Geezer Basenji drives us down memory lane (don't worry, he is a professional CDL driver)...

Last weekend I mentioned to my mom that Jibini would be turning 9 this year. Having known him since he was a puppy, she couldn't believe he was already 9. There are times when it seems like only yesterday I had a wriggling, 9 pound mischevous ball of curly-tailed terror wreaking havoc on my home. And there are days when I look back on the past 9 years- how far Jibini and I have come, and how many transitions we have been through together, and it seems like an eternity. Yes, we're taking a sappy, long-winded trip down Memory Lane, you have been warned.

I look at Jibini's face today, beginning to show a bit of grey in the muzzle, and it's hard to believe I was 19 when I first brought him home. My age was a fact I tended to downplay when among "dog people"- it seemed few people would take me seriously at 19, believing all college-age kids were flighty morons who'd dump a dog after the novelty wore off. I knew myself better than that, and thankfully I was able to find someone willing to trust me with a puppy. It was love at first sight the day I met him. And after reading all the Basenji horror stories, it came as a suprise when my apartment didn't spontaneously combust when Jibini crossed the threshold. In fact, overall he was a "mild" puppy, compared to some of the stories I've heard. Beginner's luck?

While I was smitten with Jibini from the start, it seems the rest of my family & friends took some time to discover Jibini's good points. If I recall, my mom was a bit baffled by the Basenji's odd manner- having been used to a butt-wagging, slobbery, fawning Boxer for the previous decade or so. Whereas Jibini was aloof but affectionate in his own way....and as a puppy, he was kind of a jackass. I don't think my mom really fell in love with Jibini until he began to mature- but I do remember coming home from the road with him one day and my mom was just raving about how "sweet and cuddly" Jibini had become. Of course, I had him 24/7 and I knew he had always been sweet and cuddly- it just took some maturity before Jibini could be sweet and cuddly for a larger percentage of the day.

Jibini was about 2 years old when I first started driving a truck. For about 2 years, it was just me and him. Together, we managed to travel through all of the lower 48 states, leading to Jibini's claim to fame- the Basenji with the most "territory" claimed for his own. Yes, he's peed in all the lower 48 states (and I believe he's pooped in 47; somehow we missed Vermont). Life on the road can be lonely, but Jibini kept me entertained. He adapted to the truckin' lifestyle quickly, and came to love meeting new people & exploring new places every single day.

My career in trucking was not always a basket of roses, and Jibini was there with me when I hit some hard times. When the day was long, miserable and I was questioning the point of it all, I had a warm furry body to cuddle with under the covers and somehow I felt that things would be all right, somehow.

Jibini helped me realize what a "catch" Fred was when we started seeing each other. I'd long since realized how invaluable Jibini was as a "date gauge". He would absolutely let me know if a guy I was dating was not worth my time...he told me who the jerks were. He left little doubt in some cases; doing things like getting up on the back of the couch, straddling the guy's head so that Jibini's nutsack rested prominently on the guy's forehead (this was before we had him neutered) or repeatedly jumping into the guy's lap and aiming his paws for a tender spot in the anatomy. Without fail, any guy who did not pass the Jibini test would show his true colors very shortly. Fred was the first guy who passed the Jibini test with flying colors- in fact, after Fred spent some time with us, I began to wonder if Jibini was a traitor, he became so attached to Fred. And sure enough- the one guy who met with Jibini's wholehearted approval is the one guy who ended up being the right one :).

Two years ago we adopted Tana, and part of me felt guilty for taking away Jibini's spoiled-rotten "king of the castle" status. I figured since Jibini was raised with another dog (Sweetie the Boxer) that he might enjoy having another Basenji around. He didn't warm up to Tana as quickly as I'd hoped, but gradually he developed a grudging acceptance of her, treating her as if she was a pesky "little sister". When nobody's watching, he will allow her to snuggle with him, and will lick her dry whenever she goes out in the rain.

And then came Chloe....her added presence in the "pack order" took several weeks to iron itself out. If Jibini was grudgingly accepting of Tana, he wanted nothing to do with Chloe for the first month. Today, he will occasionally clean her ears or lick her dry when she is wet...hey, it's progress. He has adapted to the idea that he isn't the "only dog"....but I still make sure to spend "one on one" time with him to remind him that he is still Number One, my main man. He and I have been together for half a million miles, and our time together is something I will always cherish. 9 years ago I never would have imagined- in a MILLION years- that I'd be living in South Dakota of all places, apprenticing to be a dog trainer, living out in farm country and shopping for a shotgun. Somehow, Jibini has seen me from 19 year old suburban college kid with no clue as to who I was- to the person I am today- and I will never forget that :)

Rancher who won Powerball buys more land to ranch- now THAT'S what I'm talkin' about!!

