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talistrongbackcommless · 2 years

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Lying

By Richard Wilbur

To claim, at a dead party, to have spotted a grackle,

When in fact you haven’t of late, can do no harm.

Your reputation for saying things of interest

Will not be marred, if you hasten to other topics,

Nor will the delicate web of human trust

Be ruptured by that airy fabrication.

Later, however, talking with toxic zest

Of golf, or taxes, or the rest of it

Where the beaked ladle plies the chuckling ice,

You may enjoy a chill of severance, hearing

Above your head the shrug of unreal wings.

Not that the world is tiresome in itself:

We know what boredom is: it is a dull

Impatience or a fierce velleity,

A champing wish, stalled by our lassitude,

To make or do. In the strict sense, of course,

We invent nothing, merely bearing witness

To what each morning brings again to light:

Gold crosses, cornices, astonishment

Of panes, the turbine-vent which natural law

Spins on the grill-end of the diner’s roof,

Then grass and grackles or, at the end of town

In sheen-swept pastureland, the horse’s neck

Clothed with its usual thunder, and the stones

Beginning now to tug their shadows in

And track the air with glitter. All these things

Are there before us; there before we look

Or fail to look; there to be seen or not

By us, as by the bee’s twelve thousand eyes,

According to our means and purposes.

So too with strangeness not to be ignored,

Total eclipse or snow upon the rose,

And so with that most rare conception, nothing.

What is it, after all, but something missed?

It is the water of a dried-up well

Gone to assail the cliffs of Labrador.

There is what galled the arch-negator, sprung

From Hell to probe with intellectual sight

The cells and heavens of a given world

Which he could take but as another prison:

Small wonder that, pretending not to be,

He drifted through the bar-like boles of Eden

In a black mist low creeping, dragging down

And darkening with moody self-absorption

What, when he left it, lifted and, if seen

From the sun’s vantage, seethed with vaulting hues.

Closer to making than the deftest fraud

Is seeing how the catbird’s tail was made

To counterpoise, on the mock-orange spray,

Its light, up-tilted spine; or, lighter still,

How the shucked tunic of an onion, brushed

To one side on a backlit chopping-board

And rocked by trifling currents, prints and prints

Its bright, ribbed shadow like a flapping sail.

Odd that a thing is most itself when likened:

The eye mists over, basil hints of clove,

The river glazes toward the dam and spills

To the drubbed rocks below its crashing cullet,

And in the barnyard near the sawdust-pile

Some great thing is tormented. Either it is

A tarp torn loose and in the groaning wind

Now puffed, now flattened, or a hip-shot beast

Which tries again, and once again, to rise.

What, though for pain there is no other word,

Finds pleasure in the cruellest simile?

It is something in us like the catbird’s song

From neighbor bushes in the grey of morning

That, harsh or sweet, and of its own accord,

Proclaims its many kin. It is a chant

Of the first springs, and it is tributary

To the great lies told with the eyes half-shut

That have the truth in view: the tale of Chiron

Who, with sage head, wild heart, and planted hoof

Instructed brute Achilles in the lyre,

Or of the garden where we first mislaid

Simplicity of wish and will, forgetting

Out of what cognate splendor all things came

To take their scattering names; and nonetheless

That matter of a baggage-train surprised

By a few Gascons in the Pyrenees

Which, having worked three centuries and more

In the dark caves of France, poured out at last

The blood of Roland, who to Charles his king

And to the dove that hatched the dove-tailed world

Was faithful unto death, and shamed the Devil.

Source: New and Collected Poems (Harcourt, Inc., 1988)

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/51626/lying

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kmclaude · 6 years

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Omg Claude,that freaking Tiefer vampire au is the kind of shit I never knew I needed so much!! I can't thank you enough for writing it! Also,while we're at it I'd like to ask you something. I'm also writing a story that contains lots of rape but can never bring myself to write it down as raw as I want to,since its a sensitive topic for me. How do you manage to write it so 'brutally' as that,like describing those terrible actions and all? Anyways thankxs as always and hope you're getting better!

Thank you so much! I kinda needed it too...

I hope you don’t mind me responding publicly -- I’ve noticed any reblogs from you never seem to actually show up in my activity outside of post notes so I don’t really trust tumblr to actually handle sending a reply, plus I think that’s a good question and one that can help others too.

Full disclosure: I have been writing brutal stuff since I was thirteen, publicly, but wrote and drew some fucked up shit even before then and admittedly, I just am not bothered by reading or writing fictional depictions of rape or murder (Exquisite Corpse is a blast that other friends of mine -- hardier friends! -- have been like OH GOD at certain scenes.) It just doesn’t bother me. Movie and TV show depictions, eh, sometimes they squick me, and of course I can feel emotion reading or writing a scene, but writing terrible things really doesn’t bother me.

Given that, and given that its a sensitive topic for you (heck a sensitive topic in general), I very much recognize that my go to advice -- that is, practice! Read examples! Practice some more! Power through! Go hog wild! -- is maybe not the best advice to give. I don’t want you or anyone to do anything purposefully injurious to their mental or emotional wellbeing -- I may like and advocate for pushing boundaries but I ain’t out here going “lmao trigger yourself cuck” you know? That ain’t chill.

So, I’m gonna try and find some work arounds, something that might be better than simply telling you to practice and posting the Shia LaBeouf Just Do It meme

(Obviously, I’m gonna mention some semi-graphic scenarios -- this is a question about writing rape scenes after all.)

