Chickens cat fight over mouse

A small population (I hope) of field mice took residence in the roof of my chicken coop last fall. I don't have a cat, so the chickens play the part of mouse-control. It's not as if they prowl for the mice, or go on patrols to check for recent mouse activity. (They have better ways to spend their days like scratching dirt and straw up into their water dispenser so it clogs or climbing on the roof of their coop to attempt an escape over the fence.) But if a mouse ventures across their path, or over to their food supply, the chickens act swiftly, and without mercy.

It's impressive to watch the chickens in action as they dart in and peck down on the mouse. It's pretty much over for the mouse after that first swoop. But the chicken that did the killing then proceeds into a dance-like game of keep away with the other. Either the mouse gets torn in half and they each enjoy the spoils, or one of them swallows the mouse whole.

This is a video I shot recently of my two chickens fighting over a mouse. The darker chicken is Sarah Palin. The lighter is named Liz Lemon. The small dog barking is Baxter.

Spoiler alert: If you don't like watching animals eating other animals, then don't press play.

Turkey Sludge Chili: Better than it sounds

Turkey Sludge Chili

It's spring. That means, in just a few months, it will be summer. Summer means there will be lots of delicious, fresh, local produce to eat, yes, but also preserve for winter. In order to properly preserve all the delicious food, one needs an empty freezer.

My freezer is the opposite of empty. Purely in an effort to make some room in said freezer, this recipe* was born.

Take one turkey. Prepare it for Thanksgiving. Eat not enough. Strip meat off bones and save for soup. Take rest (including but not limited to what you can't get off bones, broth, etc.) and place it in large soup pot. Cook down to a thick, "sludge-like" goop. Freeze goop for at least a year. Defrost goop. Put it back in the soup pot you cooked in down in. Turn on heat.

While you're waiting for the sludge to freeze, thaw and heat, grow summer squash, string beans, tomatoes and kidney beans. Pick, wash, dry, prep, freeze and thaw those.

Add to sludge.

That's the foodie adding something.

Let the ingredients come to a boil. Oh, probably add some water and salt and stuff. Let all that mix and mingle while your nose is filled with delicious smells and your belly rumbles and keep that up until you can barely stand it anymore! Wait more.

While waiting, clear off kitchen table you slob. Put out things you will need to dine comfortably. Ex. Beverages -- including vessels to put the beverages in, napkins, delicious sides of your preference, or aesthetically-pleasing centerpiece. Don't forget spoons!

Get back to what's in the soup pot. Place some in a bowl and add a dollop of pesto (not sure how that works, but going with it). Ring the bowl with tortilla chips (okay, now we're making sense).

It should look like this right before you start eating.

EAT!!!! Get seconds!

*I don't really know the recipe, nor does one really exist. This is just a day-in-the-dinner of my life with a foodie.

#icelandismynewbbf

Get ready for a rave.

Flying to Iceland in March, I was expecting cold weather, lots of snow and hoping for some northern lights sightings. Basically, I was looking for the winter that never came to central PA, or much else of the east coast this year. Iceland did not disappoint.

Our trusty rental car -- with heated seats!

Walking out to the rental car, a benign wind was swirling light snow around the parking lot. With my gloves not easily accessible, I took to scrapping ice off the windows barehanded. But I was rewarded immediately when I plopped down on a heated seat. Maybe I just grew up cheap, but until that moment, heated seats and I had never met. It was love at first sensation. The heated seat button was pressed and lit under my butt for the rest of the trip. I still miss it.

The plane dropped us off at 6 a.m. As we drove into Reykjavik, the country was waking up. The sun must have been rising, but it was impossible to tell by looking at the sky. Snow was blowing around the car. The closer we got to the city (about a 45 minute drive), the more cars seemed to be joining us.

Once we parked and started exploring, the snow took a break, but the wind kept us company. The clouds let the sun through a couple of moments in Reykjavik that first morning. The wind hung with us the whole trip at one speed or another. The sun only made occasional visits.

Empty Icelandic roads.

Driving away from Reykjavik, map in tote, it was like we were driving away from civilization in Iceland, back to a time before cars when quiet homesteads were tucked beneath ragged, black peaks, each hint at humanity separated by miles. There may be cars now, and stretches of paved road, but people outside of Reykjavik haven't felt compelled to move closer to each other.

The island nation is home to just 300, 000 people who share a swath of inhospitable land about the size of Kentucky. It was wonderful to drive for hours and see just a few cars. Logic tells me the lack of people is a result of the season. (Tourists find summer in Iceland lovely, I hear. So much so that all of the rental cars on the island have been booked at once.) But being in an environment where humans are rare is so satisfying to me that I choose to pretend Iceland is always vacant.

