Cheddar is currently doing the calling that happens when one hen is separated
from the flock. The others are keeping silent. This reminds me of playground
politics when I was a kid—four boys would go off and "be a gang” with no
purpose beyond maintaining exclusive membership. What chickens would gain from
this behavior I’m not sure, but here’s Cheddar going, “Where are yooooooou?”
And getting in response not even the occasional rustle of a leaf. She’s alone
now because she takes a relaxed attitude to the morning competition for food.
When first let out of the coop the other four barge one another away from the
container. After reminding Mimo, in a routine manner, that she is lower on the
pecking order than herself, Cheddar is usually content to wander around until
they’ve all gorged. They she eats her fill. “What’s the big problem?” The
problem, of course, is she’s behaving unlike the others and that is putting a U
in TEAM.
I sent Hamish out to keep her company. He, however, is currently worried about
loyalty issues: if the hand that feeds you puts you outside, is it wiser to
stay and wait? Or roam? Surely roaming might amount to a declaration of
independence? And then where would we, the puppy, be? Especially in regard to
food issues? Currently Hamish is quite the eater. He grows longer every day.
And faster.
On one of the hot days earlier this week I was grading papers outdoors. The
chickens decided that this was the right moment to lie down and spread their
feathers. De-bugging their software, they call it. They did their usual,
“Excuse me, that's my spot,” upping, shuffling, downing, but eventually got
settled. Hamish wandered over.
“Nice day,” wag, wag, wag.
Mimo, “Indeed it is.”
Cheddar, “It is. Yes, yes. Very nice.”
Peccorino, “You’re standing in my sun.”
Hamish, “I’m in the sun?”
Rocky, “In the way.”
Peccorino, “Blocking."
Hamish, “Is that some kind of mystical path? The way? The one I’m in?”
Appenzeller, “It can be so hard to get dogs to see sense. Would…
you…please…move?”
Hamish, “I am moving. Can’t you see my tail? It feels like…[checks]…yes, it’s
definitely wagging."
Peccorino, very deliberately, as if to a slow foreigner, “You’re…too…close.”
Hamish, “Too close to what? The sun? It seems quite a long way away to me.”
It was Hamish who came flying out of that encounter; chickens can be very swift
with their beaks. When peace returned to their Queendom, the hens were very
full of themselves, “Saw him off, didn’t we girls?” “Showed him!” Hamish,
being a puppy, was not overly concerned about loss of dignity. He quickly
began to follow the cat around, inquiring if Sonsie would like to play. No go
there either; Sonsie jumped up onto the Neverbudge. (If you’re my facebook
friend you can see that I’m making none of this up; photos do not lie).
Two 1989 Sterlings, one with 17,000 miles, one with 40,000… Would you not be
tempted to go find what the story was? I scan the list of estate sales because
I’m interested in what sales tell me about how people live. (Also, yes, to buy
the occasional hat or something). Sterling, you’ll remember, was an alliance
between Britain’s Rover cars and Acura; the Japanese provided the engine and
platform, the Brits provided the walnut and wonky electrics. Someone local
bought his and hers examples. But why such low mileage? The answer was that
they kept two houses, one here, one in Japan. The sale had several Koto, which
is a stringed instrument, lots of Kimonos, stuff and stuff and stuff. The
estate sale guy said there had been several bids on the cars. I have
absolutely no idea what one would bid on a 1989 Sterling. (Wikipedia says 1989
was the year they finally got the car to work; it’s also the year the
partnership dissolved). My thought was, “No matter how low the mileage, it’s
still an ugly design."
Whither academia? As you know, my proof reading is not the best, but this fact
did not keep me from feeling slight irritation when a top administrator (who
has two assistants to vet her words) sent out a missive that began with a
“summery.” There were at least three other errors of the same ilk in the one
document. And then another administrator welcomed a Ph.D. to campus with, “And
here is Mr…” A third person suggested that our students should not be asked to
write, “intellectual papers.”
We may or may not be moving away from “intellectual papers,” but some
administrators would like to abolish paper. Next week our college will, for the
first time, be doing online evaluations of classes (by students). Tech people
can see no problem with this, and those who teach in classrooms with computers
think the idea marvelous. I’m in neither group. The instruction is to have
students fill out the form using their phones or to take the students to the
library to find computers or to look for an empty computer lab or to go to the
technology center and check out some tablets. I’m thinking,
“Tablets…headache.” A colleague tried this last option and found…that the
supply had all been checked out. ‘strawdinry. Who would have guessed?
Personally, I have developed a plan for the library option. “This being a
history of weapons class,” I explained to the students, preparing them last
week, “I’ll brings swords and we shall drive those pitiful intellectual
paper-writers from their terminals." I mentioned this idea to the librarian,
who is good humored. She reminded me that she is an archer.
Clearly swords may not be sufficient. If only people still had pens.
David Ritchie,
Portland,
Oregon------------------------------------------------------------------
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