It's not often I use my blog as a political sounding board, but I feel compelled to do so today. If you'd rather avoid politics, I won't mind (or even know) if you choose to surf away.
Way back in 1983 I left a rinky-dink private ambulance company in Denver for a position with another, albeit slightly improved rinky-dink private company in Colorado Springs. Both were reminescent of the fictional companies depicted in the motion picture 'Mother, Jugs and Speed', but the one in "'The Springs' offered better money by a couple of bucks per day, and a better mix of 9-1-1 versus routine transfer calls. In other words, it paid better and it was more fun.
On my first day on the job I found I was assigned to a car partner with whom I'd worked a couple of years earlier. That was wonderful news, as 'Mikey' and I were a great team. We had much in common, including a similar sense of gallows-humor that made it a little easier to cope with some of the dreadful things that a paramedic has to deal with on a day-to-day basis.
As I climbed into the cab of the "car", Mikey smiled broadly and said "What would you like to run today?" Joking around, I said "Trauma. I've spent the last year running nothing but nursing home transfers. When I go home in the morning I was the sleeves of this white uniform shirt covered in gore to the elbows."
Well, I asked for it, and I damned sure got it. Just before midnight two car loads of GIs on leave got into one of those "mine is bigger than yours" arguments young men are inclined to pursue and ultimately challenged each other to a game of chicken. There were six guys in each car, and they hit with a combined speed well in excess of 150 miles per hour. All six of the front seat passengers were "DRT" (dead right there). All six of the rear seat passengers were FUBAR (needs no explanation). We called out every rescue truck and ambulance in the city to clean up that mess, and when all was said and done, Mikey winked and pointed out that my new white shirt which was indeed painted in gore to the middle of the sleeves.
Right now, both major political parties in both houses of congress are engaged in one of those "mine is bigger than yours" arguments, and are playing chicken regardning a decision to raise the national debt ceiling. I think most Americans are pretty bored with the argument and recognize that they are most likely to cut some sort of last-second deal to prevent triggering another recession. Nonetheless, I can't help but recall that the kids in those two cars expected someone to swerve at the last second to prevent a devestating tragedy.
That's the problem with playing chicken. Sometimes neither party "chickens out" or swerves. Regardless of the outcome, we can expect each of the major parties to spend the next few months pointing fingers and blaming the other party for the consequences until the next opportunity to measure their macho against each other - and so forth, and so forth and so forth.
For those who are supporters of either major polical party, I'll just offer this reminder. If you vote as you've always voted before, you can't expect to get anything better than you've always gotten - and so forth, and so forth, and so forth.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Babies Not Babies Anymore...
Four Stardancer dogs are celebrating their 3rd birthday today. Capella, Cassiopiea, Midnight's Son and Orion were born of Kyle Belleque's Lucky and Stardancer Torus. Two of the litter remain with Kyle in Dillingham.
Of my four, Capella, Cassie and Orion have all shown promise as leaders. Since Midnight has only recently returned to the kennel I don't know where he may be interested in running, but within a few months I'll have a good chance to check him out on the trail. All four are very healthy, strong dogs in excellent condition and weight, bounding into the prime of their lives and their careers as sled dogs.
On the topic of birthday's, our handler Ted recently celebrated a birthday of his own. I haven't heard how he chose to celebrate the event, but I suspect whatever his choice it was likely done in true sourdough fashion, just because he's that kind of guy.
As I'm at work, there has been little to blog about. Today there appears to be a shift in the weather than may signal the maturing summer season. Often late July and the month of August is a rainy, cool season in the Interior. Yesterday I noted signs of high winds aloft in the form of long, whispy clouds racing across the sky. Today dawned overcast, and since about 5 o'clock this morning it has been raining steadily. The long range weather forecast is calling for cloudy or mostly cloudy skies and showers or thunderstorms for at least the next week.
While "wet and cool" equates to a sloppy kennel, even with plenty of wood shavings laid in, it also means cooler weather in which it is safe to run dogs. Perhaps when I return home from work I'll be able to start some early season work with the fuzz-butts.
Mush with P.R.I.D.E. is preparing for a long overdue election of directors and I've decided to run for reelection. During my term the focus was on updating the Mush with PRIDE Sled Dog Care Guidelines to reflect the best available current information. Should I be reelected, I'd like to focus now on improving communications with the organization, including reestablishment of a regularly published newsletter.
Meanwhile, I still have a bit more than a full week to go before this tour of duty becomes history. Unless somtehing remarkable happens I doubt you'll hear from me until I'm home again. No worries, sometimes no news is good news, and in this case no news means I'm just plugging away at the job, earning money to pay for the kibble.
Of my four, Capella, Cassie and Orion have all shown promise as leaders. Since Midnight has only recently returned to the kennel I don't know where he may be interested in running, but within a few months I'll have a good chance to check him out on the trail. All four are very healthy, strong dogs in excellent condition and weight, bounding into the prime of their lives and their careers as sled dogs.
On the topic of birthday's, our handler Ted recently celebrated a birthday of his own. I haven't heard how he chose to celebrate the event, but I suspect whatever his choice it was likely done in true sourdough fashion, just because he's that kind of guy.