This guy is awesome. I remember hearing about this a few months back- a SD resident hit the Powerball, after buying his ticket in....wait for it....Winner, SD.

Turns out he's a 23 year old rancher. And what does a 23 year old rancher do with the $88.5 million dollar lump-sum he just won?

He buys a bigger ranch, right here in SD. This guy just oozes awesome. How cool is that- to be 23 years old, and knowing that you're already doing what you want to do in life. So much so, that winning a fortune doesn't alter your path- it just broadens it significantly. Most people would dream of totally changing their lifestyle, quitting their job, buying a bunch of meaningless stuff, etc. Yet this guy is coming pretty close to what I'd be doing if I won. I am thrilled to see somebody like this guy win the Powerball. If anybody deserves it, he does.

Here's the news story, from the Yankton Press & Dakotan:

S.D. Rancher Uses Lottery Winnings To Buy More Land To Ranch On

By CHET BROKAW
Associated Press Writer
Published: Thursday, October 1, 2009 12:07 AM CDT
PIERRE — Neal Wanless, a young South Dakota rancher who won a $232.1 million Powerball prize four months ago, apparently is pursuing his dream of riding his horse and tending cattle on a spread a bit bigger than his 320-acre family ranch.

Wanless, who took the prize in an $88.5 million lump sum after taxes, has bought more than 23 square miles of western South Dakota for roughly $9.9 million, according to three deeds recorded in Butte County.

When Wanless claimed his lottery winnings June 5, he said he wanted to continue doing what he had been doing on the family ranch 11 miles east of Mission in impoverished Todd County in south-central South Dakota.

A written statement from the South Dakota Lottery said Wanless, who is single, had dreamed of having a little larger ranch.

While riding his horse, Eleanor, the 23-year-old rancher told the horse, “It’d be nice if we could go for a longer ride than usual on a bigger ranch of our own,” according to the June statement.

After Wanless won the Powerball prize from the May 27 drawing, he declined to answer questions but said he would talk later. His lawyer, Bill Van Camp of Pierre, said Wanless has not responded to several interview requests from the media.

Two days before Wanless claimed his lottery winnings, Van Camp filed articles of organization with the secretary of state’s office to set up NW Ranches LLC for Wanless.

Deeds recorded in Butte County on July 15, July 30 and Sept. 1 show that NW Ranches bought nearly 15,000 acres, or about 23.4 square miles.

Nearly all the land is in southeastern Butte County east of Vale, with a small portion across the line in Meade County, according to Butte County Register of Deeds Paula Walker.

Transfer fees totaled $9,872 in Butte County. At a fee of 50 cents for each $500 in sale price, that indicates the land was purchased for nearly $9.9 million, Walker said.

Deeds are recorded as a public notice that a sale has taken place and as a safeguard in case something happens to the original deed.

Heather Collins, deputy equalization director in Butte County, said the Wanless purchases include soil types that indicate a mix of grassland and cropland. The price paid falls in a fairly typical range for the county, she said.

“It’s not out of the ordinary,” Collins said.

Greg Smeenk, a Rapid City real estate broker who handles ranch sales, said he was not involved in the Wanless sales but that word of the sales has spread among people in the real estate business. Smeenk said he is pleased Wanless apparently will continue ranching.

“More power to him,” Smeenk said. “I’m glad to see somebody like that win it. He’s doing what he wants to do. It’s a good thing.”

Wanless’ family previously bought and sold scrap metal to make it through tough economic times in Todd County, an area of rolling green pastures, grazing cattle, fields of crops — and some of the deepest poverty in the nation.

The jackpot was one of the biggest undivided jackpots in U.S. lottery history. Wanless bought $15 worth of tickets to the 30-state drawing at a convenience store in Winner during a trip to buy livestock feed.

Okay, I totally "get" the zucchini jokes, now

Q: Why do people in small, peaceful towns still lock their car doors?
A: So nobody sneaks a zucchini into the car.

Okay, I get it. For anybody who plants it in their garden, the stuff is typically quite bountiful. Even a couple of plants will produce more zucchini than a normal family can consume. So it's given away to friends and neighbors- some who are appreciative (me) and some who have their own gardens and their own zucchini overload problems.

