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Chief Joseph (Eastman's Biography)

Chief Joseph (Heinmot Tooyalakekt, l. 1840-1904) was the leader of the Wallowa band of the Nez Perce Native American nation, who, in 1877, resisted forced relocation from his ancestral lands in the Wallowa Valley of northeastern Oregon and led his people on a 1,170-mile (1,900 km) flight toward Canada in hopes of asylum with Sitting Bull (l. c. 1837-1890).

The flight of the Nez Perce under Chief Joseph, a running battle in which he defeated US forces in every engagement, is known as the Nez Perce War, and newspaper accounts of the day, often hostile to Native American efforts to preserve their lands, were remarkably sympathetic to Chief Joseph's cause. When he and his people were a mere 40 miles (64 km) from the Canadian border, they were surprised by a US cavalry attack and forced to surrender.

Although the treaty between the Nez Pearce and the US government stipulated their relocation to a reservation in Idaho, briefly holding them in Montana Territory, they were instead quickly sent to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and held as prisoners of war before being shipped to Indian Territory (present-day Oklahoma), and finally to the Colville Indian Reservation in the state of Washington.

Chief Joseph spent the rest of his life appealing to US officials for the return of the lands of the Nez Perce in the Wallowa Valley, but his requests were denied. He is said to have died of a broken heart on the reservation in Washington on 21 September 1904.

In 1968 the US Post Office issued a stamp in his honor and memorial statues of Chief Joseph have been raised in many of the western states of the USA, but the lands of the Nez Perce have never been returned to them and there has never been any official acknowledgment of the outright theft of those lands by Euro-Americans.

Flight of the Nez Perce and Key Battle Sites of 1877

United States Department of Agriculture-Forest Service (Public Domain)

Text

The following account is taken from the 1939 edition of Indian Heroes and Great Chieftains (1916) by the Sioux physician and author Charles A. Eastman (also known as Ohiyesa, l. 1858-1939), republished in 2016. Eastman interviewed Chief Joseph in 1897 and prepared the following, which, as he said, was authenticated by General Nelson A. Miles, one of his former adversaries. The following has been edited for space, but the full account is below in the External Links section.

The Nez Perce tribe of Indians, like other tribes too large to be united under one chief, was composed of several bands, each distinct in sovereignty. It was a loose confederacy. Joseph and his people occupied the Imnaha or Grande Ronde valley in Oregon, which was considered perhaps the finest land in that part of the country.

When the last treaty was entered into by some of the bands of the Nez Perce, Joseph's band was at Lapwai, Idaho, and had nothing to do with the agreement. The elder chief in dying had counseled his son, then not more than twenty-two or twenty-three years of age, never to part with their home, assuring him that he had signed no papers. These peaceful non-treaty Indians did not even know what land had been ceded until the agent read them the government order to leave. Of course, they refused. You and I would have done the same.

When the agent failed to move them, he and the would-be settlers called upon the army to force them to be good, namely, without a murmur to leave their pleasant inheritance in the hands of a crowd of greedy grafters. General O. O. Howard, the Christian soldier, was sent to do the work.

He had a long council with Joseph and his leading men, telling them they must obey the order or be driven out by force. We may be sure that he presented this hard alternative reluctantly. Joseph was a mere youth without experience in war or public affairs. He had been well brought up in obedience to parental wisdom and with his brother Ollicut had attended Missionary Spaulding's school where they had listened to the story of Christ and his religion of brotherhood. He now replied in his simple way that neither he nor his father had ever made any treaty disposing of their country, that no other band of the Nez Perces was authorized to speak for them, and it would seem a mighty injustice and unkindness to dispossess a friendly band.

General Howard told them in effect that they had no rights, no voice in the matter: they had only to obey. Although some of the lesser chiefs counseled revolt then and there, Joseph maintained his self-control, seeking to calm his people, and still groping for a peaceful settlement of their difficulties. He finally asked for thirty days' time in which to find and dispose of their stock, and this was granted.

Joseph steadfastly held his immediate followers to their promise, but the land-grabbers were impatient, and did everything in their power to bring about an immediate crisis so as to hasten the eviction of the Indians. Depredations were committed, and finally the Indians, or some of them, retaliated, which was just what their enemies had been looking for. There might be a score of white men murdered among themselves on the frontier and no outsider would ever hear about it, but if one were injured by an Indian— "Down with the bloodthirsty savages!" was the cry.