You say your issue is writing it “as raw as [you] want to” -- what constitutes as raw to you? Is it writing out every little moment like a play-by-play in high-definition detail? Because yes, I admit, that may mean you have to just power through and it often seems that way but you can narrow in on some details that aren’t tied to the sex part of it all.

For example, if you’re writing a scene where character A rapes character B on a barnyard floor, you can focus in on the feel of straw and dirt under the character, the burn of splinters in their hands and knees as they try to get away or in their back that get pushed in deeper with every movement, the stink of animal feces and of sweat, the sound of flies buzzing and heavy breathing -- it’s all gross tiny details that are all zeroed in on but dissociated from the action itself so you don’t have to write about the minutiae that is genitalia or penetration or in-depth sexual violence and your readers will still be, well, grossed out, disturbed, etc. It’s writing the sex scene by writing mostly around it even as you take your readers through it.

Or is your idea of raw more atmospheric and subtle, something that can be conveyed with the right words or the right narration choices that still hit you like a ton of bricks? You don’t need to write it all out like its a dissected fetal pig in an Anatomy and Physiology classroom to get the grossness or horror across. There’s writing the scene with a detached, almost clinical air, which can be really disturbing (it can also, admittedly, backfire into unintended hilarity so it’s a tricky beast.) There’s also just, rather than dragging it out, honing in on a few snapshots of brutal imagery to carry you through the scene. Think horror movies, how sometimes you’ll get a glimpse of the carnage or the monster without any money shot -- it’s effective without doing too too much. However, both of these require that, yes, you write all or part of some sexual acts which may cause difficulties.

Alternatively, fade to black scenarios or scenes where the situation is disturbingly apparent, that forces us as readers to imagine what happened, can be powerful without demanding that any of the sexual acts be laid out. If we see character A drag character B into a barn and latch the door and the scene pulls out to the stillness of the barn exterior that’s unperturbed save for muffled screaming and sobbing and then the next scene cuts to character B in their bathroom scrubbing dirt from their face and pulling straw from their hair and damaged or ripped underwear, well, that second scene tells us what happened in the first and can be chilling on its own, no sex required. It may work easier as a movie scene or comic panel but it can be done in the written word.

(Sidebar: I don’t know what language you’re writing in, but I have friends whose first language isn’t English but speak it better’n most English speakers and they’ve mentioned they find sex easier to write in English than their native language. Maybe it’s our curse words? Fight me, fuck and cunt are the best words, quality words. If you’re multilingual, writing in a different language might help create a much needed distance.)

It’s tough and there’s no easy solution. Unfortunately, like most writing issues, the solution is practice practice practice and read, I guess -- but then the last thing I want to tell you is “oh hey, just fucking trigger yourself, that’s a great plan!” Like no! No, not great! But I think it all hinges on what you find rawness or brutality to be and what your limits are and working within those limits (or, if you feel yourself able to, breaking those limits as you see fit and feel comfortable.)

My way of brute-forcing past my boundaries and pushing myself isn’t everyone’s way -- and heck I’m sure there are things I’ve written that if I went back and read, I’d be like “slow down there Jeffrey Dahmer let’s take a chill pill” you know, so I’m not even saying it’s the right way! It’s just a way and I think it’s a matter of figuring out your way as a writer.

I hope that helps and good luck!

#how to writing #writing advice #writing rape #blissful unicorn 26 #kmclaudereplies #kmclaudereplies to ask #kmclaude replies to ask

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96thdayofrage · 4 years

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In 1949, a book entitled 1984 was published. It was written by Eric Arthur

Blair under the pseudonym of George Orwell.

The book attempted to show what life would be like in a world of total

evil, in which those controlling the government kept themselves in power by

brute force, by distorting the truth, by continually rewriting history, by

mesmerising the people generally.

This evil world was placed only thirty-five years in the future so that

even men who were already in their early middle age at the time the book was

published might live to see it if they lived out a normal lifetime.

I, for instance, was already a married man when the book appeared and yet

here we are less than four years away from that apocalyptic year (for '1984'

has become a year that is associated with dread because of Orwell's book),

and I am very likely to live to see it.

In this chapter, I will discuss the book, but first: Who was Blair/Orwell

and why was the book written?

Blair was born in 1903 into the status of a British gentleman. His father

was in the Indian civil service and Blair himself lived the life of a

British Imperial official. He went to Eton, served in Burma, and so on.

However, he lacked the money to be an English gentleman to the full.

Then, too, he didn't want to spend his time at dull desk jobs; he wanted to

be a writer. Thirdly, he felt guilty about his status in the upper class.

So he did in the late 1920s what so many well-to-do American young people

in the 1960s did. In short, he became what we would have called a 'hippie'

at a later time. He lived under slum conditions in London and Paris,

consorted with and identified with slum dwellers and vagrants, managed to

ease his conscience and, at the same time, to gather material for his

earliest books.

He also turned left wing and became a socialist, fighting with the

loyalists in Spain in the 1930s. There he found himself caught up in the

sectarian struggles between the various left-wing factions, and since he

believed in a gentlemanly English form of socialism, he was inevitably on

the losing side. Opposed to him were passionate Spanish anarchists,

syndicalists, and communists, who bitterly resented the fact that the

necessities of fighting the Franco fascists got in the way of their fighting

each other.

The communists, who were the best organised, won out and Orwell had to leave

Spain, for he was convinced that if he did not, he would be killed

From then on, to the end of his life, he carried on a private literary

war with the communists, determined to win in words the battle he had lost

in action.

