LENNY'S HAREM

Chicken Coop

          Yesterday was a sunny, balmy day, almost took off my shirt to catch a few rays, grab a wee bit of a tan, so I let the chickens out while I cleaned their coop, which was really a disgusting mess I have to admit.  However, when the temperature drops below zero for long periods of time, everything freezes, including chicken shit and boy, do those girls crap a lot.  When I opened the door to the coop, to make my job a little easier to clean it out, all the pretty girls just came sashaying through the doorway and strutted their stuff - talk about doing the Can-Can, the old Bardrock rooster was some excited, almost went out of his mind, I tell you, didn't know which one to jump first but then being the horny little guy he is, he simply chose the one closest and then worked his way around - my goodness, could be a lot of wee chicks peepin' about the barnyard come this spring.  It's been awhile since I let them out; the temperatures have been so low, they'd have froze their feathers off.  When they got the hang of the ice and slippery snow, the cluckers were all doing fancy pirouettes and circle eights all over the barnyard; they were just plain having a fine old time - I never heard such happy cluckin'.  Duncan, our dog decided he was being left out and tried to join in but I had to discourage him with a wee bit of a scoldin'; I didn't want those chickens scattered all over the place, could have been a bit of a problem getting them back in the coop once the sun started dipping below the horizon and besides; you'd think they were on vacation by the small amount of eggs they're layin' and I didn't need him unnecessarily upsetting them.  I'm not sure how many of the fine- feathered hens there are, close to 70 I expect, and at only about a dozen eggs a day, they really aren't producing much, just barely paying for their feed.    

        All my pretty girls really enjoyed the clean coop too; a lot of them just stretched out on the floor and gave themselves a dust bath.  I know they prefer flappin' about in a dusty hole in the ground but since that doesn't exist at the moment, they did the best they could with the dry wood chips and sawdust.  I find it a touch odd, that with all those nesting boxes and the girls aren't laying so many eggs these days, I'll be danged; there are sometimes up to three hens in one box trying to lay an egg when all of the other boxes are empty - don't make a lick of sense to me.  I realize they're a gregarious bunch of feathered females but when they're trying to squeeze three of them into a laying box; isn't there a saying that "three's a crowd"?

          Some say that chickens are raptors and originated during the dinosaur era and I can believe it.  One thing about a chicken, they're certainly survivors and better equipped than any other creature I know of.  Can you think of anything else that can lay an egg a day and then dine on that egg - I expect, should the world remain on its present path and things start dying off rapidly, including the human race, why I wouldn't be the least bit surprised to see that chickens are at the head of the survival list and on that note - think I'll head on in to the house and have me a plate of scrambled eggs - nothin' better than farm-fresh eggs - cheers, eh!        

CHICKENS, DUNCAN AND FRIENDS

          We've been having a regular heat-wave the past few days - the rain of course making for hazardous driving and walking conditions - why hell, while maneuvering slowly down the icy walkway, my feet suddenly shot out from under me and I found myself flat on my back; thought for a moment that I may have sprained my wrist or broke it, I laid there for a moment or two, just to make sure that the remainder of my other extremities were still in working condition.  I see the chicken coop has finally thawed out and it's as slick as a gob of snot; almost toppled in there too when I was trying to sidestep the flock of cluckers - now that could have been more than just a nasty fall - ewwwwww.  Since the sun is shining and the temperature is still above zero, I'll be scoopin' out the chicken poop today; may even let the chickens out to make my job a little easier; too bad all there is in the barnyard is snow and ice to scratch around, so they might just huddle around.

          Duncan, our dog, doesn't seem to mind when the temperature drops so low, the hairs in your nose freeze and crinkle every time you suck in some air but when it rains, he prefers to lie about in my studio and watch the flames in the woodstove dance to the beat of the crackling fire; he's not too fond of the rain.  It's odd, but I've seen photos of dogs posted on Facebook that are curled up in the snow by the doorstep and I imagine some of them depict cruelty to pets, but I've often seen Duncan curled up in the snow and when I call him in to warm his bones by the woodstove, he just looks at me and stays where he's at; he is definitely an outdoor dog, well maybe until it's dark out and then I don't even have to coax him into the studio, he just runs in and curls up in his nice comfy bed.

