Mister Man worked very hard today creating an enclosure for the chickies. Our gals are now fully free range and seem to be enjoying their new area. There’s a corner pile of grass clippings and leaf litter; perfect for a short nap. The weeds are yummy, as are the bugs. Here’s a view:
You can see Mister Man’s handywork: a coop and the enclosure.
The cats remain intrigued albeit nonplussed:
Today’s Chickie-vision:
It rained quite a bit last night and it’s too wet to go outside, so, I’ll write about the chickens. We have been graced by our hens for almost month now . . . and the novelty hasn’t yet worn off. Friday evening we sat out watching the girls scratch in the dirt while we played around on our computers, ordered food for delivery (with instructions to bring it out back), and drank (beer for Mister Man; iced tea for me since I’m on antibiotics). It was a pleasant evening worth getting bit by bugs. The chickies now have a coop thanks to Mister Man and I have clipped their wings so they can’t fly away. I’ll share some old and new photos, plus a short video clip.
Here’s one of the girls . . . I know she’s thinking “Hey, Let me out!”
This was their first home — very very makeshift. Nevertheless, the girls did seem content. They slept in a large cat carrier and had a small chicken-wire enclosure that I moved around the yard every day. I covered it all with netting to keep the girls in and other critters out. At night I moved the carrier into the garage since we have raccoons and opossums in the neighborhood.
Mister Man put together a very nice coop — but I haven’t taken pictures yet. He plans on fencing and netting off the back part of the yard to create a large living area for the girls.
Meanwhile, I put the hens back by the compost pile which they LOVED!! ooooooooh . . . . so many tasty bugs, grubs, flies, and worms!
What fun they had!
If I haven’t stated yet, the hens are Buff Orpingtons – a good hardy breed that is considered dual purpose (eggs and meat). Orpingtons are docile, cold hardy, good mamas and self-sufficient — the perfect type for Nebraska.
Here they are inspecting a broken cinder block. Since chickens have beaks, they seem to think that the world is in need of pecking!
Who’s over there?
Live from Lincoln, Nebraska . . . .
Urban homesteading is all the rage now — and it’s a fad I hope more people choose to follow. Home chickens are easy to care for, provide eggs, bug control, and entertainment. Further, raising a couple of hens and sharing the proceeds with friends and neighbors lessens our reliance on egg factories that inhumanely treat hens like cogs in a machine.
Today I mourn the loss of another pop icon, David Carradine. Of course, he was best known for his portrayal of Shaolin monk Kwai Chang Caine in the TV series Kung Fu and later as Bill in Tarantino’s Kill Bill flicks.
Ok, call me hokey, but I grew up watching Kung Fu and was really into it. Tarantino was totally into it as well — after all in Pulp Fiction, Jules decides to leave his hitman lifestyle to “walk the earth. . . like Caine from “Kung Fu.”
Yeah, Kwai Chang Caine was one bad motherfucker — just walking the road, meetin’ people, playing his new age-y flute, and dispensing mono-syllabic bits of cracked wisdom. I ATE IT UP! [personal confession, I trained for a very short time at a Shaolin Kung Fu dojo a few years back].
I know, I know, this kind of show was guilty of stereotyping Asian peoples . . . but I think it also provide generic US society with a model for conflict resolution that fit the times.
Lessons from Kung Fu:
1. Be in the here and now.
2. Do not initiate violence, and avoid it if possible.
3. If all else fails, whale on their asses with fancy roundhouse kicks.
4. Perseverance matters — sometimes you have to sit in the rain for a long time to prove your worthiness.
I am relieved that Carradine’s death may have been accidental; an auto-erotic session gone bad. Hey, the guy was 72 years old! He survived some real hard living and every moment of it was etched into his face. I gotta respect a guy that could still be into kinky sex in his 70s . . . but CANNOT fathom suicide. Oh, it’s just my Catholic upbringing . . . suicide is the only sin that cannot be forgiven. But it is also philosophical. Except in really extenuating circumstances [terminal, painful illness], I reject suicide as cheating and the ultimate selfish act. Yes, I realize that there are some that would disagree with me . . . including the Sylvia Plath fan club. But that’s how I see it.
