That's what I'm talkin' 'bout

Saw this at Prof. Jim Escalante’s Book Arts Class page, and had to share. It’s the (re)making of the old Pictorial Webster’s. I want one! Or make one. Great inspiration for the new leather-bound book I’m making now (prototypes for showing my students how to make their own leatherbound journal for this upcoming spring semester at UW!).

Actually, saying this is inspiring is an understatement. I want to be there in that printshop and just hold those 19th century engravings–the actual blocks– in my hands, and smell the leather covers….

Anyway, enjoy!

Pictorial Webster’s: Inspiration to Completion from John Carrera on Vimeo.

And at YouTube

We’ve all been there

'Trapped' • an early pastel • 16x20in • private collection

It felt like CSI: Drammen Valley this week….

• Possums in the chicken yards
• the disappearance of Pbiddy
• a pile of white feathers

…and none of the chickens know nothin’. It didn’t look good.

But first, some background…
(NOTE: Click any photo to enlarge.)

The Saga of Pbiddy

The saga of Pbiddy (Pea biddy=pea hen=female peafowl) started early this summer when Hilary called to say she had a single peachick that needed a safe haven. I had 4 broiler chicks who had just survived an especially tragic shipment of (mostly dead) chicks and we thought that maybe Pbiddy could find comfort with them here. These 4 broiler chicks–who after their miraculous survival became my Superchicks–and Pbiddy hit it off great. She stopped peeping almost immediately upon being set down amongst her brawny cousins.

The Broiler chicks quickly outgrew the delicate Peachick (far left). Click to enlarge photo.

When the new Crested chicks (Buff Laced Polish, Golden Polish, White Crested Black Polish, Mottle Houdan, etc) arrived, I figured I had better move Pbiddy to that brooder, since the broilers would eventually be processed by summer’s end. And when they did go away, Pbiddy would be all alone. I set her in with the smaller Polish chicks, and she cheeped and cheeped at being moved away from her family; she was not happy.

The next morning however, there were no peachick sounds. And, she was nowhere to be found. I looked all over, around the brooders, and then counted the different groups. Hmmmm, there are 16 turkeys? There should only be 15…. omg there she is! Pbiddy had jumped the wading pool wall, right into the turkey poult brooder, and evidently liked it much better this way. She was very very quietly blending in with her new brethren. She picked her own family this time, and you have to admit, she almost looks like one of them. Is it a coincidence that she settled down with what looked like her own kind? Hmmm, I’d always been told peafowl weren’t very bright.

Hard to find, isn

I wasn’t going to move her again, even though I dreaded the day that the turkeys would be going to the processor (as she would be abandoned once again), but for now, I just wanted her to be happy and calm.

The turkeys grew huge (these were Broad Breasted Bronzes this year; no diminutive heritage breeds), so they quickly outgrew Pbiddy, but remained close to her, often seeming to shelter her next to their huge-breasted bodies on the low roost.

Harvest and abandonment

When the turkeys went off to Twin Cities Pack (along with 15 broilers that I got later in summer) in November, I felt awful for my little peahen. She was soooo lonely. That’s it, I decided, it’s time to acclimate her to the big girls! So I started moving some of the grown Polish hens (smaller than Pbiddy), a small, White Polish cockerel and the Superchicks (I mean they’re Superchicks, right? I couldn’t take them in with the rest of the broilers) into Pbiddy’s pen and yard. This way, it was her turf, and perhaps she wouldn’t be pecked to death (when I tried putting her in with the crested a few weeks earlier, they had just rushed her and started pecking her like mad: “Intruder! Intruder!!”).

When they were all moved in, nobody attacked her. It was ok. Superchicks turned out to be gentle giants when added to another flock. If they didn’t want somebody near, they just stood tall, puffed their chests out, and scared anybody away with their size. No vicious pecking, just attitude and stance.

Making friends

Pbiddy was out of sorts and hung out in the yard, even roosting on a branch outside in the pen at night instead of inside the barn with the others. The next day–Sunday I think it was–I went down to look from afar and analyze the situation. There, at the end of the run, Pbiddy was looking through the fence and touching beaks with Gracie (from the big henyard), the pea hen!! They were communicating through the fence. It was so touching and I felt hope. The peafowl seemed to recognize each other as their own kind. Maybe they’re not really stupid.

That afternoon, I picked up Pbiddy and brought her into the big henyard. I waited behind a tree until Gracie was in the vicinity. I quickly, quietly, gently shoved Pbiddy onstage, around the front of the tree. Gracie looked at her and made the connection. Pbiddy, exhausted from the sleepless nights and stress I think, quickly stepped over near a pile of brush and settled down and closed her eyes. Gracie clucked and stepped over and around the little hen, cocking her head this way and that, standing up and looking around and just circling her and surrounding her. She marched this way and that, head down, looking very intense and officious. The others steered clear.

