Bits of This and That

No new foals have arrived since 30 June.  We're still expecting quite a few, so there may be a few more before Pony Penning Week (July 20 - 27), and there will probably be about 10 or so born after Pony Penning.  It's hard to believe that two weeks from today the combined herds will be getting their final assessment by the veterinarians before the Pony Swim, and decisions will be in the making on which foals to keep as Buy Backs for the breeding pool.  It also seems very strange not to be gossiping about the foals with Maureen Beebe this year...  Gosh, I miss her!

At the old Beebe homestead - left to right: Paul, Ricky and Clarence (Grandpa) Beebe; 

a Jeffries cousin, and Maureen Beebe.

 
Spent the last week in Old Town Louisville with two black Labrador Retrievers, Ivy and Esmé.  Esmé's owner has allowed her to revert to grabbing her hand with her mouth again - and she asked me to work with her on it while I was there.  I believe that the problem is the dogs don't see the owner as the pack leader...  As soon as I entered the house to do my week's stay, Esmé tried to grab my hand in her mouth.  I pulled it back, said "No!" in a loud voice, and stomped one foot at the same time I said 'no.'  Esmé did not try to grab my hand again during the entire stay, nor did she reach for peoples' hands as we walked around town and folks petted her.
  Not sure I'm going to continue working for this client. On Friday, the company that mows the lawn and does the edge trimming arrived, and I made certain the dogs were inside and closed and locked the doggie door to the back yard.  I had stepped out onto the porch to let the men know the dogs were safely inside, when the owner called me.  She was in a panic - where was Esmé?  Someone down the street had sent her the photo of a dog she found wandering down the street, and insisted it was Esmé.  I told her that her dog was inside the house, and she asked if I was sure.  I went back inside and sat down on the sofa, and I told her I had a dog sitting on either side of me, and that the identity tags said "Ivy" and "Esmé" so I was pretty sure the dogs were at home and with me...  It was crazy.

Old Town Louisville Main Street - I house-sit 6 blocks from here

A black bear on the outskirts of Boulder found an unlocked Subaru on a hillside driveway.  There were discarded food wrappers and a few left-over snacks in bags on the car's floor.  The bear opened the door of the car and climbed in.  The door closed behind him.  He made a mess of the interior trying to get out, and somehow, finally (using the police description) "butt shifted" the vehicle into reverse.  Since the parking brake was not on, the car rolled down the driveway, across the two lane road and on into a field, hitting several trees before stopping.  The striking of the trees caused the driver's door to pop open and the bear escaped, apparently undamaged....

Been working on genealogies for four sets of people - when I hit a roadblock on one family I switch to another and then head onward again. It's definitely not boring, though some people may think that looking at old records is a terrible way to spend a day and/or night.  My cousin asked me to look at someone in her husband's family, and I started at 2 in the afternoon; at 8 she told me she had named the wrong relative, so I switched my search over to the correct man and worked on him and his family until 4 this morning.  Found myself looking at Tribal Records from the Cherokee Nation, since the family was originally Shawnee, but had been adopted into the Cherokee.  It was extremely interesting!

