Archive for March, 2014

A Korean dosa. Left without comment.

korean dosa

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foxhounds john emms 1896

Here’s a little poem by one of the great British houndsmen, Ikey Bell.  (He was actually born in America and became one of the doyens of the modern foxhound in the UK).  It’s good advice for all dog breeders, who call themselves “presevationists” or “breed improvers.”


Cherish us for our courage

Instead of for our looks;

Look on us more as comrades,

And less as picture books.

Breed to the strains that serve you

The best throughout the chase;

Remember that your stewardship

Spells trustee to our race.


The duty now before you

Is not to mess us up,

And not go running riot

To gain some silver cup.

Condition us and feed us

as care’ly as you know,

So that no fox, however stout,

Can ever make us blow.


And don’t distract us Master,

When treading out of line!

Mistake no foxhound’s challenge

For silly puppy’s whine!

Your steaming horse keep from us,

Or we can’t feel the scent;

If to a holloa should you lift,

Show us which way he went.


Should roads be rough, or stony,

We’ll pick and choose out tracks;

Don’t let your eager servants

Drive us by their whip-cracks.

Lets lap a drop of water

When we have caught your fox;

And, when grown old in serving you,

Don’t leave us on the rocks.


You need but treat us kindly

And we’ll work hard for you.

Much more can we do for you,

Than you could ever do.

We’ll fairly catch your foxes

If you’ll but trust us;

And should we for an instant check,

Don’t fly into a fuss.



For, if you will but watch us

Until we’re beat at last,

When handle us you have to,

You’ll make a brilliant cast!

Your fame will spread as huntsman,

Your praise will go the rounds;

The reason being that we are

A clinking pack of hounds.



So don’t think Man’s a hunter!

It’s strictly a hounds game.

Hunters we are by birthright;

You are but one in name.

So if you never cheat us,

And always treat us well,

We’ll hunt your fox from Hanover,

into the depths of H–alifax!



We’ll fly straight to your halloo!

Or notes upon your horn.

The field will say, By jingo,

The finest huntsman born!

We’ll tell you now our secret

In whispers (not above):

It’s but our way of thanking you,

And shouting you our love.







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Mallard egg

Dad found this egg in the sleeping box this evening. They are reproducing!

duck egg

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Deer in March

While going out in search of peenting woodcock last night, I came across three does grazing the frost-bitten grass.

They must have been pretty hungry, because they didn’t run when I approached. I was able to get within 30 feet of them, while the lead doe just glared at me!






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This is the surest sign that spring is not far off. The male woodcocks have returned and set up their courtship stands.

To attract the female they make this frog-like sound, which is usually called a “peent.” I heard tons of these woodcocks last night. The woods were full of them. This was the one that gave me the best recording.



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A giant demon duck in a tree

Ivan is definitely not a mallard. For some reason, I forgot that Muscovies were perching ducks, and when I reached to pet Ivan this afternoon, he, well, flew about 100 yards and perched in a tree!



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A new duck was added to the pond today.  He was duckling owned by family with lots of kids. He was given the name Ivan because he’s a Muscovy duck, and they are Russian eh?

They are actually from Latin America, ranging as far north as the Rio Grande Valley of South Texas. No one has a good idea about why they are called “Muscovy ducks.”

But Ivan is a monster. He has the mallards outclassed by nearly two and half times. And Phil and his harem of underage hens (including his own sister) are afraid of the giant duck with evil wattles on his face.







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