Even one big zucchini can go a long, long way. I was given one that was nearly as long as my arm & about as big around as a 2 liter soda bottle. We ended up making 6 loaves of zucchini bread with it- and we still had a piece of zucchini left.

I'm not a big vegetable eater, and much to the suprise of several people, I'd never eaten zucchini bread before. I was hesitant to make any- I only baked it because of Fred's assurance that he liked it, and he would "eat the hell out of it" if I made some. I wasn't sure if I'd eat any. I couldn't get my mind around the fact that it was bread made with a green vegetable. Then somebody likened it to carrot cake, and that made it a little easier to accept. I grabbed a few recipies off the Internet- including one for *chocolate chip* zucchini bread...and set to baking.

And whaddya know, I've broadened my horizons! It's not a big deal to most people, but for anybody who knows ME, it's a big deal! The very fact that I eagerly wolf down this bread with little greenish veggie ribbons streaked throughout it, is a step in the right direction. There are about 7 vegetables I'll actually EAT....like I said, I am not a big veggie eater. But I wish I was- it'd make eating healthy SO much easier. So, I'm trying. Chocolate chip zucchini bread may not sound like I'm trying TOO hard, but it's something.

Now the idea of eating zucchini itself, sauteed with a little salt & olive oil, isn't quite as stomach-clenching as before. I can actually fathom the thought of eating it....it helps, of course, that it doesn't have a heavy vegetable flavor, like its evil and disgusting cousin, broccoli. Here's to broadening my horizons, one vegetable-disguised-as-dessert at a time....

(paging dr. freud?)

Country Questions, Country Sayin's.....

Country living brings so many questions to a person's mind.

Questions like, "Is it true you can't eat wild rabbits in the summer?"

Or, "Is it normal for two rooster pheasants to pair up & roam the fields together, or are your pheasants just gay?"

"Is that wheat, or hay- and if it's wheat, why is it balled up and treated like hay?"

"What is the proper procedure for dealing with escaped cattle? (Especially when one does not have a trained cattle dog handy?) Do the cows bite, kick, stampede or pose a threat of home invasion? Is this considered a legal South Dakota Good Excuse To Shoot My Shotgun?"

"What's the best way to humanely slaughter a meat-rabbit, without looking like that creepy lady on that Michael Moore film, Roger & Me?"

Also....while "Useless as Tits on a Boar" will always have a special place in my heart as the Best Southern Saying Of All Time...there are a couple new phrases I've learned in South Dakota that are pretty darn good.

One is "Useless as a popcorn fart". Now I'm all for finding new and creative ways to describe the utter uselessness of something. I've got two Basenjis, after all....and one can't come up with enough ways to express frustration with them at times. Other variations would be "dry as a popcorn fart" and "light as a popcorn fart." But I like useless. Fart-related insults are the best.

The other would be "Poured like piss out of a boot." A concise and evocative description of the weather. The Weather Channel would gain some much-needed spice if they started using this phrase liberally where appropriate. (The Weather Channel could also stand to lose the elevator music and play weather-appropriate music. Like gospel songs about Noah's Ark for rainy weather. Or Dethklok for tornadoes and hurricanes. C'mon, smooth jazz sucks, unless you're Courtney, but I digress.)

Either way, when I hear someone say "It poured like piss out of a boot"....I have two questions. Why is there piss in your boot, and....No, seriously, WHY IS THERE PISS IN YOUR BOOT? And don't try to blame it on drunkenness, as a drunk person can't aim well enough to get it all inside a boot's relatively narrow opening. A drunk person would just piss in the refrigerator at 3 am, just like my friend's stepdad did when I was 12.

South Dakota has changed me, for I will never view a torrential downpour the same way again.

Small Town Police Blotters #3- Awesome Driving Award

I need to make this into a seperate blog. Yankton alone provides so much hilarity on a regular basis, and I haven't even LOOKED at any other nearby town's paper, yet.

From the Yankton Press & Dakotan, Aug 11, 2009:
Witnesses reported to the sheriff’s office at 10:28 p.m. Saturday that a 2000 GMC pickup rolled over near Highway 50 and 433rd Ave. The vehicle landed on its wheels, and the driver left the scene in it. It was determined that the driver was a 20-year-old Yankton man. He was arrested for reckless driving and failure to report an accident.