Gracie the Guardian

George (the peacock) came near to investigate, but stayed on Gracie’s other side, allowing her to keep her watchful force shield of protection around little Pbiddy. It was as if Gracie had taken her in and was protecting her.

George, looking pretty in 'Upstaged by a Chicken' • oil on panel • 5x7in • 2009 • private collection

I watched my–slightly bullying–Barred Rock cock just stand there, frozen, one foot in the air, facing Pbiddy but looking between me (behind the tree) and Gracie (on the other side of the new hen) and he almost seemed to be weighing his options. After what seemed an eternity, he put his foot back down and walked away. I just love to watch the body language between all of the birds–the subtleties in communication are fascinating.

All is well

That evening, I found Pbiddy hunkered down in the corner of the yard, not yet knowing that all the birds go in the coop at night to roost. I waited till just after dark, so I could pick her up and take her into the coop. If I’d tried to “herd” her into the coop, she undoubtedly would’ve flown off, frightened. That is a typical peafowl response–choosing flight over fight when cornered. I carried her into the coop, and set her down, up high on the roost. Later that night, I peeked into the coop and saw that Gracie had moved over and was roosting right next to her. Awesome!

Next day seemed great–Pbiddy was out in the yard, eating with the flock and getting to know the yard.

That night (Monday), I put her in through the chicken door, hoping she would “get” that that’s where you go at night.

Something wicked this way comes…

Tuesday morn after chores, I left for work in town. Working into the afternoon, I almost left early for home just to be sure I’d be there right at dark to make sure Pbiddy made it into the coop safely, but I got caught up in a current project and didn’t leave the office ’till 6 or so.

By the time I got home, it was very dark (daylight savings time makes it dark around 4:30-5 these days). I went down towards the henyard, sort of surprised at the utter silence–usually George or somebody else hears me coming and lets out a cry (or a cock’s crow) of alarm. Nothing. I turn on the flashlight at the gate, and point it to the usual spot in the henyard where Pbiddy would wait at night. Nothing. I notice the waterer is swinging slightly, which means…oh sh_ _…and I shoot the flashlight around, and there!–eyes flashing as I sweep the light past, it’s ghostly white body dimly glowing in the blackness–a possum! And then, up in the tree–another! And then, way over there, in the flight-netted yard where the turkeys were (and now Polish and Superchicks live) another!!! “Bastards!” I whisper, “What did you do with Pbiddy!!??” I quickly call up to James on my cell “Possums, 3, hurry.”

Vengeance and grief

After the possums were quickly shot, we looked everywhere for the little peahen. We found a pile of white feathers in the far pen, where the Polish and Superchicks were–one of the white crested Polish no doubt. Poor thing. All the live chickens were in good shape, though frightened and scattered, so they only got 1 chicken it looks like. No blood or gore anywhere else. Looking for a camouflaged bird in the daytime is difficult. Looking for it in the black of night with a flashlight is futile. We gave up.

James said, “You know, maybe she flew off to escape and she’ll come back when she knows it’s safe.”

“I bet she won’t!” I grumbled. “Peafowl are stupid, don’t you remember? And I kept moving her from pen to pen, yard to yard…she was probably totally confused.” I was so bummed out.

I looked all around for her next morning early in the light of day, but again, trying to find a camouflaged animal who doesn’t want to be found, is next to impossible. I gave up and went to work since I had a deadline that day. I took a short break around noon to see if she was anywhere. Nothing–not in the coop, nor henyard, nor dogyard (I was looking for anything–bloody remains–anything just so I could know what happened), nor anywhere around the circumference nor scans over the pastures.

All day, I thought about those wicked possums and how I would carve a really evil blockprint of them. I would show everybody how evil they were! “Bastards” I kept muttering to myself, every time I looked away from work and rested my eyes from the computer screen. I was a bit obsessed. It’s just really hard when you work at taking care of something–even if it’s months, it’s still hard–and just after everything seems perfect, it’s snatched away from you and disappears off the face of the earth.

A Hallmark (holiday movie) moment

That night (Wednesday, Thanksgiving eve), dejected, totally bummed, I went down to the coop to close up. After a quick glance in the henyard to be sure no predators were wandering around, I closed up the pens in the barn first. I just didn’t want to look in the coop and be reminded of the loss. The Polish and Superchicks were back to normal, walking right over the scattered pile of white feathers as if nothing had happened. I walked in the chicken yard and closed up the chicken door.

