No-Neck and Skin-Tail

Skin-Tail in the bottom photo, and No-Neck with another fox in the top shot.

The second fox in the top picture is not the big dog fox I saw the other night. This one looks plenty healthy though, so good for No-Neck at finding such a handsome catch to roam around with.

All these fox and raccoon pictures, by the way are taken right in front of my greenhouse, just in front of the kitchen window, not five feet from my front door, in a very suburban neighborhood; proof positive that fox are everywhere, even if they are secretive and night-moving.

We also have quite a few deer about; I have spooked a number of 10-point bucks in the driveway, and I once counted eight deer at once in the back yard.
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Support Mental Health or I'll Kill You

• This piece was written on April 20th of last year, and is reposted here today, on the first anniversary of the Virginia Tech massacre in which 32 students and faculty were killed by a mentally ill young man.
  
  As hoped, proper action is being taken to address the real root of the problem. A lot more, of course, remains to be done.
  

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Reid Farmer sent me a piece from The Los Angeles Times in which that august paper suggests that the shootings at Virginia Tech are all about Virginia's "primitive" rural gun culture.

I find that pretty odd, as I have lived in Virginia for a hell of a long time and I am unaware of a gun culture in my state.

Sure some people hunt deer and turkey, but no one I know is reading Soldier of Fortune.

In my neck of the woods, the problem is not guns, but Mara Salvatrucha gang members from El Salvador who occassionally hack each other up with machetes.

I first wrote about Mara Salvatrucha in 1992, when Conrad Hilton's Best Foundation for a Drug-Free Tomorrow paid me to go to East Los Angeles to look at gang violence there. At the time, South Central was still smoldering, but East LA was far more violent, with two-thirds of all gang deaths in the City.

In fact, East Los Angeles remains one of the most violent places on earth. In rural Virginia, on the other hand, the thing that is most likely to kill you is a deer on the road.

The simple truth is that the massacre at Virginia Tech is not about guns: It's about violence, and most importantly, it's about mental illness.

Sadly, there are ferked up people all over, and there is not much intervention anywhere. This nation is heavy with people who are drunk, hazy, crazy, and stoned, but it's pretty damn hard to do anything about it, and that's just as true in Los Angeles as it is in rural Virginia, no matter what the good editors of The Los Angeles Times think.

Why is it so hard to do anything about it?

Simple: back in the "bad old days" of the 1950s, 60s and 70s, there were horrific civil rights abuses and people were locked up in mental wards with little due process (and often no real treatment) for very long periods of time.

The court- and state-ordered antidote to this abuse is that today we have severely restricted the ability of police, schools, families and neighbors to involuntary lock someone up.

You may think someone is a ticking time bomb, but now he or she is going to have to "go off" before anyone can take legal action to stop it. Merely having auditory and visual hallucinations is not enough. Not bathing is not enough. Living on the street is not enough.

Today people have "a right" to not bathe, to see and hear things that are not there, to live in a cardboard box in the park, and to panhandle for change. Similarly, people have "the right" to drink themselves silly on a routine basis, and there are also many who think people have the right to abuse other drugs as well (and why not; sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander, they argue).

Add to this the fact that we have decided that people also have the right to drive cars and trucks, to preach odd religious beliefs (your religious beliefs are odd, but mine are not), the right to buy gasoline, the right to buy nitrate fertilizer, the right to own a gun, and the right to buy rat and ant poison, and it's amazing we do not have mass killings every day.

Ultimately, we cannot make the world safe, and crazy people will always figure out a way. For $500 (the cost of just one of the legal guns used at Virginia Tech) you can buy 1,000 pounds of nitrate fertilizer anywhere in the Shenandoah Valley and kill far more people in 5 seconds than this lunatic did with two handguns and a couple of clips. Indeed, the very day that the Virginia Tech massacre was going on in Blacksburg, nitrate bombs killed more than 180 people in Baghdad. Am I the only one that noticed?

The "silver bullet" idea of banning guns is stupid on its face. This nation is awash in heroin, methamphetamine, illegal aliens, counterfeit handbags and watches, and cars that never saw an import sticker. I can get methamphetamine or heroin a lot faster than I can get a legal handgun and a box of bullets, and I live in (supposedly) gun-crazy Virginia.

Here's a hint: If a suburban matron can find an illegal alien to mow her front lawn, and an addict can find an eight-ball of heroin or cocaine, rest assured that criminals and lunatics will be able to find and obtain guns even if they are banned. In fact, they may be able to find them easier and with less oversight than they can now. After all, no one does a criminal background check at a drug dealer's, and there is not a 30-day waiting period for illegal alien jump labor.