          I'd like to mention that living out here in the boonies, so to speak, although the sea is not even a close distance away, our neighbours are much like the dock-people I knew, back when I was living on my sailboat.  Our friend Clayton Clarke, who lives about 1/2 mile away and is about 78 years old has come to our rescue on more than one occasion in the winter.  Last year, when the temperature dropped well below zero, he was down under our crawlspace, laying on his back, soldering the copper pipes back together where they had frozen and burst.  I'm talkin' about a man that's recently had a couple of heart attacks and suffers from emphysema; that man is always puffing on a cigarette.  And this winter, when our diesel truck has a tantrum because it's -30C with a windchill of about -50C and refused to budge an inch in the State of Maine on New Year's Day; as soon as the weather warms up and the rain is coming down like a rainforest deluge, he grabs his super battery booster and we head over there.  Apparently my wife and his wife watched us pull this heavy charger up an icy driveway that was slicker than a hooker's panties coming off, and were amazed that neither of us fell down, which of course at our age could have been disastrous.  The fall itself may not have been so bad but picture this, two old farts laying flat on their arses sliding down this slippery driveway so fast and still gathering speed, their cheeks are slappin' their faces so hard, damn near knocks them out, and a highway at the bottom with a logging truck carrying a full load of trees screamin' down the hill from Danforth; why hell, we would have been turned into freshly made pablum; just a red stain on the highway. 

          Well gotta go, the wife just informed me to come into the house and have a nice cup of hot coffee and listen to the Neil Young show, which is against the development of the Alberta oil sands.  It's people like him that hopefully more people will listen to and follow his example to halt this sort of procedure.  Have a good one - cheers, eh!          

OLD-MAN-RAMBLING

          It's been over a month since I sat my bony butt down and wrote a blog.  It's not that I don't have much to say, because what old man doesn't have a lot to say?  Man, you never want to be cornered somewhere by an old man, they'll just go on and on about the good old days when they did this and they did that; things were wonderful then, not like they are now.  At least with me, when I put some thoughts down here on the blog, it's not a big deal; just one click of the mouse and it's good-bye, adios, see you later - delete, delete, delete, if a person doesn't like what I've written.  And it's odd too, when writing a blog, because often when I write about serious stuff that should concern everyone, the readership dramatically drops.  Now I don't blame anyone for not reading the serious stuff, pollution, toxic waste, radiation leakage, etc., etc., etc. because I have to agree, it's down right depressive; it's enough to make my sphincter slam shut for a number of days and just turn me into a cranky old coot.   

          I was talking to my wife this morning, "Sarah", I said as I warmed my thick-stockinged feet by the hot wood stove and sipped on a hot cup of goldenrod tea I picked myself while the tiny yellow flowers were still in bloom, "I can't believe it.  What I'm lookin' at is the end of my life.  This is it for me, Fosterville, of all places.  It's highly unlikely that I will ever live in another place."  

        Now don't get me wrong, I live in a great place; it's just at this age and the present conditions; I'm most likely going to die right here on this property, perhaps sitting in the old rocking-chair by the wood stove or face down on the keyboard - sure as hell hope it's not face down in the chicken coop.  There was a time (now this is old-man-rambling) you may want to hit the delete button now, it's just dang hard to see a future for me, other than getting older and older and dying.  Cripes a'mighty, there was a time when I was able to leap a bar stool in a single bound and didn't give a crap where I laid my head down, and now, taking a nap in a comfortable place can actually be a highlight in this old man's day.  But what I mean about a future, most people are looking forward towards a raise, a better position or a great career move, marriage, kids, a home, yadda,-yadda-yadda; whatever.  I mean I've had a lot of that in my life and still do to a certain degree but those ambitions of years ago eventually just hitched their asses to an old man's bod, where the energy level is hitting minus degrees on the thermometer of life; if I didn't wear semi-tight jeans, my sagging ass would be bouncing off the calves of my legs with every step I took.  