Then (big sigh), I opened up the walk-in door of the coop to collect an egg or two in the nest boxes. I decided to look along the roosts again for the upteenth time just to be doubly, triply, absolutely sure there was no Pbiddy here, and so I turned around. And omg omg omg there she was–roosting calmly right in between the other hens as if nothing was amiss “Just us chickens…” she seemed to be silently telling me.

Just us chickens...

Turns out peafowl aren’t so stupid after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All content ©S.V. Medaris

USDA Seasonal Food Safety (Countdown to Thanksgiving…)

I’ve copied/pasted some of the basics from that above link here:

Most importantly for those of you who don’t cook much:
Never defrost your turkey at room temperature.

NOTE: I’ve often defrosted with both the refrigerator and the “cold water” method (at the end of defrosting period) for those monstrously huge turkeys. Anyway, here’s the basics (from the USDA):

IN THE REFRIGERATOR
Place frozen bird in original wrapper in the refrigerator (40 °F or below). Allow approximately 24 hours per 4 to 5 pounds of turkey. A thawed turkey can remain in the refrigerator for 1-2 days.
Thawing Time in the Refrigerator
Size of Turkey: Number of Days
4 to 12 pounds: 1 to 3 days
12 to 16 pounds: 3 to 4 days
16 to 20 pounds: 4 to 5 days
20 to 24 pounds: 5 to 6 days

IN COLD WATER
If you forget to thaw the turkey or don’t have room in the refrigerator for thawing, don’t panic. You can submerge the turkey in cold water and change the water every 30 minutes. Allow about 30 minutes defrosting time per pound of turkey. The following times are suggested for thawing turkey in water. Cook immediately after thawing.
Thawing Time in Cold Water
Size of Turkey: Hours to Defrost
4 to 12 poundS: 2 to 6 hours
12 to 16 pounds: 6 to 8 hours
16 to 20 pounds: 8 to 10 hours
20 to 24 pounds: 10 to 12 hours

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Read more:USDA Seasonal Food Safety (Countdown to Thanksgiving…)
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Hope this helps Mom!

Carcasses from 'The Meat Locker' (click to enlarge)

Also picking up meat–pork– from Avon Locker Plant over in Darlington, tomorrow. I love this place–best meat processor around (and yes, we tried the others nearby). Incidentally, these are the guys that let me take photos of my hogs when they (as carcasses) were hanging in the freezer. And from which I made some 8ft woodcut of the carcasses. And who (the woodcut carcasses) then made it into a NYC show! Still can’t believe it. Awesome hogs (from feeder pigs I bought from Monson Show Pigs). Awesome carcasses courtesy of Avon Locker Plant.

10 point buck that we found beside the walk path on our farm.

How serendipitous…The morning after I return from NYC and a class on leather bookbinding (binding books out of animal skin–usually goat or calf or sheep), a white-tail buck offers himself up for my use. J and I are out walking the dogs Sunday morning, and there, right off to the side on the north path is a big brown and white thing. On closer inspection, it’s a gorgeous, robust 10-point buck lying dead amongst the brush. It looked super-healthy (well, except for the fact that it was dead), and definitely not a CWD candidate, so I excitedly thought I could get his skin tanned for bookbinding leather! J got the skidloader and we loaded the buck up on the tines, got him back to the barn, and hung him by hindfoot so I would be able to skin him if he was still in good enough condition. No, I’d never skinned a deer, but I’ve skinned chickens so, I thought, this would just be 2 more legs, right? No big deal…., and I watched a buck being processed a few years ago (and took photos–for reference for a painting), so I knew the basics.

The hide, removed from the deer.

****FYI: Yes folks, we bought a tag for the deer (called the sheriff then DNR for all the details). We’re legal. No worries.

The bowhunter who hunts our land–Shawn–came by to take a look. He told me how to remove and then skin the head so I could then boil it for a European mount (skull and antlers mount). We both thought since the body was starting to smell, the hide might not be in good condition for saving. So, J and I hauled the buck out near the burn pile, and I started severing the head. As I was cleaning it, Pat drove up and we started talking about the hide. We started skinning the deer, and it seemed that the carcass wasn’t too far gone, and that the hide could be saved. So I learned how to skin my first deer!

On a sad note, we finally found what was left of the arrow later on (back on the path), and realized that the deer had been killed (eventually) from an arrow. Shawn said that the quality/type of arrow and the location of the shot indicated the deer was shot by a beginning, inexperienced bowhunter. The sad thing, is that it was a crummy shot–in the rump–and consequently this once gorgeous, robust buck was probably dying really slowly from infection, eventually collapsing beside our path. Poor poor thing.

