Welcome home, Wilbur!
Glenda and I went and picked up an 8 week old Duroc pig today. Bacon was so good, I figured I'd get another one. And Wilbur is absolutely adorable. He's younger than Bacon was when I got Bacon. Despite not liking riding in the truck in a crate, he settled in quite quickly and started foraging right away. I'll take pictures soon. It's nice having a resident back in the pig pen.
Come Halloween, we'll have to go to the store and pick up some webbing and a "Charlotte" for his house.
Off to bed.
J
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Sunday, August 29, 2010
There's "suck" and then there's ...
Us.
I don't know why I waste my time.
Stood at the post today, and sent Echo. For a minute there, she was running out there to go pick up the sheep. I thought for a second that I might be in the clear.
She gets to the little tree/bush/flower island she stopped at yesterday, and stops. And pees. And sniffs. So I whistle her out of it, around it, and she finds another spot. And another spot. (Picture this ... trial is adjacent to a long pond. Setout is at one end of the pond and the post is at the other end of the pond ... all on the same side.) She manages ... just by her presence ... to push she sheep to the opposite side of the pond. She's not engaged. She's not working. Her brain is completely disconnected. So, I go over to the other side of the pond, and try to get her to pick up the sheep. In the meantime, the host's lovely wife comes over and says, "I got it, Jodi." I said, "No, that's ok. Thanks. We need to clean up the mess. It'll be a good lesson for her." So I send her. The host's lovely wife then sends her dog, too. I call Echo off and walk away. Nothing more for me to do there.
I am on my walk of shame back to my truck, and I pass by the owner of Echo's sire. He's a big hat. He says, "Hi Jodi." Yes, hi. I'm sure he's very proud.
And this is a local trial! Could you imagine if I traveled to like Western Washington or some other fancy shit to do this? We can't manage to make it around a dinky little course right here in Boise. There's no way I'd go do this anywhere else.
Why do I do it at all? I have no idea. To get my dogs out there on different sheep in different locations? Nope, I do that already. To prove my dogs? To who? Everyone else? I guess so, considering I don't need to prove them to me. Why am I proving my dogs? I don't know. It's not like I breed multiple litters a year, and need my dogs to do well at trials or anything. I don't teach lessons so I don't need the success of doing well at trials. So why do I bother? I don't have a clue.
Next weekend will be much more fun. Two of my very good friends are coming up to see me from L.A. So now, this week, I get to scrub the house from top to bottom and prepare to party for three days straight! :-)
I don't know why I waste my time.
Stood at the post today, and sent Echo. For a minute there, she was running out there to go pick up the sheep. I thought for a second that I might be in the clear.
She gets to the little tree/bush/flower island she stopped at yesterday, and stops. And pees. And sniffs. So I whistle her out of it, around it, and she finds another spot. And another spot. (Picture this ... trial is adjacent to a long pond. Setout is at one end of the pond and the post is at the other end of the pond ... all on the same side.) She manages ... just by her presence ... to push she sheep to the opposite side of the pond. She's not engaged. She's not working. Her brain is completely disconnected. So, I go over to the other side of the pond, and try to get her to pick up the sheep. In the meantime, the host's lovely wife comes over and says, "I got it, Jodi." I said, "No, that's ok. Thanks. We need to clean up the mess. It'll be a good lesson for her." So I send her. The host's lovely wife then sends her dog, too. I call Echo off and walk away. Nothing more for me to do there.
I am on my walk of shame back to my truck, and I pass by the owner of Echo's sire. He's a big hat. He says, "Hi Jodi." Yes, hi. I'm sure he's very proud.
And this is a local trial! Could you imagine if I traveled to like Western Washington or some other fancy shit to do this? We can't manage to make it around a dinky little course right here in Boise. There's no way I'd go do this anywhere else.
Why do I do it at all? I have no idea. To get my dogs out there on different sheep in different locations? Nope, I do that already. To prove my dogs? To who? Everyone else? I guess so, considering I don't need to prove them to me. Why am I proving my dogs? I don't know. It's not like I breed multiple litters a year, and need my dogs to do well at trials or anything. I don't teach lessons so I don't need the success of doing well at trials. So why do I bother? I don't have a clue.