As I'm at work, there has been little to blog about. Today there appears to be a shift in the weather than may signal the maturing summer season. Often late July and the month of August is a rainy, cool season in the Interior. Yesterday I noted signs of high winds aloft in the form of long, whispy clouds racing across the sky. Today dawned overcast, and since about 5 o'clock this morning it has been raining steadily. The long range weather forecast is calling for cloudy or mostly cloudy skies and showers or thunderstorms for at least the next week.
While "wet and cool" equates to a sloppy kennel, even with plenty of wood shavings laid in, it also means cooler weather in which it is safe to run dogs. Perhaps when I return home from work I'll be able to start some early season work with the fuzz-butts.
Mush with P.R.I.D.E. is preparing for a long overdue election of directors and I've decided to run for reelection. During my term the focus was on updating the Mush with PRIDE Sled Dog Care Guidelines to reflect the best available current information. Should I be reelected, I'd like to focus now on improving communications with the organization, including reestablishment of a regularly published newsletter.
Meanwhile, I still have a bit more than a full week to go before this tour of duty becomes history. Unless somtehing remarkable happens I doubt you'll hear from me until I'm home again. No worries, sometimes no news is good news, and in this case no news means I'm just plugging away at the job, earning money to pay for the kibble.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Found - Historian's Treasure
I've been doing miscellaneous things around the place the past few days. A lot of kennel maintenance, some dog training, lots of free-running in the play yard to help keep canine brains settled, some driveway maintenance that's been hanging-fire for a couple of years, and so forth.
In and among all the little things that need to be done, preferably before freeze-up, I've stolen away a bit of time to do some historical research. I've downloaded several documents from GoogleBooks and have been going through them, page by page, adding my margin notes so I can find pertinent information when needed them for articles I write for On The Trail magazine and other publications.
Most of the time my research is a search for details that others may not find particularly interesting. For instance, I'm interested in the details of how people drove sled dogs in the Canadian fur trade. The most reliable sources of that subset of facts comes from the historical fur-trade itself, in the form of business documents, correspondence and of course archaeological evidence.
The published fur-trade documents that are most valuable are generally journals, which the major fur-companies required their "gentlemen" (managers) to maintain, inventories, sales records and so forth. These primary (first-hand) accounts are extremely reliable evidence - so most of the information they contain can qualify as "facts". Unfortunately, business records don't provide a lot of detail. A journal entry may note that "3 men with dogs and trains (sleds) were sent away to fetch meat.", but they don't provide details about the harnesses, design of the sleds, the order of travel, the methods of preparing provisions or myriad other details that are important to one wishing to recreate that journey. Those 'omissions' are understandable. After all, records kept by modern businesses might note that goods were sent by truck, but don't need the details of how to drive that truck - it's assumed the reader has a basic understanding of the machine.
The best sources of such details come from records created by visitors to the fur-country. Prior to the 19th century, visitors were rare and published accounts from the those visitors practically non-existent. Perhaps as a means of generating popular support for expeditions in search of the elusive Northwest Passage, Sir John Franklin's journals documenting his first overland expedition (1819 - 1822) were published in 1824. Afterward, memoirs of retired traders, journals of explorers, accounts of travel and especially accounts written by early missionaries became popular with common people and as a result are readily available today. Because they were written by people who actually observed the methods described, they qualify as "primary sources", but the information has to be taken with a few grains of salt. Memories sometimes fail and the veracity of the accounts deserves to be questioned. Just as today, authors were interested in selling books and sometimes 'facts' were exaggerated, understated or completely altered to appeal to the perspectives and prejudices of their audiences. Thus, a journal kept by an explorer can be considered very reliable, but memoirs are considerably less so. Few can stand alone, but when several such documents describe similar methods and means it lends credence to the information.
'Tertiary' documents (third party accounts created by someone who was not an eye witness) have no evidentiary value at all, though they can sometimes provide clues to help the researcher find a primary source to document a historical practice or detail.
Elusive details documented in solid primary sources qualify as 'treasures'. I collect such treasure by making margin notes so I can find those details later. Sticky notes are great for bookmarking hard-copy material, and most digital documents provide some means by which I can make a notation that renders the material easier to find when I need to prove a point.
My latest treasure has little to do with the northwestern fur-trade, but is nonetheless extremely valuable to me, because it settles a point of curiosity. From the earliest records of dog driving by Europeans in North America until the Klondike Gold Rush I can only prove two methods of hooking up sled dogs, either a true tandem (single file) hitch, or in the coastal regions the Eskimo method of running dogs in a fan-hitch. Today the vast majority of mushers run their dogs in pairs, hooked to a common gang-line. That method is variously referred to as a 'Nome' hitch, an Alaskan hitch or rather inaccurately as a 'tandem hitch'.
The Nome hitch is far and away the most common hitch used today, yet it was apparently unheard of prior to the very late 19th or early 20th century, so the question that nagged my brain was "where the heck did that come from?" Who came up with the bright idea of doubling the size of a dog team by hooking up pairs of dogs to a common gang-line.
Based on a woodcut appearing in a book originating in the 18th century that I found on-line (and forgot to bookmark, dammit), my best guess was that it originated in Siberia.
My speculation was reinforced from time to time as I found snippets of information regarding Siberian dogs and methods, but I'm not a student of Russian or Russian-American history and I don't read the language. English translations of historical Russian documents seem to be pretty darned rare.
