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Sometimes Life Just Stinks

By
Steve Gilliland
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I haven’t trapped for a couple years now, simply because, unless you skin and completely finish the pelts, and are willing to ship them to Canada to be consigned in the huge worldwide auction there, no good market exists here locally anymore. For the most part, buyers don’t want coyotes at all, but bobcat pelts still hold a little value. Here is a story of a bobcat trapping adventure that went all wrong.

I had several bobcat traps out a few miles west of Inman. The traps had been there long enough and it was time to move them. Besides, rain was forecast for Saturday night, and many of the traps were off the beaten path far enough that if it got wet and I had to check them on foot or by four wheeler, it would take me forever. A busy day was planned, so I got an early start in case hiccups occurred in getting the traps. I was ahead of schedule when I rolled into the last stop. “A few minutes here, then home to a hot breakfast,” I told myself. One of the traps was a cage trap slid back into a pile of branches with a goose carcass as bait, and as I rolled to a stop I could see that the cage door was closed. From my vantage point, branches blocked the view of the entire cage, but I could see what appeared to be a raccoon rustling around in the trap. I grabbed the handgun and headed for the cage, but as I got nearer, I could see that the coon’ had a couple white strips down its back. “Great,” I thought “Just what I didn’t want to see this morning.” Now I remembered an incident a couple years before where I had a skunk caught in a cage trap. That trap was much bigger than this one, so as the skunk put on an acrobatics show climbing and swinging around at the back of the cage, I was able to get close enough to somehow open the door and prop it open with a stick. The skunk eventually left without incident, end of story.

This trap was much smaller, but the morning had been going so well, I guess I figured nothing could go wrong, …. Anyway, I crept up to the trap, quietly talking to the critter as I walked. Skunks are actually pretty laid back especially if the container is covered and you go about things slowly and quietly. Besides, as long as the thing kept its butt pointed the other way, there was no way if could spray me, right? Just as I knelt down, the skunk charged the door, and I was instantly up on my toes preparing to run, but it never turned around and just backed into the rear corner of the cage again. I knelt down again, got as close as I thought I dared, and tried gingerly raising the two steel rings that held the door shut so I could quickly prop the door open and skedaddle. Then it happened… I heard a sort of squirting, squishing sound, felt something hit my face and the scrambled eggs and bacon I could almost taste awaiting me at home suddenly reeked of skunk! (Note to self: a skunk’s butt does not have to be facing you to spray you; they can spray over their back and about any old direction they choose.)

I jumped and ran like I was going to outrun the stench or something. I wiped a couple droplets from my glasses and started peeling outer clothing that might have been hit. I grabbed the handgun and ended the little beggar’s career, then called Joyce to fire up her laptop and find the “cure.” I did a piece on skunks some years ago and my research then told me that the old tomato juice cure just doesn’t work, but Joyce found a mixture that will. Mix together 1 quart hydrogen peroxide, ¼ cup baking soda and 1 – 2 teaspoons dish soap (not laundry detergent.) Wipe down your entire body and everything else that got sprayed and then rinse. A warning, clothing cleaned with this solution may discolor. The compounds that cause the extreme lingering smell are called “Thiols,” and are not water soluble, even with soap, but this combination of common ingredients somehow breaks down these Thiols into water soluble

compounds that are rinsed away by the solution. This was tested on an episode of the Myth Busters TV show and found to be the most effective smell removal agent.

When I got home, I walked up onto our back deck, by then, clad only in my underwear, where two hands strongly resembling those of my wife, reached out through the cracked-open back door and handed me a bowl of the magic skunk-be-gone potion, an old ragged towel and washcloth, and pointed me toward the shop in the backyard. I scrubbed myself and washed my hair twice with the solution and all was well.

Besides the lesson that skunks can spray in any old direction they please, I learned a few more things that day. First, it’s never too late for things to go wrong. Secondly, it’s good to know there is something that will actually remove skunk odor, and lastly, I will never again attempt to do a skunk a favor! Continue to Explore Kansas Outdoors

Steve can be contacted by email at [email protected]

Dim Sum

By
Lee Pitts
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lee pitts

I’ve worked a lot of charity auctions and at the bigger ones the organizers always used a local celebrity to introduce the items and for some reason most of the time it was the local weather forecaster. Since I live in what media people call “a small market” these forecasters are doing anything they can to attract attention and break into a larger market because you’d starve to death on the wages the local weather forecasters made. That’s why the one’s I’ve met had side jobs, like marrying people and providing the music as DJ’s for the after-party.

Years ago there was one weather forecaster who showed up frequently at auctions but he disappeared faster than my brother-in-law when the waitress brings the check. The weatherman left because the weather here didn’t agree with him. If he said there was no precipitation in the forecast you could expect a real gully washer, and if he predicted rain it would be so hot the chickens would pluck themselves.