          A lot of people in my generation made the mistake or planning for their retirement; to me, that's like planning for your death; what future is there in that?  That's like when an insurance agent, years ago, was trying to convince me to buy a large policy and said it was like an investment.  Now what is all this crap about an investment in dying - hell, I'll be dead forever when the time comes to cash in; don't think there will be any Walmarts, love-boat cruises, or just laying about sipping on pina coladas or at least, I sure as hell hope not.  I could never imagine working at the same job, for the same company, for the same boss, for just a pay-cheque, possible bonuses, vacation time, you know, all the little carrots they hang in front of a person's nose as the wrinkles start appearing, muscles start sagging, you know, when women's tits bounce off their knees and men's noses continually drip, mortgages keep getting larger, education keeps getting more expensive etc., etc., so the little carrot they keep dangling in front of your nose, is never really reachable.  Nah, that was never for me.  Of course, even though I think I could say, I retired around the age of 42 - now that's not to say, I stopped working totally; I mean I've never drawn welfare and only once did I collect EI for a year or was it 2 - that's the thing about being an old man, the memory isn't as sharp as it once was.  And now, at 72, I feel I've been working physically harder than I ever did during my younger years - mind you - could be because I ache a lot now, my joints are stiff and the majority of my strength has gathered on a mudslide heading towards a 6' hole in the ground.

          I know, I know, I'm ranting now, I'm sounding like the old man I am.  And if you've already hit the delete key, well that's no problem - I mostly just yammer away to hear myself talk; keeps me in touch with my being and makes me realize I'm not dead yet.  It wouldn't surprise me if the last words I hear are my own if I live long enough, "Will somebody please change this damnable diaper, I've just shit myself!" - cheers, eh! 

MOODY WINTER WALKS WITH DUNCAN AND WINTER CHORES

 

          Several days ago, during the evening, the snow began falling and when I awoke in the early morning, the last remnants of autumn had completely disappeared beneath the wintry shroud.  Although the wind was quite chilling, I bundled up before heading out towards the lake with our dog Duncan like I usually do; he really enjoys the walks, especially if he comes across some squirrels to chase up a tree.  Since I knew the walk in the fresh snow would be unmarked by vehicles or other people walking down the road leading to the lake, I grabbed my camera as I headed out the door.  Besides Duncan's footprints, coyote, fox, rabbit and squirrel tracks could be seen crisscrossing the road as I casually walked along listening to the creaking trees and the occasional song of a chickadee.  Because of the lighting, the photos I took almost look like they are black and white but if you look closely, you will see a hint of colour. 

          When I reach Mike and Judy Saunders' cottage on the lake, I always do a loop around their house to make sure everything is still in good order before continuing on home.  They have returned to Victoria, BC for the winter and so far everything looks very well contained for the harsh weather ahead.  Duncan and I will continue to keep an eye on their place until the snow is too deep to handle my weight (may have to invest in a pair of snowshoes).  The walk can be a bit treacherous at times because before the snow fell, I stepped on a small patch of black ice during my walk and did a remarkable display of doing the splits.

          The partial view of the frozen lake from the Saunders' place can be seen and although it is covered in snow, the ice is not yet thick enough to safely walk on but once the temperatures plummet for a lengthy time, which won't be long coming now, the ice-fishermen will show up with their augers and little buildings.  I've yet to experience ice-fishing or any other type of fishing on the lake for that matter but I'm hoping that will change in the not too distant future.  

          Winter is certainly a brooding and moody time of the year but I have to admit, I do enjoy its arrival; not so many chores. However, speaking of chores, after a wee bit of discussion with my wife Sarah, we decided to expand the bathroom into one of the upstairs bedrooms (needed a larger space for the free-standing tub I purchased).  As you can see, I'm great at ripping things apart and now that the tub has arrived, I'm beginning to wonder if expanding the bathroom is a good idea.  Of course it's too late for that now and I'm hoping, like when I'm looking at a blank canvas before I start painting, the finished product will all turn out fine.  Hardly a professional carpenter; I call myself an ad-lib carpenter - let the magic begin - cheers, eh!    