To shorten what threatens to become a long story, last night I was surfing through GoogleBooks and stumbled across a 19th century book written by an American who had traveled extensively across Siberia as a member of the Russo-American Telegraph project (eventually abandoned) from 1865 through 1869, well before even the earliest of Alaska gold rushes. The author describes big teams hooked up in what we know as a Nome hitch or Tandem hitch, to sleds remarkably similar to what we know as basket sleds. He also describes some other practices that are remarkably similar to common practices of modern dog drivers.
To me, this book represents true treasure, as it provides very solid evidence that many of the methods commonly employed by modern dog mushers originated in Siberia rather than in North America. It seems a small detail as I describe it here, but it certainly could form the basis for a fun magazine article.
In and among all the little things that need to be done, preferably before freeze-up, I've stolen away a bit of time to do some historical research. I've downloaded several documents from GoogleBooks and have been going through them, page by page, adding my margin notes so I can find pertinent information when needed them for articles I write for On The Trail magazine and other publications.
Most of the time my research is a search for details that others may not find particularly interesting. For instance, I'm interested in the details of how people drove sled dogs in the Canadian fur trade. The most reliable sources of that subset of facts comes from the historical fur-trade itself, in the form of business documents, correspondence and of course archaeological evidence.
The published fur-trade documents that are most valuable are generally journals, which the major fur-companies required their "gentlemen" (managers) to maintain, inventories, sales records and so forth. These primary (first-hand) accounts are extremely reliable evidence - so most of the information they contain can qualify as "facts". Unfortunately, business records don't provide a lot of detail. A journal entry may note that "3 men with dogs and trains (sleds) were sent away to fetch meat.", but they don't provide details about the harnesses, design of the sleds, the order of travel, the methods of preparing provisions or myriad other details that are important to one wishing to recreate that journey. Those 'omissions' are understandable. After all, records kept by modern businesses might note that goods were sent by truck, but don't need the details of how to drive that truck - it's assumed the reader has a basic understanding of the machine.
The best sources of such details come from records created by visitors to the fur-country. Prior to the 19th century, visitors were rare and published accounts from the those visitors practically non-existent. Perhaps as a means of generating popular support for expeditions in search of the elusive Northwest Passage, Sir John Franklin's journals documenting his first overland expedition (1819 - 1822) were published in 1824. Afterward, memoirs of retired traders, journals of explorers, accounts of travel and especially accounts written by early missionaries became popular with common people and as a result are readily available today. Because they were written by people who actually observed the methods described, they qualify as "primary sources", but the information has to be taken with a few grains of salt. Memories sometimes fail and the veracity of the accounts deserves to be questioned. Just as today, authors were interested in selling books and sometimes 'facts' were exaggerated, understated or completely altered to appeal to the perspectives and prejudices of their audiences. Thus, a journal kept by an explorer can be considered very reliable, but memoirs are considerably less so. Few can stand alone, but when several such documents describe similar methods and means it lends credence to the information.
'Tertiary' documents (third party accounts created by someone who was not an eye witness) have no evidentiary value at all, though they can sometimes provide clues to help the researcher find a primary source to document a historical practice or detail.
Elusive details documented in solid primary sources qualify as 'treasures'. I collect such treasure by making margin notes so I can find those details later. Sticky notes are great for bookmarking hard-copy material, and most digital documents provide some means by which I can make a notation that renders the material easier to find when I need to prove a point.
My latest treasure has little to do with the northwestern fur-trade, but is nonetheless extremely valuable to me, because it settles a point of curiosity. From the earliest records of dog driving by Europeans in North America until the Klondike Gold Rush I can only prove two methods of hooking up sled dogs, either a true tandem (single file) hitch, or in the coastal regions the Eskimo method of running dogs in a fan-hitch. Today the vast majority of mushers run their dogs in pairs, hooked to a common gang-line. That method is variously referred to as a 'Nome' hitch, an Alaskan hitch or rather inaccurately as a 'tandem hitch'.
The Nome hitch is far and away the most common hitch used today, yet it was apparently unheard of prior to the very late 19th or early 20th century, so the question that nagged my brain was "where the heck did that come from?" Who came up with the bright idea of doubling the size of a dog team by hooking up pairs of dogs to a common gang-line.
Based on a woodcut appearing in a book originating in the 18th century that I found on-line (and forgot to bookmark, dammit), my best guess was that it originated in Siberia.
 |
| 18th century woodcut of Siberian rig, source has been forgotten |
To shorten what threatens to become a long story, last night I was surfing through GoogleBooks and stumbled across a 19th century book written by an American who had traveled extensively across Siberia as a member of the Russo-American Telegraph project (eventually abandoned) from 1865 through 1869, well before even the earliest of Alaska gold rushes. The author describes big teams hooked up in what we know as a Nome hitch or Tandem hitch, to sleds remarkably similar to what we know as basket sleds. He also describes some other practices that are remarkably similar to common practices of modern dog drivers.
To me, this book represents true treasure, as it provides very solid evidence that many of the methods commonly employed by modern dog mushers originated in Siberia rather than in North America. It seems a small detail as I describe it here, but it certainly could form the basis for a fun magazine article.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Behavioral Challenge
If it seems I've been writing about Innoko a lot lately, it's because his behavior has been at the forefront of my mind. At seven months of age, Innoko is already the largest dog in the kennel, and we are known for running big dogs in comparison to the many racing kennels here in Two Rivers. He is a cross between a Canadian Inuit Dog and a mixed Malamute / Yukon River trapline dog.