I’d completely forgotten about the weatherman when one day out of the blue he called acting like we were long lost buddies. It seems the guy had been a victim of multiple career disorder because since I’d last seen him he’d been a realtor, a telemarketer, a pet food taster, portable toilet cleaner and a taxi cab driver. He’d come back home to take advantage “of a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to sell a product that was going to change the world.” He sounded so excited I wondered if someone hadn’t spiked his five hour energy drink. And what, was this revolutionary product, you might ask?

Solar panels!

He explained that he was going to be in the area making appointments and wanted to make sure I didn’t miss out on the greatest thing since the Segway®. I told him I was busy for the next few months but he showed up on my doorstep anyway. After getting his proverbial foot in the door he told me that if I signed up for solar panels on my house that the state would pay for all the labor and all I had to do was buy the panels. But I must act quickly because the offer expired soon.

I’d been wondering why I was seeing a host of new solar installations recently but I just figured that the panels were the latest status symbol and a way to say that you were greener than your neighbor.

I told the weatherman that there were five reasons why I didn’t want solar panels. First of all, I didn’t want anyone putting holes in my roof that might leak. Secondly, I didn’t want to disfigure the look of my house. Most of the installations I’d seen made the roofs look like the scoreboard at a major league baseball game. I expect them to flash an instant replay at any minute. Also, I knew that most, if not all, of the panels were made in China and I’d recently vowed not to buy anything made by communists or by slave labor. I’ve also always had a deep distrust of the government, especially when they start giving stuff away. Getting subsidized by the government to put panels on your house just seemed to me like shoplifting for rich people.

Finally I said, “I might be interested if they’d provide energy during the many blackouts we have since our energy provider went bankrupt. But I know that any electricity generated by my panels would go right back into the grid and if I wanted power during blackouts I’d have to pay $20,000 extra for a battery that might keep my refrigerator light on for a day or two.

He had no reply to my objections but instead pulled out a calculator and started showing me how much money the panels would save me and how they’d pay for themselves in just five years by lowering my electric bill. I explained that I planned to be decomposing by then.

“I know how much you like to save money,” the weatherman accurately said as he kept pounding numbers into his hand held calculator. “Darn it,” he said, “I was going to show you what a great deal this is but my calculator keeps going dim because there’s not enough light in here to power it.”

‘Hmmm. That sounds vaguely familiar,” I said smugly.

Finger Blight

By
Milo Yield
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Thayne Cozart
Milo Yield

 

I’ve been writing recently about “shrinkflation” and “thinflation” robbing us consumers in sneaky ways. On old county extension agent friend from Oklahoma, Myris Snipedown, reminded me about a third way, much more blatant, to get ripped off, and it’s about as old as humankind itself. It’s called “Finger Blight.”

Myris related to me several stories of how “finger blight” works. A pecan orchard owner, ol’ Nutson Schells, close to Ft. Gibson, Okla., caught a citified lady helping herself picking pecans off the ground in his grove.

He asked the thief, “What are you doing?”

The pleasant lady replied “Oh, I like pecans and I saw them scattered all over on the ground, so I thought I’d keep them from going to waste.”

Ol’ Nutson replied, “Lady, I’ve got some beef in my deep freeze that’s just laying there. Do you like T-bone steaks, too.”

That wuz just before he not to pleasantly asked her to leave and not come back, and leave the pecans she’d gathered in a pile by the tree trunk.

***

A second of Myris’s stories was about a watermelon farmer, ol’ Blackie Diamond, near Braggs, Okla. The way he tells it, Blackie wuz losing a few melons each night to “finger blight.”

So, Blackie put up a sign that read: “Beware: One of these melons has croton oil in it. You figure out which one.”

The next night the “Finger Blighter” changed the sign to read “Two of these melons have croton oil in it. Now, you figure out which two.” For folks who don’t know croton oil is a severe laxative.

That wuz a case where the “Finger Blighter” got the last word.

***

Then there wuz a third finger blight case close to Oktaha, Okla. A watermelon farmer sold a load of melons to a roadside produce stand. Some of the melons were rejected by the produce stand owner because of their shape. The odd-shaped melons were stacked outside the fence with a sign reminding people: “Free. Help yourself.”

It didn’t matter. Most folks welcomed the “freebie melons,” but a few “Finger Blighters,” continued to climb a the fence and make their own selection from the correctly- shaped melons. Guess they figgered a stolen melon tasted sweeter than a free one.

***

Myris’s stories stories show that finger blight is a state of mind or a philosophy. The philosophy is that anything just “laying around” is there for the taking.

It used to be a finger blighter had to weigh the probability of getting sway with the crime against the chances of getting caught and prosecuted.

These days, “Finger Blighting” is rampant. I don’t think “Finger Blighters” even worry about getting caught and prosecuted and more. They just lift, load, and don’t linger.

***

Well, we’ve been settled into our new home long enuf that a few visitors have come a’calling, and we’ve welcomed the company.

The first visitors were faithful column readers from far away Lusk, Wyoming. They are a cattle ranching couple — Hayes d’Heard and his wife Tallie d’Heard. They traveled to Riley primarily to visit their daughter and grand-children here, but decided to take the opportunity to see ol’ Milo and Nevah in their natural surroundings.