We learned how to work with leather–how to pare it down so it’s thin enough to fold, how to handle the material and moisten the “grain side” of the skin prior to adhering with rice paste…. And so much more! It was a fantastic class, with a fantastic instructor: Susan Mills

Anyway, it’s a great material to bind with, and I look forward to making more leather-bound books.

Wed, Nov. 2, 2011

Our housemate (Madison's pug/terrier), Calvin...on our bed...scratching. Make yourself at home he says...

Riding toys in front of the Kosher deli down the street from our apartment

"Our" station for getting uptown in morn to class

Digital readout of the stops lets you know where you are/where you are going/if you're on the right train or not

Reading on the new york subway--there were at least 3 people reading ipads this morning on this train

Our stop: 23rd Street Station. Beautiful tiles...

The Flower District

On the way to class in Manhattan

28 West 27th St (The Center for Book Arts)

Around the corner

Cool sign

To the Brooklyn Bridge!
(a walking tour)

City Hall

Brooklyn Bridge/City Hall Station

Starting over the Brooklyn Bridge, looking back

Walking across Brooklyn Bridge

From Brooklyn Bridge, looking over to Manhattan Bridge

Statue of Liberty (from Brooklyn Bridge)

Now can you see her?

Everywhere you look there is great design

Back to Shore (South Street Seaport)

Brooklyn Bridge from shore (South Street Seaport)

Pier 17, South Street Seaport

Saw this a couple of times during the day. Felt like I was being followed... Click on image to enlarge if you can't read the name on the balloon.

So here’s a visual diary of Day 1 in the Big Apple (click any photo to enlarge somewhat):

Day 1, Nov. 1, 2011:
We leave our apartment around 7:30am, and walk down the street…

Our apartment on Grand Street, above the Restaurant: El Castillo de Jagua

…to The Doughnut Plant!

Just down the street from our apartment. How convenient for breakfast!

Amazing flavors!

Drooling yet?

Just a normal square donut, right?

Wrong! It's jelly-filled all the way around!!

Going to class (uptown) from our apartment on the Lower East Side

Near my class in Midtown/Chelsea: Flatiron

The Empire State Building from Chelsea

Washington Square Park

Some of the great personalities we watched at this great dog park near Washington Square.

This guy was huge! And very gentle--and patient with the not-so-mild-mannered little crazy dogs...

Brownstones near Greenwich Village

West Village storefront

We couldn't figure out how those cars got up in that "parking ramp." Nice signs too, huh?

Pretty awesome-looking cookies, huh? Amazingly we didn't stop

The Evolution Store in Soho. Most awesome store....ever.

Stuffed peacocks??!!? And so much more....skulls, many taxidermied animals (including rats). Check them out. They're online at The Evolution Store

...and man-eating piranhas...

...and of course, freeze-dried rats!!!

My favorite part of Chinatown are the storefront or outdoor markets. Here’s some pics:

Nightime fruit stands....

I love that ducks and chickens are sold/displayed wtth heads still on. You know what your's eating here..

More from the meat market

And we ended the night at Katz’s Deli (in the ‘When Harry Met Sally’ movie). Great visuals and the best reuben ever….

The famous Katz's Deli

Did you know you can have one of Katz's salamis shipped directly to you? Check out their website (katzsdelicatessen.com/)

Like I said, the BEST REUBEN EVER.

Click on image to watch interview.

The part Rob left out of the interview was that the turkeys that I “liberated” were actually, originally intended for Thanksgiving dinners for friends and family. I raised the turkeys to use
as models AND for meat, just as I’d done years past with the Broad Breasted Bronzes and Giant Whites. But wild turkeys can fly (which I didn’t think about ahead of time), and they had a different agenda, so I started clipping their wings once I realized they were all going to fly away.

But then, through my own  need to have beautiful models, their wings were allowed to grow out (after a clumsy, unsightly wing clipping –hey c’mon, my models were escaping one-by-one daily!– that left my models looking like strange, ungainly, flightless birds that were not exactly fit for modelling). I decided then that wild turkeys flying off to be wild kind of made sense, and I sketched and photographed the birds like crazy once their wings grew out, knowing they were going to take off any day. And then, one by one over a few days they flew over the fence to freedom. They definitely earned it! Well, they also got a long, safe-from-predators, well-fed childhood before they took off.

And it was awesome the following spring to go on jogs with the dogs, when all-of-a-sudden we’d scare up a mama turkey and her rafter/gobble/flock of tiny little poults flapping like mad to follow her up into the trees. This happened often that spring. I felt proud–like they were my grandkids or something.