Ate our first meal in Iceland while watching the falls.

We took the Ring Road counter-clockwise around the island in seven days. The first evening we stopped at a waterfall just off the main drag that was flooded by two spotlights. The waterfall has a path behind it, but we opted to appreciate the sight from the front side. It was drier. The parking lot had two heated restrooms in the corner. Don't tell Iceland, but we made dinner on our camp stove inside the handicapped bathroom. It had a table and running water so we could even do our dishes!

That took us past Vatnajokull National Park, the largest National Park in Europe. The park is basically one huge glacier and is the home of the highest point in Iceland, Hvannadalshnuker. We attempted a climb, but I got spooked by a local school marm. She let us crash in her basement, but told us a chilling bedtime story about two boys who climbed up on the glacier and never came back.

Richard and I made it back, but our poor knowledge of the glacier, and its crevasses, the horrible visibility we had and the violent wind encouraged our turn-around. We'll give it a try again in the right season and with someone who knows the way.

The next stretch of the Ring Road followed the south east coastline up and back along fjords. We stopped in Hofn, "pronounced like an unexpected hiccup" says Lonely Planet, for a meal and to taste the local beer. There's glacier water in it, apparently. The meal was seafood, duh.

6km tunnel. Richard was like a kid at Christmas.

By this point, we were three days into our trip and we made some serious miles. Richard found a 6 kilometer tunnel on the map, which was a must-do. We visited the largest forest in Iceland. There aren't too many trees in Iceland. The wind keeps them from growing too high and the occasional volcano eruption works to control population growth.

Reindeer enjoying the winter clime. Too windy for my taste.

The forest grows along the east shore of Lagarfljot, the Icelandic twin of Loch Ness. The 38km-long, 50m-deep lake is believed to harbor a monster. The Lagarfljot Worm has been sighted since Viking times, allegedly. I didn't see it, but I found the trees more exciting than trying to stare into the muddy-brown water.

Richard "standing" on the crater lip.

The next day we climbed to the top of a crater that formed about 2500 years ago. It rises 463 meters and stretches 1,040 meters across. It is a landmark of the Myvatn area. Myvatn is a pretty, blue lake circled by black lava fields. Super cool. Hverfell, the loose-graveled crater, is on the east shore. The sun was shining, the snow was deep and soft and the wind was battering. I cannot describe the speed of the wind except to say it completely altered my opinion of a swift breeze. Turning into to climb down made my chins burn and my eyes water. It was impossible to stand upright. Nor was it possible to walk without using my ice axe as a crutch. I needed two points of contact to keep from loosing balance completely.

After glissading down, we treated ourselves with a local treat. Hverabraud is a moist, cake-like rye bread that is slow-baked underground. It was delicious alone or with cheese.

Next we drove to Akureyri, the second-most populated town in Iceland. We visited on a Sunday which means EVERYTHING was closed. Therefore, I was not impressed by the town, although I'm sure it's lovely any other day of the week.

Does it get any better? There were beer holders built into the rock, so no.

After a nerve-racking stretch of road up and over a mountain pass where my visibility was impaired, sometimes completely, we dropped down to Varmahlid. We were able to stay in a cabin perched above the town. The best part, clearly, was the stone hot tub. We took two dips that evening to bookend our meal of risotto and fried fish balls found at the local grocery. And took another soak in the morning before we checked out. WONDERFUL.

Halfway up Trollskagi.

After a quick tour of the nearest fjord, and a toe-dip in the Arctic Ocean (I kept the shoes on), we climbed part-way up Trollskagi. I was just in my running shoes and we had no food or water, so we turned back after an hour or so. Nice view though.

The next part of the drive, I don't remember too well. I was napping. But Richard steered us toward Snaefellsjokull, the volcano Jules Verne sent his characters into in Journey to the Center of the Earth. The clouds hid the summit and the best road to access the glacier was impassable, so we hung out around the base. It sits right at the west end of a peninsula, so we watched the waves smash against rocks until a hail storm sent us racing back to the car.

My buddies singing for food.

That evening we made our way back to Reykjavik. We got a hotel room right in the center of the city on the top floor. After a culinary sampler of traditional Icelandic food, which included putrified shark (gross, by the way), we hit the bookstore and spent the rest of the night packing for the flight home.

On the way to the airport, we stopped at the Blue Lagoon, Iceland's premier hot bath spa. We stayed so long in the creamy, blue pools that we almost missed our flight.

Just two days into the trip, we were discussing the agenda for our return trip. So, Iceland, you'll be seeing more of me.

