Open Thread - Thurs 10 Feb 2022 - Something Fun
The current state of global affairs, the Covid crisis, the Ukraine war drum beating, the media flickering from 'scary' thing to 'terrifying' thing and back again, dementia Joe Brandon and his cabal is getting me down. I hope some of these are not doing the same to you. In an effort to lift hearts and minds for a bit I want to tell a story, in a really cheezy kinda Scandinavian or Anglo-Saxon saga way, about my wonderful farm dog, Jaska, and one of her farm friends - the rooster Buford.
This is a story in which Jaska, the little red farm dog, known otherwise as Vole-Bane, Rabbit-Wyrd and Coyote-Menace gains a new title:
All in the house were sleeping in the late morning hours. But outside the hens ranged, clucking and pecking after worms and bugs in the hen manner under the watchful eyes of Buford, the Rooster. The goats ate placidly in the fields. All was well, until overhead, a black shape crossed the beams of sunlight and threw an enormous black shadow on the green grass before it. It was a bald eagle, accompanied by a murder of crows. Buford looked up with gimlet eye and gulped in sudden terrified resolve. With a wild, fearful call he instructed his females, his hens, to flee and he, Buford, the Rooster, braced himself and waited for the onslaught of shiny yellow talons and sharp yellow beak which was descending from above. Overhead the murder of crows, brothers to Odin's black-feathered servants the ravens, laughed, cheered or mourned; it is hard to tell with crows.
The Local Baldies Sitting on a Fence Looking for... Whatever
The white-locked, brown-black feathered master of the skies swooped down and fastened his gleaming yellow talons into Buford's bright red-orange back. Buford screamed and screamed again, as he fought against the eagle with the mighty zeal that only a rooster about to die for the love of his hens can find. Red-orange feathers flew, only rarely did a brown-black feather join them. It was inevitable that Buford would lose. He was fighting the master of the skies, after all.
Jaska, the little red dog, was asleep on her mother's bed. But she heard through her slumber the cries of her friend Buford, the rooster. And she stirred. And her mother heard those pitiful screams of terror, and she too, stirred. And together they, little red dog and her mother, arose and raced from the bed and down the stairs towards the sound. They spilled out of the house onto the porch and Jaska ran to the side to look around the house where the commotion had started. But her mother saw, in the corner of the front yard, a huge mighty eagle with Buford, the rooster, in its talons. She called to her beloved little red dog. Jaska changed direction on a farthing and raced to her friend the rooster.
And she ran, the little red dog, changing with her speed before her mother's astonished eyes into a red Finnish warrioress of legend. Jaska's mighty hackles rose to crown her sturdy shoulders, her gleaming white teeth grew to the size of pound coins (in her dreams, maybe), and her growl stirred the sleep of the weariest warrior of Valhalla. Buford the rooster screamed in delight, shouted, 'This one's yours, Jaska, my buddy,' and tried to run. But the white-locked master of the skies stopped him with a cruel claw to the tail.
Jaska, Taking a Break, as Jaska Does
The white-locks of the sky-master turned up in surprised affront when the red Finnish warrioress took a red Finnish bite out of his own masterful tail. The crows laughed, cheered or mourned; it is hard to tell with crows. “Finally,” Buford muttered and skedaddled out of sight. “I owe you one, J,” he clucked to the red warrioress over his shoulder and disappeared somewhere low and dark and safe.
The mighty brown-black bodied sky-master turned, flapped his huge wings a few times, and rose in the sky to confront the little warrioress. His wings spanned three times her length. His body covered at least one half the size of hers. His beak was really, actually, at least the size of a two pound coin! His talons were longer than her teeth, longer than her ears even. She stood strong, defiant, not a ember of fear in her little red body. “Bring it on, sky-lord!” she growled fiercely.
Vaguely she heard, lilting down into her red Finnish ears from her mother on the porch of the house, “Go, Jaska!” She grew another micro-inch in height and her little red muzzle raised in pride. The white-locked sky master mocked her, mocked her mother, the lady on the porch, and dived towards her black Finnish eyes with talons sparkling like the edges of the sharpest of knives. The little red warrioress bunched her muscles and leapt into the air and her strong mouth closed over the brown-black belly of the mighty sky-lord. The sky lord fell awkwardly to the ground, as he could not fly with the weight of the warrioress who hung by her teeth from his belly. He raked forward with his talons and the red Finnish fighter danced away from them. But his attack was effective, the little red warrioress lost her grip on his belly.
