I’ve written before about living in a bus, but why not try living in a caboose? This treasure came up on the local craigslist page the other day. Here’s a link to the ad, and I’ve included the picture — those postings tend to die off after a while and this one is too good to leave behind:

Looks like quite the place. A little spiffier than the last caboose I set foot in, that’s for sure. Here’s what they say about it:

Great for guest house or cottage.Caboose is currently located in North Bay Ontario, Originally ordered by the Temiskimang & Northern Ontario Railroad in 1939 now Ontario Northland. Built by the Hamilton Steel Car Co. It was ordered as a passenger car to go North from North Bay as there was no passenger trains going north back then, all passengers had to ride in the caboose of the freight trains. Inside is restored to its original state including colors, Floor replaced and insulated with 2 layers of styrofoam SM, Benches, bunks and conductors desk were stripped and redone. Comfortabally sleeps 6 all year long, even in -40 weather. Well insulated when built, warms up fast. All lights work, lots of recipiticals, cable TV and telephone. I have not finished the bathroom and shower, but there is room and easily done.(50,000lb) Van body lifts off wheels, moved it there with a low boy Transport and a crane lift at each location (same crane two lifts). Wheels, (14,000lbs each of 2) tracks, ties and crossing lights moved with a boom truck so all in all no big deal but that all depends on how far, and where it is going. My cost to move it was $1300.00 but that was years ago.

The delivery guy (Andy) leaves the daily paper on top of the heater in the atrium downstairs. As a result it’s pleasantly warm by the time I get down to pick it up. This feels luxurious, somehow, this pre-warmed newspaper. Almost like that pre-warmed shaving cream they use at the old barbershop downtown (very nice). Looks like 2010 will be the year of simple pleasures.

And yet all is not well on the newspaper front: apparently a fellow resident has taken a liking to our nicely warmed copies of the Globe. It’s a classic case of “early bird gets the worm,” really. Never mind that this “worm” is hand delivered with my name on it; if I’m not down there to pick it up early, well, it probably wont be there when I go down to pick it up late. Setting the worm analogy aside (I’m not the one who’s robbin’ here), the predicament really rankles on Saturdays — which usually mark the best papers and the laziest mornings of the lot.

Anyhow, lately there’s been much debate in the news regarding the divine right of Kings and Prime Ministers to prorogue Parliament. Fortunately I’m not the only one who recalls earlier prorogations of dubious merit. The 17^th-century parliamentary historian John Rushworth (see Historical collections of private passages of state Weighty matters in law [1659]) records one such prorogation, courtesy of King James, which took place in 1621:

A Committee of both Houses afterwards attending the King, he told them how ill he took it, that the Commons should dispute his reasons of Adjournment; all power being in him alone to call, adjourn, prorogue, and dissolve Parliaments. And on Iune 4. he declared for an Adjournment till November following; And that he will in the mean time of his own authority redress Grievances.

In response, the adjourned MPs drew up a declaration voicing their frustration at having their legislative hands tied, first lamenting their plight then claiming that “upon signification of His Majesties pleasure in Parliament, they shall be ready to the utmost of their powers, both with their lives and fortunes to assist him so…” The declaration is quoted in Rushworth (in Gothic type no less):

As it happened, “His majesties pleasure” outweighed parliamentary process. Rushworth writes that the King took

notice that many great affairs debated in Parliament could not be brought to perfection in so short a time… and withall observing that divers of those Particulars required a speedy determination and settlement for his peoples good, and that they are of that condition and quality… that he needeth not the assistance of Parliament to reform the same…

Charles I would take a similar course during his own reign. Turning to A compleat history of the life and raigne of King Charles from his cradle to his grave collected and written by William Sanderson, Esq. (1658), we find another justification of prorogation — here Charles chooses to prorogue rather than face interference and criticism from Parliament. Sanderson includes the King’s 1628 proclamation, Addressed to “My Lords and Gentlemen,” which begins thus:

IT may seem strange that I come so suddenly to end this Session, therefore before I give my assent to the Bils, I will tell you the cause, though I must avow I ow an account of my actions to none but God alone. It is known to every one that a while ago the House of Commons gave me a Remonstrance, how acceptable every man may judge, and for the merit of it I will not call that in question, for I am sure no wise man can justifie it.

Now since I am certainly informed that a second Remonstrance is preparing for me, to take away my profit of Tunnage and Poundage (one of the chief maintenances of the Crown) by alleadging that I have given away my right thereof, by my Answer to your Petition.

This is so prejudicial to me, as I am forced to end this Session some few hours before I meant it, being willing not to receive any more Remonstrances, to which I must give an harsh answer.

And since I see that even the House of Commons begins already to make false constructions of what I granted in your Petition, lest it be worse interpreted in the Country, I will now make a Declaration concerning the true intent thereof.