LET'S MAKE AN ENERGY TRANSITION NOW

          Anyone who reads my blog or is a friend on Facebook most likely realizes how I feel about fracking.  To put it in a nutshell; I feel that fracking should be immediately abolished even though I know the hardships that would follow, if such a decision occurred, would be considerably drastic.  But what's the alternative?  The destruction and death of our planet means our own demise and every other creature's as well.  In this time in history like no other time before, not even the terrible and horrendous two World Wars, everyone, and I mean everyone, is tied with their hands behind their backs to a post, a blindfold tied tightly across their eyes and a firing squad is aiming their guns at our hearts, awaiting the command, "Fire!"  I'm not an expertise on fracking, no scientific background of any kind, nor do I know exactly how this method works but I'd have to be a blind man not to see the detrimental downside of extracting fossil fuels in this manner - poisoned earth, air and water, and not on a small scale - means the destruction of civilization, not just to us but the deaths of our children and their children as well.  We all know what's lurking on the horizon and sooner or later, perhaps not the older people, not much time left to live, who have their heads stuck so far up their asses saying, "Well I won't be here when it all comes to an end;" someone has to be and many will be here.  I cannot even imagine how terrible it will be; not to be able to breath the air, drink the water and eat the food; Hitler's Holocaust will seem like mere child's play. 

          Well enough of my ranting; I'd like you to read what my friend Keith had published in the Telegraph Journal, St. John NB, a few days ago.  He gave me permission to include his commentary and I'm not sure how he will feel about mine, but standing on the edge of a jet plane, 30,000 feet in the air without a parachute scares the living shit out of me and that's the position I feel I'm in at the moment, so I'm speaking my mind  He knows more about this problem than I do.  However, if you feel as strongly as me about bringing fracking to an end, please feel free to share this blog - we can't leave the natives alone to stand up to the people who are trying to shove this dastardly policy down everyone's throats.  I don't know about you but there's nothing more important than having good water to drink, pollution free air to breath and naturally grown food to eat - cheers, eh! 

Let’s Make an Energy Transition Now

Keith Helmuth

          In all the media reports about the US becoming the world’s second largest producer of

hydrocarbons thanks to fracking, an inescapable factor is being ignored: No matter how we calculate it,

fossil fuels are a sunset industry. The same thing goes for the Alberta oil sands, which are touted as having

the potential for making Canada a big league hydrocarbon producer.

          The new technologies and the newly accessible hydrocarbon deposits only move the sunset

horizon a little further down the road. The logic of this scenario could not be clearer, but we continue to

act as if it were not the case despite the potentially catastrophic consequences for the habitability of the

planet. If we open up and pump out all the oil and shale gas we can find, the deposits will eventually play

out and we will likely cook the planet in the process.

          The fact that most of us presently alive will not be around for the full effect of the fossil fuel

burnout, places an unprecedented moral responsibility squarely in our laps. We now live on a unique and

temporary subsidy of hydrocarbon energy that has produced a unique and temporary economy of

affluence and convenience.

          Nothing like this has happened before. When it is over, civilization will have moved to a

renewable energy platform. Renewable energy is the only platform that makes sense for the long run and

the faster we move to it the better off our descendants will be. We are in the middle of a momentous

moral decision about energy use and the future of the planet.

          Civic and political leadership, by definition, is morally responsible for the consequences of present

societal action on future human wellbeing. Governments have an “in trust” responsibility to safeguard the

environmental assets on which we all depend, and that means especially Earth’s atmosphere.

          On the one hand, substantial evidence from earth­system science shows that pushing the fossil fuel

economy for all its worth will decrease the planet’s overall habitability and severely compromise the future

wellbeing of human communities.