From the earliest historical records I can find onward, Canadian Inuit dogs have a reputation for being the very best freighting dogs, but also for being very scrappy. Even more-so than the Alaskan Malamutes, which are closely related. People I know who have run these guys in their teams have observed the same propensity to want to fight with other dogs, and that isn't a behavior that I want to encourage. That means that Innoko has become a training challenge, and I can't become a better dog trainer by ignoring challenging behavior.
Linda Newman and Lidia Dale-Mesaros are principals in the Hedlund Husky Preservation Project, and both have experience running Canadian Inuit Dogs in their teams. They have provided a lot of useful information to me, which includes warnings as well as very good advice. Those warnings give me a good idea of what I can expect in the future, so I can plan to prevent issues that could arise.
I had a long consultation with certified canine behaviorist Janece Rollet regarding young Innoko. Janece explained that like Besengis and some other rare breeds, Canadian Inuit Dogs are considered to be "primitive" dogs, in the sense that they are closely related and very little changed from the earliest dogs to be domesticated by humans. During adolescence males of 'primitive' dog types go through a considerable hormonal upheaval, with testosterone levels rising at an exponential rate. The hormone levels increase faster than more domesticated breeds, and also tend to peak at higher levels.
Just as in human males, it takes some time and practice for them to mentally learn to function and cope with those high hormone levels. Meanwhile, during the process once aroused they are unable to mentally process information. As a result traditional methods of retraining and desensitization are unlikely to be effective until the dog's hormones have stabilized and the dog essentially learned how to adapt to their influence.
She is recommending good management to prevent fights and thus prevent the behavior from being rewarded (reinforced). Meanwhile, we'll be working on obedience training with the focus on training a truly fluent "down", which will then be followed by training a fluent "watch me" behavior, cueing the dog to focus his/her attention on the handler rather than on distractions (such as another dog he wants to fight). This guys some time for the handler to intervene and prevent a potential dog fight.
Management doesn't mean isolation by any stretch. It does mean I probably shouldn't house him in a pen with another dog, but he does well on a tie-out with easy access to dogs in adjacent circles with whom he can interract. When we play "run amok" he can be in play groups consisting primarily of females or neutered males, but probably shouldn't be given that much freedom to engage intact or older males, which seem to be his most frequent targets. In other words, he doesn't get to play with Denali, Orion or Torus.
Otherwise, he is treated like every other dog in the kennel.
I've been reassured that I can do this, though I have to admit I have concerns. I'll keep you posted from time to time on progress of our project, which will probably need to be on-going throughout Innoko's life.
From the earliest historical records I can find onward, Canadian Inuit dogs have a reputation for being the very best freighting dogs, but also for being very scrappy. Even more-so than the Alaskan Malamutes, which are closely related. People I know who have run these guys in their teams have observed the same propensity to want to fight with other dogs, and that isn't a behavior that I want to encourage. That means that Innoko has become a training challenge, and I can't become a better dog trainer by ignoring challenging behavior.
Linda Newman and Lidia Dale-Mesaros are principals in the Hedlund Husky Preservation Project, and both have experience running Canadian Inuit Dogs in their teams. They have provided a lot of useful information to me, which includes warnings as well as very good advice. Those warnings give me a good idea of what I can expect in the future, so I can plan to prevent issues that could arise.
I had a long consultation with certified canine behaviorist Janece Rollet regarding young Innoko. Janece explained that like Besengis and some other rare breeds, Canadian Inuit Dogs are considered to be "primitive" dogs, in the sense that they are closely related and very little changed from the earliest dogs to be domesticated by humans. During adolescence males of 'primitive' dog types go through a considerable hormonal upheaval, with testosterone levels rising at an exponential rate. The hormone levels increase faster than more domesticated breeds, and also tend to peak at higher levels.
Just as in human males, it takes some time and practice for them to mentally learn to function and cope with those high hormone levels. Meanwhile, during the process once aroused they are unable to mentally process information. As a result traditional methods of retraining and desensitization are unlikely to be effective until the dog's hormones have stabilized and the dog essentially learned how to adapt to their influence.
She is recommending good management to prevent fights and thus prevent the behavior from being rewarded (reinforced). Meanwhile, we'll be working on obedience training with the focus on training a truly fluent "down", which will then be followed by training a fluent "watch me" behavior, cueing the dog to focus his/her attention on the handler rather than on distractions (such as another dog he wants to fight). This guys some time for the handler to intervene and prevent a potential dog fight.
Management doesn't mean isolation by any stretch. It does mean I probably shouldn't house him in a pen with another dog, but he does well on a tie-out with easy access to dogs in adjacent circles with whom he can interract. When we play "run amok" he can be in play groups consisting primarily of females or neutered males, but probably shouldn't be given that much freedom to engage intact or older males, which seem to be his most frequent targets. In other words, he doesn't get to play with Denali, Orion or Torus.
Otherwise, he is treated like every other dog in the kennel.