Next weekend will be much more fun. Two of my very good friends are coming up to see me from L.A. So now, this week, I get to scrub the house from top to bottom and prepare to party for three days straight! :-)
Saturday, August 28, 2010
My Fair Lady
The Echo Monster.
AKA ... Donut-Ass.
She's in full blown heat. Standing heat. Porn doggy heat. And we were entered in the Western Idaho Fair stockdog trial.
Gorgeous gorgeous day. Tomorrow is supposed to be the same.
Runs were going along like clockwork. In fact, we got to run twice due to low entries.
Pro-novice course. Outrun, lift, fetch, round the post, drive, crossdrive and pen. Not huge. Cooperative sheep. No problem, right?
Ha.
Outrun.
C'mon Echo. Outrun.
Echo...
Quit sniffing the ground. You won't find them at the exhaust. Yes, there's hot guys here, but that's not what we're here for. Go get the sheep. THAT way. Go. Now. Hurry. Everyone is waiting. Echo ... please don't make me go all the way down there. Go on. Away to me. Quit it ... that's not a rest area. Away to me. See those sheep right there? Bring them here, ok? C'mon.
Nevermind. I'll go get them myself.
***************
Second run.
I told her ... "I hope you're all sniffed out ... and pee'd out ... and poop'd out ... and got your head screwed on straight ... because if you don't, I'll run Zip tomorrow instead."
That seem to have worked ... sort of. After a long pause at the top of the outrun, she finally got around them and fetched them. Because the top of her outrun was very flat, it caused the sheep to go sideways way off line, and then once she finally lifted them, her fetch was straight as an arrow ... but about 30 yards to the left of where we needed to be. I left it alone. Was just glad I didn't have to hop my fat ass down to the setout again. We drove to the first panel, and missed it by "that" much, crossdrive was effective, but nothing to write home about, hit our second set of panels, and then moving to the pen. I had my back to the pen as I was walking over there so I could make sure she was holding the draw, and all of a sudden, I was at the pen. The pen was just an open pen with a wing on one side. Everyone stood at the wing and put the sheep in that way. When I got to the pen (unknowingly), I was already standing on the opposite side, which turned out perfectly, and the sheep went right in. I took it. Couch told me he hit me for a couple of points for not standing on the right side of the pen. I called bullshit on him, and said if we weren't allowed to stand on "that" side, he should have told us. I'm left-handed, you know!
Not like those couple of points made or broke THAT run. Ha.
The good thing is ... we didn't send sheep into the fair. We didn't chase any. We didn't eat any.
That ... made it worth it.
More tomorrow.
J
AKA ... Donut-Ass.
She's in full blown heat. Standing heat. Porn doggy heat. And we were entered in the Western Idaho Fair stockdog trial.
Gorgeous gorgeous day. Tomorrow is supposed to be the same.
Runs were going along like clockwork. In fact, we got to run twice due to low entries.
Pro-novice course. Outrun, lift, fetch, round the post, drive, crossdrive and pen. Not huge. Cooperative sheep. No problem, right?
Ha.
Outrun.
C'mon Echo. Outrun.
Echo...
Quit sniffing the ground. You won't find them at the exhaust. Yes, there's hot guys here, but that's not what we're here for. Go get the sheep. THAT way. Go. Now. Hurry. Everyone is waiting. Echo ... please don't make me go all the way down there. Go on. Away to me. Quit it ... that's not a rest area. Away to me. See those sheep right there? Bring them here, ok? C'mon.
Nevermind. I'll go get them myself.
***************
Second run.
I told her ... "I hope you're all sniffed out ... and pee'd out ... and poop'd out ... and got your head screwed on straight ... because if you don't, I'll run Zip tomorrow instead."
That seem to have worked ... sort of. After a long pause at the top of the outrun, she finally got around them and fetched them. Because the top of her outrun was very flat, it caused the sheep to go sideways way off line, and then once she finally lifted them, her fetch was straight as an arrow ... but about 30 yards to the left of where we needed to be. I left it alone. Was just glad I didn't have to hop my fat ass down to the setout again. We drove to the first panel, and missed it by "that" much, crossdrive was effective, but nothing to write home about, hit our second set of panels, and then moving to the pen. I had my back to the pen as I was walking over there so I could make sure she was holding the draw, and all of a sudden, I was at the pen. The pen was just an open pen with a wing on one side. Everyone stood at the wing and put the sheep in that way. When I got to the pen (unknowingly), I was already standing on the opposite side, which turned out perfectly, and the sheep went right in. I took it. Couch told me he hit me for a couple of points for not standing on the right side of the pen. I called bullshit on him, and said if we weren't allowed to stand on "that" side, he should have told us. I'm left-handed, you know!