Joseph told me himself that during all of those thirty days a tremendous pressure was brought upon him by his own people to resist the government order. "The worst of it was," said he, "that everything they said was true; besides"—he paused for a moment— "it seemed very soon for me to forget my father's dying words, 'Do not give up our home!'" Knowing as I do just what this would mean to an Indian, I felt for him deeply.

Among the opposition leaders were Too-hul-hul-sote, White Bird, and Looking Glass, all of them strong men and respected by the Indians; while on the other side were men built up by emissaries of the government for their own purposes and advertised as "great friendly chiefs." As a rule, such men are unworthy, and this is so well known to the Indians that it makes them distrustful of the government's sincerity at the start. Moreover, while Indians unqualifiedly say what they mean, the whites have a hundred ways of saying what they do not mean.

…the whites were unduly impatient to clear the coveted valley, and by their insolence they aggravated to the danger point an already strained situation. The murder of an Indian was the climax and this happened in the absence of the young chief. He returned to find the leaders determined to die fighting. The nature of the country was in their favor and at least they could give the army a chase, but how long they could hold out they did not know. Even Joseph's younger brother Ollicut was won over. There was nothing for him to do but fight; and then and there began the peaceful Joseph's career as a general of unsurpassed strategy in conducting one of the most masterly retreats in history.

Chief Joseph and Family c. 1880

F. M. Sargent (Public Domain)

This is not my judgment, but the unbiased opinion of men whose knowledge and experience fit them to render it. Bear in mind that these people were not scalp hunters like the Sioux, Cheyenne, and Utes, but peaceful hunters and fishermen. The first council of war was a strange business to Joseph. He had only this to say to his people:

"I have tried to save you from suffering and sorrow. Resistance means all of that. We are few. They are many. You can see all we have at a glance. They have food and ammunition in abundance. We must suffer great hardship and loss." After this speech, he quietly began his plans for the defense.

The main plan of campaign was to engineer a successful retreat into Montana and there form a junction with the hostile Sioux and Cheyenne under Sitting Bull…

It was decided that the main rear guard should meet General Howard's command in White Bird Canyon, and every detail was planned in advance, yet left flexible according to Indian custom, giving each leader freedom to act according to circumstances. Perhaps no better ambush was ever planned than the one Chief Joseph set for the shrewd and experienced General Howard. He expected to be hotly pursued, but he calculated that the pursuing force would consist of not more than two hundred and fifty soldiers. He prepared false trails to mislead them into thinking that he was about to cross or had crossed the Salmon River, which he had no thought of doing at that time. Some of the tents were pitched in plain sight, while the women and children were hidden on the inaccessible ridges, and the men concealed in the canyon ready to fire upon the soldiers with deadly effect with scarcely any danger to themselves. They could even roll rocks upon them.

In a very few minutes the troops had learned a lesson. The soldiers showed some fight, but a large body of frontiersmen who accompanied them were soon in disorder. The warriors chased them nearly ten miles, securing rifles and much ammunition, and killing and wounding many.

The Nez Perces next crossed the river, made a detour, and recrossed it at another point, then took their way eastward. All this was by way of delaying pursuit…

Chief Joseph US Postage Stamp

National Postal Museum (CC BY-NC-ND)

Meanwhile General Howard had sent a dispatch to Colonel Gibbons, with orders to head Joseph off, which he undertook to do at the Montana end of the Lolo Trail. The wily commander had no knowledge of this move, but he was not to be surprised. He was too brainy for his pursuers, whom he constantly outwitted, and only gave battle when he was ready. There at the Big Hole Pass he met Colonel Gibbons' fresh troops and pressed them close.

He sent a party under his brother Ollicut to harass Gibbons' rear and rout the pack mules, thus throwing him on the defensive and causing him to send for help, while Joseph continued his masterly retreat toward the Yellowstone Park, then a wilderness. However, this was but little advantage to him, since he must necessarily leave a broad trail, and the army was augmenting its columns day by day with celebrated scouts, both white and Indian. The two commands came together, and although General Howard says their horses were by this time worn out, and by inference the men as well, they persisted on the trail of a party encumbered by women and children, the old, sick, and wounded.