During World War II, in which he was rejected for military service, he

was associated with the left wing of the British Labour party, but didn't

much sympathise with their views, for even their reckless version of

socialism seemed too well organised for him.

He wasn't much affected, apparently, by the Nazi brand of

totalitarianism, for there was no room within him except for his private war

with Stalinist communism. Consequently, when Great Britain was fighting for

its life against Nazism, and the Soviet Union fought as an ally in the

struggle and contributed rather more than its share in lives lost and in

resolute courage, Orwell wrote Animal Farm which was a satire of the Russian

Revolution and what followed, picturing it in terms of a revolt of barnyard

animals against human masters.

He completed Animal Farm in 1944 and had trouble finding a publisher

since it wasn't a particularly good time for upsetting the Soviets. As soon

as the war came to an end, however, the Soviet Union was fair game and

Animal Farm was published. It was greeted with much acclaim and Orwell

became sufficiently prosperous to retire and devote himself to his

masterpiece, 1984.

That book described society as a vast world-wide extension of Stalinist

Russia in the 1930s, pictured with the venom of a rival left-wing sectarian.

Other forms of totalitarianism play a small role. There are one or two

mentions of the Nazis and of the Inquisition. At the very start, there is a

reference or two to Jews, almost as though they were going to prove the

objects of persecution, but that vanishes almost at once, as though Orwell

didn't want readers to mistake the villains for Nazis.

The picture is of Stalinism, and Stalinism only.

By the time the book came out in 1949, the Cold War was at its height.

The book therefore proved popular. It was almost a matter of patriotism in

the West to buy it and talk about it, and perhaps even to read parts of it,

although it is my opinion that more people bought it and talked about it

than read it, for it is a dreadfully dull book - didactic, repetitious, and

all but motionless.

It was most popular at first with people who leaned towards the

conservative side of the political spectrum, for it was clearly an

anti-Soviet polemic, and the picture of life it projected in the London of

1984 was very much as conservatives imagined life in the Moscow of 1949 to

be.

During the McCarthy era in the United States, 1984 became increasingly

popular with those who leaned towards the liberal side of the political

spectrum, for it seemed to them that the United States of the early 1950s

was beginning to move in the direction of thought-control and that all the

viciousness Orwell had depicted was on its way towards us.

Thus, in an afterword to an edition published in paperback by New

American Library in 1961, the liberal psychoanalyst and philosopher Erich

Fromm concluded as follows:

'Books like Orwell's are powerful warnings, and it would be most

unfortunate if the reader smugly interpreted 1984 as another description of

Stalinist barbarism, and if he does not see that it means us, too.'

Even if Stalinism and McCarthyism are disregarded, however, more and more

Americans were becoming aware of just how 'big' the government was getting;

how high taxes were; how increasingly rules and regulations permeated

business and even ordinary life; how information concerning every facet of

private life was entering the files not only of government bureaux but of

private credit systems.

1984, therefore, came to stand not for Stalinism, or even for

dictatorship in general - but merely for government. Even governmental

paternalism seemed '1984ish' and the catch phrase 'Big Brother is watching

you' came to mean everything that was too big for the individual to control.

It was not only big government and big business that was a symptom of 1984

but big science, big labour, big anything.

In fact, so thoroughly has 1984-ophobia penetrated the consciousness of

many who have not read the book and have no notion of what it contains, that

one wonders what will happen to us after 31 December 1984. When New Year's

Day of 1985 arrives and the United States is still in existence and facing

very much the problems it faces today, how will we express our fears of

whatever aspect of life fills us with apprehension? What new date can we

invent to take the place of 1984?

Orwell did not live to see his book become the success it did. He did not

witness the way in which he made 1984 into a year that would haunt a whole

generation of Americans. Orwell died of tuberculosis in a London hospital in

January 1950, just a few months after the book was published, at the age of

forty-six. His awareness of imminent death may have added to the bitterness

of the book.

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themfp1 · 6 years

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First You Win the Debate

By: Gil Gutknecht

The barking and braying of the barnyard baboons in the elite media will continue until they are Trumped again. Exactlyhow and why they seem to be surprised by a President who is doing precisely what he promised to do remains a curiosity to me. They are shocked that this brute in the White House would actually…

View On WordPress

#White House

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knownideal · 7 years

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Racism is the lowest, most crudely primitive form of collectivism. It is the notion of ascribing moral, social or political significance to a man’s genetic lineage—the notion that a man’s intellectual and characterological traits are produced and transmitted by his internal body chemistry. Which means, in practice, that a man is to be judged, not by his own character and actions, but by the characters and actions of a collective of ancestors. Racism claims that the content of a man’s mind (not his cognitive apparatus, but its content) is inherited; that a man’s convictions, values and character are determined before he is born, by physical factors beyond his control. This is the caveman’s version of the doctrine of innate ideas—or of inherited knowledge—which has been thoroughly refuted by philosophy and science. Racism is a doctrine of, by and for brutes. It is a barnyard or stock-farm version of collectivism, appropriate to a mentality that differentiates between various breeds of animals, but not between animals and men. Like every form of determinism, racism invalidates the specific attribute which distinguishes man from all other living species: his rational faculty. Racism negates two aspects of man’s life: reason and choice, or mind and morality, replacing them with chemical predestination.