I've been reassured that I can do this, though I have to admit I have concerns. I'll keep you posted from time to time on progress of our project, which will probably need to be on-going throughout Innoko's life.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Happy B'day Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace was born July 10th, 2006 which means she turns 5 years old today. At about 9 months of age she was relinquished to Loving Companions Animal Rescue, described as being "hyper and destructive". You know, a typical adolescent dog. She found herself being fostered by Lynn Orbison. Lynn gave me a phone call to come over and check her out. OH MY GOD, what talent she showed from the very beginning. This girl could RUN.
I can't recall what her original name was, but when we watched her running she earned her name Amazing Grace straightaway. At every gait she is smooth she reminds one of running water.
We quickly learned that Grace suffers from Canine Obsessive Compulsive disorder, exhibiting stereotypical running as her compulsive behavior. It was so bad she couldn't stop running to eat (she just grabbed a bite every other lap or so) or to interact with humans. After consulting with our favorite certified canine behaviorist, we changed her feed to a totally corn-free diet (maize free) and began changing her environment on a frequent basis. We also ran her on every team leaving the yard.
Although she's a small dog by Stardancer standards, she has been a constant and consistent member of the team for several years, running mostly in the lead or swing positions. All of our dogs love to run and pull, but Grace seems to love running in the team even more than most. She can be a bit too exuberant at first, sometimes snarking at her team mates, but once she settles down she does a grand job.
In the yard, Grace gets along well with her kennel mates, and can be housed with nearly any of the males in the yard. She is a true love-muffin with humans, and is now an excellent house dog. She is fully house trained and is content to just hang with the humans.
There's really only one more thing to write. Happy birthday, Grace. We're glad you are part of the team.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
New Machinery
The new little tractor was delivered right at feeding time tonight. I was able to restrain myself long enough to feed the fuzz-butts and scoop the yard before climbing aboard to move some dirt. There is one circle in the far back corner of the yard that the dogs have dug up pretty remarkably, and I've dreaded the thought of trying to fill in the holes and restore the original slope.
Well, this darned machine moved more dirt in 45 minutes than I could have moved all day long with the four-wheeler and meat trailer - and I'm a rank amateur as an operator. Teddy was checking it out, with camera in hand.
This is classified as a compact tractor, and it seems like just the right size for working in a dog yard. It's small enough to fit in-between houses or tie-out posts (or houses AND tie-out posts), but big enough to do a serious job of work.
Even with that long stinger for the post hole auger sticking off the back, it was easy to maneuver around. I'm rather amazed at the tight turning radius and I wasn't even using the turn brakes, which can put it in an even tighter circle.
Well, this darned machine moved more dirt in 45 minutes than I could have moved all day long with the four-wheeler and meat trailer - and I'm a rank amateur as an operator. Teddy was checking it out, with camera in hand.
 |
| First Job for the New Machine (Photo by Teddy Kirby) |
 |
| Small enough to fit in tight spaces, big enough to do a serious job of work (Photo by Teddy Kirby) |
 | ||||
| Oh Yeah! This is cool. (Photo by Ted Kirby) |
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Innoko the Fearless
Puppies can be a real challenge, especially if the puppy is so large that his young age is easily overlooked. That seems to be the case with "little" Innoko. Innoko is only 7 months old, yet he is the largest dog in the kennel. His challenging behavior is a propensity to pick on his kennel mates, sometimes resulting in squabbles that border on being true dogfights. Squabbles are generally loud, noisy displays of ferocity that do not result in injury to either dog. Since no one has drawn blood, it's still appropriate to refer to Innoko's tussels with other males in the kennel as "squabbles".
He isn't just fearless around other dogs. Today I was running a gasoline powered week whacker to cut down some of the chickweed and, especially, foxtails that threaten to overwhelm the kennel. Since foxtails can be very dangerous to dogs it's very important to remove them before their seed pods can fully form, dry out, and harden.
Usually when I'm running noisy equipment like the weed whacker, the dogs go into their houses or shy away from the noise of the machine. Not little Innoko, though. With tail wagging and a happy, tongue-out grin on his face, he thought he really needed to check out that noisy thing. I had to move him to a spare post for a while in order to do the work that was needed at his previous spot.
Innoko is of a proper age to be introduced to the harness. I'll start that process within the next few days, though I have to admit I'm thinking it could be quite a challenge. Normally I would use a skijoring belt and tugline for the process, but Innoko is a BIG, strong boy. I think I'd be wiser to hook him up to a heavy tire or other drag rather than hooking him up to my own body. Doing so may save me a trip to the acute care clinic or emergency room.
I was hoping the new tractor would be delivered today, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen. I really need it to do some work in the kennel, as there are a couple of places that could use some fill dirt and fresh wood shavings. Recent wet weather hasn't done the kennel very many favors.
Even as I write there is thunder rumbling in the distance and dark clouds are forming above our yard. I'm guessing that we are fixing to have another thunderstorm, complete with plenty of rain to keep things kind of sloppy around here.
He isn't just fearless around other dogs. Today I was running a gasoline powered week whacker to cut down some of the chickweed and, especially, foxtails that threaten to overwhelm the kennel. Since foxtails can be very dangerous to dogs it's very important to remove them before their seed pods can fully form, dry out, and harden.
Usually when I'm running noisy equipment like the weed whacker, the dogs go into their houses or shy away from the noise of the machine. Not little Innoko, though. With tail wagging and a happy, tongue-out grin on his face, he thought he really needed to check out that noisy thing. I had to move him to a spare post for a while in order to do the work that was needed at his previous spot.