Despite the fact that mental illness (and an inability to deal with it) was the obvious problem in Blacksburg, both sides of the gun debate are anxious to have another long-winded "throw down" about the Second Amendment.

And you know why? Because for Sarah Brady, the National Rifle Association, and the editorial writers across the country, gun control is the answer to the only question they REALLY want answered. And that question is this: What topic can I write a direct mail letter or newspaper column about that will generate a lot of money and/or attention?

As far as I can tell, not one of these groups really gives a damn about violence in America. When was the last time that the NRA talked about community-based mental health programs or the need for national health care so that all the crazies can afford their medications? When was the last time Sarah Brady pushed for more therapeutic communities in jail? When was the last time a newspaper or magazine said it would not accept alcohol ads because alcohol fuels so much of the violence in this country?

I am a proud Virginian, and I believe that the people of Blacksburg are not going to chase butterflies, but are going to ask the right question. The right question is: How can we enable people to be more responsible? How can we help people reach out to the troubled and disturbed people within the community, the dorm, the family, the neighborhood, and the job site?

We Virginians may be "primitive" in the minds of the arugula-eating, white-wine-and-brie crowd that edits The Los Angeles Times, but we know our ass from our elbow, and a real solution from a fake.

Above all we know enough to remember our dead for the bright young men and women that they were, rather than focus all the attention on the confused madman who craved media attention and was willing to kill to get it.
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• Related Posts:
  ** The Liberal Case for Gun Ownership
  ** Straight Shooting on the Second Amendment?
  ** Hacking at the Roots of Violence

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How to Breed Small & Avoid the Show Ring Trap

Terrierman Eddie Chapman writes in The Real Jack Russell Terrier (1993):

"Breeding good small Jack Russells, and I do mean real good ones, that are a genuine strain of 10" to 12" type, is the biggest and most satisfying challenge of all in Jack Russell breeding circles, not only from a show point, but a working one as well, for there is nothing a South Country hunt terrier man admires more than a real good small one....

"People have asked me for years just how I always seem to be able to breed Jack Russells that are of a very handy size, and the answer is quite simple .... I first of all need the smallest of workers and here lies my secret, for I have always had a policy that whenever possible I have always put a stud dog on a bitch that was smaller than the bitch, which the majority of show-only breeders will realize is the complete opposite of they way they breed. Having my small line enables me to do just that with my larger bitches, so I am forever breeding down hill as it were."

"If you are a worker of Jack Russell terriers you will find over the years that you will always be plagued with the problem of keeping to a handy size, and particularly so if you are a keen competitor in the show ring. This you will discover, is because the vast majority of the top show class study dogs are themselves in the bigger height range, and so to breed good lookers as well as good workers you find yourself compelled to use stud dogs in the higher range of the breed standard. It is, if one wants to look at it that way, one of the traps of the show ring."

• Related Post:
  ** Cracking Tired Chestnuts About Form and Function
  ** The Transvestite Terriers of Westminster
  ** Terriers at the Tar Pit
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A Forest of Lies

George Steinmetz is beyond words, as only the very best nature photographers can be. So I will say no more other than to say check it out.

The picture above is an American clear cut, where they have left a thin strip of trees along the road so that folks driving through the countryside will think the woods are still there.

But they are not; it's all a lie. Again.

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Johnny Cash :: Ghost Riders in the Sky

Politics Involved? Shocking!!

You've got to love a guy with a sense of humor. This is Barack Obama talking to steelworkers in Steelton, PA, which is in Dauphin County, Pennsylvania about three miles southeast of Harrisburg.

Think these guys hunt, fish, and go to church? You can bet on it! The median household income in the burrough is about $35,000, and the per capita income is about $17,000.

My guess is that these guys don't need to be reminded that Hillary Clinton and John McCain are each worth more than $100 million and have been a little too willing to send our jobs to China and Mexico, and our children off to fight wars in the Middle East.

Here's a question: If you make $17,000 a year, how do you pay for gas to get out into the field to hunt, and also pay the mortgage, health insurance premiums, prescription drugs, food, heat, water, electricty and the cost of basic truck or car maintenance? Damned if I know!

And don't think the price of gasoline isn't tied directly to the war John McCain still supports and that Hillary greenlighted. Four years ago, the price of oil was $30 a barrel; this morning it was over $114.

Bitter? Yeah, just a bit, maybe. And I can still afford gas!
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"We Give You Our Hearts In This Feast"

“Sioux Dog Feast” by George Catlin


New evidence found on the West Coast suggests three things: 1) that humans have been in the New World for at least 14,000 years; 2) that they may have sailed down the west coast from Siberia in skin boats rather than walked down an "opening in the ice," and; 3) that they were eating dog.

How do we know all this? Simple: scientists found human coprolites (i.e. semi-fossilized human turds) while digging on a shelter in Oregon.