“Screw this shite”, the sky-lord thought, in fine Anglo-Saxon, and his powerful wings seemed like a brown-black cloak writhing in the strongest gale as he rose into the sky. His white locks settled against his head and neck and his bright yellow beak gleamed as he flew away. The crows laughed, cheered or mourned; it is hard to tell with crows.
And the red Finnish warrioress turned, spat out a mouthful of brown-black feathers, and danced towards her mother with a prance that only a red Finnish warrioress, newly triumphant in vanquishing the gigantic white-locked master robber of the skies, could prance. “There's gonna be a good bone for me to eat today,” she thought with pride and raced off to check on her chickens, rooster, cats and goats.
Jaska and her Buddies (sorry for the poor focus, the sun was BRIGHT behind them)
Just to show it's not only Jaska who likes chickens, here's another of our Roosters, Tiny, with a very pregnant Princess
This actually happened. I was blown over to witness it, standing on the porch in my nightgown as my dog fought off a bald eagle and saved one of her rooster friends. Buford, the rooster, had gotten most of his hens through the slit we leave for the feral cats in the porch door opening which goes to the garage. And then he'd turned to face the eagle. The other hens were in the bushes around the side of the house, sheltering in fear. When Jaska rescued him, Buford ran off and joined the hens in the garage. I'm still not sure how he fit through that little opening for the cats.
To close the story, here's an earworm, by Hayes Carll, about Chickens.
[video:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SfPeEgfcUFk]
So, that's my story for the Open Thread today, thanks for reading! What's going on with all of you? Remember, everything is interesting if you dive deep enough!
Comments
Gonna be Gone All Day!
Enjoy the Open Thread, I'll be back in the later evening!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Fun story Sima
You have a knack for story telling. Yay for Jaska!
Enjoy your day.
Thank you!
This was a fun thing to write up. I was so proud of my dog, so astonished at her actions, and Buford's actions too.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Marvelous writing.
Thank you very much for this piece! I really enjoy your writing style. Bravo!
Back when we still had our little farm, we inherited a jet-black cat named Sammy from some friends. She was an evil cat, they said; she would pee on their pillows and attack them (drawing significant blood) when they weren't expecting it, so they had her declawed. Needless to say, that action did not improve matters much- the cat simply hated being their indoor cat. They were going to have her put down, but we offered our barn on a test basis, as a final stop for her. They came out to the place, opened their cat carrier, and Sammy immediately dived into the wooden pallets supporting the hay.
And then we didn't see her for two weeks.
We put a cat door in the door to the tack room, and had heated waterers for the critters, and we set her up with a heated mat so that on really cold nights she could get warm if she desired. We saw no trace of her, and figured that the coyotes or owls had got her. And then one cold January night, we'd finished the chores and were relaxing on top of the hay with a couple of nice warm toddies as our reward, and suddenly Sammy appeared. She wandered over, purring like mad, and proceeded to crawl into both of our barn jackets and comprehensively love on us. All she had ever wanted was a barn, and we'd given it to her.
She was a very savvy cat. She never ate our food. She hunted, mostly at twilight, and always right under the fence line so that the owls, hawks, and other raptors couldn't get to her. She played with the coyotes, luring them into the pastures so that the llamas could stomp them (did I mention that llamas love to stomp coyotes? It is a sight to behold!). She had it dialed in.
One day our friends came out for dinner, and as soon as she heard their voices, she disappeared back under the hay. And then we didn't see her for two weeks.
But the reason for this long-winded story is this. One of our local annoyances is the western magpie. They are large black and white birds, as raucous as your crows, and tended to annoy the llamas for sport. Until Sammy's arrival, that is: she would launch from her hidden crouch, they would rise into the air in an attempt to escape, and she would take them right out of the air with one highly-skilled bite to the belly (remember, she was declawed!). She would then eat only their heads, as cats tend to do, and leave the rest to me to clean up. Everything else she ate completely, but the magpies were a conquest, and trophies had to be acknowledged.