Not like those couple of points made or broke THAT run. Ha.
The good thing is ... we didn't send sheep into the fair. We didn't chase any. We didn't eat any.
That ... made it worth it.
More tomorrow.
J
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Richard Swafford is at it again ...
I was browsing Puppyfind ... and noticed a familiar sort of listing.
Just the puppy's name. "Freckles M1" <--- I recognized the style.
The breeder information:
Alice Andersen
Member Since: January 6th, 2010
Location: Lafayette, TN, United States
Telephone: 615-630-8561
The ad says these particular pups worth $200 and then says:
Pretty familiar, no?
If that wasn't enough, I clicked to see all listings by that breeder and found 19 PUPPIES.
All pretty circumstantial, eh? That's what I thought. Even though the photos are taken in a pretty familiar style also.
So I googled the phone number.
Came up with a link to a Craigslist listing. Here is the text, because I'm sure the ad will be deleted at some point.
(photos intentionally omitted.)
So you google the other number listed and this is what you find:
Just the puppy's name. "Freckles M1" <--- I recognized the style.
The breeder information:
Alice Andersen
Member Since: January 6th, 2010
Location: Lafayette, TN, United States
Telephone: 615-630-8561
The ad says these particular pups worth $200 and then says:
"50 more with papers BLACKS 250 EA, LILAC MERLES, GIRLS 350 AND BLUE MERLES BOYS 300 EA DEPOSIT OF $150 WILL HOLD! BOTH PARENTS HAVE TWO BLUE EYES COMPARE WITH HIGHER PRICED PUPS, PEDIGREE IS ALSO AVAILABLE YOUR PUP WILL BE THE TALK OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD HAVE A BLESSED LORDS DAY CKC Registered"
Pretty familiar, no?
If that wasn't enough, I clicked to see all listings by that breeder and found 19 PUPPIES.
All pretty circumstantial, eh? That's what I thought. Even though the photos are taken in a pretty familiar style also.
So I googled the phone number.
Came up with a link to a Craigslist listing. Here is the text, because I'm sure the ad will be deleted at some point.
1999 Dodge Caravan - $1800 (Portland)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 2010-08-20, 12:35AM CDT
Reply to: sale-etaw6-1908782360@craigslist.org [Errors when replying to ads?]
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Automatic. Good tires. Avg 26 mpg. Professionally rebuilt transmission. Please contact Richard, 615-325-9144 or 615-630-8561
•Location: Portland
•it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
(photos intentionally omitted.)
So you google the other number listed and this is what you find:
Phonebook results for 615-325-9144Doesn't that suck?
R Swafford (615) 325-9144 Portland, TN 37148-0000
Richard Swafford (615) 325-9144 243 N Centerpoint Rd, Portland, TN 37148-4864
A Genetically Modified Diet
There is just no getting away from GENETICALLY MODIFIED FOOD. Sugar beets have been grown with genetically modified seed, too??? Are you kidding me?
And doctors and stuff wonder why people are so sick.
Amazing.
You know ... I can grow my own pig, my own lamb, my own eggs, but really ... I don't have the time, energy or knowledge to grow and process my own sugar. And without it, you can't really even make ... bread.
Depressing.
And doctors and stuff wonder why people are so sick.
Amazing.
You know ... I can grow my own pig, my own lamb, my own eggs, but really ... I don't have the time, energy or knowledge to grow and process my own sugar. And without it, you can't really even make ... bread.
Depressing.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
An A.D.D. Post
I love walking the irrigation canals. I have been taking Reese along with me, getting her used to staying with me off leash and just generally hanging out without having to be doing something all the time.
She's been pretty good. Today, though, she saw a duck, the duck saw her (not my ducks ... just a wild duck), and took off. Reese ... took off too! I had nothing. I had to wait until the duck flew off before I could regain what I felt was control of her again. And snapped on the leash. Yeah. I'm not an adrenaline junkie.