Blue Jacket, a Chief of the Shawnee

Confrontation On the National Mall

A lot of applications for marches and gatherings were approved for Friday, 18 January, on the National Mall in Washington, D. C.  The two most notable, due to later events, was the March for Life, a march and get-together for people against abortion, and the Indigenous Peoples March, for Native Americans to protest their lack of respect, lands, and laws from the white immigrants who took over and raped their land. (From that statement alone, you know where my heart lies.) 
   There are three groups of people in this story.  A group of all white male students from Covington Catholic High School, a private all-male college preparatory school in Covington, Kentucky, were waiting for their bus to pick them up after their participation in the March for Life.  A small group of men, members of the Black Hebrew Israelites, had also met on the National Mall to speak out about their religion, and their perceived mistreatment by other religious groups and the media.  And Native Americans at the Indigenous Peoples March were represented by many tribal elders, spiritual leaders, and speakers, as well as everyday tribal members.
   The group of Catholic boys, many wearing red MAGA hats, drew the attention of the Black Hebrew Israelites.  The BHI group began taunting and shouting abuse at the group of boys.  After a few minutes of verbal abuse, the boys began shouting back.  Racial epithets were yelled by both sides.  The Natives Americans had finished their March, and approaching the two groups, heard and saw their strife.  Nathan Phillips, an elder in the Omaha Tribe of Nebraska, a singer and drummer, and someone who served in the US Marine Corp from 1972 through 1976 observed the loud clash.  Phillips decided to approach the two groups, and insert himself, playing his drum and singing the American Indian Movement Song, to try to create unity and to break down the hostility between the two groups.
   At first, this seemed to work.  Both sides quieted and looked at him and his friends.  Both groups, the boys and the Israelites backed up, making space between them.  Nathan Phillips continued his singing and drumming, and walked between the two groups. Hoping to create peace between them, he stopped and sang.  The BHI group backed away.  But, after a minute, a young man from the Catholic school group walked up to the singer, entered his personal space, and proceeded to paste a very strange smile upon his face.
  As Phillips continued to sing and play his drum, the young man appeared to lean even more into his personal space, with the smile staying in place.  Then his friends from the Catholic school began gathering in a tight group around him and the singer.  The boys began making the infamous Tomahawk Chop sign and making the sounds from the Florida State University's War Song.  After this they began chanting "Build the Wall" as well as "Trump 2020" - all specifically pointed at a Tribal Elder who was trying to defuse a racially-charged situation between this group of young white men and a smaller group of adult Black Hebrew Israelites.
   We know the Tribal Elder and singer was Nathan Phillips.  We found out the young man is Nick Sandmann, in the 11th grade at Covington Catholic High School.  As soon as the incident became a sensation on Facebook and YouTube, Sandmann's family hired a public relations team to shine up his image and coach him for any interviews he might have. (The public relations group is partially owned by a conservative columnist and commentator who occasionally appears on CNN.)
   (A personal aside - the smile, smirk, grin, rictus of the face, or whatever you want to call it, which Nick Sandmann had plastered on his face as he stood squarely in front of Nathan Phillips and refused to move, made me think of a great white shark...)

Nick Sandmann at left, Nathan Phillips at right.

Still photo taken from video by Kaya Taitano.

   Nathan Phillips is known as a peaceful man, and one who wishes for serenity for all.  He has stated, many times, since the incident that he went between the two groups to promote peace and to calm the situation down, as the intensity seemed to be rising.  Having watched a 20 minutes section of video several times, I think that was what he was doing - and might have accomplished, had not Sandmann decided to confront him, the pacifier.  Immediately after the event, Sandmann stated that during the entire time he was being respectful and that his friends did nothing wrong or hurtful.
    Nick Sandmann was interviewed on NBC by Savannah Guthrie.  In my opinion, the interview was a bust.  the boy had been well coached and knew all the right words to use, even though they sounded odd, coming from his mouth.  I think the most honest moment in the conversation was when she asked the boy to explain the meaning of his smirk.  Showing him a still photo, she asked "What do you think this looks like?"  Sandmann replied, "I see it as a smile saying that, this is the best you're going to get out of me. You get any further reaction of aggression.  And I'm willing to stand here as long as you want to hit this drum in my face."  (I wonder if he meant to say "no" further reaction, rather than any?)  Instead of pushing back against his plainly rehearsed replies, Guthries showed the video of his classmates making tomahawk chops, and the boy claimed he wasn't aware of that happening.
    One of the most interesting things that Nick Sandmann did say was that he "wished he could have left."  Could have left?  What was keeping him there?  He was not rooted to that spot, he could easily have backed up and walked away.  He was enjoying being in the spotlight, the center of attention of all the cameras.
    In researching the Covington Catholic High School and it's past, a photo and video were found from 2012, of a group of CCHS students at a basketball game, yelling at an African-American opponent.  I admit, it is the student cheering section, and I understand the idea of "Black-out Night" (as the local university's colors are black and gold) - but there are students in the photo wearing black face paint, and one of them is making a white supremacy sign with his hand in said photo right in front of the black opponent.  That is disgusting.

