. She turns 89 today, and I think she looks pretty damn good, especially for the mother of nine individual and often difficult children (I am as you might expect the oldest). Karen and George Graham, my sister and brother- in-  law,  who see her most days, are frequent commenters and occasional content providers, so I suspect she will see this sooner than later. So: happy birthday Mary Therese McCabe Bodio, and may you enjoy more yet.

1911 with Gos

.45 Auto Colt 1927 Argentine, not to be confused with the Baliester Molina which was not a 1911, not designed by John Moses Browning, and not approved by Colt. This one has only the modern additions which actually contribute to function. It has a nicely worn finish, a good trigger, and is tight as a new gun for accuracy, but feeds all ammo effortlessly, from military ball to Hydra- shocks. New grips scrimshawed to Japanese Goshawk design, custom work by Hogue Grips. Special thanks to Rosalie Joyce there for her help.

Quote

From Samuel Beckett, his code, said well other ways too. But I like this one's Zen stoicism:

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail better."

Gosses and Gyrs, again...

The "what hawk?" conundrum is invading my house in the form of art to be framed. I always need more walls but the supply of frames is well exceeded by the rate that art comes in. We now have an almost surrealistically large male Gyr turning his head in greeting, photographed by multi- talented Albuquerque friend Marty Stupich at Matt Mitchell's breeding facility down in the Bosque, and a neo- primitive but striking watercolor of a Gos by Sydney Vale, sent to us by "Johnny UK ", who lives in Vale's and his native Norfolk. The Japanese Tokugawa shogunate screen images are already framed and so do not worry me apart from figuring out a hanging schedule, nor does the (one of four or five) Nepali folk painting visible behind. But there may be twenty paintings stacked vertically behind, and our walls are not uncluttered. More WALLS please.

Achmed, my Kurdish driver in southeast Turkey seven or eight years ago on our tazi search expedition, would sometimes carry out screaming debates with his cousins, banging on the walls and making Italians look as sedate as Unitarians, then turn to me and say with a beatific smile "The Kurdish problem is not yet solved!" Nor is The Conundrum (see post below). Paul has all reason on his side, but several people including Libby (who has the most important vote), and some who offer me help, really want a Gyr. "Is not yet solved", though it must be said it is a win- win proposition...

Snow

"The mountains paralleled the valley and the snowy peaks were extending with fall to the valley floor."-- Thomas McGuane, Nobody's Angel

Which is at least visually appropriate for this view looking South on Main street to the Magdalena range, which rises from 6500 feet at the village to almost 11, 000 (10, 782 I THINK) within a few miles of my house, behind my back as I take this...

But it isn't the quote I am looking for! I have for years paraphrased a McGuane quote about the mountains looming almost threateningly closer to town in winter. But I have searched first "Heart of the Game", then the rest of An Outside Chance, Keep the Change, Nobody's Angel, Something to be Desired-- I am SURE I have been quoting it long enough that it isn't in a more recent book--! Quite possibly I have missed it in one of the above. If any of my scholarly friends can find it, there or elsewhere and if I am prematurely senile somewhere in another writer's work, I would be obliged. I thought of it when I took this pic this morning and have been looking, distracted by so many familiar and forgotten passages, that I need to get my blogging done and get back to life. Thankfully, no deadlines looming!

Update: I read the mad soliloquy in his 1971 Bushwhacked Piano for the first time in years, and laughed aloud. Anybody else remember & love it? If I get enough votes I will print it all here. When my friends and I were in our twenties in New England we could recite it, and competed. I can see Chris striding across Harvard Square, seeing me in front of the Coop, and bellowing "What I believe in? I believe in happiness, birth control, generosity, fast cars, environmental sanity, Coors beer, Merle Haggard, upland game birds, expensive optics, helmets for prizefighters, canoes, skiffs, and sloops, horses that will not allow themselves to be ridden, speeches made under duress; I believe in metal fatigue and the immortality of the bristlecone pine...'' And as he joins me, we chant the whole damn thing together, flinging out our hands, gesturing, getting really strange looks. This is about 1972 or 3, a time when certain kinds of bad behavior are becoming ordinary. But this has a different ring. "... I  believe in words on paper, pictures on rock, intergalactic hellos. I believe in fraud. I believe that in pretending to be something you aren't you have your only crack at release from the bondage of time..."

A mere taste. And if this meme takes off there is always "the Shining City" from 92 in the Shade: "I will behave badly".