Ayn Rand, The Virtue Of Selfishness

#freeblr #ayn rand #the virtue of selfishness #objectivism #racism #race politics

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bookslogy · 4 years

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Animal Farm / George Orwell

Animal Farm is a figurative novella by George Orwell, first distributed in England on 17 August 1945.

As indicated by Orwell, the book reflects occasions paving the way to the Russian Revolution of 1917 and afterward on into the Stalinist period of the Soviet Union. Orwell, a popularity based communist, was a pundit of Joseph Stalin and threatening to Moscow-coordinated Stalinism, a demeanor that was fundamentally molded by his encounters during the Spanish Civil War.

The Soviet Union, he accepted, had become a ruthless autocracy, based upon a clique of character and upheld by a rule of fear.

Old Major, the old hog on the Manor Farm, gathers the animals on the homestead together for a gathering, during which he alludes to people as “adversaries” and shows the animals a progressive tune called “Mammoths of England”.

At the point when Major bites the dust, two youthful pigs, Snowball and Napoleon, accept order and think of it as an obligation to plan for the Rebellion. The animals revolt and drive the inebriated and untrustworthy rancher Mr. Jones from the ranch, renaming it “Animal Farm”. They embrace the Seven Commandments of Animalism, the most significant of which is, “All creatures are equivalent.”

Snowball shows the creatures to peruse and compose, while Napoleon teaches youthful doggies on the standards of Animalism. Nourishment is copious, and the ranch runs easily. The pigs hoist themselves to places of authority and put aside exceptional nourishment things, apparently for their own wellbeing.

Some time later, a few men assault Animal Farm.

Jones and his men are making an endeavor to recover the ranch, helped by a few different ranchers who are startled of comparable animal rebellions. Snowball and the animals, who are stowing away in snare, rout the men by propelling an unexpected assault when they enter the barnyard. Snowball’s ubiquity takes off, and this occasion is declared “The Battle of the Cowshed”.

It is praised every year with the discharging of a firearm, on the commemoration of the Revolution. Napoleon and Snowball compete for pre-distinction. At the point when Snowball reports his arrangements to modernize the homestead by building a windmill, Napoleon has his canines pursue Snowball away and pronounces himself pioneer. …

Animal Farm Character List

Napoleon –

The pig who develops as the pioneer of Animal Farm after the Rebellion. In light of Joseph Stalin, Napoleon utilizes military power (his nine faithful assault hounds) to scare different creatures and solidify his capacity. In his incomparable slyness, Napoleon demonstrates more tricky than his partner, Snowball.

Snowball –

The pig who challenges Napoleon for control of Animal Farm after the Rebellion. In light of Leon Trotsky, Snowball is keen, enthusiastic, persuasive, and more obvious and underhanded than his partner, Napoleon. Snowball appears to win the unwaveringness of different creatures and concrete his capacity.

Fighter –

The truck horse whose unbelievable quality, commitment, and devotion assume a key job in the early flourishing of Animal Farm and the later consummation of the windmill. Snappy to help but instead moderate witted, Boxer demonstrates a lot of commitment to Animal Farm’s standards however little capacity to consider them autonomously. He naïvely confides in the pigs to settle on the entirety of his choices for him. His two mottoes are “I will work more enthusiastically” and “Napoleon is in every case right.”

Squealer –

The pig who spreads Napoleon’s promulgation among different creatures. Squealer legitimizes the pigs’ restraining infrastructure of assets and spreads bogus insights highlighting the homestead’s prosperity. Orwell utilizes Squealer to investigate the manners by which people with significant influence regularly use talk and language to curve reality and pick up and keep up social and political control.

Old Major –

The prize-winning hog whose vision of a communist ideal world fills in as the motivation for the Rebellion. Three days in the wake of portraying the vision and showing the creatures the melody “Brutes of England,” Major bites the dust, leaving Snowball and Napoleon to battle for control of his heritage. Orwell put together Major with respect to both the German political financial analyst Karl Marx and the Russian progressive pioneer Vladimir Ilych Lenin.

Clover –

A decent hearted female truck pony and Boxer’s dear companion. Clover regularly associates the pigs with damaging some of the Seven Commandments, yet she over and over censures herself for misremembering the decrees.

Moses –

The manageable raven who spreads accounts of Sugarcandy Mountain, the heaven to which creatures as far as anyone knows go when they bite the dust. Moses assumes just a little job in Animal Farm, however Orwell utilizes him to investigate how socialism abuses religion as something with which to assuage the mistreated.

Mollie –

The vain, whimsical female horse who pulls Mr. Jones’ carriage. Mollie pines for the consideration of people and adores being prepared and spoiled. She makes some troublesome memories with her new life on Animal Farm, as she misses wearing strips in her mane and eating sugar blocks. She speaks to the petit bourgeoisie that fled from Russia a couple of years after the Russian Revolution.

Benjamin –

The seemingly perpetual jackass who will not feel propelled by the Rebellion. Benjamin immovably accepts that life will stay terrible regardless of who is in control. Of the entirety of the animals on the homestead, only he understands the progressions that happen, yet he appears to be either reluctant or incapable to contradict the pigs.

Muriel –

The white goat who peruses the Seven Commandments to Clover at whatever point Clover associates the pigs with damaging their denials.

Mr. Jones –

The regularly tanked rancher who runs the Manor Farm before the animals organize their Rebellion and build up Animal Farm. Mr. Jones is a horrible ace who entertains himself while his creatures need nourishment; he along these lines speaks to Tsar Nicholas II, whom the Russian Revolution removed.

