Baa-Ram-Ewe

Today was sheep.
I guess I should say our intro to sheep, as we'll be working with them a lot more over the year (especially during lambing season). We started with a discussion on sheep mentality (dumb), sheep tendencies (herd well, be dumb), and sheep handling (remember they're big, strong...and dumb).
Did I mention sheep are dumb?

Anyway, we got a demo on the proper ways to handle sheep, and then we were turned loose on the sheep. Our assignment was (in groups of 4) to catch a sheep, "flip" the sheep, trim its hooves, and then vaccinate and deworm it. Catching was less difficult than I'd thought, with all the sheep in a small enclosure and nowhere for them to run. Convincing them to leave their herd and be dragged out the gate was just a tad more challenging. The correct way is to grab around the chin, and behind the poll, and then use your knees to shove them in the right direction. Given that these sheep weighed 200-250lbs, there was only so much shoving that could really be done.

Once we got the sheep into position, we had to flip them. This involves a quick series of movements whereby the head is brought back, a leg lifted, and the sheep flipped and dumped so it is sitting on its hind end, facing away from you. You then lean your backside against a wall, cradle the sheep's neck between your knees, and hang onto the front legs. This only kind of keeps the sheep still, and since your posture is very like one of those "deep knee bends" that are so good for your muscles, hanging onto the sheep can get a bit challenging. Add in a warm humid day, and the last thing you want to be doing is weight lifting a 200lb, squirmy, warm, woolcovered lump. Fun.

My team did fairly well until our third sheep, which was when we cut one hoof just a little too far. The shears went right through the lamina and into the foot itself. For those who don't know what the lamina is, it's the magic white line that separates "good place to cut" from "you're about to make a bloody mess". The instructor pronounced our sheep "leaky", and after 15 minutes, and a whole whack of quick stop powder (plus pressure), we managed to get the bleeding stopped. Keep in mind that the sheep was struggling this entire time....very fun.

We'd almost finished the lab when a particularly nervous sheep got free from its group and started a mad dash around the barn. I could see the sheep coming right at me, amid cries of "loose sheep! loose sheep!", but there a was a wall behind me and a person in front of me, so I took it right in the leg. I bent sideways at the ankle and went down like a ton of bricks, but luckily I didn't sprain or injure anything. Even luckier, everyone was so busy trying to catch the sheep, they barely noticed my tumble, or my highly ungraceful return to my feet.

Despite all that, I loved the lab. Ive always had a soft spot for sheep. I mean, really....what's not to love about big, brainless fluffballs?

Anyway, Tuesday labs are rapidly becoming one of my favourites. Course, ask me again after next week.
Next week is intro to cows.

image taken from PCC site

I know what plagiarism is...do you, Mr. Harper?

Liberal foreign affairs critic Bob Rae accused Conservative Leader Stephen Harper on Tuesday of plagiarizing a speech from Australian Prime Minister John Howard in a 2003 address in the House of Commons calling for Canadian troops to be deployed to Iraq.

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What bothers me most about this is the party's refusal to treat it as a matter of any importance. I can easily see the possibility of a less than competent speech writer handing this to Harper, who then delivers it, unaware of its origins. Instead of crying this, or some other logical excuse, the Conservatives are saying "Old news, doesn't matter."
I think it matters a lot.
If I did what Harper has done, I'd be expelled from school. Every student, from high school level and beyond, has the serious and criminal nature of plagiarizing drilled into them on every single paper they write. We know it's wrong.
But more than that, I I think it matters because it says that Harper, on an issue of sending our country to war, not only did not prepare his own speech, he took it directly from another country. Whether that country was Australia, or whether these phrases were taken directly from a briefing from the US, who knows. Either way, I would prefer that the man who wants to be in charge of our country would have the independence to come up with his own thoughts on such a major issue.

I *must* make this

This is just too fantastic for words. Could this be my next project? I think maybe....

via Blame it on the Voices

Introducing: Merlin

This is Merlin. Given that the 3 year anniversary of him coming to live with me has just passed, I figured I should make a little post about him.

