Issue link: https://www.epageflip.net/i/714066
GregStevens,Publisher Chip Thompson, Editor EDITORIALBOARD How to have your say: Letters must be signed and provide the writer's home street address and home phone number. Anonymous letters, open letters to others, pen names and petition-style letters will not be allowed. Letters should be typed and no more than two double-spaced pages or 500words. When several letters address the same issue, a cross section will be published. Email: editor@ redbluffdailynews.com Fax: 530-527-9251 Mail to: P.O. Box 220, 728Main St., Red Bluff, CA 96080 Facebook: Leave comments at FACEBOOK.COM/ RBDAILYNEWS Twitter: Follow and send tweets to @REDBLUFFNEWS My wife Roleeda, who has edited and helped me write this column, and I have a new pet. He's a six month old Labrador we recently purchased from Bob Simonis, a neighbor of ours in Oak Run. Thisdogisahandsomelit- tle guy, but can often be a terror! We have named him Buster Stan- ley Statham be- cause I am Ray- mond Stanley Statham. Let me start by saying that it is a treat when Buster manages to go through a night without barking. When I get up in the morning and open the door he figuratively flies inside. It looks like he his try- ing to burst out of his skin. This nearly 50 pound tod- dler simply can't contain him- self. I wish sometimes I could feel as good as he does. After Googling recently, I discovered that Buster is just three human years old. No wonder he bites everything, destroys what he can and still whimpers for treats. How- ever, I must constantly re- mind myself that he is just a fun loving little pup. My wife was the first one to reflect on whether Buster is more trouble than he was worth. Our home began to take on the look of a war zone. Thus, she has relegated our beloved new family mem- ber to the back yard. The good news is that we have both decided that Buster is a keeper. After the first two months, we got a leash and started taking him for a two mile walk each morning. We have to be careful though because he is starting to get some se- rious muscle strength. One time, he suddenly saw a black bird landing nearby and took off, literally taking off with the leash. It was like tak- ing former Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger for a walk. "Buster, Buster, good boy. Come back here," I pleaded. Well, fat chance of that. My wife replied to me in a conversation "He is only a dog." Jokingly I responded with "How dare you. How dare you. He is our Buster Stanley Statham." The last time I drove him back to Sacramento from our mountain cabin, I learned that his memory is impecca- ble. As I parked and opened the passenger door, Buster leaped to the ground. I thought he was starting to run away again. As it turned out, he ran straight to that front door and got into his fa- vorite sitting position and waited impatiently for me. When I opened that door he again bolted inside and went directly for the kitchen where we keep his food and espe- cially the treats we have for him when he behaves. I can tell you that I find Buster to be great company. When I catch his eyes, I some- times actually think I know what he wants. When I take him for a drive, he usually puts his head down on the small compartment located between the two front seats of my pickup. I keep my coffee cup there, just a few inches away. I discovered once that Buster likes to clean its top with his long, pink tongue. However, my take on our family pet is still that modest changes can be made if we are to continue to get his un- conditional love. Mytakeonthemovies "Bad Moms" is a hilarious, yet sometimes tacky film. If you are ever terminally bored, you could give it a try. But, you would have to listen to a lot of cheap jokes in be- tween the good ones. I recommend you see some other movie. StanStathamserved1976-1994 in the California Assembly and was a television news anchor at KHSL-TV in Chico 1965- 1975. He is past president of the California Broadcasters Association and can be reached at StanStatham@gmail.com. Stan Statham My take on the family pet When I opened that door he again bolted inside and went directly for the kitchen where we keep his food and especially the treats we have for him when he behaves. Changes around new courthouse Editor: I just drove by the new court- house on the newly paved por- tion of Walnut Street. The whole street needs to be repaired. The chrome fire hydrant re- ally sets the state. A photo op for local, state government offi- cials as well as the politicians. A portion of Walnut Street, a chrome hydrant. — Sam Collins, Red Bluff Letterwriterwrongasusual Editor: Responding to Pat Johnston's letter posted July 28, all I can say is, as usual she is wrong. Bless her heart, she keeps trying but she just keeps com- ing up short. I just hope Chico State doesn't want their di- ploma back for fear she will be- come the poster girl for money wasted on an education from California's university system. However, she can bask in the glory that she has plenty of company. — Les Wolfe, Red Bluff End immigration and enshrine contraception, abortion, guns Editor: American teenager Ginny Thrasher just won the first gold medal of the 2016 Sum- mer Olympics — in the widely- reknowned, highly-prestigious, air rifle shooting contest. That's quite an accomplish- ment. I myself am a renowned BB gun marksman. When I was 13 — on a Wyoming win- ter day 37 years ago — a pi- geon landed on a sandstone cliff ledge. I wasn't supposed to kill birds, but since it was 30 yards off and I was only shooting my Sears Roebuck air rifle from hip level, I didn't think there was a snowball's chance in hell I'd hit it. However, when I shot, the pigeon immediately fluttered down into the snow — dead. I couldn't believe what I'd done. I wasn't proud — I felt awful. I did eventually get over it though, and several months later I added another one- handed shot — with the same gun — to my budding arsenal of stories to boast about. It was summer — just after nightfall — when I heard clattering and banging emanating from our ancient, weathered-grey garage. Swinging one of its heavy doors open revealed a pack rat staring down at me from a rafter. Hold- ing the flashlight in one hand and my air rifle in the other, I pointed both at the giant rodent and pop — it immediately fell to the ground; I'd hit it dead-cen- ter between the eyes. In the years thereafter until I graduated high school, I hunted regularly and killed hundreds of critters. Most — like skunks, beaver, porcupines and wood- chucks, were harmful to trees and livestock. However, against my