An Agrarian Dog

Last night my wife an I drove 20 miles north to an Amish Dairy farm, and brought home a Rat Terrier puppy. My wife and I considered the matter carefully following the death of our beloved German Shepherd. We both like having a watchdog-not an attack dog; just a dog that lets us know that someone is in the driveway. A watchdog gives us time to see whether putting on an extra supper plate, or grabbing a shotgun is in order. My cowdog is too old and set in her routine to live indoors. We decided a smaller dog would be a nice change for our small house. We were looking for a Feist or rat terrier, which are really two strains of the same dog.

I believe the pup is the 23rd dog I have owned in my life. When I was a little agrarian kid, we always had at least a couple of rat terriers around, often with a touch of beagle blood. Unlike Jack Russell Terriers, the Rat Terriers always seem to be more calm and biddable. Yet they still have courage to spare. My childhood dogs would flush the pheasants that were plentiful then and push rabbits from the brush piles. Unlike a beagle,they would come home when I was ready to quit hunting for the day. We seldom had cats, but the dogs would chase mice and rats with glee. Nobody pulled in the driveway without their yapping, and they were clean house dogs. These dogs were a multi generational part of life here. The oldest picture I have of my father shows him at about age five with a litter of terrier pups. I have an older picture of my grandfather and my oldest uncle, probably about 1915, with a little feist type dog in the picture.

In reading the history of these little dogs, I learned that my family was not exceptional in keeping them. They were an integral part of traditional American small farms across the country. Their heyday lasted until the 1940's and 1950's when chemical rat poisons began to replace terriers on farms.

So what to name an agrarian dog? there seemed to be one obvious choice---Wendell.

Tractor trouble

Recently the larger of our two tractors failed to start after loading wood. It is a JD 990 that has performed flawlessly for the past 6 years or so. My first guess was the 15 amp fuse, but it seemed to be more of a battery problem. I took the battery to a local chain store, and they tested it and said a cell was dead. I bought a new battery, went home and installed it and the tractor still would not turn over. I then became worried. When I was a little agrarian kid, we always had old tractors and lots of mechanical problems. Some of my earliest memories are serving as a human work light for my Dad, holding the flashlight while he cursed at a stubborn part or broken bolt. Repairs cost money; even if you or a friend to provide the labor, tractor parts are frightfully expensive.

I called a more knowledgeable friend, and we proceeded to analyze the alternator, wiring and fuses. Two hours later, he came to the last possibility; the new battery was not working. After two more trips to the battery store, I finally ended up with a battery that would start my tractor.

While this time and trouble was upsetting, it was less so because we have two tractors. Our second machine is a little New Holland TZ18 we bought earlier this year. While messing around with the battery store, I could still haul wood and do basic chores. My lovely wife and I both agree we would give up the second car before the second tractor. With a wife like that, I am a lucky man.

The TZ18 mows the lawn, and the loader moves manure and other loose materials.

The 990 plows, disks, brush hogs, does hay work,spreads manure, and moves most of the firewood. Here are some "plow cam" views I took back in September.






Here is the 990 plowing the garden last spring.



Many small farmers like animal power. I have a cousin that prefers draft horses and mules to tractors. Others like the older gas tractors, such as the Farmall, Allis Chalmers, and Ford models from the 1940's and 1950's. I am not a generally a believer in progress, but I like modern diesel tractors.compared to a horse, my tractors have never kicked me, bit me, jumped a fence and tramped through the neighbors yard, or taken off in terror upon seeing a bird. My nostalgia for the old gasoline tractors of my youth vanished after the third time we replaced the same parts on our old Ford NAA.

Cowshiners

Saturday, my wife and I ran over to the local dairy where we buy our raw milk. We drink about two gallons of milk a week, unless we are making cheese or cooking a lot. The dairy is a nice 15 minute country drive, and the milk is $4.00 per gallon. Over the past few weeks, I have been noticing more cars with Ohio plates, and more people buying LOTS of milk. Last Saturday, this culminated in a woman buying somewhere around 40 gallons of raw milk to take back home to Cleveland. We, and two other local people waited patiently while this lady filled her 40+ jugs one at a time from the bulk tank. She will drive the 90 miles home and fill her freezer, then thaw the milk as she needs it.

