It's Always Something!

 Stuck duck in center of  lake quickly frozen over after the winter storm and temperature drop.  He couldn't get any purchase on the smooth ice- flapping and clawing to no avail.   How his 7 associates made it across to stay under the dock is a mystery to me.  (I suspect that they better anticipated the lake freezing but who knows nature?)
 So a rescue was in order and three days later , and  after a warmup to 18°F,  I managed to devise a plan involving a raft, rope, and hunting knives since the ice was too thin  and creaky for me to walk on yet.

 Seven associates under the dock.  We built them a functional duckhouse and enclosure including a chicken-wire top sewn together with aluminum wire ,usually used for electric fencing, to keep out the racoons and owls from above.  (you can barely see it to the right of the chicken house -- sans chickens.)
But keeping them in the duckhouse is another problem even though that is where the food is (mostly dried corn).  They will eat then shoot right back out into the lake even though the fencing for the area extends out into the lake to capture about 6 feet of water.  They are domesticated but not at all very controllable.

This the deflated raft.  It started losing air as I was sitting in it on the ice while using two hunting knives' points to propel it forward while roped to a tree in case the ice broke and I had to pull myself back to shore.
Duck freaks when I get to it but didn't have the strength or the means to get away. Grabbed it and brought it back to shore by pulling on the rope where waiting black dog further freaks out  duck--fortunately it had not eaten in several days! (The duck not the dog)

But all is well; at least in this little corner of the story.

Teal and Rust

I posted last September and October an inquiry as to what is art.  Turned out to be no definitive description, as personal taste and subjectivity   entered  into it.  But the following general statement may come close to enclosing a workable theme:

"Art is a revelatory expression of a supportive nature that balances the human  tendency for logical criticism."

So, expression is it?  Could be music, painting, dance, writing, poetry, performance art in the street -- seems many forms of expression would qualify.  For the expression to be "revelatory" imposes a personal aspect as it must affect the subject in a way that causes a reaction of some sort.  So art can be good or bad!

I envision an expression inside of a living structure which would reflect the outside conditions.  Temperature, wind ,solar incidence and intensity, moisture, could be indicated by changing colors on a painting or even changing geometry on a three-dimensional display of moving pointers on scales.  The connections would be tricky and would probably have to be done as the house is being built (or electronic signals, senders and receivers would be easier).    But  glance around and see you are living, or at least aware of, conditions external to the building .  If a variable can be detected, it can be expressed, and how much more revelatory can you get?

I have driven by this old trailer for years and the door section, painted and rusty, has always caught my eye.
So I present it as art , for me at least, although I doubt I would want it in the house.

One of All

I have always liked this shot:  water snake free in his element and duck seeming to take on a "trust but verify" posture.  Must be ever vigilant.





Our flock of eight ducks now, only two of four were left after last winter; we had to get six more to expand the flock.  The white ones are Pekins and the darker ones are Mallard domesticates named Ruens. Others are cross-breeds, maybe the solution to getting along.
You will not see any of this flock more than ten feet or so from any other member of the bunch.  Safety in numbers as long as a member can squack and warn in case of danger  (and it is a specific squack.)  Drift out too far from the group and danger lurks-- may be coyote or coon food.  It has happened.


Interesting how they of different breeds get along; even if it is only for self protection.,   Perhaps we as humans need a common enemy to get along with each other.  The "my God is better than your god" attitude of the clergys is getting tedious and is surely not helpful  to a good end.  But what enemy?  If the antibiotics eventually fail to protect us from disease how do we help there -- I have few test tubes and would need to depend upon the existing medical setup.
We need an enemy which we can all fight against; the lowliest and least mobile and those needing help being recognized but can think in ways helpful if listened to are all part of the communal effort .
It was clear in the past: donate your steel pots, gas rationing, donate material, rubber, anything which could build war machines and defeat a clearly deviant enemy.  Pitch in! " Howdy neighbor, let me help you with that load! "  We are all in this together.  God (god) must have sat in the background and  flinched at the scene, but common-enemy joined us together in life and victory, although the millions in the ground may disagree -- could they speak.
The enemy is hatred, fear,  and ignorance.
So we must stick together, be kind and understanding to each other, help if possible the others in need and build bridges to be used when a belief is far away. 
.
It is the only future that I would like to live into.

Respite

"Night, Seaport by Moonlight"         Joseph Venet




"This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve--
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump. "


From  "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by
Samuel Taylor Coleridge


Painted about 1771, this oil resides in the Louvre in Paris and looks a bit worn here in this depiction.  I wonder if the artist was using lantern-light while painting and how that affected his selection and laydown of color.
  After sometimes months at sea, sailors must have really appreciated stomping around on solid ground, building a fire and talking with the pretty ladies of the port.  I saw somewhere while researching this painting that it is the port of Palermo shown here.  Makes me wonder if the white building shown on the hill still exists and if one  could get away with building a fire near the shoreline in these times.