Turtle Wrangling (Part 2)

So let's see, where did I leave off. Oh yeah, I remember!

So after seeing no more trace of the two fugitives, we head back to "Rods" place, and disappointed at the defeat we call it a day. About an hour later I get a phone call, "I found one of the turtles!". Rod had gone back for one more look around the neighborhood and found that the female had returned home (I may have forgot to mention that the two are a mated pair). The male was still out on the run (Lightnin states here: "Typical!"). He had already taken her to the new house before he called me, so no wrangling involved yet.



Here is a photo of the female in her new home. She weighs in at a whopping 50 lbs.

Notice the expert fence work in the back ground. What expert craftsmanship went into the new turtle pen!



The following day I get another call from an again excited Rod: "I think we've found the male!". Rod had called all of the Vet's and Reptile rescue offices in the surrounding area to let them know his contact info., just in case someone were to call in. It looks like it paid off! I once again throw on my "Wrangling" gear and head out to meet up with Rod, about two towns over from where the turtles escaped. Rod tells me that these guy's can really move fast when they get up and going, and considering how far he got in three days time I believe it.

Show down at Turtle Corral:
We show up, and Rod says: "I'll let you take this one", and of course not knowing what I was in for, I accept the challenge. As I start my approach Rod calls out: "Try to sneak up on him, but don't make him mad!". Of course at this point I'm thinking to myself: Why didn't I take the past couple of days to find out a bit more information about these creatures, and what happens if he gets mad?! At that point it was too late. The male turns and sees me, and he doesn't like the thought of me getting any closer! For as big as this guy is (his shell is roughly 2 feet wide and 3 ft long, and he weighs 45 lbs), I can't believe how fast he turns to face me! What ever happened to cowering back into his shell? This guy whips around and stares me down! Both of us frozen, waiting for the other to make a move. Not wanting to wait much longer I go for it, I try to flank him and grab his shell. He's too quick though, and counters by raring up and hissing at me. I mean this huge tortoise is standing on his hind legs, head and arms extended and he's looking me dead in the eye and hissing in a loud deep hiss, more like a gator, than any turtle I've ever seen. I holler at Rod: "Can you distract him or something?". Rod comes over and starts to slowly walk around him, getting him to pay more attention to his movement than mine. He finally make his mistake, and takes his eyes off of me. I pounce, grabbing him firmly on each side of his shell pinning him to the ground.

OK, that's how the whole scene played out in my head on the drive over to get him! Reality check! These turtles are actually very docile and we merely had to go and pick him up and carry him to the van. The only danger was a possible hernia, or back strain from improper lifting. We get him to his new home, safe and sound, reunited with his mate! (I'm sure she's got a few questions for him!).

It was a pretty fun adventure, and now the male has a name: "Houdini". Rod still hasn't named the female, but then he's got about another 70 years or so to figure that out!

THE END

Here's a photo of Houdini. As you can see he's striking a very non-menacing posture as I get a little too close for his comfort to take the picture.

Turtle Wrangling (Part 1)

That's right, I said turtle wrangling!

I know, they're actually tortoises, but it just didn't have the same ring to it!
I'll obviously need to give a little background information in order to help explain the situation:

Well on this past Saturday I was helping a friend of mine who had just moved to a new place a little further out in the country. For the purpose of this story let's just call him "Rod". Rod is well known around these parts as an expert on Indian artifacts and is a pretty successful collector too. What folks may not know is that he is also known as "The Rat Guy". He got this designation because he raises rats and mice to sell to pet shops. Well among other things he also raises turtles, well OK tortoises actually, African Spur-Thigh tortoises. (sorry no photos yet, but hopefully in part two).

Now when I volunteered to help him with the move, believe me the furthest thing from my mind was that I would be "turtle wrangling". But, here I was on a nice Summer day driving fence posts into the ground to build a "Turtle Pen". We just needed to build a temporary structure so that Rod could get his two tortoises moved from one house to the next, and then he would work on the larger corral for them after that. So we marked off about a 100sq ft section of his pasture, complete with a nice shady spot, and started to work.