Okay, so here we have a young man who rolls his pickup truck on the highway. It could have been tragic, but apparently, this man is Chuck Norris. Or, his pickup truck is the physical embodiment of Chuck Norris. Either way, his vehicle not only rolls....not only lands BACK on its wheels, but has retained enough mechanical soundness for the man to flee the scene in said vehicle. If that's not awesome, I don't know what is.

I think this guy needs to be nominated for an Awesome Driving Award.

Small Town Police Blotter, Part 2

Okay, so when I posted the previous entry, I was reminded of one I saw the other day that struck me as being almost as absurd.

From July 24, 2009 Yankton Press & Dakotan:
• Two females and a male reported Friday morning that someone put peanut butter under the door handles on their vehicles while they were parked in the 2900 block of Douglas Ave. Several area residents were spoken with about the incident and were told to get along with each other.

I've heard the term "nanny state" loosely thrown around in political debates, but this incident seems to be a perfect, albeit very literal definition of the term.

I am beginning to wonder if there is a "special investigations" officer on the Yankton Police force, who specializes in stern lectures and finger-waggings for "hoodlums, scallywags and rascals". Instead of a gun, he carries a ruler, and slaps people on the wrist with it if they get too far out of line.

Small Town Police Blotter, Part 1

I regularly get a chuckle from some of the things that end up in the newspaper's police blotter up here. Coming from a big, crime-ridden city....I'm used to the newspaper only printing a "portion" of the area's arrests & incidents (to print them all would likely require a whole newspaper section). Most of the time the big city paper includes only the more serious crimes/incidents, and NOT the times when Old Aunt Millie down by the river called 911 to report the pesky squirrels on her lawn, or something. Not here....it seems ALL calls to 911 that required any sort of officer follow-up are printed in the paper. They. Print. Everything.

The following entry is from the Yankton Press & Dakotan, published Aug 7, 2009:
"• A request for an officer was received at 7:49 p.m. Wednesday. Memorial pool staff requested that an YPD Officer speak with an 8-year-old boy about pooping on the floor. Boy was spoken to and advised he would not do it again."

I don't even know how to follow that. It speaks for itself. I'll refrain from the obvious astonished reaction i.e. "exactly where was this child's parents, why were they not supervising him at the pool, and IF they were present why did they need a policeman to scold their own child for public defecation?"

Let this be a lesson to anybody thinking of visiting Yankton....don't poop on the floor at the pool, or you'll be visited by the cops, given a stern talking-to, most likely combined with a firm finger-wagging.

ETA: Re-reading the newspaper entry; I notice some ambiguity in the way it's written. The officer was there to "speak with an 8-year-old boy about pooping on the floor." It's unclear- was the cop there to CHASTISE the boy, or did the pool staff just think the boy needed to have a bizarre, uncomfortable discussion with a man in a uniform, about poop?? And then, "Boy was spoken to and advised he would not do it again." Who was doing the "advising" here- the boy, or the officer? I am by no means a grammar whiz, but the writers for the Dakotan also get PAID to write; you'd think they'd form better sentences. Also, "pooping"? Seriously? A college degree in journalism and you're actually using the word "poop" in a newspaper? I don't know whether to laugh or cry.

The Feist Manifesto?

The dog trainer I'm working with & learning from seems to think Chloe is a "Feist" or some sort of mix thereof. But the "Feist Manifesto" just doesn't have the same ring to it. So even if he is right, the blog's name remains the same. (and I've filled my rhyme quota for the day).

Chloe is a shelter mutt. Australian Cattle Dog mixed with Basenji is a "best guess" based on her appearance and temperament. Genes do weird things when mixed with one another. There are no absolutes. There's nothing in her outward appearance to say she could NOT be mixed with either breed. Her color ("tipped" red sable) is genetically possible in Basenjis. Her upright ears could have been handed down from both Basenjis and ACD's. Her tail curls over her back when she's excited. She yodels and makes Chewbacca noises more often than she barks. She tries to "herd" birds in the backyard. She is biddable, owner-focused and a super quick learner.

Only Jesus himself knows what she's really mixed with. (And rumor has it, He wept when she was born.) I have nothing but the utmost respect for the knowledge & experience that this dog trainer has, so I'm not discounting the "feist" idea. I know a feist is a widely varied "type" of hunting dog, rather than a breed- so it's certainly possible Chloe could fit such a widely defined type of dog. But on the other hand, guessing the heritage of a stray shelter dog is certainly never an exact science. It's anybody's guess!

