I live about 15 minutes from the city limits. That means that part of my drive includes highway, secondary highway, and country roads, paved and not.

One of the things I love about the drive home is that during the last 30 minutes or so of the drive there are only 2 intersections with traffic lights. For the last 10 miles or so there are none.

On a good night, I feel myself starting to unwind as soon as I leave the city lights.

On a good day, the turn off of the main highways signals the last and funnest part of the drive. I realized today that not many people get to do this. I am grateful that I get to.

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We are making a mess of our planet. Whether you are a “believer” in the so-called ’settled science’ of Climate Change or one of those heretics that the Movement derisively refers to as a ‘denialist’, most people would agree, however grudgingly, that we need to change how we use the world if we want to survive as a species. (Note: The world itself will survive. The question is whether or not we will, and what species are we going to take with us to extinction.)

Hexxus

Among the Believers, there is often an assumption that this is a binary issue: one either subscribes to the preachings of the moneyed Climate Scientists (which apparently includes agreeing not to question the “science”), or one is under the influence of Big Oil  (lead, no doubt by Hexxus, made famous in Ferngully).

Some of us do not wish to be associated with either group, thank you very much.

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Ranching, recreation collide in the great outdoors

The mountain biker was excited about her big race in Colorado’s wilderness. And nothing irked the sheepherder like the sports crowd. It was a disaster waiting to happen…

Working Dogs

Many people seem to believe that every natural place should be available for recreation, and that all other uses should defer to them.

People who try to raise animals ethically and naturally repeatedly come under fire, but I don’t see all of North America going vegan any time soon, so eventually, the ONLY way left to raise animals for meat will be through factory farms. That means all of our meat (and the billions and billions of other animals products that end up in almost everything we touch) will be ‘rendered’ by enormous corporations headquartered in urban centers who care primarily about the bottom line, and who have powerful lobbies that ensure that NO-ONE sees what they really do – only how cheap it is to buy a McNugget or a Big Mac, and how smoooooth their skin feels after using their creams.

Here’s another scenario:

1. The sheep rancher’s dogs will be put to death for doing their job.
2. The sheep rancher will go out of business because the local predators will eat too many of his sheep.
3. The wolves, coyotes, and cougars who have been keeping their distance because of the livestock guarding dogs will now move into the territory.
4. Some hapless tourist will get attacked and possibly killed by a cougar.
5. Trigger happy (dare I say it? bloodthirsty) hunters will demand the ‘freedom’ to go in and get rid of those terrible savage animals, and the urbanites will let them.
6. Top level predators will be wiped out from the area, but the tourists will have safe passage (for a time).
7. Prey animals will multiply until they either become diseased or starve due to overpopulation.
8. The entire district will get paved over to become a new residential neighbourhood, or become a  tightly controlled “ranchland” where cattle (owned by giant corporations) change the landscape forever. All remnants of what it used to be will be gone.

That’s better, isn’t it? Who cares about the prairie chicken anyways – ya can’t make McNuggets out of ‘em. The only things that REALLY matter is that we continue to be able to get cheap food, we get to recreate where ever and however we please (freedom and all that, right?) and that the NRA rules.

How different the story might have been if only someone had done the neighbourly thing and inform the ranger of the event.  His dogs (and probably his sheep) would have been confined for the day. No-one would have been hirt, and there would have been no story.

Too bad we don’t get to hear more about the non-stories – those that DON’T result in a trip to the hospital…..

My husband and I had dinner with a friend last night whom we both like and respect a great deal. He’s a decent, smart man and we thoroughly enjoyed spending time with him. We talked about many things, among them our attitudes about the human use of animals. My friend is a vegan, and we’re not. I had no intention of trying to convince my friend to change his ways, and I am pretty sure he had no intention of changing mine. We are all the sorts of people who think deeply about things and do not make lifestyle decisions like what to eat or not eat without thinking about what that might mean.

In many ways our lives are very different – my friend lives in New York City and I live on a farm nestled in the eastern foothills of the Canadian Rockies. I didn’t ask, but I don’t think my friend has any pets or other animals who share his life. I have many animals, most of which I use in one way or another. I adore my animals and would find a life without them impoverished indeed. However, (and here’s the rub) sometimes, I eat one of my animals.