We had a nice visit and, surprise, discovered we are all acquaintances of Jerry Palen, creator of the Stampede cartoons featuring Elmo and Flo. Jerry resides near Saratoga, Wyo.

***

Our second set of visitors were former close neighbors from Chase County —Mr. and Mrs. N. Joey Tripps. Just for the fun of it, they took a leisurely Sunday afternoon excursion to visit with us and see our new abode.

Our third set of visitors were both charter members of the Saffordville Gentle Men’s Club. They are both dyed-in-the-wool fishermen — ol’ Bates N. Flingsitt and ol’ Ty T. Lyner. We spent a couple of welcome hours shooting the bull and seeing who could tell the biggest fishing tale.

***

Did you hear about the teenaged farm kid who woke up and complained to his mother, “My ear hurts.”

His mother asked him, “Does it hurt more inside or outside.”

So the kid walks out the front door, comes back in and says, “Both hurt the same.”

I wonder if at that moment his mother wondered if she wuz worrying too much about saving moolah for her son to go to college.

***

Words of wisdom for the week from a wise bumper snicker:

“Instead of finding new forms of social media, perhaps we should all go back to bonfires, tailgate parties, pajama parties, night fishing, porch sitting, cruising around with the radio blaring, and eating three family meals together every day.”

All those might improve our lives.

Have a good ‘un.

Heat Value of Firewood    

By
Guest Columnist
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Certain tree varieties produce firewood that gives off more heat than others. Osage orange, honeylocust, black locust, bur and post oaks all have high heat values. However, osage orange firewood tends to spark which can be dangerous, especially in an open fire. If you’re harvesting your own firewood, it is beneficial to note wood from certain species, such as black locust and elms, is difficult to split.

The Kansas Forest Service has published a great resource for landowners about this topic: “Managing your Woodland for Firewood”.

Homeowners who plan to purchase firewood should buy local to avoid spreading pests including Emerald Ash Borer. The chart below ranks the woodland species in terms of the heat value (measured in British Thermal Units, BTUs) per cord of wood. A cord is the amount of wood, stacked well, in a pile that measures 4 feet wide by 8 feet long by 4 feet high. Higher BTU values indicate more heat produced. (Cynthia Domenghini)

 

Tree Variety BTU  
Ash, Green 22.8  
Cottonwood 15.9  
Elm, American 19.8 Difficult to split
Elm, Red 20.6 Difficult to split
Elm, Siberian 20.9 Difficult to split
Hackberry 21.0  
Honeylocust 25.6  
Locust, Black 28.3 Difficult to split
Maple, Sugar 24.0  
Maple, Silver 18.9  
Mulberry 25.3  
Oak, Red 24.0  
Oak, Bur 24.9  
Oak, Post 25.6  
Osage Orange 32.6 Tends to spark
Sycamore 19.5 Difficult to split
Walnut, Black 21.8  

 

Cynthia Domenghini, Instructor and Horticulture Extension Specialist

Care of Christmas and Thanksgiving Cacti 

By
Guest Columnist
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Christmas cactus (Schlumbergera bridgesii) and Thanksgiving cactus (Schlumbergera truncata) look exotic but are rather easy to maintain with the right growing conditions. While in bloom, water the plants when the soil surface is just becoming dry to the touch. Never let the plants remain in standing water and well-drained soil is a must.

Holiday cacti bloom in response to the shorter days and cooler nights we experience heading into winter. If you are gifted a Christmas cactus this season, to prolong the bloom, keep the daytime temperature between 60-65 degrees F and the nighttime temperature between 55-65 degrees F. Keep your cactus in total darkness for at least 12 of every 24 hours. The plant should receive bright, indirect light for the rest of the time. Sudden changes in temperature can cause the cactus to drop its blooms. When transporting it home be mindful of the outdoor temperature and take measures to protect your plant from the cold.

The segments of the holiday cactus that look like leaves are actually stems known as “phylloclades”. When your cactus finishes blooming, you can prune it at the union of two of these segments. Each cut phylloclade remaining on the parent plant will produce one to two new stem segments. This will encourage branching and a fuller plant. The cuttings removed from the plant can be propagated into new plants. Dip the cut-end of the stem into water and then rooting hormone, which can be purchased at garden centers or online. Secure this end into potting mix and keep it moist and in a warm location with bright light. Once roots develop you can transplant it into a cactus/succulent media.

While the parent plant is not blooming, decrease the water and care for it as you would a typical houseplant. When the danger of frost has passed, holiday cacti can be moved outdoors in part shade. Beneath a tree is a great location that will provide filtered light. If the stems begin to turn pale they may be receiving too much light. Fertilize once each month in June, July and August at half-strength with a balanced houseplant fertilizer. As the temperature drops to the low 50s at night bring your cactus back indoors. When flower buds begin to develop switch to a fertilizer low in nitrogen and higher in phosphorus and potassium.

Cynthia Domenghini, Extension Agent

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