I was hoping the new tractor would be delivered today, but it doesn't look like that is going to happen. I really need it to do some work in the kennel, as there are a couple of places that could use some fill dirt and fresh wood shavings. Recent wet weather hasn't done the kennel very many favors.
Even as I write there is thunder rumbling in the distance and dark clouds are forming above our yard. I'm guessing that we are fixing to have another thunderstorm, complete with plenty of rain to keep things kind of sloppy around here.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Headin' for the House
I'm actually writing this a bit early, but have it scheduled so the computer will post it as I'm leaving my workplace for home. It's time for another two weeks of "R&R" before I return to do it all over again.
I have plenty to do this R&R, but they are generally tasks that don't require a lot of advanced planning or precise execution. A lot of them are just routine maintenance chores that need to be done from time to time. Even with a pretty good "to do" list at hand, I plan to have some fun as well. My fly rod is in the back of the car ready for some action and I'm feelin' a hunger for fresh trout, grayling or arctic char. I know of some trails that need to be scouted out, especially out in "the park" (Chena River State Recreation Area) and it would be easy enough to combine a trail scouting and fly fishing trip. If the weather stays cool I could do some short sled dog runs on wheels to help keep brains engaged and help some of my younger dogs learn more and better how to perform their jobs.
Damn. That reminds me that I still need to sort through a bunch of equipment and start preparing my sleds for the winter season.
If things have gone along as planned while I've been away, my new little tractor should be delivered shortly. That will make easy work of moving the poo-pile, filling in a few holes, doing some driveway maintenance and perhaps removing some brush and small black spruce trees to make the place a bit more defensible against wildfires. If the machine is as capable as I think I may even try to cut 50 or 60 yards of side-trail off of my feeder to provide yet another "gee/haw" option as we leave the yard on trainng runs.
Certainly my aching shoulders and back would benefit from a good soak in the rock pool at Chena Hot Springs Resort. It's been a long while since I've done any sort of serious target practice with my traditional flintlock muzzleloaders, and with an historically authentic moose hunt planned for November, I would do well to fire more than just a few rounds.
The dog box on the truck could use a couple of coats of paint, and my canoe desparately needs some sanding and some varnish. The new tool shed also needs paint, and it occurs to me that the trim and garage door on the house are both looking awefully weather-worn.
There are some dog houses that could benefit from some repairs, and... and... and....
And maybe I should stop writing about this before I create a longer "honey do" list than I actually have time to accomplish.
The sun is setting earlier and rising later each day. Summer is short and winter is coming fast. As a general rule any task requiring warm weather needs to be finished by the end of August.
It seems like a lot of activity, and I suppose it is. That duly noted, it honestly does represent recreation as I'll be doing things for the benefit of my dogs and I, things that make our home place more attractive or more comfortable. As far as the "rest" part of the equation - well, there'll be time enough to rest after I die. I have far more important things to do while living.
I have plenty to do this R&R, but they are generally tasks that don't require a lot of advanced planning or precise execution. A lot of them are just routine maintenance chores that need to be done from time to time. Even with a pretty good "to do" list at hand, I plan to have some fun as well. My fly rod is in the back of the car ready for some action and I'm feelin' a hunger for fresh trout, grayling or arctic char. I know of some trails that need to be scouted out, especially out in "the park" (Chena River State Recreation Area) and it would be easy enough to combine a trail scouting and fly fishing trip. If the weather stays cool I could do some short sled dog runs on wheels to help keep brains engaged and help some of my younger dogs learn more and better how to perform their jobs.
Damn. That reminds me that I still need to sort through a bunch of equipment and start preparing my sleds for the winter season.
If things have gone along as planned while I've been away, my new little tractor should be delivered shortly. That will make easy work of moving the poo-pile, filling in a few holes, doing some driveway maintenance and perhaps removing some brush and small black spruce trees to make the place a bit more defensible against wildfires. If the machine is as capable as I think I may even try to cut 50 or 60 yards of side-trail off of my feeder to provide yet another "gee/haw" option as we leave the yard on trainng runs.
Certainly my aching shoulders and back would benefit from a good soak in the rock pool at Chena Hot Springs Resort. It's been a long while since I've done any sort of serious target practice with my traditional flintlock muzzleloaders, and with an historically authentic moose hunt planned for November, I would do well to fire more than just a few rounds.
The dog box on the truck could use a couple of coats of paint, and my canoe desparately needs some sanding and some varnish. The new tool shed also needs paint, and it occurs to me that the trim and garage door on the house are both looking awefully weather-worn.
There are some dog houses that could benefit from some repairs, and... and... and....
And maybe I should stop writing about this before I create a longer "honey do" list than I actually have time to accomplish.
The sun is setting earlier and rising later each day. Summer is short and winter is coming fast. As a general rule any task requiring warm weather needs to be finished by the end of August.
It seems like a lot of activity, and I suppose it is. That duly noted, it honestly does represent recreation as I'll be doing things for the benefit of my dogs and I, things that make our home place more attractive or more comfortable. As far as the "rest" part of the equation - well, there'll be time enough to rest after I die. I have far more important things to do while living.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Happy Independence Day
235 years ago today a relatively small group of colonists put their king on notice. They composed a document that listed their numerous grievances and explained precisely why they were declaring their independence from his rule.