Sound familiar, perhaps? It seems to me that recent criticism leveled at Prime Minister Harper could have served equally well in these Stuart-era parliamentary fiascos. Here’s a sampling of choice phrases from “Democracy Diminished, Accountability Avoided” (The Globe and Mail, December 31, 2009):

The Conservatives are hoping to bask in the glow of Olympic glory while dodging the mess and scrutiny of lawmaking, Question Period and an outstanding, unprecedented order from Parliament to provide transparency and truth on the detainee file…

If the debate over detainees can not be carried out in Parliament, then it should continue among Canadians at large. On this and other important issues, the government cannot delay accountability for ever…

Government members have already acted as truants when Afghanistan committee hearings are called. The government failed to provide documents to committee members, and implied it will disregard a parliamentary order to produce those documents. Prorogation is the logical extension of such thinking: shut down parliamentary debate entirely.

[See the whole thing here.]

I guess the political game hasn’t changed that much over the last 400 years!

Hello again,

Sometimes our Ottawa winter starts off coy, like a flirt. These brief overtures — a breath of cold, some faint whiff of windchill — last only a moment before winter beats her hasty (but always temporary) retreat, only returning to stay for good come January. No nonsense this time around, though. Seems that in 2009 the season came fast and hard, leaving you no choice but to bundle up and hope for the best. This kind of cold, while bearable, can occasionally alter the natural order of things: times this like these you find yourself — how odd! — deeply and truly grateful for those weird and woolly sweaters that Aunt Agnes diligently sends you every year for Christmas.

Anyhow, the subjects of weirdness, woolliness, diligence, and breaths of fresh air (finally!) seem to accurately encompass the last few months’ worth of preparation for the most recent academic hurdle. The clearing of said hurdle is typically met with glad shouts of “hallelujah,” but this time I decided to leave it to the professionals — or at least to the devoted amateurs at the North Grenville Concert Choir. This circumstance was not so by choice or by chance, but due to the fact of having been wed to a chorister! Imagine that for a moment…

Now, “chorister and cook,” I suppose that ought to have read. But really, what is a community choir without cookies? You can bet that the program for the NAC performance of Handel’s Messiah doesn’t include the text: “tea and refreshments are to be served following the performance.”

How unfortunate, though, that these times of indulgence coincide with the coldest months of the year… just when the aforementioned Ottawa winter makes it that much harder to put in those few precious laps around Mud Lake.

Not so, however, for some of the season’s gillier creatures:

This from Mudpuppy Night in Oxford Mills a couple weeks ago, where the sad truth of it was that none of the titular creatures were to be seen. I guess that made it more of an Icy Cold Night in Oxford Mills, which proved significantly less interesting. One week later, however, there were reports of dozens of mudpuppies (you can see some on Bev’s blog here — terrific photos from another night).  I guess it’s all in the timing.

Speaking of which, that’s probably enough for now; apparently it’s not feasible to be “just sitting here” while there’s “so much to do before all holiday breaks loose.”

Well, on that note: have a good one.

Just look at those teeth!

Well, Jemima’s been at the mice again, which — grisly results aside — has been appreciated since our live trap has proven more the former than the latter (ie. the mice were eating the “bait” and escaping). Her most recent victims have been juvenile Peromyscus, two of which we’ve managed to save from her death-grip and release down the road a ways.

As a suburban expat, I still treat these sorts of happenings as novelties…

Hello again,

Well, November has come and gone, and with nary a sound from this corner of the ‘web… except that perhaps of gently falling snow. And that pleasant clatter of hail on a tin roof, and — hark! — the warm whine of tires spinning out in snow drifts. In other words, welcome to winter.

But we’ve done our share of coming and going too, moving house from the banks of the much-beloved Kemptville Creek to a cozier, quieter location up near Fitzroy Harbour, by the Ottawa River. Pleasant country, to be sure.

I’m glad to say that we’re finally “connected” again, and by that I mean that our dial-up internet is up and running. Although — in what I took to be an indication of how few dial-up accounts they set up these days — there was a high number of administrative errors made by Bell during the process, from blatantly wrong billing addresses, and “set up” accounts that simply weren’t, to incorrect dial-up numbers. I don’t know, maybe this is standard fare when dealing with telecom people…

But all that is behind us now. And like the slow, slightly painful return of feeling to one’s extremities after having shovelled snow for an hour with no mits on, I’m feeling a little more human now that I can read the news again, news that I can’t imagine having gone without for the last little while. I now know that the local hockey team has lost six in a row, that somebody or another is pushing for more peace-talks in the middle-east, and that — according to this — yes, it is in fact snowing outside right now.

Could be that one of the more misunderstood joys of rural existence is being out of touch, at least globally speaking. Of course, other kinds of contact fill in the gaps, like getting to know nearby mechanics, postmasters, and antiques dealers. Neighbours with snowplows are handy too. Especially today: about 20 centimetres of the white stuff, and all that on top of a good layer of ice! So, by the time you get the driveway cleared, and the snowplows have trundled by, you then realize the car doors (all five of them) are frozen shut. So close…

Anyhow, keep warm out there.

Regards,
RT

So, the family of rabbits out back is thriving. I mentioned them a while ago, back when they were only a few weeks old. Well, now they’re a few weeks older. As you can see, they’re busy little creatures:

It’s hard to get a clear photo of them; they don’t spend much time standing still. The youngsters still haven’t figured out how to eat apples yet — but I suppose that’ll come eventually.