We completed the pen in a couple of hours and were now ready to head over to his old house to wrangle some turtles. Not really knowing what the proper atire was for "turtle wrangling", I sported a t-shirt, jeans, a pair of leather gloves, and a pair of steel toe hiking boots (I thought the Stetson might be pushing it a little, so I resisted the temptation).

We got over to his old house and headed to the back yard. The anticipation was killing me, hoping to wrangle my first turtle and get it safely transported to it's new home, but then bummer of all bummers as we approached an open gate. Yep, someone had left the gate open the previous evening while moving things from one house to the next.

We looked in all of their normal hiding places in the back yard, but found no turtles. So now our wrangling job had turned into a frantic search for a couple of enormous tortoises, roaming the neighborhood. One neighbor reported that another neighbor had said that a couple of guys had come to his house talking about seeing "the biggest Box Turtle you've ever seen" crossing the road a couple of blocks away. We head over to that neighbor's house, but no one is home! We make a couple of more passes around the neighborhood, but no sign of the two fugative tortoises.

To be continued (hopefully with photos)

It's Hop Harvest!

I'm so excited I can barely contain myself!
It's Hop Harvest!!!

This should be the first of two harvests this year. I transplanted them from my home in Lima, OH after moving back to Cincinnati, OH. One of the plants was put into the ground 4 years ago and the other one 3 years ago. Both are heavily laden with the glorious green cone-shaped flowers that make beer, BEER!




This is actually an old photo, from last year's growth. Most of the cones that I have this year are larger than those pictured here.
I knew that they were getting close to being ready, but forgot to bring my camera home with me to snap some photos. I'll try to do a better job on the second harvest!



You have to understand, the reason that I'm so excited is because I haven't been home in time to catch the harvest ever since I planted them here at this home! The trick is to catch them at just the right time, when the underside of each of the flower pedals are covered with a dark yellow, almost orange powdery looking substance. This is the stuff that gives beer it's bitterness (just enough to counter the Malty sweetness) and it's distinctive aroma.

Once you see that the yellow is starting to appear, you need to constantly check them to see when it turns to a dark yellow/orange. When you gently hold the cone between your finger and thumb it should not feel any different in temperature than the outside air. If it feels cooler to the touch, then it's not quite ready. You can also tell by the smell. When they are ready they will lose a lot of that "green" smell and will smell like, well like hops! When I checked mine yesterday, they were ready!

Here's a pretty good site to visit to find out more details about hops: http://www.uvm.edu/~pass/perry/hops.html

It's also important to note that not all of the cones on the same vine will be ready at the same time. As was the case with mine. I had to check each individual cluster of cones to see who was ready and who wasn't. The main difference between a small home grown harvest and the big commercial growers is that they will wait until most are ready and then harvest the entire plant, and will only get a single harvest. If the weather cooperates, and I don't leave town again for a while, I should get a second harvest out of mine.

Here's how I do it: First: I pluck the cones, being careful not to damage the rest of the vine, Second: Give them a quick rinse to remove dirt, bugs, what ever else may have landed on them, Third: Give them a spin in the salad spinner (don't worry, Lightnin doesn't mind, she's a "Hop-Head", Fourth: spread them out in the dehydrator and let them do their thing. (Consult instructions on your particular model) For this step Lightnin says that a gas oven will work fine too, just put them on a screen and set them in there over night, or possibly two. Fifth: Once dried, place them into a freezer bag, gently squeeze out all the air (Of course if you have one of those fancy-smancy vacuum bag sealer deals, you would want to use it!), and place into the freezer. Sixth: Brew a batch of beer with them!

I misjudged step #4 and was up until 11:30PM waiting for them to finish drying (I guess this time Lightnin's idea might have been a good choice). Lightnin, I'm not admitting anything, I said: "This Time" and "Might Have Been"!

I'm planning a big brewing for July 28th (Lightnin's B-day!), and will be firing up my new brewing system (no I didn't get it for her birthday. I've had it a while, but the guy I got it from hasn't had a chance to show me all of it's quirks yet). I'll definitely bring the camera for that, because this system you've just got to see to believe!

Enough About Dogs, Cats Are Fun Too (surrealy speaking)!