I moved into my very first all-by-myself, mine-and-just-mine apartment in August of 2005. I told myself that I should give myself a little time to get settled in before getting a cat, and decided that a month was long enough. As soon as September hit, I was out looking for a feline companion.
One of my first stops was the Cowichan SPCA. I'd been there many times before to drop of expired food from the clinic I was working at, so they knew me. I wandered around the cat room for a while, but I just didn't see any cats who felt like they were mine. I had an image in my head of the cat I wanted, and none of them were it.
I went up to the front desk and asked the lady if there might be other cats looking for homes who weren't in the room. She thought for a minute, and then asked what sort of cat I was looking for. "Oh," I said, "Well, I like male cats, neutered obviously. And an older cat would be good because I'm out a lot and wouldn't have time for a kitten. I love black cats, especially short haired. Oh, and I work at a clinic, so if there's a cat with some health problems that nobody else wants, I'd take him."
She stared at me for a minute, and then told me to come out to the back porch with her. In the middle of the back porch, sprawled in a patch of sunlight, was my cat. I knew it from the moment he purred and rolled onto his back for a belly rub. He was a neutered male, all black except for 3 white hairs under one eye. He was around 13, though they didn't know for sure how old he really was, partly because he was missing all but one of his teeth. He had horrible dandruff, oily fur, and a tendency to lick his stomach bare. His name was Spice and he'd been at the shelter for two whole years.
The first night I had him home, he crawled up onto my chest and fell asleep purring while I lay on the couch. He's rarely been far from my lap since then, and is sprawled across my feet as I write this. He is everything I'd ever wanted in a cat, and more.
So...my first co-pilot and co-conspirator, Merlin Spice Kletus Trudeau Dryden.

I love Margaret Atwood...

and hate Harper....


MARGARET ATWOOD
From Thursday’s Globe and Mail
September 24, 2008

To be creative is, in fact, Canadian

Mr. Harper is wrong: There’s more to the arts than a
bunch of rich people at galas whining about their
grants

What sort of country do we want to live in?
What sort of country do we already live in? What do we like? Who are we?

At present, we are a very creative country. For decades, we’ve been punching above our weight on the world stage - in writing, in popular music and in many other fields. Canada was once a cultural void on the world map, now it’s a force. In addition, the arts are a large segment of our economy: the Conference Board estimates Canada’s cultural sector generated $46-billion, or 3.8 per cent of Canada’s GDP, in 2007. And, according to the Canada Council, in 2003-2004, the sector accounted for an “estimated 600,000 jobs (roughly the same as agriculture, forestry, fishing, mining, oil & gas and utilities combined).”

But we’ve just been sent a signal by Prime Minister Stephen
Harper that he gives not a toss for these facts. Tuesday, he told us that some group called “ordinary people” didn’t care about something called “the arts.” His idea of “the arts” is a bunch of rich people gathering at galas whining about their grants. Well, I can count the number of moderately rich writers who live in Canada on the fingers of one hand: I’m one of them, and I’m no Warren Buffett. I don’t whine about my grants because I don’t get any grants. I whine about other grants - grants for young people, that may help them to turn into me, and thus pay to the federal and provincial governments the kinds of taxes I pay, and cover off the salaries of such as Mr. Harper. In fact, less than 10 per cent of writers actually make a living by their writing, however modest that living may be. They have other jobs. But people write, and want to write, and pack into creative writing classes, because they love this activity – not because they think they’ll be millionaires.

Every single one of those people is an “ordinary person.” Mr. Harper’s idea of an ordinary person is that of an envious hater without a scrap of artistic talent or creativity or
curiosity, and no appreciation for anything that’s attractive or beautiful. My idea of an ordinary person is quite different. Human beings are creative by nature. For millenniums we have been putting our creativity into our cultures - cultures with unique languages, architecture, religious ceremonies, dances, music, furnishings, textiles, clothing and special cuisines. “Ordinary people” pack into the cheap seats at concerts and fill theatres where operas are brought to them live. The total attendance for “the arts” in Canada in fact exceeds that for sports events. “The arts” are not a “niche interest.” They are part of being human.

Moreover, “ordinary people” are participants. They form book clubs and join classes of all kinds - painting, dancing, drawing, pottery, photography - for the sheer joy of it. They sing in choirs, church and other, and play in marching bands. Kids start garage bands and make their own videos and web art, and put their music on the Net, and draw their own graphic novels. “Ordinary people” have other outlets for their creativity, as well: Knitting and quilting have made comebacks; gardening is taken very seriously; the home woodworking shop is active. Add origami, costume design, egg decorating, flower arranging, and on and on … Canadians, it seems, like making things, and they like appreciating things that are made.