          On the other hand, business leaders in the fossil fuel industry, along with their political allies, are

pushing back against the science by pointing out that curtailing the exploitation of fossil fuels would result

in a subsidence of the consumer economy. So what are civic and political leaders supposed to do? What

are we supposed to do?

          It depends on whether you think the primary moral responsibility is to keep the consumer

economy going as long as we can, even if it shortens the future; or whether you think a higher moral

responsibility is to change course in order to give our descendants a better chance of having an

environment in which they can live in a secure and reasonably prosperous way. This divide in moral vision

is at the heart of the shale gas and land use battle now erupting in NB.

          The current federal government is squarely in the first camp, and is determined to make Canada a

hydrocarbon cornucopia. The current NB government sees things the same way. But it is clear from the

opposition to shale gas mining in NB that a large number of citizens do not support this approach to thefuture. And much to the consternation of shale gas proponents, an increasing number of jurisdictions are

putting the brakes on the rush to shale gas fracking.

          If we change course, and muster up the moral leadership to deliberately and systematically gear

down the fossil fuel economy, leaving most remaining oil, gas, and coal in the ground, we have a different

kind of problem ­ the consumer economy will go into subsidence, and we all know that means recession

or even depression.

          What terrible options. It makes you think of Woody Allen’s quip; “More than any other time in

history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total

extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.” Humour has a way of putting things in a

nutshell.

          But there is a clear middle ground for a way out: As the fossil fuel industry is systematically geared

down, all forms of renewable energy can be ramped up as rapidly as possible. Will there be an “energy

gap?” Probably. The transition may well require a controlled subsidence of the consumer economy, but

that hardship can be managed.

          What likely cannot be managed will be the severe ecological repercussions, climate chaos, and

economic breakdown that can be foreseen as the consequence of pushing the hydrocarbon economy for

all its worth for as long as we can.

          We have everything we need to make the transition to a conserver economy based on renewable

energy. We already know from the evidence that investment in energy efficiency and renewable energy

creates far more jobs than investment in fossil fuels. It may take 30 years to make the transition, but the

growth of renewable energy can help create a sustainable and prosperous conserver economy. Moral

leadership invested in this transition will pay long­term dividends.

          Keith Helmuth is a member of the Woodstock Sustainable Energy Group

          Published in the Telegraph Journal, St. John NB, November 26, 2013

WINTER'S WALKING, WAGGING AND WOE

         As I watch the snow flakes quietly drifting by my studio window, it looks as if winter is here to stay.  I've built a lot of snow forts, snow men and had many snowball fights during my younger years but now, since I've become almost as old as winter, I enjoy being inside listening to a crackling fire and having time to do some of the things that during the other seasons I'm too busy to indulge in, like painting and writing.  

          I went for a walk this morning with our fool dog Duncan, I say fool because his attention span is very short - I start out on the walk with him running ahead but we seldom arrive home at the same time because he has lingered too long at the base of a tree watching a squirrel, which is well out of reach, scolding him for being such a nuisance or the scent of a passing coyote has tickled his nose and caught his fancy.  He's a happy dog; his tail is always wagging and if I didn't know better, it looks as if he smiles, and then again, perhaps he does.  As per usual, we started out together on this morning's walk but he was soon distracted by something in the forest and I didn't see him until I returned home about an hour later.  I don't mind that he gets lost in his own little world because it seems, I'm not much different in that respect.  My mind generally wanders on these walks and often, I lose track of time.