Alright, I've put up with countless pictures and stories of dogs from several of you bloggers out there. Well, it's time for a little cat humor.



This is Spot (a.k.a: Stinky, Old Smeller, El Gato, Dumb Katze, Fuzzy, Kitty, Ki Ki, etc., etc.). No those aren't the names we've given her, those are her many different personalities!



She is about 15 yrs old now, but still thinks she is a kitten. Quite frankly she's not much bigger than a kitten, and is still very active. (notice in the photo that she is letting me know that she is not happy to have her picture taken, especially since she was freshly shaved!)

We picked her up at a Halloween party, when she was really too young to have been taken from her mother, saving her from a life in the wild (Keep this in mind for later). The following day my wife commented: "Why would anyone bring kittens to a Halloween party?". To which I responded the obvious: "Well, it worked didn't it!". Fifteen years later, here we are.

She was small enough that she slept in the opening to a Puffs box, and we cared for her so that she would grow up healthy. The thanks we got, a nasty disposition connected to sharp teeth and claws! For no bigger than she is, she certainly thinks she's tough. She is a pretty kitty and of course people would like to pet her, there in lies the rub. It would go something like this: pet, pet, purr, attack! The cat would let you pet her about twice and then she would latch onto you with teeth and all for feet, claws extended of course. I would come to work and people would ask if we had a pet Bob Cat. This promted the kitty's first Christmas gift, spaying and declawing. As expected, she loved us for it!

She's also a long haired cat, so in the summer she sheds everywhere, and usually mopes around the house flopping down onto the floor about every four feet of walking or so as if to say "How about turning the thermostat down a little, I'm dying here!" (as if we could be so lucky!). So one summer we decided to have her shaved. Now let me tell you, this is entertainment!

First of all the nice lady at the Vet asks us (over the phone) if we think she will need to be sedated. After getting back up from the floor and stopping the laughter we of course replied, "Ah yeah!, you might want to make it a double and be sure to save some for yourself!"

Now the fun really starts. We get the cat carrier, which is no problem as anyone with a cat knows, you merely set the cage on the floor with the door open, ignore the cage, and the cat will promptly enter to investigate. I don't know why that is, but cats are a little weird that way! All we do is close the door and we're on our way. This is when we remember that the cat hates to travel. As soon as she detects movement she let's out these sounds that would frighten Linda Blair! Something between a howl, a growl, and a scream! It's absolutely unbelievable, especially coming from such a small little kitty.

We get her to the car, Kitty siren up to full power, and head to the vet. We get there and everyone clears us a path, wondering just what in the world kind of animal we have that's making all that racket. We sign in and the vet says: "Hello Spot, I could hear you from the back room!". Someone from across the room asks: "Is that a badger?", I reply: "No, just an irritated little kitty with an attitude issue!". We leave the kitty in good hands and head off to work.

Lightnin calls the vet later that day to see what time we can pick up our friendly little cat, and the vet says she'll be ready around 4:00PM. Lightenin replies: "Ok, we'll swing by and get her and then grab something to eat to take home." To which the Vet comments: "Oh take your time and get some dinner first. If you've never seen a shaved cat, you may lose your appetite!"

So we take the vet's advice, eat and then get the cat. When we come to get her she's ready to go, but she's a bit more quiet, still a bit loopy from the drugs. The ride home is a bit less noisy too. We get home and here's where the real entertainment starts. We open the cage and out pops the hairless cat. Both of us break out into laughter at the sight (if you read the comic strip Opus, think of Bill the cat. Slap a pair of jockey shorts on Spot, and there you are!)). The cat, of course can see no humor in this and immediately begins to curse us for humiliating her in this manner! And if you own a cat you know what I'm talking about. Spot was definitely using some choice kitty-speak words on us!

As I said earlier she's still a bit loopy, so she's sort of swaggering when she walks, and of course still meowing profanity with each step. The anesthetic eventually wears off, and to our surprise the cat is actually quiet, and rather subdued. It seems that the small bit of humility that she has to deal with has tamed her down a bit. Although she still just shoots me a dirty look every time she enters the room, as if to say: "Stop laughing, it's not funny!".

So you see, cats can be fun too!