Spring = garden prep

Parsley, green onions and Russian kale to start

Despite my best efforts to properly mourn the winter-that-never-was, I found myself genuinely happy, more than once this week, digging in my backyard garden. I've never been a fan of summer; all that inescapable heat and humidity makes my blood boil. But picking vegetables from the backyard all summer long helps reconcile my feelings.

Diving under the cool canopy of my tomato jungle. Cutting into a ripe watermelon that started as a seed I picked from the flesh of last summer's crop. Munching on skinny string beans that hang from the fence as I pick a bunch for a salad or stir fry. Cultivating the bounty of my small plot can make summer bearable, and delicious.

This week was all about preparation. Tilling up the ground that was dormant since the fall, removing weeds that have grown in the very early spring we've been having and planning the rotation of crops to utilize the nutrients absorbed or replenish those that have been sapped.

I don't use store-bought fertilizer, so a thick layer of horse manure mixed with compost boosts the soil. I collect worms and other bugs to feed and entertain my chickens.

The hearty Russian kale has survived the winter. (Seriously, this stuff is amazing. It can live to ten degrees BELOW zero. I highly recommended it.) And a few green onions have wintered over as well. The parsley is already growing in bunches, but the frost-weary basil will have to be started from seed.

There's a lot of work yet to do and it's the thought of fresh broccoli that's keeping me motivated.

Susquehanna River Basin Commission tries new public hearing tactic

The Susquehanna River Basin Commission held its first public hearing for oral testimony of water withdrawal applications on Feb.16. The Commission, an interstate watershed agency that manages the resources of the central Pennsylvania basin, previously heard from applicants the day of voting by the four-Commissioner panel.

The decision to split up the testimony and voting came after a disruption at the previous meeting on Dec. 15. That interruption came from multiple people at the hearing, applicants and members of the public, speaking out of turn. The goal of the separation was to create a safe and secure environment for the public to speak, as well as get through the agenda of hearing from the applicants, said Susan Obleski, the SRBC director of communications.

Opponents to the withdrawal of water from the Susquehanna River for hydrofracking attended both the Dec.15 meeting and the public hearing on Feb. 16. Their agenda was similar at both gatherings, said Nathan Sooy, the central Pennsylvania campaign organizer for Clean Water Action.

“We were calling for an immediate moratorium on water withdrawals for fracking until (the SRBC) has studied the cumulative impacts of it,” said Sooy. “By allowing these companies to pump water from the Susquehanna, the SRBC is not serving the interests of people along the river, which is part of their mandate.”

Guy Alsentzer, director of operations for Stewards of the Lower Susquehanna Inc. in York and staff attorney for the Lower Susquehanna River Keeper, attended both meetings.

“I’m glad the Commission took the opportunity to remedy the procedural decline at the Dec.15 meeting,” said Alsentzer. “All of the applications were approved off the record (on Dec.15) which was disappointing. We lost an element of public access to information to the commissioners because of the disruptions.”

The SRBC is in favor of economic development from hydrofracking, said Obleski. The Commission also benefits from application fees to withdrawal water which made up about 65 percent of the Commission’s budget in fiscal year 2011, Obleski wrote in an email.

The Commission requires an application for withdrawal “from gallon one” in an attempt to be conservative and protective of the environment in dealing with the new water use, wrote Obleski.

Sooy does not believe the SRBC is doing enough.

“The public is not involved the way it should be,” said Sooy. “There needs to be more transparency and less closed door deals.”

Obleski said the Commission is required to have a public hearing format. The minutes and webcast of the Feb. 16 hearing will be provided for the Commissioners who will vote on the applications at the March 15 meeting, but will not be available to the public, she said.

Sooy made a comparison to the Delaware River Basin Commission that recently prohibited water use for hydrofracking. The DRBC has multiple advisory committees that bring together leaders from companies, organizations, universities and the government to provide information for the commissioners, said Sooy.

“Citizens can sit on them, too,” he said. “The SRBC has no access other than the public hearings.”

York County does not have any Marcellus Shale formations, but is still affected by the impacts of hydrofracking, particularly along the Susquehanna River, said Alsentzer.

“If water levels and quality are degraded by the fracking companies while the SRBC sits in the unique position to regulate and study the impacts, they can no longer hold themselves aloof,” said Alsentzer.

There are four commissioners on the SRBC. One from N.Y., Pa. and Md., and one from the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. The state commissioners are appointed by the state’s governor, and the federal commissioner is designated by the President.