parents' direction I did oc- casionally extinguish a few in- nocent animals like chipmunks and songbirds for no reason ex- cept they were tantalizing tar- gets. I also caught, killed, and ate fish and raised and helped neighbors brand, vaccinate, cas- trate and slaughter cattle, pigs and chickens. This all might sound heart- less, but every critter I killed ironically enriched my knowl- edge, interest and apprecia- tion of animals. My killings also improved the ecosystem. Their survivors no doubt expe- rienced greater abundance of food, less competition for ter- ritory and sex, less stress and injury from fighting and less disease than they otherwise would have. Killing animals also made me realize that no organism — not even humans — is re- ally more deserving of life than any other. That humans deem themselves superior is clearly egocentric. Humans are so pop- ulous and destructive to the en- vironment, natural resources and other organisms, the need to reduce our numbers has now become critical. To do that, we must encour- age birth control and abortion and stop immigration. If we don't, our numbers will con- tinue to grow until we've de- stroyed the environment, our quality of life and become em- broiled in horrific, bloody wars. Unfortunately, the short- sighted grasshoppers among us don't see the winter coming and accordingly only advocate for what feels good — to them — today. Avoiding disaster will require revising our method of electing leaders. In every election, both candidates and voters should be required to prove through test- ing that they possess adequate knowledge of both the candi- dates and issues to make intel- ligent decisions. Instant-runoff elections should be used to en- sure that those winning elec- tions are in fact favored by a majority of voters. Now that I'm older, my in- terest in killing for curiosity, food and sport is mostly gone. When I kill now, it's only to pre- serve my own and other crea- tures' right to live safely, peace- fully and modestly. Like now, a cricket just started assault- ing my senses with mind-numb- ing noise. I accordingly have no qualms about smashing it and putting it out of my misery. — Nathan Esplanade, Rancho Tehama Your opinions Cartoonist's take Chickens. Who would guess how interesting these crazy birds could be? My first fowl encoun- ter was many years ago on a farm in Ohio. My grandfa- ther had about 100 chickens, white with red combs. He and I would gather the eggs ev- ery morning and twice a year we would clean out the henhouse. A nastier job is hard to imagine. My wife desperately wanted chickens. Now that we lived in the country I had no excuse to deny her request. We even had a fenced and well protected area for them to live. Whenever we were in a feed store it took all my powers of persuasion to keep her from bringing home a box full of chicks or young pullets. I thought we should have some idea of what we were doing first. Not just buy a bunch of tiny chickens who would squeeze through the chain link fence and rush off to their doom. "Sweetheart, maybe we should ask our neighbor for some advice first?" How could I have been so stu- pid? Our neighbor raises exotic chickens. We gave her a call and she selected an assortment of pullets and agreed to raise them for us until they were big enough to be safe in their pen. So now we needed a coop. A lot of folks build their own — but I'm not that handy. I stumbled upon the perfect coop on Craigslist. The color even matched our falling down shed. It was perfect. I knew that it would never fit through the gate, and would have to be lifted over the fence. I'm an old man, so I called some other neighbors — two fine strapping young men who have come to our rescue before. They came right over, lifted that coop and with a little help from grandpa, and we got it over the fence, leveled and in place. We were ready. I don't think our neighbor truly believed we were capable of raising these chickens, but with some trepidation, she de- livered the pullets. She brought them at dusk and stuffed all nine of them into the coop, latching the door. We had food and water inside, and were in- structed to leave them locked in until the afternoon of the following day. This would en- sure the chickens became at- tached to the coop as their home. Sure enough, the very next night at dusk, all nine chickens marched right up that ramp and took their respective perches upon the roosts. We had Australorps, Barnevelders, a Buff Orpington and also three "Easter Eggers" to give us some beautiful blue eggs. They were all beauties, ex- cept the dirty white Easter Egger who soon became our favorite. She was the only hen we named — and me being the lazy sort — I came up with "Whitey." I never knew that chickens announced when they have laid an egg. What a raucous squawk soon followed by a proud strut. They also loved to graze out- side their pen. Once full grown, they would just fly out when- ever they wanted, with us run- ning around like chickens our- selves herding them back in. I had the bright idea of rais- ing the fence height a foot with some chicken wire. I figured the chickens wouldn't want to land there before launching themselves into our garden. I figured wrong. Our neighbor, the chicken whisperer, asked why we just didn't clip their wings? Isn't that like surgery? With a smile she asked if we had any scis- sors and calmly walked to the coop. She sat down and pro- ceeded to trim three inches of feathers from one wing. You don't need to do both because they can't fly with one short wing. Problem solved. Thanks again neighbor. Our coop has eight nesting boxes, so how many do nine chickens use? One. Eight or nine eggs all in one nest. Strange. A lot of folks are surprised we don't have a rooster. A rooster only fertilizes the eggs — the hens will lay regardless. I never thought chick- ens could be so interesting or that you could become so at- tached to them. And they lay eggs. Eggs would probably be cheaper to buy at the store. But have you ever been sung to or followed around by an egg car- ton? I rest my case. We love our chickens — and our neighbors. Corky Pickering and his wife relocated from the Bay Area to Cottonwood in 2014. He recently retired from the federal government as an attorney advising law enforcement. He has been a rock and roll bass player and a Marine JAG. He can be reached at thecork6@gmail.com. Corky Pickering Birds of a feather — tales from the chicken coop Corky Pickering Stan Statham OPINION » redbluffdailynews.com Thursday, August 11, 2016 » MORE AT FACEBOOK.COM/RBDAILYNEWS AND TWITTER.COM/REDBLUFFNEWS A4