Here's a sample discussion from my neighborhood forum... A neighbor asked "Anyone know how to stop cats from crapping in my flower beds? I have flies galore because of the cat poop. Maybe i wouldn't care so much if my flower beds weren't so close to my front door." Many suggestions were offered. Some suggested red pepper, others, offered citrus oil or peels... I like these latest ones.
Neighbor A: I've also heard dried coyote urine works (available at some nurseries, believe it or not).
B replies: or you could ask Rick Perry to shoot one and harvest the urine.
Me (feeling to need to try and spark something): I really want to make a joke about "who collects all this urine?" but then I Googled... There are lots of impassioned articles that speak of the animal's living conditions, here's the least emotional blurb I found.
"Generally speaking, fox urine is a byproduct of fur farming. By purchasing genuine fox urine, one is helping make fur farming more profitable (in the same way purchasing leather gives money to the beef industry). While there haven't been too many animal-rights exposes into the animal urine market, it would only make sense that a sizable portion would come from fur farms. Fur farms are one of the few places that large numbers of carnivores are confined to the type of small cages that would make large-scale urine collection possible. Since fur ranching isn't exactly a booming industry, it would also make sense that fur farmers would want to branch out into other industries as much as possible. It would be quite difficult, if not impossible, to reliably harvest urine at zoos or in the wild."
B responds: Now I am a little embarrassed by my flippant attempt at humor
C adds: I'm not embarrassed in the least that I bought fox urine to try and eradicate the family of raccoons tearing up my attic space, nesting in my insulation, tearing up my ductwork and wreaking havoc above the bedroom ceilings at all hours of the night. It's not safe, it's costly and it's a health hazard with all the crap they leave behind. At the expense of some fox somewhere, I am trying to remove raccoons using live traps and "gentle" eradication methods on the "end user" of the fox urine, however it is collected, as opposed to tazering them, shooting them in the ear with a pellet gun, etc., etc. I was not fond of frontier cowboys skinning buffalo just for their hides at the expense of taking away many Indian tribes main food and tool source, nor am I the kind of guy who would throw blood on some gal wearing mink or a fox collared jacket. I know cattle suffer deplorable conditions at the slaughter house, but I still eat steak. I shoot and kill deer, but I've never paid to have any antlers mounted; instead, I pay to have the meat professionally processed and I eat the venison. I don't shoot anything for sport. I catch, clean and eat fish. At the same time, I detest cruelty to dogs or cats. I believe there's a hierarchy and I'm glad I'm close to the top of the food chain. That doesn't give me the right to add to the suffering in the world but I'm not going to become a vegan or vegetarian as a result. Nor am I going to take such a soft approach to raccoon eradication from my home that no suffering on earth occurs as a result of my decision (unless this racoon family wants to help me pay my exorbitant taxes). Partially tongue in cheek, partially dead -on. Cheers, xxxx
Me again (My rabble-rousing worked! Yippee!): Apparently, if you'd just kill and eat the raccoons, you could fulfill your thirst for the hunt, meanwhile sparing the suffering of: Foxes Cattle Deer Fish? And, if you saved their pelts, you may spare a few minks
Stop being so "gentle" with those pesky and dirty raccoons in your attic.
There was so much more to JerkStore him on, but short and sweet is best.
I've often used the phrase "I'll paddle my own canoe." when discussing how I'll get "there". This past weekend I went with 5 friends on a two-day trip along 35 miles of the Colorado river of Texas, and I'm glad I paddled with the gang. Our float was not on THE Colorado, mind you, that one doesn't touch Texas, the one I'm speaking of is very familiar to Austinites because it meanders through downtown. The trip's genesis occurred at the Crown one evening when James said, "I want to..." and I responded that I wanted to go on a canoe trip. Bang! Everyone that was there, was in.
While we originally planned to start just below the last dam in town, a little research proved useful, and we settled on a two day float which is recommended on the LCRA's website: http://www.lcra.org/community/ecodev/crt/two_day_float.html Their site is loaded with useful information to help you prep for the trip. Their river conditions showed a flow rate of between 900 and 1200 cfm. I called the office and was told that that equaled about about 2 mph, and up to 4 if you're actively paddling. (I have no idea why they don't provide the conversion to mph on their website, which would be very handy.)
We spent Friday evening camping in Buescher State Park in Smithville, TX. Saturday morning we dropped the Canoes amongst the carnies who were hosting the Jamboree Smithville carnival at the Vernon L Richards River Bend Park. We then drove three cars south to La Grange and left two of them at the public boat ramp. We returned to the carnies and set adrift.
The float was 100% authentic, Texas river. Silty water gently flowing through seemingly remote areas surrounded by either bluffs or pristine ranch land. We paddled into the Colorado's notorious head wind for 5 hours on Saturday, and we stopped on a small grass-covered island to camp. The Island was declared Jamesland, as he's quick to the punch.The LCRA suggests camping at Plum Park, but we decided to take advantage of the "bird in the hand" very cool little island we had happened upon. Tall grass was macheted short, tents were set up, and steaks, veggies and potatoes were grilled in an impressive campfire. Over night coyotes called in the distance, while, nearer by, barred owls called from the trees, raccoons wrestled and played in the shallows, while fish jumped and splashed in the water that was oh-so-close to my tent. I even saw a shooting star.
Sunday was a day spent, psychologically, somewhere between enjoying part 2 of the journey, and "get me the hell home". We paddled, thankfully, with no head wind for 6 hours. Along the way, shorter canoe and camping trips were mapped out amongst the new islands we saw, and we were all thankful that we'd skipped trying to find and camp at Plum Park.
I spent last weekend carving with friends at a vineyard. (Read that line again. Cool, huh?)Most of the carvers there are pros, I am not. There were a bunch of spectators and it my amateur skill became apparent whenever someone would walk over, smile politely, and move along. Here are a couple of pics.
Looks like "grrrrr" feels like "oommmmm"
That's my friend Matt, who got me into carving, in the red hat. And, Bob, mentor to most of the folks there, is in the straw top hat.