The human feces give us real human DNA in the New World world at least a thousand years before Clovis, and the coastal location (and the fish scales in the coprolites) suggests a sea-faring people, which is not too big a leap since folks in the Pacific had been making longer voyages with less substantial boats for quite a long time before this.

As to the dog diet, that can be surmised by the dog hair and dog DNA found in the feces.

North American Indian tribes routinely ate dog and so did the Lewis and Clark Expedition, which consumed over 200 of them on their travels. In fact, Meriwether Lewis ended up preferring dog to elk.

Perhaps the best story about dogs in the diet of the Sioux, however, is told by painter George Catlin in one of his letters and a painting (see above).

He writes:

Some few days after the steamer had arrived, it was announced that a grand feast was to be given to the great white chiefs, who were visitors amongst them; and preparations were made accordingly for it. The two chiefs, Ha-wan-je-tah and Te-han-dee, of whom I have before spoken, brought their two tents together, forming the two into a semi-circle, enclosing a space sufficiently large to accommodate 150 men; and sat down with that number of the principal chiefs and warriors of the Sioux nation; with Mr. Chouteau, Major Sanford, the Indian agent, Mr. McKenzie, and myself, whom they had invited in due time, and placed on elevated seats in the center of the crescent; while the rest of the company all sat upon the ground, and mostly cross-legged, preparatory to the feast being dealt out.

In the center of the semi-circle was erected a flag-staff, on which was waving a white flag, and to which also was tied the calumet, both expressive of their friendly feelings towards us. Near the foot of the flag-staff were placed in a row on the ground, six or eight kettles, with iron covers on them, shutting them tight, in which were prepared the viands for our voluptuous feast. Near the kettles, and on the ground also, bottom side upwards, were a number of wooden bowls, in which the meat was to be served out. And in front, two or three men, wile were there placed as waiters, to light the pipes for smoking, and also to deal out the food.

In these positions things stood, and all sat, with thousands climbing and crowding around, for a peep at the grand pageant; when at length, Ha-wan-je-tah (The One Horn), head chief of the nation, rose in front of the Indian agent, in a very handsome costume, and addressed him thus:

"My father, I am glad to see you here to-day -- my heart is always glad to see my father when he comes -- our Great Father, who sends him here is very rich, and we are poor. Our friend Mr. McKenzie, who is here, we are also glad to see; we know him well, and we shall be sorry when he is gone our friend who is on your right-hand we all know is very rich; and we have heard that he owns the great medicine-canoe; he is a good man, and a friend to the red men. Our friend the White Medicine, who sits with you, we did not know -- he came amongst us a stranger, and he has made me very well -- all the women know it, and think it very good; he has done many curious things, and we have all been pleased with him -- he has made us much amusement -- and we know he is great medicine.

"My father, I hope you will have pity on us, we are very poor -- we offer you to-day, not the best that we have got; for we have a plenty of good buffalo hump and marrow -- but we give you our hearts in this feast -- we have killed our faithful dogs to feed you -- and the Great Spirit will seal our friendship. I have no more to say."

After these words he took off his beautiful war-eagle head-dress -- his shirt and leggings -- his necklace of grizzly bears claws and his moccasins; and tying them together, laid them gracefully down at the feet of the agent as a present; and laying a handsome pipe on top of them, he walked around into an adjoining lodge, where he got a buffalo robe to cover his shoulders, and returned to the feast, taking his seat which he had before occupied.

Major Sanford then rose and made a short speech in reply, thanking him for the valuable present which he had made him, and for the very polite and impressive manner in which it had been done; and sent to the steamer for a quantity of tobacco and other presents, which were given to him in return. After this, and after several others of the chiefs had addressed him in a similar manner; and, like the first, disrobed themselves, and thrown their beautiful costumes at his feet, one of the three men in front deliberately lit a handsome pipe, and brought it to Ha-wan-je-tah to smoke. He took it, and after presenting the stem to the North-to the South -- to the East, and the West -- and then to the Sun that was over his head, and pronounced the words "How--how--how!" drew a whiff or two of smoke through it, and holding the bowl of it in one hand, and its stem in the other, he then held it to each of our mouths, as we successively smoked it; after which it was passed around through the whole group, who ail smoked through it, or as far as its contents lasted, when another of the three waiters was ready with a second, and at length a third one, in the same way, which lasted through the hands of the whole number of guests. This smoking was conducted with the strictest adherence to exact and established form, and the feast the whole way, to the most positive silence. After the pipe is charged, and is being lit, until the time that the chief has drawn the smoke through it, it is considered an evil omen for any one to speak; and if any one break silence in that time, even in a whisper, the pipe is instantly dropped by the chief, and their superstition is such, that they would not dare to use it on this occasion; but another one is called for and used in its stead. If there is no accident of the kind during the smoking, the waiters then proceed to distribute the meat, which is soon devoured in the feast.