Mr. Frederick –

The extreme, savvy administrator of Pinchfield, a neighboring homestead. In view of Adolf Hitler, the leader of Nazi Germany during the 1930s and 1940s, Mr. Frederick demonstrates a dishonest neighbor.

Mr. Pilkington –

The nice refined man rancher who runs Foxwood, a neighboring homestead. Mr. Frederick’s severe foe, Mr. Pilkington speaks to the industrialist administrations of England and the United States.

Mr. Whymper –

The human specialist whom Napoleon contracts to speak to Animal Farm in human culture. Mr. Whymper’s entrance into the Animal Farm people group starts contact between Animal Farm and human culture, disturbing the basic animals.

Jessie And Bluebell –

Two canines, every one of whom conceives an offspring from the get-go in the novel. Napoleon takes the young doggies so as to “instruct” them.

Minimus –

The artist pig who composes section about Napoleon and pens the cliché devoted tune “Animal Farm, Animal Farm” to supplant the previous optimistic song “Monsters of England,” which Old Major gives to the others.

Click Here For 15 Questions About The Animal Farm Book

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josephkitchen0 · 6 years

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Fences: Keeping Chickens In & Predators Out

Way back when I was ready to purchase my first house, high on my list of must-haves was a place to raise chickens. To make sure the property was zoned for chickens, I looked for a place that either had chickens or had near neighbors with chickens. What swayed me to select the house I finally purchased was that it was fenced, cross-fenced, and loaded with chickens. The chickens, in fact, came with the property. How much better could it get?

Well, it did get better because the fences were all six-foot chain link. In the 11 years that I lived there, I lost few chickens. Of those, one bantam hen was taken away by a hawk (that I know of for sure because I saw it happen) and the others were mostly chicks that popped through the fence and got carried off by a neighbor’s cat. My biggest regret in leaving that property was giving up the chain link fence.

I now live on a farm where we enjoy the wildlife as much as we enjoy our poultry. Trouble is, the wildlife have as much interest in poultry as we do. Our chicken yard (pasture, really) is fairly large, so the cost of enclosing it with chain link would be prohibitive. For years we fenced our poultry with the same high tensile, smooth wire, electric fence that contains our four-legged livestock. It does a good job of keeping out the larger predators, but does not keep out the smaller chicken eaters, and certainly does not keep the chickens in. So occasionally we lose a bird that wanders into the orchard for lunch and meets a fox with the same idea.

Last year, I realized my dream of once again having a yard protected by chain link. It’s only a smallish yard, designed for housing setting hens, and growing birds that are more vulnerable to predators than mature birds. Unlike that long-ago chain link fence, this one has an electrified scare wire running along the outside bottom. The idea is to zap any animal that tries to either dig under or climb over.

Barring the expense of chain link, the (next) best kind of fence for chickens is wire mesh with fairly small openings that neither chickens nor predators can get through. Of the many kinds of wire mesh available, one that works well for chickens and is relatively low on the cost scale is the yard-and-garden fence with one-inch spaces toward the bottom and wider spaces toward the top. The small openings at the bottom keep poultry from slipping out and small predators from getting in. The fence should be at least four feet high; higher if you keep a lightweight breed that likes to fly. Bantams and young chickens of all breeds are especially fond of flying.

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A common type of wire mesh fence is poultry netting, also called hexagonal netting, hex net, or hex wire. It consists of thin wire, twisted and woven together into a series of hexagons, giving it a honeycomb appearance. The result is lightweight fencing that keeps chickens in but will not deter motivated predators from breaking through with brute strength. I have used it to create breeder runs, although those enclosures were situated inside that long-ago chain link fence.

Hex net comes in mesh sizes ranging from 1/2″ to 2″. The smaller the mesh, the stronger the fence. The smallest grid, called aviary netting, is made from 22-gauge wire and is used to pen quail and other small birds, to house chicks, and to prevent small wild birds from stealing poultry feed.

One-inch mesh, woven from 18-gauge wire, is commonly called chicken wire. It’s used to pen chickens, pigeons, pheasants, turkey poults, ducks, and goslings. Rolls range in length from 25′ to 150′, in height from 12″ to 72″. The shortest wire is used to reinforce the lower portion of a woven wire or rail fence to keep little critters from slipping in or out.

So-called turkey netting, made of 20-gauge wire, has 2″ mesh and is used for penning turkeys, peafowl, and geese. Heights range from 18″ to 72″, length from 25′ to 150′. Mesh this large is difficult to stretch properly. For a tall fence, therefore, many fencers run two narrow rolls, one above the other. Either staple the butted edges to a rail or fasten them together with cage making rings crimped with a clincher tool designed for the purpose (available at feed stores and small stock suppliers).

A less common variation, called rabbit netting, has 1″ mesh at the bottom and 2″ mesh toward the top. It comes in 25′ rolls, is 28″ high, and may be used to pen chicks and poults (baby turkeys).

Woven-wire fencing is ideal for chicken yards; it is sturdy enough to protect against predators, is finely meshed to keep chickens from slipping outside, and offers a great view of the chicken yard culture. Courtesy of Barnyard in your Backyard, edited by Gail Damerow.

Unless you treat hex wire with great care, don’t expect it to last more than about five years. Options in protective coating are galvanizing and vinyl. Some brands are galvanized before being woven, some afterward. The former is cheaper but should be used only under cover, since it rusts rapidly in open weather. Plastic-coated wire is a bit more rust resistant and some people find the colors more attractive than plain metal.