Now, the resident chicken population isn’t faring quite so well — and is in fact shrinking at a disconcerting rate. Something is getting into their coop and kidnapping unlucky birds. And so the Plan is to move ‘em out, and leave a (live) trap behind (baited, of course, with a bit of chicken meat) to see if the culprit can be caught.

So, the last couple of weeks I’ve been staying in the Boler. I figure that it’s the closest thing to living on a boat that I can get right now.

Well, last time I spent a prolonged period of time in the thing, it was nestled under a tree a ways back from the street. This time, however, I’m a little closer. By that I mean I’m basically sleeping on the gravel shoulder of Country Road 18. Right.

Boler trailers are known for how light they are. It’s really easy to tow and move them around. But this can be a problem when transport trucks cruise by within a couple feet of your pillow, at which point the entire trailer will usually rock back and forth (quite vigorously), and a generous gust of wind will blow in through the bedroom window (which conveniently doubles as a dining room window when the table is set up). Now, maybe that’s why I’ve been feeling so tired recently… but my real fear is that some prankster will hitch the up Boler and take off with it while I snooze away therein. Well, I haven’t been shanghaied yet… but any day now I could wake up in New Jersey.

Anyhow, you’ve got to be careful on those roads. Just ask a certain friend of mine who lives in a fish-tank (and I thought the Boler was tight):

She’s a painted turtle. As the story goes, she was found on the road near Oxford Mills back in 2005, after having been hit by a vehicle. Fortunately the injuries weren’t fatal; however, she’s had some reconstructive surgery on her shell (facilitated by a group called Turtle S.H.E.L.L.) — which was broken so extensively that she can’t be released back into the wild.

As you can see, she’s got two screws in her caprice that are wired together to keep things from shifting around too much. She’s also got a bit of twisted wire holding the plastron together just above her tail. The fix is not flawless, and while she can handle a bit of water, I’m told it wouldn’t be good for her to be completely submerged. I don’t know what she really likes to eat (right now she just gets little bits of fish), or — for that matter — very much at all about how things go around here; I just sleep on the front lawn and do the dishes every now and again.

Anyhow, I figure I can learn from the experience of this poor critter. Maybe I’ll move that trailer to a new spot tomorrow.

Fred came across this little trinket in one of his drift samples the other day. It’s a muskrat jawbone, and (as you can see) it’s black. The discoloration’s a result of being stuck in the mud for a while. It’s certainly a capable-looking implement:

In other local rodent news, there are some fresh young bunnies out back. Guess they were born a couple weeks ago. They seem to spend most of their time huddled under a think layer of fur (kindly provided for by Mother Rabbit).

So, here’s a photograph of the mom as she keeps a watchful eye over her young:

…and here’s the father, who happens to be located in a different (but nearby) hutch:

Buster (that’s his name) is actually a pretty old rabbit; if you take a close look at his face, you can see that it looks wrinkled.

Now, I’ve noticed that two of my last three three of my last four (!) posts have been about small, cute, furry things; this is a trend that I’m not necessarily happy with. Hopefully the post in between about shotguns helped to balance things out, but in the meantime I’ll try to get back on track.

Is a little village by a bend of Kemptville creek. There’s not much there, really: the general store & post office, public school, and a fancy restaurant (the Brigadoon). Seems to me that the establishment is known as much for its tolerance of smoking as for its food — because of municipal bylaws, it’s legal to light up on the premises (as opposed to smoke-free establishments in nearby Kemptville and Ottawa).

So, the overall impression is that it’s not a bad place for a bit of ice cream and minnow watching down by the dam. Some folks were fishing, but we didn’t see them reel anything in. Other times though, we’ve seen pike in the shallows below the dam. Mudpuppies, too, in the cooler months. On the way home, we pulled into the village cemetery, looking for some Oxfords. Nothing turned up.

Later on, we ended up picking black raspberries. Now, you might be inclined to pick them while they’re red, but they’d be some sour if you ate them that way. Plus, they’d be tough picking; when they’re ripe and black they almost fall off the bush by themselves. Anyhow, between mosquitoes and thorny branches, it was a prickly affair. While the bushes have been there for years, this harvest is the largest in recent memory. Lots of rain this season.

So I’ve been sleeping in a trailer. At night, you can hear the mosquitoes; they hum together, like locusts or lawnmowers. But the screens are good, and the bugs mostly stay outside.

It’s a Boler, built around 1980. It looks like an egg, and rocks like a boat. You can stand up in it okay, except for beneath the little sunroof — which has a handle that is pointy and made of metal. The lights don’t work; something’s wrong with the wiring. I haven’t tried to stove yet, and being summer and all I haven’t tried the heater either. All this aside, it’s a fine rig. Bolers are lightweight (made out of fibreglass), which means you can pull them with just about anything. They don’t have problems with rot or rust, unlike wood/aluminum trailers. Plus they look neat, and are made in Canada.

Visit Bolerama for information about upcoming Boler events (such as the “Prairie Egg Gathering”), an account of the company’s history, and scans of Boler manuals & brochures (“In the 80′s, all of us are searching for the ideal trailer” — I know that’s how I spent the 80′s…).