***********************

  One thing that has been discovered - this photo was posted and re-tweeted by a Twitter account that has since been taken down.  The Twitter account was used on an average of 130 times per day, and most of the content was divisive to America as a whole.

  The tweet, and this confrontation, IS divisive and subversive to our American way of life.  We Americans should be like the Three Musketeers - "All for one, and one for all!"

The Métis People

Have you heard of the Métis people?  I had not, until I began reading a mystery series written by Peter Bowen.  The protagonist in a series of 14 books, so far, Gabriel Du Pré is a Métis man in Montana; he is as good as the world allows him to be, doing all sorts of jobs, and he is an exceptional fiddle player.  He plays the "old songs" of the Métis people, he writes his own songs, and he improvises.  He is described the way my Dad used to talk about the older farmers and ranchers he knew, although Gabriel Du Pré lives very much in the present day.
   Who are the Métis?  The Métis live in both Canada and the United States.  They are a mixed race people, and "Métis" means mixed.  The Métis people helped to shape the Canada of today, mainly in terms of the expansion to the west.  The first Métis people were born in Eastern Canada as early as the 1600s.  They were the children born to European fishermen and their Native wives.  However, it was the Red River region, in present day Manitoba, where the Métis Nation was first established.  When the fur trade moved west, in the 1700s and 1800s, many French-Canadian fur traders found Native wive and had children.  The children from these unions formed a new Nation in Canada - the "Western Métis."  Today there are between 350,000 to 400,000 Métis living in Canada.
   The Métis people had/have a distinct way of life that incorporated aspects of both both French-Canadian and Native cultures. The fur traders had married, mainly, women of the Cree, Ojibwa and Saulteaux tribes.  Most of the traders were French and Catholic, and their Métis children were exposed to both the Catholic and Native belief systems.
   The Métis were skilled voyageurs, buffalo hunters, traders and interpreters.  Their understanding of both societies helped bridge cultural gaps, which resulted in better trading relationships.  Over time, the Métis became valuable employees of both fur-trading companies in Canada - the Hudson's Bay Company, which was British, and the North-West Company, which was French.
   Between 1795 and 1815 a network of Métis settlements and trading posts was established throughout what are now Michigan and Wisconsin, and, to a lesser extent, Illinois and Indiana.  As late as 1829, the Métis were dominant in the economy of present-day Wisconsin and northern Michigan.
   During the early days of territorial Michigan, Métis and French played a dominant role in elections. It was largely with Métis support that Gabriel Richard was elected as the delegate to Congress.  After Michigan was admitted as a state and under increased pressure from European-American settlers from eastern states, many Métis migrated west and north.  They went into the Canadian prairies, including the Red River Colony and the Southbranch Settlement.  Others identified with the Chippewa tribe, and some were subsumed in an ethnic French identity.  By the late 1830s, the only area where there was a widespread recognition of the Métis as a part of the community was in Sault Ste. Marie.  Another major Métis settlement was La Baye, located at the present site of Green Bay, Wisconsin. In 1816 the majority of La Baye residents were Métis.
   In Montana, a large group of Métis from the Pembina region hunted there in the 1860s, eventually forming an agricultural settlement in the Judith Basin by 1880.  This settlement eventually disappeared, with most Métis leaving the settlement.
   The Métis are recognized as a Native tribe in Canada, and have their own flag.  They are not recognized as a tribe in the United States - usually being referred to as a "breed."  (How awful!)
   I am very grateful to author Peter Bowen for introducing me to this wonderful race of people!