I dunno. You be the judge. Here's a couple pics of Chloe, along with a red Basenji and a red Australian Cattle Dog:




Red Basenji:


Red Aus. Cattle Dog (aka "Red Heeler")



Finally, a couple pics of "Mountain Feists" I was able to find- these are the only ones that even remotely resemble Chloe:




Any thoughts are welcome :)

You know it's rural

For somebody who grew up in densely populated central Florida, it never ceases to amaze me that I can "commute" exactly 50 miles from my driveway to the kennel, and I can count the number of vehicles I see on both hands. On some mornings I can count them on one hand. That's 50 miles, with an average of one car every 10 miles.

And I have gotten to "know" my fellow commuters. Every day when I drive to work, I see the same car going the other way. That's how few vehicles there are- I can pick out a single car, and watch for it every single day.

Every day. A blue Nissan Altima. Whoever's driving it has a long commute, even longer than mine- I've left the house an hour early and passed her on US 231, some 40 miles away from my house. I've left the house 30 mins late, and passed her driving through my town on SR 25.

Just another one of the mind-boggling yet perfectly pleasing aspects of life here in the middle of nowhere.



I mean this Deliverance picture in the best possible way. No, really. I do. :)

Meet the Dogs (and Fred)

What would the Cattle Dog Manifesto be if there weren't any dogs?

(It would be an even more odd title, for one thing.)

So, here's a glimpse of the critters who are My Inspiration for this blog, and for life in general. And Fred, who is making it all possible. Dogs first, in order of seniority (since apparently this is a Teamsters-run operation; or so they claim):

Jibini the Basenji. Registered name Hacker's Mister Bean. Almost 9 years old. Tricolor male, neutered. I have had Jibini since he was a puppy- but he'd tell you HE'S the one who has been in charge all this time. Jibini is my first Basenji. He has taught me patience, humility, and to always put the toilet paper out of reach. Jibini is a CDL-holding Truck Driver; he owned his own trucking company (Bean-Dog Trucking) from 2001-2003 and apparently had "ladies" in every town from Miami to Tacoma. That is, until he got in trouble for unpaid puppy-support and his involvement in a Colombian cocaine-smuggling ring. After his assets were seized, I got my CDL and occasionally let him drive- as long as he behaved himself. Jibini has kept his nose clean (pun intended) for the better part of 4 years now; he is maturing into a dignified older gentleman and has even grown out of his habit of eating underwear.



Tana the Basenji. Adopted from Basenji Rescue and Transport (BRAT) Almost 4 years old, former puppymill breeding female. I have had Tana for about a year and a half now. She was scared of her own shadow when I adopted her; she has fully blossomed and is now a playful, confident dog. She is tiny for a Basenji at only 14 pounds- but she is feisty, fast and tough- having "asserted" herself to both Jibini and the much-larger Chloe (see below). Tana is the best "snuggle-dog" out of all 3, and conducts herself as if she were a princess. If she were human she would wear designer clothes with a diamond tiara, have a perfect manicure, and would be hiding a switchblade in her stocking, ready to disembowel anybody who looked at her cross-eyed. :)


Chloe the Australian Cattle Dog/Basenji mix. Also known as The Abomination. Frighteningly intelligent; I've been formally warned by Homeland Security to keep this dog away from military bases and nuclear power plants. Chloe was adopted from a shelter in Connecticut where she was picked up as a stray. She came to my attention through an online friend who knew I was familiar with Basenjis. Chloe was energetic, neurotic and frustrated living in a kennel and it was evident she needed the "right" home. Knowing the traits of both breeds & fully aware of the potential NIGHTMARE that the "wrong" combination of breed traits could create....I agreed to take her. (Of course I'm crazy, I have Basenjis.) Initially I agreed to FOSTER her, and she was flown to Omaha (4 hours away from me) so I could bring her to my home. Within a couple weeks it was apparent I was going to KEEP HER. She is intelligent, affectionate and tons of fun. My house is hairier, my carpet is vacuumed much more often and my ass is forced up off the couch twice as often to keep The Cattledog well-exercised. I love it. Seeing Chloe's potential and watching her blossom has been more motivation to pursue my goals in South Dakota. I plan to take her for a Herding Instinct test soon- perhaps she will prove to be the City Cattledog who realizes her heart's desire :).