She ran our barn for the next 8 years. She passed quietly one night, curled up on her little heated mat, and we buried her ashes in her favorite hiding-spot under the hollyhocks just outside the barn door. Best barn cat ever, and she rewarded us a thousandfold for offering her that chance.
Be well and enjoy life as best you can!
Twice bitten, permanently shy.
What a great story!
Sammy sounds like she was a wonderful cat, an awesome barn cat. We adopt feral cats from time to time from the local PAWS. They do not take to house living very well, but they are wonderful outside, wonderful at keeping vermin down, wonderful friends - even if it does take months to years before they let us pet them. Ours live in the garage, and the barns from time to time.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Barn cats are the best.
The good ones know their jobs and are savvy. The ones that aren't cut out for being barn cats only last a few months, and are never seen again- their position on the food chain, unfortunately, is food. Sammy lasted much longer than any other barn cat we ever had, and even longer than the ones I remember from my childhood.
You never get to bury a barn cat. They just evaporate. We had a big cottonwood at the back of the property, down by a usually-dry wash, that had a great horned owl nest in it, and the occupants successfully fledged a lot of babies over the years. One nasty fall storm the ice and snow was too much for the poor old tree, and the branches supporting the nest broke off and came down. Looking through the wreckage, we found 5 or 6 pet collars. Most were just cat collars with a bell and no ID, but we were able to make a couple of calls to owners to let them know.
Needless to say, Sammy never had a collar- you'd have to be nuts to do that to a working cat...
Twice bitten, permanently shy.
I agree
Putting a collar on a barn cat is insane. And our barn cats, our ferals, disappear the same way. Just gone one day. Heck, even our indoor/outdoor cats do that. They go outside that one last time and... never come back.
My first barn cat was named Mithras. He was great, and lived a LONG time (over 15 years). I saw he was getting weak and took him to the vet; vet said he was ok, just getting old and to give him a few weeks and bring him back for another checkup. Mithras disappeared before I could bring him back.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Coming from a born and raised city boy
it's stories told like this that make me yearn for learning
more about nature and all it's beauty.
Thanks mates!
I never knew that the term "Never Again" only pertained to
those born Jewish
"Antisemite used to be someone who didn't like Jews
now it's someone who Jews don't like"
Heard from Margaret Kimberley
Glad you liked this, there will be more, I suspect!
I was a city girl for a bit myself. Grew my first vegetables in pots, including corn, on the balcony of my apartment in Bryn Mawr. Heh, long time ago.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Thanks Sima,
A good story for a good morning. We have a fierce (not really) feisty little dog as well. We call him the Vallhund, not because he is that breed but just because we like to say the word. It sounds kind of norse godish.
Good tune from Hayes Carll. Here's another...variation on the theme;
Nice, Nice tune!
Thanks for it. And now, I wanna hear a bit about the Vallhund!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Good morning Sima. A fine tale worthy of the Kalevela,
which has some historic tie to February, fwiw. Wonderful kennings. Baldies are opportunistic, largely scavengers when possible, and essentially a fish eagle. Fish rarely fight back. For grins, pop African fish eagle into your favorite search engine.
Having a slight warm spell here perhaps a chance to get into the garden if chores allow.
be well and have a good one
That, in its essence, is fascism--ownership of government by an individual, by a group, or by any other controlling private power. -- Franklin D. Roosevelt --
Or the Kaleva, an airliner that was shot down over the Baltic
Sea by Stalin. On the same day Hitler took Paris. Reason unknown but much hypothesized about.
Thank you, what a great compliment!
I wish it was as good as the Kalevela! The baldies around here are definitely mainly fish eaters. We are very close to the Puget Sound and our farm is in an area where the stream used to flood from time to time and cover the fields (as the water receded) with flapping fish, including salmon. Now, the fish hatchery doesn't allow any salmon to come up here, but the fields still flood and the other types of fish are still there.
African Fish Eagle... seems like a baldie to me!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Nice story ...
Thanks for the battle saga!
“Until justice rolls down like water and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
You are welcome!
I'm glad you enjoyed their story! Have a great one!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
CNN's Ukraine coverage has gone from ridiculous to absurd.