So, David Carradine, thanks for the many years of cheesy “oriental[ist]” performances. May you find a beautifully illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra in your next plane of existence.
Last weekend, Mister Man and I went to a party; the hostess has six chickens. I was envious. Monday, I called around for chickens. Tuesday I drove out to the little town Clatonia to pick up two Buff Orpington pullets. I couldn’t be happier!!
Now I can strike ‘getting chickens’ off my to do list. Mister Man has been obsessing all week about a coop and ordered a kit last night. He wants me to call Farmer Dan back up to get a sister for Bobbie and Teddy. I’m not so sure that we need three hens . . . . that’s a lot of eggs (maybe up to 900 per year)!!! Here are photos of the girls:
Two chickens fit just fine in a cat carrier!
Spot was very curious about the hens . . .
Balam was actually afraid of the chickens!
First steps into the kitchen.
That’s right, into the kitchen. Tom said that this reminded him of something his mom once said, “Just because you have chickens in the house, it doesn’t make you a farmer.” The translation is that chickens in the house make you TPT (trailer park trash). Well, that’s ok . . . I can live with that! The hens did spend the first night in the house. The cats paid them no attention! But, the next day they had to go outside — it is only right and proper that chickens live outside where they can feast on grass, weeds, bugs, and worms.
On Thursday, our amigo Pablo came over to watch “chickie-vision” with us. We sat out in the yard drinking beer and watched the hens. I highly recommend chickens as stress relievers! You just can’t worry too much about the world sitting around drinking beer, shootin’ the breeze, and watching the chickens.
I’ll be posting updates on the hens here and there, so check back to see how things are going!
I have been reading the writings of Thich Nhat Hanh and others on mindfulness and tried to practice mindful walking and eating this morning. It is a lot harder and easier than I thought it would be. Mindfulness is the practice of being fully conscious in the present moment (see “A Mindful Way: Eight Weeks to Happiness” by Jeanie Seward-Magee). I went for my morning “constitutional” — a one hour brisk walk and tried to free my mind from any thoughts other than observing the flora and fauna along my way. What a beautiful day; bright, sunny, pleasantly warm, and fresh. I saw and was cheered by numerous birds: sparrows, house finches, grackles, mourning doves, pigeons, robins, and even a red winged blackbird (the first I’ve seen in the city). Here’s a photo I snatched from the internet.
I also saw a baby bunny (they abound at this time of the year), a new foal at the zoo, and a pitch black squirrel that looks just like Ek Balam! As I walked along the path I saw so many flowers — many weeds, bushes, and trees in bloom. I tried to walk in wonder of it all. I got in my full work-out and felt so refreshed in mind and spirit. I ate my breakfast afterward in a semi-mindful manner. This is REALLY hard for me. Since I was a kid I have always liked to read while eating — even if was just the cereal box. Mindfulness prods us to savor each morsel — to feel the texture, note the aromas, and enjoy the taste. Mindful eating prompts us to appreciate where our food comes from and to give recognition to the people that work the land to provide us with our meals. I will say that my strawberries were especially tasty with chopped mint and stevia from my garden.
One of the great things about having a good job in an area with a low cost of living is that I have a bit of discretionary income. Money is not of great value if it not put to good use . . . and there’s only so much space in my closet for shoes! Anyway, I finally made a contribution to Kiva. This is a great organization that lends small amounts of money to people in poor and developing areas that would not otherwise have access to credit from major lenders. The funds are used as start up capital for small business, home construction, etc. I made a very modest loan of $25.00 to a woman in Bolivia to help her embroidery business. Here’s her photo:
It feels good to support a woman that makes beautiful textiles to support her family. As a fellow embroiderer, I have decided to support small scale textile artisans. You can check out Kiva’s website, click here.
Of course, there are many deserving organizations that need our support. In our increasingly globalizing world and through Al Gore’s great invention of the internet (LOL), we can make a difference. Someone recently told me that as one single individual, they couldn’t really affect any change on the world. Call me deluded, but I do believe in the Power of One — every communal effort must start out with one individual deciding to engage.