We've been going down to visit my neighbors several times a week. Right next door to me is a very nice couple, Diane & Dale, who own what I believe is an adorable little mini Aussie maybe? Something along those lines. Next to them is Diane's parents. Wonderful people! Oh what I wouldn't do to have my parents alive, together, and living right down the canal from me. Anyway, here's Diane's dad.
He comes down and sprays my weeds on my part of the irrigation canal, and he and his wife, Brooke have been keeping me in a pretty constant supply of very yummy tomatoes! I really enjoy going down and sitting on their deck with and just shootin' the breeze. Lovely lovely folks. (Brooke didn't want her photo taken, and being that I'm the same way, I totally understand! I hope to get one of the two of them together some day though. I'll plant the seed and see what happens.)
The other night, after visiting with them, I was walking home in the dark and was admiring the moon. So I took a couple of pictures of it. And then started messing with the camera. Have you ever seen the moon ... like this?
... or this?
And here's a car passing by.
Ok ... changing subjects.
Bread. I've been baking a lot of bread. I had a friend that used to be a baker, and she tried -- without much success due sheerly to my stupidity, I guess -- to teach me how to make bread. I have just been doing it and learning how to do it by the old trial and error method. More error than trial, until recently. I am now able to do this pretty consistently now. And have it come out pretty yummy.
Went over to Dean (now I'm second-guessing myself and am not sure if his name is Dean or Doug ... there's his daughter Diane, and his son-in-law, Dale, and now I'm confused ... even though I come from an extensive line of J's) and Brooke's this afternoon. Brooke has several hummingbird feeders out, and always has tons of traffic at them. I finally remembered to bring my camera the last couple of times.
Hmm ... someone doesn't belong here.
And then up either side of their deck, they have this gorgeous trumpet vine growing.
And here's an old '69 Ford camper truck. Check this thing out. It's almost like new. I love it!
I should have taken pictures of the camper part. Really very cool.
Dean (Doug?) also showed me around Dale's workshop. He's a woodworker and makes some really gorgeous furniture pieces out of some salvaged wood. Amazing. What a great place he has set up. It used to be Dean and Brooke's barn where they kept their cows. I drip with jealousy. I'd love a barn like that.
So I came home and just putzed around today, not really accomplishing anything amazing. I took Reese outside to get some photos of her.
See how innocent and cute she is? Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too, as I was looking at the photos I'd taken in the camera.
The next photos I take of her look like this:
Why? Why is she covered in weeds and panting like that you ask?
What's the rush for the water?
Yeah, well, little Ms. Innocent and Cute dipped under the gate and took off, and basically bowled a strike right down the middle of my very flighty sheep. I set the camera down, and entered the pasture, making sure to lock the gate behind me, and in the meantime, making sure I wasn't going to get flattened while my back is turned. Off I go to chase down this very quick little dog. A couple of times, I got her into a position to call her off, and even envisioned her calling off with me, and while she thought about it, it was a fleeting thought, and off she'd go again. Ok, so that method didn't work. Off to the rodeo again. From one end of the pasture to another, over T-posts, rolls of fencing, weeds chest high, cinder blocks, etc. It's amazing no one got hurt ... like me! Picking up a switch and using it like a crook, I was able to push her out a couple of times and get her to go around the sheep. One thing she didn't care about was the pressure I was putting on her. I finally got a hold of her, told her what a wonderful little dog she was (even though I wanted to string her up by her ear hairs at the moment) and took her back to the deck. There were moments of sheer brilliance, and moments of yeah-not-so-much, but all in all, looked like good stuff -- but nothing I want to repeat for at least a couple of months.
And now ... I have three dogs that are magnetized to the front pasture any time a door opens. It was nice while it lasted.
Jodi
She's been pretty good. Today, though, she saw a duck, the duck saw her (not my ducks ... just a wild duck), and took off. Reese ... took off too! I had nothing. I had to wait until the duck flew off before I could regain what I felt was control of her again. And snapped on the leash. Yeah. I'm not an adrenaline junkie.
We've been going down to visit my neighbors several times a week. Right next door to me is a very nice couple, Diane & Dale, who own what I believe is an adorable little mini Aussie maybe? Something along those lines. Next to them is Diane's parents. Wonderful people! Oh what I wouldn't do to have my parents alive, together, and living right down the canal from me. Anyway, here's Diane's dad.