It's hard to believe
that some people really agree with that kind of framing. The Russians are waiting to attack in order to steal American weapons? Then, Brandon, don't sent the frapping weapons!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
One of the local nature photographers has been
publishing photos on the local Facebook page of Bald Eagle adults and juveniles as well as osprey as they fish in the local lakes. I am amazed at the various species of birds he finds around us. I have seen many Great Blue Herons, and some Egrets, but I didn’t know there were Kingfishers and cormorants. His photos are stunning.
Maybe your eagles would like to come over here and fish. It’s OK as long as they don’t mind having their picture taken.
"The object of persecution is persecution. The object of torture is torture. The object of power is power. Now do you begin to understand me?" ~Orwell, "1984"
The eagles are show offs
They'd love to have their picture taken! We've several breeding pairs, and I actually really like them, except when they attack the chickens. Saw one fight over a frog with a heron once. I was about 20 feet away, the heron had caught the frog on the ground, the eagle was robbing from the air. Poor frog was pulled into two.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Perhaps you've seen this "poll"
from democrats dot org. It's sad, it's funny. It's just like Stephen Colbert's joke, "George W Bush: great President or greatest President?" Except it's not supposed to be comedy.
Here's the single question.
Do you approve of President Biden's first year?
Yes, he's doing great!
I'm waiting to see what he does next!
Seriously, both major parties should be the fringe parties, with 2% registration.
I am NOT proud
He's been such a disappointment. But he's hid the reason for the failure well. Which is the most important thing for them, anyway.
What a sham,
Yea, I saw that
They and some other democratic groups email me constantly with these stupid polls and stuff. Just a way to try to get me to give them money. I try to get off the list and they just shunt me to another.
I want one poll, just one, to give me a place to put a comment. But, no, they never do.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
What a lovely story
I love your writing style. I felt like I was there watching your dawg taking on the eagle. Sounds like everyone in the barnyard are good friends. I hope to hear more about life there.
Thanks!
Which AIPAC/MIC/pharma/bank bought politician are you going to vote for? Don’t be surprised when nothing changes.
Thank you so much!
I am inspired by your stories and pictures of Sam, I have to admit, thank you for those.
I'll definitely be posting more about the farm.
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Good evening, Sima
When all else fails, just watch your animals, look to the dawgs to save the day. Yours, and a rooster's.
So, my pal trained horses. First to halter, saddle, and ride her customer's horses. Training them to get into a horse trailer was sometimes tricky. no problem! She had a blue heeler that would ease up behind the horse, give them a little nip at their fetlock, next thing ya know, they'd have jumped into the trailer.
Blue. The dog's name was Blue.
I am enjoying your OTs immensely.
Great stuff!
"We'll know our disinformation program is complete when everything the American public believes is false." ---- William Casey, CIA Director, 1981
Blue sounds like a good
helper! It's amazing to me how animals, if they are allowed to observe and learn, can become so much a part of our 'pack'.
I'm glad you are enjoying the OTs. I've always really enjoyed your comments and so on throughout the years here, so compliment returned!
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so
Evening Sima,
Thanks for the Tale of Jaska. And for the tunes. We do all need a break from the noise. And, what's not to like about chickens? Alright, the pecking order thing is kind of bullshit. From a friend that has the room to have chickens and roosters though, the pecking order thing is apparently lessened with a rooster around? Good to know roosters are good for something besides prancing around and acting all...cocky.
I also do love a good farm story. These sorts of things are a daily occurrence on the farms I've been on. But some days, you get a story for the ages. I'm glad you wrote this one down.
Take care and see you next week.
Pecking order
It can, really, suck. Our chickens are basically free range, and I find that the pecking order stuff is less dominant with them. One group goes one way, another goes another way, lower ones in the order group together and go their way, and if there's more than one rooster, each group has a roo to help them out. It's all very noisy in the wee hours of the morning though!
I'm glad you enjoyed the story. I'll be posting more farm stories, I think, in between all the other stuff
If you're poor now, my friend, then you'll stay poor.
These days, only the rich get given more. -- Martial book 5:81, c. AD 100 or so
Nothing ever changes -- Sima, c. AD 2020 or so