Farm News 12-31-06
Sunday morning, after chores, 41°
Too Many Rabbits
Christmas morning when I went out to do chores, the five young rabbits in the rearing pen were all chasing each other around and around in the pen. This was typical behavior for sexually maturing mammals confined in small spaces with more than one individual of each sex. There was a slight glow of rabbit hormones surrounding the cage. It was time to do something about that. Left confined like that, there would surely be injured rabbits within a few weeks. Calvin came to the rescue and butchered three of them.
Brownie presented a special problem. I had kept Brownie and raised her to adulthood in the desire to use her as a brood doe. Alas, she shows no desire whatever to mate with Buck, and remains a barren virgin. According to people who care about such things, barren virgins make the best kind of martyrs, so she can go into the freezer knowing that she is in the company of martyrs. It would be nice to think that male suicide bombers go to paradise and receive the reward of 24 virgin rabbits.
More Humans
One of the interesting things that can happen to 70 year old men is that they might find occasion to say, “My daughter is pregnant.” Seventeen years ago I could have said the same of my son's wife. What a terrible moral dilemma this situation poses. I strongly desire grandchildren, yes, but I also complain constantly about there being entirely too many humans on the planet. So, I grumbled when my daughter waited until the age of __ (left blank in the interest of self protection) to provide me with a new grandchild, and I grumble that all the new neighbors have pole lights that make it more difficult to see the stars. There are too many people and not enough of them are my grandchildren, that is the problem.
Ad Astra
When I look up at the sky at night the first thing I think of (after sex in space, of course) is how much man-made stuff is whirling around up there. According to NASA, there are tens of millions of pieces smaller than 1 cm., and about 100,000 between 1 cm. and 10 cm. Everything bigger than 10 cm., about 8,000 objects, is tracked by the Space Surveillance Network. How reassuring.
What is the use of having all that stuff wandering around up there? There should be some plan for gathering it up in junk piles. It cost billions of dollars to get that stuff up there, about $8,000 per pound, I think, and we should think seriously about how to recycle it in space instead of letting it slowly drift down into the atmosphere. If the price of aluminum on earth went to $8,000 per pound you sure wouldn't see empty pop cans littering the roadsides.
If humans are going to explore space, then many of the explorers will have to be the sort of people who can dive into a junk pile and come back out with the parts to make a thing-a-ma-jig that will save the mission. Engineers are supposed to foresee and forestall unexpected needs for a thing-a-ma-jig to save the mission, but, if the Intelligent Designer didn't foresee and forestall genetic errors like Muscular Dystrophy, then how could we expect mere mortal engineers to do foresee and forestall all of the various possible situations which might require the need of a thing-a-ma-jig to save the mission?
The motto of the state of Kansas is Ad Astra per Aspera, which very roughly translates to, “After you plow this field with a horse you will have walked far enough to get to the stars.” There is a statue of an Indian with bow and arrow, the arrow pointing up to someplace southeast of Polaris, standing atop the dome of the Kansas Capital building. The statue is named Ad Astra, appropriately enough, and is the result of close to a century of arguing about what should be up there. All of which shows that one can plow many fields with a horse in less time than it takes the Legislature to agree to hoist a bronze Indian to the top of the Capital building.
Too Many Rabbits
Christmas morning when I went out to do chores, the five young rabbits in the rearing pen were all chasing each other around and around in the pen. This was typical behavior for sexually maturing mammals confined in small spaces with more than one individual of each sex. There was a slight glow of rabbit hormones surrounding the cage. It was time to do something about that. Left confined like that, there would surely be injured rabbits within a few weeks. Calvin came to the rescue and butchered three of them.
Brownie presented a special problem. I had kept Brownie and raised her to adulthood in the desire to use her as a brood doe. Alas, she shows no desire whatever to mate with Buck, and remains a barren virgin. According to people who care about such things, barren virgins make the best kind of martyrs, so she can go into the freezer knowing that she is in the company of martyrs. It would be nice to think that male suicide bombers go to paradise and receive the reward of 24 virgin rabbits.
More Humans
One of the interesting things that can happen to 70 year old men is that they might find occasion to say, “My daughter is pregnant.” Seventeen years ago I could have said the same of my son's wife. What a terrible moral dilemma this situation poses. I strongly desire grandchildren, yes, but I also complain constantly about there being entirely too many humans on the planet. So, I grumbled when my daughter waited until the age of __ (left blank in the interest of self protection) to provide me with a new grandchild, and I grumble that all the new neighbors have pole lights that make it more difficult to see the stars. There are too many people and not enough of them are my grandchildren, that is the problem.
Ad Astra
When I look up at the sky at night the first thing I think of (after sex in space, of course) is how much man-made stuff is whirling around up there. According to NASA, there are tens of millions of pieces smaller than 1 cm., and about 100,000 between 1 cm. and 10 cm. Everything bigger than 10 cm., about 8,000 objects, is tracked by the Space Surveillance Network. How reassuring.
What is the use of having all that stuff wandering around up there? There should be some plan for gathering it up in junk piles. It cost billions of dollars to get that stuff up there, about $8,000 per pound, I think, and we should think seriously about how to recycle it in space instead of letting it slowly drift down into the atmosphere. If the price of aluminum on earth went to $8,000 per pound you sure wouldn't see empty pop cans littering the roadsides.
If humans are going to explore space, then many of the explorers will have to be the sort of people who can dive into a junk pile and come back out with the parts to make a thing-a-ma-jig that will save the mission. Engineers are supposed to foresee and forestall unexpected needs for a thing-a-ma-jig to save the mission, but, if the Intelligent Designer didn't foresee and forestall genetic errors like Muscular Dystrophy, then how could we expect mere mortal engineers to do foresee and forestall all of the various possible situations which might require the need of a thing-a-ma-jig to save the mission?
The motto of the state of Kansas is Ad Astra per Aspera, which very roughly translates to, “After you plow this field with a horse you will have walked far enough to get to the stars.” There is a statue of an Indian with bow and arrow, the arrow pointing up to someplace southeast of Polaris, standing atop the dome of the Kansas Capital building. The statue is named Ad Astra, appropriately enough, and is the result of close to a century of arguing about what should be up there. All of which shows that one can plow many fields with a horse in less time than it takes the Legislature to agree to hoist a bronze Indian to the top of the Capital building.
posted by The Geezer at 9:37 AM
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