Playboy published its list of top party schools (link here); University of Miami hit the top. None of the schools I’ve attended or worked at made the list — hmmm, do you think it’s me?? Nah, couldn’t be. I wonder if there is a correlation between party school, grades, length to graduation, and future success in life (ignoring the problem of metrics on that last one). I knew a couple of guys from University of Miami a while back — let’s just say they fit the profile to a T.
Ok, I’m back from sunny Southern California . . . and while I was away my daffodils popped up, the chives are 3″ high, and sorrel leaves emerged (but froze the other night). What a difference a few days make! It was great to be back in SoCal. I spent time with my parents, sister, and nephews [note to mom & dad: kill that Tickle me Elmo or face the consequences].
As frequent readers know, I was away for the National Association for Ethnic Studies conference held in San Diego. No hatin’ on me, porfavor . . . I didn’t get out of the hotel except once for lunch. Yep, that right . . . all the way to San Diego and all I really saw was the freeway from my hotel window. But, I did connect with the NAES peeps and met many new people. I especially enjoyed meeting some pretty fantastic undergraduate students. I also learned something important. Flattery is the best way to get someone to do something . . . I signed on as the Conference Program Chair for the next conference.
On another note, while I was away, I received notification that a project I applied for with a stellar undergraduate student was approved!! Miss Misam Ali will be working with me to learn research skills on the topic of “Race and Ethnicity in New Media.” I’m super happy since Misam is a hoot!
Phew, I stayed up really late last night putting the final touches to the National Association for Ethnic Studise (NAES) conference program — the conference starts next Thursday!!! Talk about cutting it down to the wire. It has been a great experience working on the conference. I never really appreciated all the hard work that goes into event planning — and our conference is pretty small. I can’t even imagine the kind of work that goes into a conference with +2000 papers. At any rate, I don’t even attend large conferences anymore. I feel too adrift in a sea of people that constantly do the name tag scan (quick firtive look to your tag to see if you rank high enough to speak to . . . and then they ditch you the moment someone higher on the food chain comes along). I love NAES — first it is great to work with a group of like minded people committed to social justice, transformative pedagogy, and increasing diversity in academia. It’s also a hoot to hang with so many other peeps of color and enjoy the freedom of letting our hair down.
I stayed up late last night also to read a manuscript that my colleague and cuate Joy Castro wrote for an edited volume on Latina Motherhood. She is so not like me in many respects — calm, reserved, quiet, kind, tenured — ok, I’m kind too. But I’m loud, spazzy, opinionated, and not tenure. Yet we click on a number of levels that provide relief and those lightbulb moments of “you, too?”. Anyway, her article focusses on waking up one day as an empty nester and trying to figure out what to do with all that maternalism. It was great to read how she has turned her maternal focus into more of a sisterly focus and how she is enjoying the opportunities to be found in Lincoln.
Tomorrow I am attending the History Graduate Student Symposium to offer commentary on a trio of papers. The paper topics are pretty darn interesting: La Virgen de Guadalupe, Tourist Imaginings of Eastern Europe, and Sex in the Ancient Greek City (ooh, lots of images of gay sex!). Now, unfortunately, many profs don’t really enjoy graduate students all that much (I had one prof that REFUSED to work with grads). But, often times, the cutting edge ideas come from these young researchers that haven’t been jaded by over work or whipped into dogged submission by the tenure process. They have the (relative) freedom to play with ideas and see where they lead. But, between now and then, I have to sythesize these three disparate papers!! Hope I can pull this together!
So, for the moment, I’ll sign off — gotta get ready for work. TTFN.
You know it’s gonna be one of those days when a tsunami of guilt slams into you — totally unexpected with no prior warning. I received an email this morning from a friend that I now suspect of being a Crypto Catholic — the guilt was laid on so thick that it stuck to the roof of my mouth. I will now spend a few cyber moments prostrate before the Virgin of Perpetual Guilt (thanks to Fred for inventing her) and ask for guidance.
On a more sorrowful note, condolences and my greatest sympathies go out to the West-Carranzas who are shedding many tears for little Mango who unfortunately flew on to a higher plane of existence this weekend. Mango is sure to be in bird heaven . . .
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