They show their appreciation by contributing. Canadians of all ages volunteer in vast numbers for local and city museums, for their art galleries and for countless cultural festivals - I think immediately of the Chinese New Year and the Caribana festival in Toronto, but there are so many others. Literary festivals have sprung up all over the country - volunteers set them up and provide the food, and ordinary people” will drag their lawn chairs into a field - as in Nova Scotia’s Read by the Sea - in order to listen to writers both local and national read and discuss their work. Mr. Harper has signalled that as far as he is concerned, those millions of hours of volunteer activity are a waste of time. He holds them in contempt.

I suggest that considering the huge amount of energy we spend on creative activity, to be creative is “ordinary.” It is an age-long and normal human characteristic: All children are born creative. It’s the lack of any appreciation of these activities that is not ordinary. Mr. Harper has demonstrated that he has no knowledge of, or respect for, the capacities and interests of “ordinary people.” He’s the “niche interest.” Not us.

It’s been suggested that Mr. Harper’s disdain for the arts is not merely a result of ignorance or a tin ear - that it is “ideologically motivated.” Now, I wonder what could be meant by that? Mr. Harper has said quite rightly that people understand we ought to keep within a budget. But his own contribution to that budget has been to heave the Liberal-generated surplus overboard so we have nothing left for a rainy day, and now, in addition, he wants to jeopardize those 600,000 arts jobs and those billions of dollars they generate for Canadians. What’s the idea here? That arts jobs should not exist because artists are naughty and might not vote for Mr. Harper? That Canadians ought not to make money from the wicked arts, but only from virtuous oil? That artists don’t all live in one constituency, so who cares? Or is it that the majority of those arts jobs are located in Ontario and Quebec, and Mr. Harper is peeved at those provinces, and wants to increase his ongoing gutting of Ontario - $20-billion a year of Ontario taxpayers’ money going out, a dribble grudgingly allowed back in - and spank Quebec for being so disobedient as not to appreciate his magnificence? He likes punishing, so maybe the arts-squashing is part of that: Whack the Heartland.

Or is it even worse? Every budding dictatorship begins by muzzling the artists, because they’re a mouthy lot and they don’t line up and salute very easily. Of course, you can always get some tame artists to design the uniforms and flags and the documentary about you, and so forth - the only kind of art you might need - but individual voices must be silenced, because there shall be only One Voice: Our Master’s Voice. Maybe that’s why Mr. Harper began by shutting down funding for our artists abroad. He didn’t like the competition for media space.

The Conservative caucus has already learned that lesson. Rumour has it that Mr. Harper’s idea of what sort of art you should hang on your wall was signalled by his removal of all pictures of previous Conservative prime ministers from their lobby room - including John A. and Dief the Chief - and their replacement by pictures of none other than Mr. Harper himself. History, it seems, is to begin with him. In communist countries, this used to be called the Cult of Personality. Mr. Harper is a guy who - rumour has it, again - tried to disband the student union in high school and then tried the same thing in college. Destiny is calling him, the way it called Qin Shi Huang, the Chinese emperor who burnt all records of the rulers before himself. It’s an impulse that’s been repeated many times since, the list is very long. Tear it down and level it flat, is the common motto. Then build a big statue of yourself. Now that would be Art!

Adapted from the 2008 Hurtig Lecture,
to be delivered in Edmonton on Oct. 1

What, the weekend is over?
That went far too fast....

Friday was A&P again. Lecture was a review of the concepts that I'd covered in my previous chem and bio classes, and the refresher was welcome. I hadn't realized til then just how little of the biology concepts I'd truly grasped. It was nice to finally have that "ohhhhh, I get it" feeling, the one I'd been waiting for since the beginning of that god-awful bio112 class.

A&P lab was a rat dissection. The rats had been preserved in a somewhat hap-hazard fashion, and the result was limbs stiffened into some very inconvenient places. My lab group had to do some creative amputation surgery in order to even access the appropriate body cavity, and we were getting a little loopy from the formaldehyde fumes. We managed to find all the necessary body parts (I had no idea rat livers were so large and multi-lobed!) and finished in pretty good time. We were getting a little bored and decided to have a go at some neurosurgery. I understand now why a saw-like instrument is used to cut open the skull, because we really made a mess. The rat looked like it had been attacked by hannibal, and we never did manage to crack the skull.
The prof announced that she'd be keeping the best dissected rats for future use in labs, and my team started laughing. Ours was really not going to be one of those.