It was decided to send a detachment of cavalry under Bacon, to Tash Pass, the gateway of the National Park, which Joseph would have to pass, with orders to detain him there until the rest could come up with them. Here is what General Howard says of the affair. "Bacon got into position soon enough, but he did not have the heart to fight the Indians on account of their number." Meanwhile another incident had occurred. Right under the eyes of the chosen scouts and vigilant sentinels, Joseph's warriors fired upon the army camp at night and ran off their mules. He went straight on toward the park, where Lieutenant Bacon let him get by and pass through the narrow gateway without firing a shot…

However, this succession of defeats did not discourage General Howard, who kept on with as many of his men as were able to carry a gun, meanwhile sending dispatches to all the frontier posts with orders to intercept Joseph if possible. Sturgis tried to stop him as the Indians entered the Park, but they did not meet until he was about to come out, when there was another fight, with Joseph again victorious. General Howard came upon the battlefield soon afterward and saw that the Indians were off again, and from here he sent fresh messages to General Miles, asking for reinforcements.

Joseph had now turned northeastward toward the Upper Missouri. He told me that when he got into that part of the country he knew he was very near the Canadian line and could not be far from Sitting Bull, with whom he desired to form an alliance. He also believed that he had cleared all the forts. Therefore, he went more slowly and tried to give his people some rest. Some of their best men had been killed or wounded in battle, and the wounded were a great burden to him; nevertheless, they were carried and tended patiently all during this wonderful flight. Not one was ever left behind.

Statue of Young Chief Joseph

Visitor7 (CC BY-SA)

It is the general belief that Indians are cruel and revengeful, and surely these people had reason to hate the race who had driven them from their homes if any people ever had. Yet it is a fact that when Joseph met visitors and travelers in the park, some of whom were women, he allowed them to pass unharmed, and in at least one instance let them have horses.

He told me that he gave strict orders to his men not to kill any women or children. He wished to meet his adversaries according to their own standards of warfare, but he afterward learned that in spite of professions of humanity, white soldiers have not seldom been known to kill women and children indiscriminately…

The Bittersweet valley, which they had now entered, was full of game, and the Indians hunted for food, while resting their worn-out ponies. One morning they had a council to which Joseph rode over bareback, as they had camped in two divisions a little apart. His fifteen-year-old daughter went with him. They discussed sending runners to Sitting Bull to ascertain his exact whereabouts and whether it would be agreeable to him to join forces with the Nez Perces. In the midst of the council, a force of United States cavalry charged down the hill between the two camps. This once Joseph was surprised. He had seen no trace of the soldiers and had somewhat relaxed his vigilance.

He told his little daughter to stay where she was, and himself cut right through the cavalry and rode up to his own teepee, where his wife met him at the door with his rifle, crying: "Here is your gun, husband!" The warriors quickly gathered and pressed the soldiers so hard that they had to withdraw. Meanwhile one set of the people fled while Joseph's own band entrenched themselves in a very favorable position from which they could not easily be dislodged.

General Miles had received and acted on General Howard's message, and he now sent one of his officers with some Indian scouts into Joseph's camp to negotiate with the chief. Meantime Howard and Sturgis came up with the encampment, and Howard had with him two friendly Nez Perce scouts who were directed to talk to Joseph in his own language. He decided that there was nothing to do but surrender…

Even now, he was not actually conquered. He was well entrenched; his people were willing to die fighting; but the army of the United States offered peace and he agreed, as he said, out of pity for his suffering people. Some of his warriors still refused to surrender and slipped out of the camp at night and through the lines. Joseph had, as he told me, between three and four hundred fighting men in the beginning, which means over one thousand persons, and of these several hundred surrendered with him.

His own story of the conditions he made was prepared by himself with my help in 1897, when he came to Washington to present his grievances. I sat up with him nearly all of one night; and I may add here that we took the document to General Miles who was then stationed in Washington, before presenting it to the Department. The General said that every word of it was true.

In the first place, his people were to be kept at Fort Keogh, Montana, over the winter and then returned to their reservation. Instead, they were taken to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, and placed between a lagoon and the Missouri River, where the sanitary conditions made havoc with them. Those who did not die were then taken to the Indian Territory, where the health situation was even worse.

Joseph appealed to the government again and again, and at last by the help of Bishops Whipple and Hare he was moved to the Colville reservation in Washington. Here the land was very poor, unlike their own fertile valley. General Miles said to the chief that he had recommended and urged that their agreement be kept, but the politicians and the people who occupied the Indians' land declared they were afraid if he returned, he would break out again and murder innocent white settlers! What irony!

The great Chief Joseph died broken-spirited and broken-hearted. He did not hate the whites, for there was nothing small about him, and when he laid down his weapons he would not fight on with his mind. But he was profoundly disappointed in the claims of a Christian civilization. I call him great because he was simple and honest.

Without education or special training, he demonstrated his ability to lead and to fight when justice demanded. He outgeneraled the best and most experienced commanders in the army of the United States, although their troops were well provisioned, well-armed, and above all unencumbered. He was great, finally, because he never boasted of his remarkable feat. I am proud of him because he was a true American.