It wasn't the beginning of the American revolution. That had started several years earlier, and it was far from the end. The war of American Independence raged on for another 5 years and at many times the outcome was in serious question.
During years when I am off-duty on Indendence Day I make it a point to read the Declaration of Independence in it's entirety. Sometimes as I do so I think of current events, and wonder how much longer the United States can hold out before another small group of citizens put our sovereign powers on notice. At other times I marvel at the durability of a nation that was formed in desparation.
In 1981, President Ronald Reagan reminded the citizens of our Nation that the revolution didn't just exhange 1 tyrant for another, as so many in the world have done. Instead, it offered a new philosophy that is worthy of memory. At times, especially times like those in which we currently live, it seems important to remind ourselves, and especially the self-righteous, overly pompous windbags we tend to elect into public office, that the form of government forged as a result of the American revolution is based on the fact that government is nothing more than a convenience with no powers of it's own other than those voluntarily granted to it by the people. That which we giveth can also be taken away.
Here is the text of President Reagan's speech:
“There is a legend about the day of our nation's birth in the little hall in Philadelphia, a day on which debate had raged for hours. The men gathered there were honorable men hard-pressed by a king who had flouted the very laws they were willing to obey. Even so, to sign the Declaration of Independence was such an irretrievable act that the walls resounded with the words "treason, the gallows, the headsman's axe," and the issue remained in doubt.
The legend says that at that point a man rose and spoke. He is described as not a young man, but one who had to summon all his energy for an impassioned plea. He cited the grievances that had brought them to this moment and finally, his voice falling, he said, "They may turn every tree into a gallows, every hole into a grave, and yet the words of that parchment can never die. To the mechanic in the workshop, they will speak hope; to the slave in the mines, freedom. Sign that parchment. Sign if the next moment the noose is around your neck, for that parchment will be the textbook of freedom, the Bible of the rights of man forever."
He fell back exhausted. The 56 delegates, swept up by his eloquence, rushed forward and signed that document destined to be as immortal as a work of man can be. When they turned to thank him for his timely oratory, he was not to be found, nor could any be found who knew who he was or how he had come in or gone out through the locked and guarded doors.
Well, that is the legend. But we do know for certain that 56 men, a little band so unique we have never seen their like since, had pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. Some gave their lives in the war that followed, most gave their fortunes, and all preserved their sacred honor.
What manner of men were they? Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists, eleven were merchants and tradesmen, and nine were farmers. They were soft-spoken men of means and education; they were not an unwashed rabble. They had achieved security but valued freedom more. Their stories have not been told nearly enough.
John Hart was driven from the side of his desperately ill wife. For more than a year he lived in the forest and in caves before he returned to find his wife dead, his children vanished, his property destroyed. He died of exhaustion and a broken heart.
Carter Braxton of Virginia lost all his ships, sold his home to pay his debts, and died in rags. And so it was with Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Rutledge, Morris, Livingston and Middleton. Nelson personally urged Washington to fire on his home and destroy it when it became the headquarters for General Cornwallis. Nelson died bankrupt.
But they sired a nation that grew from sea to shining sea. Five million farms, quiet villages, cities that never sleep, three million square miles of forest, field, mountain and desert, 227 million people with a pedigree that includes the bloodlines of all the world. In recent years, however, I've come to think of that day as more than just the birthday of a nation.
It also commemorates the only true philosophical revolution in all history.
Oh, there have been revolutions before and since ours. But those revolutions simply exchanged one set of rules for another. Ours was a revolution that changed the very concept of government.
Let the Fourth of July always be a reminder that here in this land, for the first time, it was decided that man is born with certain God-given rights; that government is only a convenience created and managed by the people, with no powers of its own except those voluntarily granted to it by the people.
We sometimes forget that great truth, and we never should. “
It wasn't the beginning of the American revolution. That had started several years earlier, and it was far from the end. The war of American Independence raged on for another 5 years and at many times the outcome was in serious question.
During years when I am off-duty on Indendence Day I make it a point to read the Declaration of Independence in it's entirety. Sometimes as I do so I think of current events, and wonder how much longer the United States can hold out before another small group of citizens put our sovereign powers on notice. At other times I marvel at the durability of a nation that was formed in desparation.
In 1981, President Ronald Reagan reminded the citizens of our Nation that the revolution didn't just exhange 1 tyrant for another, as so many in the world have done. Instead, it offered a new philosophy that is worthy of memory. At times, especially times like those in which we currently live, it seems important to remind ourselves, and especially the self-righteous, overly pompous windbags we tend to elect into public office, that the form of government forged as a result of the American revolution is based on the fact that government is nothing more than a convenience with no powers of it's own other than those voluntarily granted to it by the people. That which we giveth can also be taken away.
Here is the text of President Reagan's speech:
“There is a legend about the day of our nation's birth in the little hall in Philadelphia, a day on which debate had raged for hours. The men gathered there were honorable men hard-pressed by a king who had flouted the very laws they were willing to obey. Even so, to sign the Declaration of Independence was such an irretrievable act that the walls resounded with the words "treason, the gallows, the headsman's axe," and the issue remained in doubt.