He comes down and sprays my weeds on my part of the irrigation canal, and he and his wife, Brooke have been keeping me in a pretty constant supply of very yummy tomatoes! I really enjoy going down and sitting on their deck with and just shootin' the breeze. Lovely lovely folks. (Brooke didn't want her photo taken, and being that I'm the same way, I totally understand! I hope to get one of the two of them together some day though. I'll plant the seed and see what happens.)
The other night, after visiting with them, I was walking home in the dark and was admiring the moon. So I took a couple of pictures of it. And then started messing with the camera. Have you ever seen the moon ... like this?
... or this?
And here's a car passing by.
Ok ... changing subjects.
Bread. I've been baking a lot of bread. I had a friend that used to be a baker, and she tried -- without much success due sheerly to my stupidity, I guess -- to teach me how to make bread. I have just been doing it and learning how to do it by the old trial and error method. More error than trial, until recently. I am now able to do this pretty consistently now. And have it come out pretty yummy.
Went over to Dean (now I'm second-guessing myself and am not sure if his name is Dean or Doug ... there's his daughter Diane, and his son-in-law, Dale, and now I'm confused ... even though I come from an extensive line of J's) and Brooke's this afternoon. Brooke has several hummingbird feeders out, and always has tons of traffic at them. I finally remembered to bring my camera the last couple of times.
Hmm ... someone doesn't belong here.
And then up either side of their deck, they have this gorgeous trumpet vine growing.
And here's an old '69 Ford camper truck. Check this thing out. It's almost like new. I love it!
I should have taken pictures of the camper part. Really very cool.
Dean (Doug?) also showed me around Dale's workshop. He's a woodworker and makes some really gorgeous furniture pieces out of some salvaged wood. Amazing. What a great place he has set up. It used to be Dean and Brooke's barn where they kept their cows. I drip with jealousy. I'd love a barn like that.
So I came home and just putzed around today, not really accomplishing anything amazing. I took Reese outside to get some photos of her.
See how innocent and cute she is? Yeah, that's what I was thinking, too, as I was looking at the photos I'd taken in the camera.
The next photos I take of her look like this:
Why? Why is she covered in weeds and panting like that you ask?
What's the rush for the water?
Yeah, well, little Ms. Innocent and Cute dipped under the gate and took off, and basically bowled a strike right down the middle of my very flighty sheep. I set the camera down, and entered the pasture, making sure to lock the gate behind me, and in the meantime, making sure I wasn't going to get flattened while my back is turned. Off I go to chase down this very quick little dog. A couple of times, I got her into a position to call her off, and even envisioned her calling off with me, and while she thought about it, it was a fleeting thought, and off she'd go again. Ok, so that method didn't work. Off to the rodeo again. From one end of the pasture to another, over T-posts, rolls of fencing, weeds chest high, cinder blocks, etc. It's amazing no one got hurt ... like me! Picking up a switch and using it like a crook, I was able to push her out a couple of times and get her to go around the sheep. One thing she didn't care about was the pressure I was putting on her. I finally got a hold of her, told her what a wonderful little dog she was (even though I wanted to string her up by her ear hairs at the moment) and took her back to the deck. There were moments of sheer brilliance, and moments of yeah-not-so-much, but all in all, looked like good stuff -- but nothing I want to repeat for at least a couple of months.
And now ... I have three dogs that are magnetized to the front pasture any time a door opens. It was nice while it lasted.
Jodi
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Sporter Collies
I googled "Sporter Collie" and came up with the Urban Dictionary version. Kind of entertaining...
"
"
"
| 2. | sporter collie | 6 up, 1 down |
| Not to be confused with the "border collie", a dog bred as a working stockdog, the sporter collie is a candy colored dog bred for dog sports such as obedience, agility, and flyball. Sporter collies are usually extremely fast, high octane dogs w/o an off-switch, and are sold for $1500+ because they are socialized to mailmen, thunderstorms, and Johnny Cash while still in the womb, and their parents are pretty and good at sports. Popular producers of sporter collies are Hob Nob, Lock Eye, Rising Sun, and Contact Point. Person 1: Look at that crazy border collie!! He just won't sit still while he watches all the other dogs do agility! Person 2: No, that's a sporter collie. Person 1: Ohh! Well, it sure is pretty." | ||
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