Hex net is relatively easy to put up, although it tears readily, and slight tears grow into big holes. Netting also tends to sag. For a poultry run, erect a stout framework of closely spaced wood posts with a top rail for stapling and a stout baseboard both for stapling and to deter burrowing; make sure no dips at soil level leave gaps for sneaky critters to slip under. To keep the wire taut, taller fences need a rail in the middle as well. Hand stretch the mesh by pulling on the tension wires — the wires woven in and out at the top and bottom of the netting. Taller netting has additional intermediate tension wires. To avoid snagging skin and clothing, especially around gates, fold under the cut ends before stapling them down.

Digging a trench and burying the bottom portion of a net fence deters burrowing. An alternative is to use apron fencing, also called beagle netting, consisting of hex wire with an apron hinged to the bottom. The apron consists of 1-1/2″ grid, 17-gauge hexagonal netting, 12″ wide and is designed to keep raccoons and foxes from burrowing into poultry yards.

Set posts 6′ to 8′ apart. Cut and lift the sod along the outside of the fenceline. Install the fence with the apron portion spread horizontally along the ground, and replace the sod on top. The apron will get matted into the grass’s roots to create a barrier that discourages digging.

You can use this concept to create your own apron fence with any 12″ wide hex wire, clipped or lashed to the bottom of a hex net fence. Whether you buy apron fencing or devise your own, the chief disadvantage is that soil moisture causes rapid rusting and the apron will have to be replaced every couple of years. Unless the wire is vinyl coated, brushing it with roofing tar will slow rusting.

A common type of wire mesh fence is poultry netting, also called hexagonal netting, hex net, or hex wire. It consists of thin wire, twisted and woven together into a series of hexagons, giving it a honeycomb appearance. The result is lightweight fencing that keeps chickens in, but will not deter motivated predators from breaking through with brute strength.

To further protect your chickens against climbing predators, string electrified wire along the top and outside bottom of your fence. The top wire might be strung on T-post toppers, while the outside bottom wire should be strung on offset insulators. The advantage to using wire mesh with electrified scare wires is that you have both a physical barrier and a psychological barrier. Should the psychological barrier fail (the power goes off) you still have the physical barrier.

An all-electric net fence sounds great in principle, but I have personally found that it wasn’t the best fencing product for my needs. It must be constantly electrified; if you live in an area prone to power outages you must use a battery or solar operated energizer and make certain it’s always fully functional. Chickens can get tangled in the polywire net and get electrocuted (tearing the net in the process). Other issues include difficulty keeping the net taut, problems getting line posts into rocky soil or drought-ridden clay, and the inconvenience of corner guy wires.

A gate without a sill eventually develops ruts underneath that let birds out and predators in. Photo by Gail Damerow.

No matter how secure your fence is, it’s only as secure as your gates. When we had our chain link poultry run commercially installed, we had to deal with predator-size gaps at the sides and bottoms of the gates. Even when a gate is initially installed close enough to the ground, traffic from walking, wheelbarrows, mowers, and so forth eventually wears grooves under the gate. Installing a sill will solve that problem. Sink a pressure-treated 4″ by 4″ under each walk-through gate and a 6″ by 6″ under a drive-through gate, or pour a reinforced concrete sill of similar size. This small investment prevents soil compression from creating ruts beneath your gates — helping keep your birds in and predators out.

Burying the bottom portion of a net fence deters burrowing. An alternative is to use apron fencing, consisting of hex wire with an apron hinged to the bottom. The hinged 12″ apron prevents animals from burrowing under the fence, keeping predators out. Apron fencing available from, and drawing courtesy of, Louis E. Page, Inc.: www.louispage.com; phone: (800) 225-0508.

Originally published in the April/May 2008 issue of Backyard Poultry magazine and regularly vetted for accuracy.

Fences: Keeping Chickens In & Predators Out was originally posted by All About Chickens

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vhs-rat · 9 months

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FLINT . MORGAN . FREYA . HELGA

#punk #furry #flint #rooster #morgan #sheep #freya #highland cow #helga #pig #punk furs #personal #barnyard brutes

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karnathian-tea-party-blog · 7 years

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KTP Episode 2: Scuffle at the Screaming Goat

Awakening on a beach foreign to them, the adventurers looked around them, searching for anything recognizable in this strange land. As they crane their necks and search around them, an elven paladin approaches from the distance. The paladin greets them, introducing himself as Pyrone, and telling them that he is searching for a particular artifact of power that he is hesitant to reveal. Smorp, trying to be friendly and ever helpful, told Pyrone that she might have the artifact he is searching for and offered him a shovel from her bag. Pyrone accepted the shovel, but mumbled that that wasn’t his artifact.

As this exchange was occurring, a tanned wizard casually strolled past the group. Trying to find anyone to help them make sense of this new land, the adventurers flagged this mystic man down and inquired as to his name. The man spun around triumphantly, displaying a large amount of showiness and bravado. He introduced himself as Verevius, wizard of the fourth realm of Norstring, Master of the Undead, smasher of the Nine Mirrors, assistant professor at the Necriox, and one-time iron chef of the Hinterlands. He added that the dwarves know him as Kalatron Stonehands, the gnomes recognize him as Tallywix Spinwizzle, and those who dwell in the dark recognize him as Francois Plaguebringer. Clearly taxed from the effort of revealing all of his titles to the adventurers, Verevius waited for the impact of his greatness to land. Narglethorpe, half paying attention to the conversation, stated that he didn’t hear him the first time. Slightly angered and bemused, Verevius launched into his former titles again, this time ensuring that everyone heard of his greatness. Upon further banter with the party, he revealed that he was no local to these lands, and that this was merely a vacation destination for him. Confused as to where they had all managed to end up, the party looked around for anything familiar, finding only a small box embedded in the sand.