Vive le Métis!

Native Americans

According to my three DNA analyses, I have less than 0.1% Native American ancestry.  That's fine with me.  I do know, however, that one of my ancestors had a Native American wife (illegally) in Virginia in the 1650s, and I descend from his (unlawful) daughter.  Her grandchildren were placed onto Native American Tribal Rolls, for which, they had to prove their ancestry.  I write the above because I wrote several research papers while in high school and in college about the history and treatment of Native Americans - 10 years before I discovered that I have a teeny smidgen of their blood in my veins.
   Last night, I decided to begin reading Killers of the Flower Moon - The Osage Murders and the Birth of the FBI written by David Grann.  I didn't turn out the light until I had finished reading the entire book.  When the Osage tribe was moved to what is now Osage County, Oklahoma in the early 1870s, the treaty agreement said they would hold that land in perpetuity.  The Osage had watched, with horror and wonder, the Oklahoma Land Rush.  They had seen the US government slowly go through the tribal reservations, taking back the land, and giving each family an allotment of 160 acres, or less.It became their turn, and they fought it for several years.  The chiefs and attorneys finally acceded to the governments demands to allotments - but a knowing leader made certain that the Osage tribe, as a people, would continue to own all of the mineral and ground rights for all of the original territory.  The tribe knew that oil was under this land due to a few seeps into small creeks.
   Once the allotments were made, white people could purchase the rest of the county, and cattle ranchers and merchants moved in.  Then oil - black gold - was "discovered" on the land, and the Osage people, as a whole became rich.
   Of course, the white man decided that the Osage tribe were a simple people, and that they could not manage their new-found wealth.  Almost every single member of the Osage tribe was assigned a white "guardian" to oversee their spending.  If you were an Osage, you paid 50 to 500 times the price that other people paid for simple items.  One "guardian" purchased a new car for his ward - the car cost $250; the "guardian" charged his ward $1,250 for the automobile, and the white man pocketed the difference...
   After 24 Osage people died in less than three years - from strange wasting sicknesses, from bullets, from explosions, some with no known cause - the Bureau of Investigation was called upon for help.  At that time, the the Bureau had just been taken over by a young man named J. Edgar Hoover, and he was "cleaning shop" after previous leaders had made it known that they were easily bought.  The search actually centered upon the deaths of six people - five Osage and a white serving woman.  And the agents were able to catch and convict two of the men who had done the planning of the deaths.
   Near the end of the book, the author talks about the other deaths, and the probable killers of the first designated death.  Then he admits to looking at the records of the tribe - and finding that many more people died than he had supposed....   It's an awful look at humanity...
    I highly recommend this book!

Hooray For Rain & Snow!

A combination of rain and fat, heavy snowflakes is falling outside. The sky is grey, it's 37 degrees out, and the kits are playing in the wetness. The skies clouded up last night while I was watching NCIS and the temperature started to drop after eleven. It was raining at 3 this morning, and when I arose at 6, we had the mixture falling. After several days in the 70s and 80s, the snow is melting upon contact with the ground and roadways. I've already gone out and purchased a few necessities so I can put together spaghetti and meat sauce for supper.
In doing some in depth reading regarding the Kiowa and Cheyenne this past weekend, I was surprised to find that most Native American males actually had facial hair. But it was removed on a daily basis with tweezers... Men removed their eyebrows, moustaches, and hair on their chins and cheeks. Sometimes a wife was allowed to help groom her husband, but usually males plucked themselves, or if they were bachelors, they assisted each other. I don't know why that was such a surprise to me, but it was.
Nedi just ran inside and shook like a dog. His long fur is standing up and out in bunches, as he is thoroughly wet. He's a funny little man. Lovey is currently sitting at my elbow, observing both my typing, and Nedi's (now frantic) grooming. She looks like Bast - so regal!