          Time is something I no longer have too much of; at age 72, it's a real crap shoot - so far I've been rolling sevens and elevens, doubling my bets and cashing in - sooner or later though, snake-eyes are going to turn up, stare me in the eyes and tell me that the game's over; I lose.  As I look back over the years at my life, I'd be a fool to say I don't have any regrets; that would be like saying I've never made any mistakes; I've led a perfect life.  No, I've made mistakes, plenty of them and unfortunately, some of them I've repeated over and over again throughout the years.  I've made several really big error judgments and one of them that still really bothers me, although at the time because the word "success" had been preached at me from day one, I thought I was doing the right thing.  Even now, if I had continued the way I once was, I would be considered a "success" by most people's standards.  It didn't take me till I was an old man to realize that I had gone down the wrong path; the search for wealth and the easy life is a pathway leading to hell on Earth.  And that's what I find so disturbing now.  So many people throughout the ages have jumped at the chance to pursue riches beyond their dreams and expectations and because of this, I believe the whole world, like my life, is at the very edge of its endurance, perilously at its end.  The Bible tells us that "the meek shall inherit the Earth" and people are awaiting the "second coming of Christ" but hell, if He doesn't show up very soon, there will be no Earth to inherit and there won't be a person still living to greet Him.

          As I wandered down to the lake this morning, everything looked very normal but then when I looked more closely at my surroundings, I realized the trees in the forest looked like mere toothpicks in comparison to the way a forest is supposed to be and what I find unbelievable about their appearance is that the forests are still being logged; when will it stop?  When there isn't a twig left standing; that's when.

          The snow has stopped falling but a slight breeze is still blowing; a tree's outstretched limbs tickling the belly of an overhead cloud can be seen just outside my window.  It's not as quiet as it should be at the base of Green Mountain in Fosterville because I can hear the drone of a chain saw in the not too far distance; a harbinger of more to come and I feel a sadness overcoming me as winter demands its attention - cheers, eh!        

CAT TALES

Finnegan

          A week has passed since I last saw my friend Finnegan the cat.  Like our dog Duncan, he followed me around and even came on long walks with me.  Sometimes I would pick him up and carry him for awhile, not because he was tired out, he just felt good in my arms.  Since we had a wee snowfall a little while ago, I've noticed a lot of coyote tracks, I guess they're hoping to get their chops on our chickens but so far, thanks to the dog I expect, they haven't come near the chicken coop.  Although Finnegan was a great hunter, mice and squirrels being part of his diet, since he was an outdoor cat and bedded down in the garage or barn, I expect the hunter became the hunted; Finnegan most likely ending up as some other predator's dinner in the forest.  I would sometimes meow to him and we would have these great conversations in cat language; it's odd, he certainly seemed to understand a few English words but I never new one cat word, at least what it meant.  I've never been a great cat-lover, especially the domesticated, pampered type cat-lover; I've always preferred the outdoor variety.  There was nothing particularly different about Finnegan as far as cats go and as much as he could be a voracious killer of small animals and birds, he was always friendly and looked forward to being petted and cuddled.  

          Over the years, cats have often been a part of my life, whether I wanted one or not.  One of the most unusual cats I had lived in my sign shop to keep the mouse population under control.  He was a mottled grey colour and reminded me of smoke, so I named him Smokey.  I'm not sure how, but I suspect one of the people I had working for me at the time, dropped a 4'x8' sheet of plywood on his tail because one day, I noticed that his tail had an unusual bend and as time went by, the end of his tail broke off, so he only had a short stub.  I don't know how it began but we began playing hide and seek with one another.  We would take turns hiding and looking for each other and I have to admit, we were pretty comical.  I remember one afternoon, I decided to play a bit of a prank on Smokey and hid under a sheet of plywood that was leaning on the wall just around the corner of the shop.  I can still see old Smoke as he warily crept along looking to his left and his right as he came towards me.  And then, when he already reached where I was hiding, I jumped out and yelled boo as loud as I could.  I never saw a cat leap so high into the air and run so fast, but what was truly amazing, Smokey left a trail of yellow piss the length of the shop and out the window.  We were good pals until one day, a boy came into the shop and told me a cat was lying dead by the side of the street up at the corner.  When I asked how he knew it was my cat, he told me about his stubby tail and sure enough, it was old Smoke; he'd been hit by a car and killed.

          I don't know if Finnegan has used up his nine lives but in case he has, all I can say is, R.I.P. Finnegan - cheers, eh!