And I can't forget my "better half", Fred....Jibini insisted he be listed last because he's not a Teamster (we are both card-carrying OOIDA members thank you very much). Behind the scenes, he's the main one keeping this all together while I am in the learning phase of becoming a dog trainer. Financial, moral, emotional and mechanical support. He also lifts heavy objects, blows the jake brakes for me on his way into town, and prances around naked when necessary. Everything I could ask for in a man. If I know him (and after spending the better part of 3 years living with him in a truck, I think I know him fairly well) he won't be at all offended at being included with the "dogs" post in this blog. He knows how much I love the dogs & he should also know I love him at least 10 times more ;)

From City to Country....A Cattle Dog Who Has Never Met A Cow.

This blog is not about cattle. It's not specifically about Cattle Dogs, or any other type of livestock herding dog, though there IS an Aus. Cattle Dog mix involved (among others). Dogs- of all types- are sure to be a central focus of this blog. So if you're a dog lover and have stumbled here by accident, perhaps you'll find something to your liking.

What I intend this to be, is a chronicle of a life in transition. An upheaval of everything- a career, a lifestyle, everything I find familiar & comfortable. Getting back to basics; however cliche` it may sound. I'm following an inner drive- a yearning to do something- the longer I pursue it, the closer I come to finding what I'm looking for. Like a city-born cattle dog who's never met a cow, but goes around trying to herd things anyway. If she keeps at it, and ends up in the right place at the right time....sooner or later, she'll end up nipping at the heels of the cattle she never knew she wanted so much.

I was born and raised in suburban Florida, and two years ago I found myself in South Dakota, chasing an over-the-road trucking job. When the job didn't work out and the economy flatlined; I found myself ready to get away from trucking (I did it for 5 yrs). I also found myself unwilling to leave South Dakota. The cold winters didn't faze me, the cheap cost of living enticed me....and something I couldn't quite put my finger on, captivated me. Cows in the fields, tractors on the roads, tiny towns where silos were skyscrapers. Vast stretches of two-lane road where I could be the only vehicle for 20 miles. Friendly folks who waved as they passed and didn't think twice about removing their keys from their cars when they parked outside the grocery store. Things unfamiliar- almost alien- to someone like me....and for some reason, I found myself falling in love with a place so simple, peaceful and at the same time new & mysterious.

I've since decided to embrace this place- and find a permanent way to make a living that will be enjoyable for me AND will enable me to live out in the country permanently. Always an avid dog lover, by some glorious stroke of fortune I've found somebody willing to teach me how to train hunting dogs; a profession that might just pay the bills one day here in pheasant country. But I've got a long way to go yet before that happens. For now, it gives me a good reason to get out of bed in the morning, and that's more than I could have asked for 2 years ago.

I've got a long way to go in general. At the risk of sounding like so many other suburbanites who have fled to the countryside with idyllic visions of "homesteading" and becoming "self sufficient"....it's pretty much what I've got in mind too. However without the financial means to invest in property and tackle it all at once, I'm forced to take everything one step at a time. It's frustrating- but hopefully I'll avoid the pitfalls of being "up to my armpits" in unexpected challenges & not a clue how to handle them.

I don't currently own property (I rent). I don't own livestock...hell, I've never laid my hands on a live chicken, let alone eaten a fresh egg still warm from the chicken's ass. I've never planted a garden; at this point I've had poor luck keeping houseplants alive. The very idea of canning frightens me. Sewing machines send me into paroxsyms of hysteria. I can't tell a Simmental from an Angus; and as much as I like the sight of peaceful cows grazing in a meadow- they scare the hell out of me up close. I've never operated a lawnmower, never tilled soil, never pulled weeds. I've never shot a shotgun (just handguns- and only once). For that matter, I've never killed a live animal, except for fish and roadkill. And yet, here I am not only wanting to raise a few chickens and a goat or two....I'm hell-bent on moving to the heart of pheasant country, learning to train bird dogs, which will eventually entail going out pheasant hunting with my own dogs, at some point.

I am fairly certain I've got the chutzpah for it all- I've never been the squeamish type and I'm certainly not a bunny-hugger. What's difficult to handle are the incredulous looks I get from locals, when I admit ignorance to these things that are second-nature to them. Not too many "homesteading suburbanites" make it as far out as central South Dakota; I am an oddity. I embarrass too easily. The learning process is going to be a long one- not because I'm a slow learner, but because the more I learn, the more I realize I didn't know I needed to learn in the first place!!

So this blog will hopefully have it all. Dog training. Human training. A city kid's viewpoint on a "new and exciting" country life, that will hopefully strike a chord with those who can personally relate to my 'journey' AND those who cannot :).