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  • From: Gene GeRue <genegerue AT ruralize.com>
  • To: homestead AT lists.ibiblio.org
  • Subject: Re: [Homestead] Chickens
  • Date: Thu, 22 May 2008 06:40:53 -0500


On May 21, 2008, at 10:57 PM, Marie McHarry wrote:

Before you boys hurt yourselves with engineering a coon-proof door
(don't make me laugh), just get a dog.

Roy, you can easily see what we are up against here. I stagger out of bed, somehow get the coffee brewing, stumble into the technology corner, plop down onto the chair at my window onto the world so looking forward to the love and camaraderie of the only group of people with whom I have near constant and meaningful dialogue, people whom I have come to depend on for understanding and support, and what do I find? A put down, that's what. Insult. Disrespect. A man could go to town and get that with no effort whatsoever. What's my world come to? There is nothing for it but to stagger back out to the kitchen, get a funnel and infuse with caffeine.

Any dog will do if it's well trained. Dogs discourage coons, foxes, wolverines, even rats. This is
what people had before technology. It worked as witnessed by our
presence on the only Earth we have.

There. See it? Sarcasm. On top of the put down, insult and disrespect, now comes the sarcasm.

Sure, some dogs will kill chickens, but they can be dissuaded.

Hah! What does she know. My near-perfect Dax once carried a dead chicken tied to his neck for a week. Still, he killed any chicken stupid enough to run from him. And we all know how chickens run. Purely enticing, that's what, with all that flapping and squawking.

At this
time I have an Anatolian spayed bitch who is fine with all creatures
great and small except my wee border collie who thinks she rules the
universe.

Here it comes: the guardian dog paean. These people with their guardian monster dogs are getting to me. On and on they go about how Big John flew over the canal, raced up the hill, whupped hell out of a nine-hundred-pound grizzley, pulled all its teeth, spit in its face and sent it racing out of the county. Good grief.

I have, alas, a 100+ pound puppy

See? See? A hundred-pound puppy! That thing will be the size of my lawn tractor by the time it stops peeing on the house and starts to make something of itself.

who wants to chew on
whatever fits in his mouth (yesterday it was the seat of the Kubota --
what was he thinking?).

See? See? See, he was standing on all four feet and munching on the tractor seat. That thing is not a dog, it's a bloody giraffe!

Still, he manages to reduce critter
infiltration to zero, so far as I can tell.

So, here's the score: critters-zero, as far as we can tell; tractor seats-also zero. One wonders how the porch posts are doing.

If I don't shoot him, I'm
sure he'll mature just like all my other livestock guardians have
done. It takes a strong will and intelligence to train a dog, but

See? See? You see the insinuation here, Roy? It is not a big stretch to see where this has come from and where it is going. Might even be a dollop of sexism here but I better be careful.

anyone who can design a door that protects chickens undoubtedly has
the ability to train a dog.

Or so one would suppose.

See? See? There it is, Roy. The final sarcastic barb. Sunk deep. Owwwwww!





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