Dog training class was after A&P, and I had a blast. I had signed up for Drake, a young (1-2yrs) yellow lab. And oh, is he a lab. We were instructed to take our dogs out and tire them out as much as we could before the lesson, but even after 20 minutes of ball fetching and a couple turns around the parking lot, Drake was practically choking himself on his leash and bouncing around like a rubber ball. Getting his attention for more than a nano-second was almost impossible, and he was practically beside himself with excitement.

I was really impressed with our trainer. She trains guide dogs, and her instructions were fantastic. By the end of the lesson we had Drake consistently sitting, lying down, and coming when called. Better yet, we could get him to look us in the face for a good 10-15 seconds when we called his name. Granted, this was all under the influence of treats (treats that made him highly flatulent by the end of class...oh god), but still great progress. We'll keep working with him this week, and see what we can achieve next Friday.

Of course....I may have to switch dogs. Don't get me wrong, I love Drake, but the new dogs arrived on Friday, and I fell in love. Her name is Molly and she's a one year old Bull Terrier. Shes sweet, friendly, quiet, and everything I love in a dog. Have I mentioned that I can't have a dog? That I shouldn't even be thinking about having a dog? That Molly is sure to find a fantastic home at the end of her 9 months with the program, and that I can't be it!!
Yeah.
Keep telling myself that.

I had my first A&P class yesterday, and while it's going to be a hard course, I'm feeling slightly less panicked than I was. I was mainly worried about not understanding or grasping concepts, and I the first lecture helped to calm me a bit on that score. The prof is good and consistent with explanations and wording, so I was finding her pretty easy to follow. The memorization for this class will be insane, but I think I can handle it. I hope I can handle it.

I made about 100 flash cards last night and studied them for a while, and after class today a few of my classmates and I got together for an impromptu study session. I'd had pig duty today, which was pretty easy. The three of us on shift today met after lecture and checked their food and water and then mucked out their pen. We let them out for a few minutes to sniff around and explore, but they seemed more keen on trying to devour our boots so we put them back pretty quickly. On my way back from the barn I saw a couple of the girls in the dog runs with some dogs so the three of us went over to join them. We ended up sitting down with the dogs and practicing finding body parts (coccygeal area, inguinal area, crural, stifle, aghhhhhh!) and various planes (dorsal, ventral, cranial, caudal, rostral, oblique, transverse, etc). It worked pretty well and the dogs loved the attention, so well try to do it more often, at least while the weather holds.

Class ends at 3 tomorrow and then we have a dog training class from 3:30-4:30 and then, if we're not exhausted, a few of us are going to go play the "name that part" game with Dave, the horse. Out of the 5 of us today I'm the only one with horse experience, so I figured we could get some practice in grooming while we're at it (cradle the "pastern" while you pick the hoof, he bent his leg at the "tarsus", the mane you're brushing ends at the "withers", etc). It's a fun way of doing it, especially compared to studying flash cards, and much more practical. We also get some enrichment time with the animals, who are thrilled. I've done a bit of practicing already with Merlin (who loves the attention), but doing it in a group is nice too.

I decided to drop yoga today. The instructor is nice enough, but the class is not really working for me right now. It's a very energetic class and by the time I'm done, I'm all blissed out and just wanting to drift for a while. Instead I have to quickly shower, grab some lunch (and I *hate* eating right after yoga) and then run to my animal science class. By the time I get there I'm tired, unfocused, and stressed. Given how much information she's throwing at us in lecture (we covered the entire bovine digestive system today...wow) I really need to be able to pay attention. I figure I'll make time to walk dogs or use the exercise bikes for exercise, but the morning yoga just won't work. I'll try again in winter term, especially if I can find something for after class, since that'll allow me to just leave campus and crash at home. I'll be less likely to want to do long walks with the dogs at that point anyway.

Tonight I'm going to relax for a little bit and then study some more. I want to review the bovine digestive system, pre-read the nutrition unit for next week, finish my medical terminology homework, go over my flash cards again, and then crash. I also want to work on a scarf I started last week, if I have time, but I may just save that for the bus-ride to school tomorrow.
Busy? Me? Nah.

Alive!

No really....I am!
Not sure why I felt like posting, but whatever. Maybe just because I have so much that's new right now, and pretty well all of it is cool and awesome. I had my tech school orientation last week and started my actual classes yesterday. So far, it all rocks.