In this case the lids were raised From the kettles, which were all filled with dogs' meat alone. It being well-cooked, and made into a sort of a stew, sent forth a very savory and pleasing smell, promising to be an acceptable and palatable food. Each of us civilized guests had a large wooden bud placed before us, with a huge quantity of dogs' flesh floating in a profusion of soup, or rich gravy, with a large spoon resting in the dish, made of the buffalo's horn. In this most difficult and painful dilemma we sat; all of us knowing the solemnity and good feeling in which it was given, and the absolute necessity of falling to, and devouring a little of it. We all tasted it a few times, and resigned our dishes, which were quite willingly taken, and passed around with others, to every part of the group, who all ate heartily of the delicious viands, which were soon dipped out of the kettles, and entirely devoured; after which each one arose as he felt disposed, and walked off without uttering a word. In this way the feast ended, and all retired silently, and gradually, until the ground was left vacant to the charge of the waiters or officers, who seemed to have charge of it during the whole occasion.

This feast was unquestionably given to us, as the most undoubted evidence they could give us of their friendship; and we, who knew the spirit and feeling in which it was given, could not but treat it respectfully, and receive it as a very high and marked compliment.

Since I witnessed it on this occasion, I have been honoured with numerous entertainments of the kind amongst the other tribes, which I have visited towards the sources of the Missouri, and all conducted in the same solemn and impressive manner; from which I feel authorized to pronounce the cornfeast a truly religious ceremony, wherein the poor Indian sees fit to sacrifice his faithful companion to bear testimony to the sacredness of his vows of friendship, and invite his friend to partake of its flesh, to remind him forcibly of the reality of the sacrifice, and the solemnity of his professions.

The dog, amongst all Indian tribes, is more esteemed and more valued than amongst any part of the civilized world; the Indian who has more time to devote to his company, and whose untutored mind more nearly assimilates to that of his faithful servant, keeps him closer company, and draws him nearer to his heart; they hunt together, and are equal sharers in the chase-their bed is one; and on the rocks, and on their coats of arms they carve his image as the symbol of fidelity. Yet, with all of these he will end his affection with this faithful follower, and with tears in his eyes, offer him as a sacrifice to seal the pledge he has made to man; because a feast of venison, or of buffalo meat, is what is due to every one who enters an Indian's wigwam and of course, conveys but a passive or neutral evidence, that generally goes for nothing.

I have sat at many of these feasts, and never could fully appreciate the moral and solemnity of them. I have seen the master take from the bowl the head of his victim, and descant on its former affection and fidelity with tears in his eyes. And I have seen guests at the same time by the aide of me, jesting and sneering at the poor Indian's folly and stupidity; and I have said in my heart, that they never deserved a name so good or so honourable as that of the poor animal whose bones they were picking.

At the feast which I have been above describing, each of us tasted a little of the meat, and passed the dishes on to the Indians, who soon demolished everything they contained. We all agreed that the meat was well cooked, and seemed to be a well-flavored and palatable food; and no doubt, could have been eaten with a good relish, if we had been hungry, and ignorant of the nature of the food we were eating.

The flesh of these dogs, though apparently relished by the Indians, is, undoubtedly, inferior to the venison and buffalo's meat, of which feasts are constantly made where friends are invited, as they are in civilized society, to a pleasant and convivial party; from which fact alone, it would seem clear, that they have some extraordinary motive, at all events, for feasting on the flesh of that useful and faithful animal; even when, as in the instance I have been describing, their village is well supplied with fresh and dried meat of the buffalo. The dog-feast is given, I believe, by all tribes in North America; and by them all, I think, this faithful animal, as well as the horse, is sacrificed in several different ways, to appease offended Spirits or Deities, whom it is considered necessary that they should conciliate in this way; and when done, is invariably done by giving the best in the herd or the kennel.

I am not too horrified at eating dog, though I would give it a pass if at all possible.

As I have noted before, some people will eat groundhog but not possum, snake but not eel, lamb but not pig, pig but now cow, etc. Most of these food taboos are cultural. That said, I do have a culture, however primitive, and even if it is observed only in the breech. Dog? Hmmm. I might skip this meal. On a diet you know. No, no, I really am on a diet, and those rat egg rolls are so fattening. Smells good though -- and thanks!

• For more in this line of thought, see:
  ** Should you eat dogs? (Steve Bodio)
  ** An Olympic disgrace (Ted Kerasote)
  ** Rat or Ratatouille? (Terrierman)
  
  

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