The State of Ohio, in its infinite wisdom has deemed raw milk too dangerous a substance to be sold to the general public. Our local licensed raw milk dairy is the nearest place these poor people can come to legally get milk that has not been pasturized and homogenized so it can taste like swill and probably lose its nutrients. I keep telling the dairy to send a Christmas card to the Ohio Department of Agriculture. ODA might miss the card, because they seem to be busy conducting undercover stings against anyone who would sell raw milk.

I have a strong taste preference for raw milk. I also like that I can look inside the dairy and see how the cattle who are giving me their milk are treated. I like seeing that the milking parlor and milk house are clean. I like not having to milk a goat twice a day (Which we used to do) and still having decent milk. However, I can only enjoy this because of my good fortune at being born a few miles east of the Pennsylvania-Ohio line.

I have been to Youngstown, Ohio. It is a heartbreaking place. The main businesses seem to be selling illegal drugs, drug addict women selling their bodies,auto lots with cheap cars to leave town. and bars to drown out the reality of living in Youngstown. I would think that the law enforcement resources of the state of Ohio might be better put to a place like that than undercover sting operations against dairy farmers. However, I suspect ODA's undercover goons are too cowardly to go up against real criminals.

As the lady pulled away, I remembered the old time moonshiners, running cars full of whiskey. I like to think of her as a "Cowshiner" a kind of 21st Century suburban moonshiner. I hope the ODA doesn't pull her over, dump the milk and Taser her. I hope that mini van can go fast enough to outrun them. Good luck cowshiner lady.


Some of the girls who keep us in milk.

Anglican Awakening

A week and a half ago I attended the Anglican Awakening in Akron Ohio. This event was meant to bring together the various groups of Anglican jurisdictions who have been scattered recently by the liberalism of the Episcopal Church USA. For about ten years now, bishops from Rwanda, Uganda, Kenya, Nigeria, South America, and Southeast Asia have been consecrating missionary bishops for the US. In essence, the USA is now a mission field, because the oldest protestant denomination in the country is now so morally and theologically bankrupt. Partnerships have also been formed with other groups who left the Episcopal Church with their orders intact earlier. The purpose of the gathering was to pray together, learn together, and join together for Holy Communion. The gathering was held at Saint Luke's Church, a large vibrant suburban parish. Here is an Icon of Saint Luke in the church


While this had celebratory aspects, The themes of the conference that meant the most to me were about suffering and repentance. Bishop Alexis Biladabago was the first teacher I heard. As a Rwandan, he knows about both the reality of suffering and the transformative power of Jesus Christ. Bishop Alexis has spoken on suffering from the US to Australia. He was once confronted by a high ranking Australian Government official who had many accusatory questions about how anyone could believe in a benevolent God in a world full of pain and suffering. This Bishop who personally suffered the horrors of the genocide said that he did not have all the answers, but he wanted his questioner to be able to know Jesus Christ so that they could stand together in heaven and ask about these things.

Since meeting him, I have been reading about the Rwandan Genocide. Rwanda was a Country where 90 percent of the people were Christian, yet unspeakable horrors happened. As "enlightened westerners" we can write of the genocide as an act of primitive African tribalism, but that answer is not good enough. It will not explain the horrors perpetuated by "advanced" peoples. How did sophisticated Weimar Germans degenerate within a few years into industrial scale butchers? How can 21st Century Americans leave the babies from botched abortions to die in hospital closets? The answers to Rwanda, the Nazis, and ourselves lie in the human heart.

One aspect of Rwanda is that the churches became institutionalized. Membership had certain social advantages. A comfortable Church will not rock the boat or threaten the status quo.

Here is Bishop Alexis




Here are Bishops John Guernsey (Uganda) Bishop Martyn Minns (Nigeria/CANA) and
Bishop Robert Duncan (Pittsburgh/Southern Cone) checking the news.




I am not a very good photographer. most of my pictures from the liturgy got the back of folks' heads. There are many better pictures at Father Richard Dalton's site, which is worth checking out anyway.

Milk drenched food--does anyone else do this?

My Lovely wife recently made two wonderful apple pies with traditional lard crust. They are delicious. However, she finds it curious and somewhat distasteful that I can only eat pie when drenched in milk. I do this to all pies except mincemeat and pumpkin. I drench other desserts, such as strawberry shortcake and chocolate cake in milk. All the men on my Dad's side of the family did this. Some of the real country diners around here make provisions for this, by offering milk with such desserts as apple dumplings. My wife never saw this foodway before she moved to Western Pa.