The small oaken box, wrapped in chains, glinted in the sunlight, initially catching Pyrone’s attention. Ad the rest of the adventurers followed him to investigate, much deliberation was made as to what they should do with the box. Several member of the adventuring party wanted to open the box, while others wanted to bury it more and forget it. Eventually it was decided that the box was to be opened, and Betty Kilroy began picking away at the lock with her thieves’ tools. As she worked on the container, Narglethorpe executed a quick backflip, the success of which was highly debated. Eventually working through the lock, the party was shocked to see the box lift into the air and begin glowing. The box shook furiously before exploding in a burst of light, revealing a small creature in its stead.

This creature was a small tengu, a race of bird-like creatures, with a large knapsack. This tengu revealed himself as Sni-sni, a magical item peddler who had been trapped in the box for a number of days. He gleefully greeted his rescuers and offered each of them an item from his current collection of magical curios. The adventurers sprang on this opportunity and swarmed the bag, each grabbing a magical item. In the end, Verevius received the Matterhorn (a large conch shell that could create a random weather effect for an hour), Peanut Butter Jones chose “Now That’s What I Call Flute Music 65” (a book of distracting flute music), Pyrone regretfully pilfered famed pianist Jos’ Grogan’s Karate Gloves (a pair of enchanted gloves that shine brightly), Smorp picked up Barry Buxby’s Blessed Bee Bomb (an enchanted rock that could spawn a swarm of bees at a thrown location), Betty received the Monocle of Class (a monocle that impresses a person, but only once), and Narglethorpe opted to take Sni-sni’s pants (which had no apparent effect to them.) The last item in particular sparked a large amount of intrigue and wonderment as to Sni-sni’s current attire and, to a lesser degree, the sexual organs of birds.

Content to be free, Sni-sni picked up his pack and began the laborious act of strolling off, but the gang asked him to stay and answer their questions. He revealed that they were currently outside of Coastvalle, one of the kingdom of Karnathia’s biggest naval shipping hubs. He told them to head into town to inquire further about their whereabouts, but the adventurers regarded him with a surprising amount of sincerity. They asked Sni-sni why he had been imprisoned in the box and said that they would help them out. Tearfully, Sni-sni admitted that his enslaver lived in the village above them. Emotionally distraught, Peanut Butter Jones offered her fanny pack as a temporary home for the tengu, and he curled up inside. The new mission became finding Sni-sni’s attacker and bringing him to justice.

As the adventurers entered Coastvalle they found a helpful signpost that pointed in four distinct directions. To the west lied the Screaming Goat, Coastvalle’s tavern. To the north lay the castle, west the Coastvalle library, and to the south lay the market district. It was quickly decided that the most prudent option for their current situation was to head to the Screaming Goat to “get Sni-sni turnt” in hopes that drunkenness might loosen his tongue more on the topic of who had thrown him into the enchanted box.

Entering the bar, our adventurers found a warm and mirthful place, bustling with people drinking and conversing. They also found that the bar’s name was not just a coincidence, as they found a goat in the corner of the bar, screaming and bleating for dear life as the bar moved around him. Smorp immediately fell in love with the creature, much to the disdain of her friends. The party found themselves a spot near the rear of the bar and sat down as Pyrone approached the gruff barkeep. After a series of empty promises followed by gestures of false sincerity from Pyrone, he ordered a large flagon of mead for Sni-sni, which the bird creature gulped down in the blink of an eye. As this horrid display was happening a young dragonborn stepped on stage and began playing his flute. The music soothed those around him and enchanted them, all except for Peanut Butter Jones. Seeing that his music was going unappreciated by a member of his audience, the dragonborn pulled out a second flute and began playing even more skillfully. Verevius used his past dealing with magics of various sorts to determine that there was a powerful bardic energy flowing from this youth as he played his music. Seeing that he possessed two flutes, Peanut Butter Jones attempted to sneakily steal one of the flutes from him. This effort would backfire in a major way, however, and she tripped on a bar stool, flipping over the entire table and disrupting the performance.

Kneeling down to meet her at eye level, the draconic bard addressed the fallen tiefling, his voice dripping with feminity and smoothness, inquiring as to what she was trying to accomplish. The rest of the party circled around them and asked the young bard his name, which he revealed to be Cyrian. The party explained that they were here with their new friend Sni-sni and were looking into avenging the injustice done to him. At hearing the name and seeing his tiny drunken form in front of him, Cyrian became enraged and revealed that it was he who had trapped Sni-sni. Apparently the raven-esque merchant had sold him an elixir that would allow him to hide various weapons anywhere on his body to the tune of 50 gold, but upon taking the elixir it had only granted this magical inventory space to his rectum. Feeling slighted, the dragonborn had purchased a magical entrapment box and imprisoned the swindling tengu within it.