First day was pretty standard. Our class of 30 is all female, not a single guy, and the head of the department kept emphasizing the importance of teamwork and warned us not to get "catty". He seemed a little nervous about that. It was kinda strange and awesome to be in a room where everyone is so "vet-ish". Everyone was talking about their clinics, their pets, their experiences, and there was none of the usual sort of toning down that usually happens when you discuss bodily functions or trauma. It was fun.
Anyway, we spent a bunch of time with the 2nd years who kept telling us that the first term is the worst, and really weeds people out. Again and again, from multiple different students we heard that the next 6 months would be brutal, and that we shouldn't work or take any extra classes if we didn't have to. I'd been planning to take Russian this term, but I dropped it after hearing all that. We were getting nervous and hyped up when the coordinator handed out a cd-rom and announced that it contained all our notes for Basic Animal Science class and that the instructor wanted us to have them printed out for our Tuesday class. I was starting to get worried and thinking "oh man, we're getting into it already...how hard is this going to be?" and then she announced "oh yes, and the instructor also asked me to tell those who have lab on Tuesday to bring their farm gear. Your first lab is on horse safety." Rock on!

The next day we met Dave. Dave is the program horse, a 30 year old appaloosa. The farm caretaker (Terry) told us to excuse Dave's tricks. His only real joy in life now is picking on students, and he *loves* finding students who seem nervous. He looks slow and harmless (and usually is) but apparently he has a pretty decent kick in him still.

We also met the dogs we'll be looking after this year. The program adopts 8-10 dogs from the spca each year and uses them for our learning. We do anesthetics, catheters, handling, restraint, everything with them. We also teach them basic obedience commands and socialize them, so that by the end of the 9 months they're with us, they've become totally desensitized to handling and vet offices, they're trained and socialized, and have about a 10 times better chance of finding a home than they did when they left the shelter. They've also been medically evaluated every day of those 9 months, so any health issues are well documented. We do the same with cats, but the college is finishing construction on the new cattery, so this years cats won't arrive for a couple of weeks. The new kennels were finished this summer and they're wonderful. Especially after seeing the old kennels, which were mostly outdoor and looked like they'd be awfully cold in winter.

Yesterday was actual class. We've been divided into "care groups" and we rotate weeks to do care duties like feeding, watering and cleaning for the animals. Each team is also assigned a dog to be responsible for (training goals, enrichment, field trips, etc). I'm on "Team Mocha" and Mocha is a cute brown lab mix. Unfortunately, she's an unspayed female and she just went into heat. And three of the male dogs are intact. Joy. At least 2nd year surgery rotation is coming up soon, so they should all get snipped in the next few weeks. I also signed up for a dog training class on Friday afternoons and managed to get my name in to work with Drake. Drake is an adorable yellow lab with a permanent big goofy grin. He has gigantic paws, gigantic tongue, and looks like there are perhaps 5 functioning brain cells in his entire head. Sweet, but very lab-ish.

Today was our animal science lecture/lab. The prof is a riot, and I think I'm going to enjoy this one. She's vocal, opinionated, impatient and told us that we are "expendable" and "ignorant" on multiple occasions. She also said that she has to teach us to not get hurt or killed because we were being stupid, because she hates the paperwork involved. Despite all that, she has a wicked sense of humour, seems very fair when it comes to grading and assignments, and is more than willing to toss us in off the deep end of something, just to see if we can swim. If we can, great....if not, she'll laugh at us, bail us out, and then make fun of us for the rest of our lives. I like this class!

Today's lab was supposed to be horse safety, but that got shortened because our class's pigs had arrived. Each lab group (15 Tuesday, 15 Thursday) gets 2 feeder pigs to work with and care for. We were told right off the bat to not get attached because the pigs will be slaughtered at the end of the term, which I'm surprisingly ok with. We'll see how I feel once I actually get to know them. Our team named our pigs Salsiccia (Italian for sausage, "Solly" for short) and Captain Cauliflower (he has a mangled ear). We'll be responsible for their care, and will do a term project on them as well. Our first task was to get them out of the truck and weigh them. We were trying to grab them by the legs, but they were amazingly slippery. The first girl to get one kept saying "why are you guys so slippery? pig pee can't be that slippery!". We were having a hell of a time with them, but we managed to get them weighed and into their pens with no escapes or disasters. That was when about six 2nd year students popped out holding cameras and clapping. They announced that we had done very well and that we were now responsible for passing on the wonderful tradition of greasing the pigs for the first years. Evil!

Anyway, tomorrow I finally get to start A&P, the class I'm dreading most. I'm going to have to work my ass off for this one, and study like mad. Some of the girls have already started making flash cards, and we haven't even started yet! ACK!
So. Homework and bedtime.