I have tried researching this custom on the web. I did not find a lot of information. Some people said it is an English custom. However, my mother was from a family of fairly recent English immigrants, and she found it as unusual when she married my Dad as my own wife found it strange. My mom thought it was simply a disgusting way to use up the surplus of skimmed milk that old-time farmers had from the days when cream was sold.

Is this just a western Pennsylvania thing?
Is it a country custom?
Is it just a dairy farmer thing?
Is it just a bad habit?
I would appreciate any other knowledge or experience with milk drenched food.

Bishop Henry Scriven Visits Grace Church

This Sunday, was the final visit of the Rt. Reverend Henry Scriven to Grace Anglican Church. Bishop Henry will be returning to his native England to continue missionary work. Because our church is now a parish of the Diocese of Pittsburgh, Anglican Province of the Southern Cone, we technically have no Diocesan Bishop right now. Thus Bishop Henry came to preach, teach, confirm, and celebrate Holy Communion, but he came without his normal episcopal regalia. Our beloved priest was not there for the best reason in the World to miss Church-He and his wife just had a baby girl!



Father Paul Cooper from Saint Christopher's Church came to assist.


Bishop Henry proclaims Grace Church as a parish of the Diocese, assisted by a deaconess from Saint Christopher's.


I still find it nothing short of miraculous that our Anglican parish in this small town can can fill the pews of a rented Presbyterian church, worshiping with the 1928 prayer book. God's Grace for repentant sinners through Word and Sacrament is powerful indeed.

Dogs in Heaven

This was a very sad day here, as we buried our faithful German Shepherd, Riko. For me, grief is always a cause for reflection. There is an emptiness in our house, as Riko was a particularly fine companion. For quite a while I will expect his bark when I come home, and look for him out of the corner of my eye to be laying on one of the rugs. I never wanted him; but my wife did. I thought German Shepherds were "Robot Dogs". Riko taught me different. He was very playful and affectionate. He was honest and good natured.In many respects, his character reflected the monks from whom we got him.

I have had dogs my entire life. Growing up, my family always had a small pack of Feist dogs around, as well as the occasional spaniel and farm collie. Later I kept my own packs of hunting dogs and started a number of Border Collies for sheep herding, some for a Border Collie Rescue Organization. Every one of them (save one) has broken my heart to one degree or another by dying. For a Christian Believer in this time and place, this always raises the question of whether our animals will join us in heaven.

I don't worry a lot about heaven. I am holding out for the general resurrection that many Christian confess in the creeds but few spend much time talking about. God enables us though breeding animals and plants to be a kind of co-creator with him. While everything dies as a consequence of the corruption of the fall, this creation is no more in vain than our death is the end of our creation (which was also a co-creation between God and our parents). I think God allows us this tremendous privilege because in spite of our sinful fallen natures, he really loves us. I believe that every flower we plant, every dog we breed, every picture we make, and every other work we do in truth and beauty will somehow be a part of that new creation when Heaven and Earth meet. Spirits floating around are not good enough for me. I want a body to see, hear, and touch the bodies of those people and things I love. I plan on hugging Riko again, and my Dad, and my wife. We have a prayer in my church's services of evening prayer thanking God for our creation and preservation in this life, but also "for thine inestimable love in the redemption of the World by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace and for the hope of glory. . I take this pray at its word, that our Lord will redeem everything, and I place a great hope in that glory. I hope that this might sooth some who worry about the question of "animals in heaven". If you do not want to believe a poorly educated Pennsylvania farmer in this matter, I might recommend the online lectures and books by Bishop NT "Tom" Wright, in particular Surprised By Hope. Many of the early church fathers also had similar insights.

At the same time, our time and culture sometimes places too much affection into pets. I have seen dogs made to suffer because their owners cannot cope with their death. I believe that sometimes veterinarians are willing to encourage people into extraordinary measures for their pets that sometimes prolong the animal's suffering for this same reason. I think some wisdom from Riko's previous owners are in order. New Skete is a remarkable community, working for the reform of monastic life, much like the original monasticism was a reform movement for a church that was growing corrupted by its recent alliance with Roman authority. They love their dogs,but suggest a balance wherein the dog knows its proper place in the family. They also have have little use for paid pet cemeteries and some other modern affectations. While Riko is gone, and we will miss him, we also live in a world of great pain and tragedy. For right now, our job is to dry off our tears, get up and go on creating in goodness, truth, and beauty, and to do what we can to alleviate some of the misery and pain around us.