Penn State bugs power batteries

    Researchers at Penn State University in State College say they have harnessed the power of some of nature’s smallest workers to create batteries.
    Professor Bruce Logan and his colleagues use bacteria to produce electricity. The batteries are called microbial fuel cells.
    Over the past decade, the technology slowly has been developing in engineering labs nationwide. This technology uses bacteria to extract energy from organic matter and release it as electrons.
    “It works like bacteria in our bodies,” said Logan. “Except, in humans, the electrons are sent to oxygen. In a microbial fuel cell, the bacteria are denied that easy conversion. They are forced to make electrodes.”
    The electrodes flow through the circuitry of the fuel cell, and that is electricity.
    At Penn State, Logan is involved in an ongoing project to collect bacteria from the campus’s wastewater treatment plant to run through the fuel cells.
    Logan’s research has estimated that 5 percent of the nation’s electrical demand goes to power wastewater treatment plants. If Logan’s project goes through, not only will the bacteria in the wastewater be breaking down the organic matter, it will be powering the rest of the plant — things like pumps, aerators and lights.
    Someday, Logan said, the 2.6 million gallons of wastewater that flows each day through the Penn State plant, could produce enough electricity to power 84 nearby homes.
    The recent challenge for Logan is finding the most cost effective systems for the microbial fuel cells.
    “We need to scale them up,” said Logan. “This is an emerging technology, and we need to learn how to deal with the electricity that is produced.”
    The fuel cells can only put out about half a volt, said Logan. In order to increase the voltage in a fuel-efficient way, there needs to be more research.
    “Right now, if we put more batteries together to get a higher voltage, they short each other out.”
    Logan is hoping for interest outside of the academic world. Within the electrical industry, there are few sources for alternative energy funding. Logan’s website lists various grants that he has been awarded for his microbial fuel cell research.

Peace Corps Honduras alumna Sally Hoh

Sally Hoh spent two years up to her knees in mud while volunteering with the Peace Corps in Honduras from 1984 to 1986. As a freshwater fish outreach volunteer, it was her job to dig fish ponds and stock them with tilapia for the people of Jesus de Otoro to eat.

“When I went down there, no one from central Pennsylvania had ever heard of tilapia,” Hoh said, who graduated from Gettysburg College with a degree in Biology. The now popular staple in the grocery store freezer aisle was chosen for Hoh’s Honduran project for the same reasons it took off in the American diet two decades later.

“They grow fast and they’re nutritious,” said Hoh, who now works at York College in the Biology department.

Hoh remembers her years in Honduras fondly. She traveled safely throughout the country by bus and felt welcome in her village. Which is why the current turmoil ripping through the country hurts her even more.

According to the United Nations, Honduras now has the highest homicide rate in the world, four times that of Mexico. Governmental institutions are still strained from a 2009 coup. And because of this potential for danger, the Peace Corps pulled out all 158 of its volunteers from Honduras on Jan. 18.

“I called the Peace Corps and they wouldn’t tell me why they brought the volunteers home, just that ‘they have paused services while the agency reviews the safety and security of the country,’” said Hoh. “That’s the statement they sent me.”

Hoh acknowledges the country has likely changed and that it no longer seems to be the quiet, primitive life she experienced.

Hoh shared a house with two to four other volunteers who worked in her town. “We bought power from a generator from 6 to 9 p.m. every day,” said Hoh. “There was one phone at the police station and if the Peace Corps wanted to get a hold of us, they would send a telegram.”

There have been 5,750 volunteers in Honduras since 1962 with the Peace Corps.

“That’s a lot of good,” she said. “But the current volunteers who were in the middle of projects have had to abandon them.”

A prison fire in Comayagua, Honduras last week killed 357 people that burned and suffocated in their cells, the AP reported.

Andrew Coyle of the International Center for Prison Studies at the University of Essex in the United Kingdom told CNN that, nationwide, the Honduran prison system was overcrowded by 40 percent in 2010.

The U.S. Bureau of Consular Affairs website states the high crime rate in Honduras is compounded by widespread poverty, street gang activity and drug trafficking.
 “It sounds to me like the Honduran government is trying to adjust to the high crime rates by strictly enforcing laws,” said Hoh.

That has likely taxed their prison system and led to overcrowding, which can make it hard to maintain order, said Hoh.
“What happened in Honduras isn’t that different than situations in the United States,” said Hoh, in response to the growing prison populations in the U.S. “And ignoring the differences can only make things worse.”

Students at York College interested in volunteering with the Peace Corps will approach Hoh with questions.

“Most tell me they’re apprehensive about delaying their adult lives by spending two years in the Peace Corps,” said Hoh. “What I tell them is that my adult life started with the Peace Corps.”

As a volunteer Hoh grew and enhanced her perspectives. She learned to look at the world as “less ‘us and them.’ We’re all one big ‘we’.”

“Even after 25 years, I still feel a strong connection to the people of Honduras.”