Trying to avoid tensions from arising, Peanut Butter Jones said that she was willing to trade anything for one of Cyrian’s flutes. She ended up offering Cyrian sexual favors in the back alley of the bar, which, while an excellent show of effort, was not that convincing (a 6 out of 20, some might say.) Still, a lizard of his word, Cyrian parted with one of his flutes. The “trade” over with, Narglethorpe managed to convince Sni-sni to part with more of his magical items should they kill Cyrian. When asked his counter offer, Cyrian stated that he didn’t want Sni-sni dead, he just found him annoying. After brief deliberation, it was decided that Cyrian was going to die, but before they could descend upon him a large barrel was thrown through the tavern window. As the barkeep and patrons scattered amidst the chaos, 6 masked brutes strode into the front of the bar. The leader, wearing a wolf mask and addressing himself as Steppenwolf, said that he and his gang, the Barnyard Boys, were here to rob the heroes and, more than likely, take their lives. The adventurers all took up fighting stances, save for Sni-sni, who had drank too much and passed out next to the screaming goat in the corner. The battle had begun…

Betty Kilroy began by slashing at Steppenwolf, but the leader of the pack managed to block it with his shield. New flute in hand, Peanut Butter Jones managed to use her new distracting flute music to entice Ratt, the bandit with the rat mask. Narglethorpe and Smorp, from their respective positions ducked behind bar tables, took shots on Reel Big Fish, the bandit wearing a trout mask, gravely wounding him. Summoning up all of his magics, Verevius cast forth an enormous flash of light, blinding Gorillaz, Def Leopard, and Modest Mouse, three of the attacking bandits. Deciding that it was time to go on the offensive, Steppenwolf proved he was the “big dog” by performing a flying superman punch on Betty, knocking her to the floor. His cohorts were less successful, however, with only Ratt and Reel Big Fish managing to launch attacks that were both failures. Pyrone swung at the bandits, but missed his attempt. Cyrian decided to assist the party that had just elected to kill him and played a haunting flute melody that filled Betty with inspiration.

Kicking up from the punch, Betty lunged at the leader of the bandits and began engaging in an intense one-on-one sword fight. Pockets of fighting began erupting all around the tavern, with injuries on both sides. Using his superior archery skills, Narglethorpe managed to fire an arrow right into the mouth of Reel Big Fish, piercing his brain. Meanwhile, Modest Mouse managed to close the distance on Smorp, assaulting her with a series of life threatening slashes. Holding her own, Smorp managed to push Modest Mouse back while Verevius came in with a devastating poison spray. His skin burning and his mind panicking, Modest Mouse fell to the floor and began convulsing. Sensing that her time was now, Smorp removed the bandit’s boot and attempted to stab him in the big toe. The same spilt beer that had tripped up the brute prior would also come to spell his doom, as Smorp slid on the spilled alcohol and missed her toe poke, instead sliding her knife under the thief’s mask, puncturing his brain and ending his life.

Meanwhile, Def Leopard had made his way over the bar tables and began charging at Narglethorpe and Cyrian. The desperado lunged at the pair, but narrowly missed them, catching only the edge of Cyrian’s knife and the hard impact of the wooden bar. As he laid stunned and bleeding, Narglethorpe brought down his short sword into the bandit, severing his spine and ending his woes.

Pyrone, battered as he was by the vicious attacks of his two opponents, was holding his own and managed to inflict serious damage on Ratt. Bewildered by the failing state of their attack, Gorillaz and Ratt turned tail and ran from their engagement. Seeing his cohorts’ cowardice, Steppenwolf disengaged from his heated battle with Betty Kilroy and chased after his men. He only managed to make it to the door to call out for them, however, when the tip of a broadsword pierced clean through his chest. A battered and bloodied Pyrone stood on the other end of the blade, thrusting with all of his might. Cursing the adventurers and lamenting that he’d never get to finish what he started, Steppenwolf died as Pyrone pushed him off of his blade.

Barely having enough time to lick their wounds and figure out what they were going to do, the party was accosted by a gruff voice from outside.

“This is the city guard! By the jurisdiction of Guard Captain Cobalt Rustskin, you are all under arrest! We have the tavern surrounded! Come out peacefully! Don’t make me and my boys come in there and rough you up!”

Trying to give his new friends more time to prepare themselves, Verevius decided to head out first to try and dissuade the guards. In the precious few seconds of preparation time, Peanut Butter Jones placed the unconscious Sni-sni back into her fanny pack, Pyrone used his paladin magic to heal Smorp slightly while she dressed the goat, whom she had claimed as her familiar, up as another adventurer, in hopes that it would be arrested and taken with them. As Verevius re-entered, he was in handcuffs being escorted by the Coastvalle city guard and it’s leader, a stout but hardy Dwarf by the name of Cobalt Rustskin. He placed our adventurers in chains and began escorting them out of the bar. Verevius, suspicious of how the guards knew of this attack within the city walls, scanned the room and saw the face of the only person in the bar that had seen everything and hadn’t helped them; the screaming goat. The goat stared straight at him and narrowed its eyes, and, for a brief moment, Verevius could swear he saw it give him the goat equivalent of a smirk before it nestled itself back up against Smorp.

They knew not what awaited them deep within the prisons of Coastvalle, but it was clear to see that their journeys in Karnathia had truly begun…

#dnd #Dungeons and Dragons #Aaron Wilbanks #original character #original story #screaming goat #Cyrian #Snisni #Karnathian Tea Party #ktp #Narglethorpe #smorp #Betty Kilroy #PEANUT BUTTER JONES #campaign #Coastvalle #Cobalt Rustskin #Barnyard Boys

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