I struggle with the moral issues involved and so I continued to think about this after dropping our friend off at his hotel. My husband and I talked about it on the way home. I thought about it while falling asleep and again in the morning. I try very hard to be logical and reasonable in my arguments. I like to think of myself as an ethical person (I gave up a 23 year career over principles). I suspect I may not have succeeded in being entirely logical on this one. But neither did my friend.

This morning, I found this in the New York Times, so I thought I’d respond. I suspect my friend subscribes to some of the arguments made below, but I don’t know if he subscribes to all of them. In any case this is not directed at him specifically. Rather it is an attempt to pull the camera back to show more of the picture. It ’s more complicated than people want to think. Unless you are prepared to live in the wilderness completely off the grid, being a vegan, even a strict ethical one, does not spare you from having animals killed on your behalf.  Fewer to be sure, but they still die for you.

permalink: http://www.nytimes.com/2009/11/22/opinion/22steiner.html

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Food for the Soul

Working Sheepdogs

I don’t usually do this, but this is a response to another blog, found here.  The piece I am commenting on is part of a larger post about what Canadian troops are doing in Afghanistan. It is in support of our Canadian Military and repeats a sheep and sheepdogs metaphor written by Dave Grossman. My own thoughts about the military (well, some of them) are below. The quote however, demonstrates Grossman’s ignorance once again. Having been in the military does not, in and of itself, qualify you as the last word on the subject. Not only does he have no real clue about videogames, but he now demonstrates he has no real clue about sheep, sheepdogs, or wolves. If you are going to use a metaphor, at least use one that doesn’t show off your lack of insight. That kind of defeats the purpose.

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We are getting a new puppy this week.

Arrow & the Turkeys

In the spring of 1997 we got our first Livestock Guardian Dog (LGD). A  Great Pyrenees. Scanner. She changed my life. My birds were safe from local predators – all day long AND all night. You see, LGDs work 24/7. They like it. It’s what they do.

They protect the critters in their territory in whatever way is necessary. Now, before you go thinking that this is some sort of macho, kill the nasty coyotes deal, understand that LGDs are among the most natural canines there are. They are VERY intelligent, but they are also VERY independent. They have been selected and bred, for centuries (at least), to live with and protect the flocks and possessions of the human shepherds who depend on them. This means a number of things:

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This story was originally written May 31 1998. Copyright, K.Becker

Today was one of *those* days. I went downstairs to check on the 2 little mallards that hatched a few days ago only to find that our new kitten had managed to pull one of them through the bars of the cage and kill it. They were the only 2 eggs rescued from a nest attacked by a fox.

Kittens are so cute.

Good Morning, kitten.
Nice to see you had a fun night. Kipa, the kitten decided it would be fun to climb up my bare legs. I peeled him off my legs and he bit my hand.

He’s so cute.

Sad and in pain, I checked the answering machine – my long awaited fruit tree seedlings were shipped by bus on Thursday and they still haven’t arrived. No messages. Rats.

Oh yes, I also remember to open the sliding doors in the hopes that the gopher that got into the house and is having a grand time chewing up the kid’s toys would leave again (he spent the night hiding behind the un-used stove squeaking for help).
Good Morning, gopher. He squeaked.

Gophers are so cute.

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Originally written Feb 18/2007

Today I found a mouse in my glove.

I hate mice.

I found one in my boot once – I was barefoot when I put it on – something squishy in the toe – shook out my boot and there it was. Ack.

ACK!!!

This time I put on my glove (you know those big, cheap (not the work kind) winter ones) – and my middle finger pushed up against something soft, squishy, and a little warm. My first thought was “How did that guinea fowl manage to poo in my glove?” (we currenty have a guinea in the house – named Glen…. or maybe Glenda… I can’t tell.)

Then – YUK!

– I hate mice – I shook out my glove – nothing.

So I started to work it out of the finger by squeezing it like a tube of toothpaste – more yuk – when it finally came out – there it was – small; barely alive. I wonder how long it’s been there? Did it get there on its own or did one of the cats toss it there? Well, like I said, I hate mice – I tossed it out into the snow (I’m still too much of a coward to kill it outright – God forgive me) I figured it wouldn’t take long outside; I’d heard that freezing is not altogether unpleasant.

I prayed for forgiveness.

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