The Daily Post
Search on "Hen House" for the latest articles. They appear bi-monthly.
The link below is the second article telling about our experience raising turkeys. Search "Hen House" on the Los Alamos Daily Post for the previous story.
That search will also list all the articles that summarize our 46 years in New Mexico with dogs and birds in a beautiful Pondersa forest on Walnut Canyon.
Los Alamos Daily Post
EXTRAORDINARY, Good News stories that never seem to get told, but SHOULD BE! A story from Jean Johnston
It is 13 years since 9/11 and here is a wonderful story about that terrible day.
Delta Flight 15... (true story) Here is an amazing story from a flight attendant on Delta Flight 15, written following 9-11:
On the morning of Tuesday, September 11, we were about 5 hours out of Frankfurt, flying over the North Atlantic .
All of a sudden the curtains parted and I was told to go to the cockpit, immediately, to see the captain. As soon as I got there I noticed that the crew had that "All Business" look on their faces.
Peeper was an only-chick, Peeky's one son of eight eggs I should have candeled. As a result he was a model rooster, a joy to his human caretaker and the hens he courted with delicious grasshoppers, just like his mother had broken up for him. Here's the link to the article in the Los Alamos Daily Post
Susie was my grandmother's Pekinese, a delightful memory, which made me remember the PBS special about breeding foxes in Russia, selecting only for tameness and finding that it changed their facial shapes and fur coloring. It will be interesting to see how this gene package is unraveled as the similar package in dogs is studied.
Long ago we didn't imagine that we would have to keep dogs on a leash, especially in farm country.
By Cary Neeper for the LADP week Nov. 21, 2014
Skates, our blond border collie, was missing. I must have gone downstairs and called, then whistled. No Skates. I walked down the front stairs, up the driveway to the backyard and called and whistled again. Still no Skates.
What is remarkable, now that I think of it, is that I felt no angst, just a little irritation: “Oh dear. Skates and Sammy are probably off somewhere on campus.”
Those were our graduate school years 1959-1963 in Madison, Wisconsin. Sammy was a small dog who lived somewhere nearby and often came to visit Skates. I had no idea who owned Sammy.
He was friendly to us humans and a playful, unassuming companion for our much larger golden girl. When Skates was outside, he would often show up, and they would peruse the neighborhood doing what dogs do—mostly sniffing every bush to see who or what had been around lately.
Some years earlier on Pa’s Hayward California victory farm, a similar friendship had blossomed between our first pup Boots and Browny, a dark brown German shepherd whose territory included our entire forty acres and old man Madeiros’s acres across the gravel road.
The road ran down the hill of fruit trees, including fig trees with their smooth horizontal branches for hanging by one’s knees.
The dogs hunted gophers and moles, and I think Mr. Madeiros fed Browny occasionally, but no one ever claimed to “own” the dog. Browny belonged to no one. He simply occupied the neighborhood. No one worried about it. Now, in most US communities, such acceptance—an attitude of laissez faire toward “strays” is unthinkable—for good reasons like rabies and pack behavior.
Later, in Madison Wisconsin, I had no thought of not letting a dog run free. Now, allowing such freedom to one’s pet is unthinkable. It’s analogous to the idea of letting your five-year-old walk across the neighborhood to kindergarten.