The legend says that at that point a man rose and spoke. He is described as not a young man, but one who had to summon all his energy for an impassioned plea. He cited the grievances that had brought them to this moment and finally, his voice falling, he said, "They may turn every tree into a gallows, every hole into a grave, and yet the words of that parchment can never die. To the mechanic in the workshop, they will speak hope; to the slave in the mines, freedom. Sign that parchment. Sign if the next moment the noose is around your neck, for that parchment will be the textbook of freedom, the Bible of the rights of man forever."
He fell back exhausted. The 56 delegates, swept up by his eloquence, rushed forward and signed that document destined to be as immortal as a work of man can be. When they turned to thank him for his timely oratory, he was not to be found, nor could any be found who knew who he was or how he had come in or gone out through the locked and guarded doors.
Well, that is the legend. But we do know for certain that 56 men, a little band so unique we have never seen their like since, had pledged their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor. Some gave their lives in the war that followed, most gave their fortunes, and all preserved their sacred honor.
What manner of men were they? Twenty-four were lawyers and jurists, eleven were merchants and tradesmen, and nine were farmers. They were soft-spoken men of means and education; they were not an unwashed rabble. They had achieved security but valued freedom more. Their stories have not been told nearly enough.
John Hart was driven from the side of his desperately ill wife. For more than a year he lived in the forest and in caves before he returned to find his wife dead, his children vanished, his property destroyed. He died of exhaustion and a broken heart.
Carter Braxton of Virginia lost all his ships, sold his home to pay his debts, and died in rags. And so it was with Ellery, Clymer, Hall, Walton, Gwinnett, Rutledge, Morris, Livingston and Middleton. Nelson personally urged Washington to fire on his home and destroy it when it became the headquarters for General Cornwallis. Nelson died bankrupt.
But they sired a nation that grew from sea to shining sea. Five million farms, quiet villages, cities that never sleep, three million square miles of forest, field, mountain and desert, 227 million people with a pedigree that includes the bloodlines of all the world. In recent years, however, I've come to think of that day as more than just the birthday of a nation.
It also commemorates the only true philosophical revolution in all history.
Oh, there have been revolutions before and since ours. But those revolutions simply exchanged one set of rules for another. Ours was a revolution that changed the very concept of government.
Let the Fourth of July always be a reminder that here in this land, for the first time, it was decided that man is born with certain God-given rights; that government is only a convenience created and managed by the people, with no powers of its own except those voluntarily granted to it by the people.
We sometimes forget that great truth, and we never should. “
Saturday, July 2, 2011
One Year Later
Today marks an anniversary for the Stardancer gang, and even though I'm at work and can't celebrate in the traditional manner it nonetheless deserves mention. One year ago Ted Kirby assumed his duties as the Stardancer Historical Sled Dogs official handler.
Y'all don't remember Teddy? I actually introduced him here in the blog last August. Over the course of the past year Teddy has done excellent work for me, and quite a bit of side work for other mushers, including Aliy and Allen Zirkle, Devon and Judy Currier, Sue and Mike Ellis and the fastest woman on the Quest trail, Abbie West. This summer he has been working full-time as the Alaska Conservation Corps supervisor out at the Chena River State Recreation Area in addition to his vaious side jobs.
Teddy and his wife, Clare, are putting together quite a respectable team of dogs of their own. Many of their dogs purebred Siberians that are the progeny of dogs that Teddy cared for and trained while he worked for Earl and Natalie Norris, and they have a couple of up-and-coming young Alaskan malamutes as well.
Teddy isn't the only hard worker in their little family. Clare has been teaching summer school, taking some classes on-line, and working several evenings each week at Two Rivers Lodge.
Teddy and Clare have officially earned their status as honest to goodness Alaskan sourdoughs. They've spent a full winter, and a full year up here in the Great Land - in the Interior of the Great Land. They've done more than just endored - they've done very well for themselves, and I'm proud to know them as friends as well as colleagues.
Y'all don't remember Teddy? I actually introduced him here in the blog last August. Over the course of the past year Teddy has done excellent work for me, and quite a bit of side work for other mushers, including Aliy and Allen Zirkle, Devon and Judy Currier, Sue and Mike Ellis and the fastest woman on the Quest trail, Abbie West. This summer he has been working full-time as the Alaska Conservation Corps supervisor out at the Chena River State Recreation Area in addition to his vaious side jobs.
Teddy and his wife, Clare, are putting together quite a respectable team of dogs of their own. Many of their dogs purebred Siberians that are the progeny of dogs that Teddy cared for and trained while he worked for Earl and Natalie Norris, and they have a couple of up-and-coming young Alaskan malamutes as well.
Teddy isn't the only hard worker in their little family. Clare has been teaching summer school, taking some classes on-line, and working several evenings each week at Two Rivers Lodge.
Teddy and Clare have officially earned their status as honest to goodness Alaskan sourdoughs. They've spent a full winter, and a full year up here in the Great Land - in the Interior of the Great Land. They've done more than just endored - they've done very well for themselves, and I'm proud to know them as friends as well as colleagues.
Midnight Sun Set
Here is a photo I shot at precisely midnight on June 21st. From that point on each day will offers a bit less possible sunshine. For those in the Lower-48 the solstice marks the first day of summer. Up here in The Great Land the solstice is a reminder that winter is on the way, and there is a LOT of work to be in preparation.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)