#History #ChiefJoseph #NezPerce

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astraymetronome · 3 months ago

Note

the idea of raccoon!Tommy taking a tiny and dunking the in water to wash them before nomming them is SO cute <33 I love it

Yeah! I love laundry bears! They're adorable and honestly shouldn't be seen as gross, at least in my opinion. I think it would be cute if a pred had a tell before they plan to nom someone. Even if it's just subconscious or something!

Tommy would probably do it all the time and, in my example I'ma use Tubbo, the tiny would be able to calm themselves or be like 'oh, okay-' basically it's a way to communicate without actual words- But I'm not gonna do that.

This is the fic I teased in the other ask-

ANGST FOR EVERYONE!

Anyhoo- here's this tiny treat of The Prime Duo ^^

It used to be a tiny treat. Instead it's a full course meal- aka: it's over 7000 words long

TW: Vore, Thoughts of Fatal Vore, Speciesism, instincts, and angst.

Tommy was quietly humming to himself as he went about working on an assignment for school. The 15 year old was frustrating himself over the fact this stupid essay was over something so simple and logical. The teen had chosen to take an agriculture class to learn more about farming so that he could understand Techno's love for it a little more.

The smell of dirt and grime had always been an immediate no for him but the fact he was being told to write an essay on the importance of washing fuckin' vegetables was getting on his nerves. Of course, you wash your veggies! You should wash everything you eat regardless of the type!

He didn't do it because of what people assumed, his classmates would tease him over dipping fuckin' chicken nuggets in water. Yeah, it made it soggy but he learned a lot about it when he did that. If it absorbs a lot and becomes super mushy, then it probably has been sitting out for at least two hours. If it doesn't absorb much then that tells him it's a perfect thing to eat! Plus it won't feel weird on his tongue or anything.

He had a secret feeling this essay was his teacher's way to show their distant for raccoons considering they'd done a lesson on farm pests and chose to focus on his kind. Yeah, raccoons do tend to go after sweet corn and cherries, both of which aren't viable in their area!

He found himself chitting to himself, flexing his hands in anger. Phil always doted over his little hand movements, calling them his grabby hands of anger, but all it was was his instincts wanting him to find something to burrow with and hide until he calmed down.

Tommy closed his laptop, cursing quietly before he proceeded to step out of his room and start heading downstairs. His tail swished in annoyance before a small sound reached his ears. They perked up as he turned to face it, seeing a familiar face sitting on the kitchen counter. He smiled at the sight of the borrower, happy to see someone he liked right now. He hid his hands, knowing he'd not be able to keep from picking them up if he tired.

"Dream, did dad leave out some Cheerios again?" He questioned, smiling as green eyes darted up to him. Dream was a borrower that had been living with them since Tommy was a little kid. The two of them knew each other well and often got into plenty of antics. Though, Tommy hasn't had a lot of time for him as of late.

"Yea- 'he o'd ma' did," The small man said, his mouth full of the sweet cereal. The teen rolled his eyes, knowing for a fact Dream had probably requested to have some set out considering the borrower's sweet tooth. He swallowed before continuing. "Said he has to work the closing shift." Tommy nodded as he listened. He held back a whine, having wanted his dad to curl up with him in the man's nest. It wasn't as good as his burrow but Tommy knew his dad couldn't fit inside it due to his wings so Phil's nest was the next best thing.

"That makes sense, the hospital tends to be busier in the winter."

"That's very true, can't let everyone die." Dream said earnestly. It was enough to confuse Tommy out of his bit of frustration, the teen's laugh filling the room as he giggled.

"I'm sure Momma won't be too mad about the few he takes back." He said with a gentle sigh. Tommy's tail swishing behind him as he happily let a chitter build in his throat.

He was smiling as he proceeded to place his head on the counter, ignoring how the cold marble felt against his chin. He was near Dream, watching as the borrower munched on the cereal. It took a moment before Dream pushed three of the wheat based rings towards him. Tommy let his nose twitch, sniffing them before he proceeded to quietly stick his tongue out.

He let them stick to his tongue before pulling it back into his mouth, quietly chewing them before he gave an eye roll. "You don't need to share it with me." He said fondly, not noticing the slight discomfort on Dream's face at his action.

"You're clearly in a bad mood Toms." The borrower said, the man's mouse-like tail swishing and wrapping around Tommy's finger on top of the slight discomfort in his voice. "Come on kid, you can talk to me. If we need to curl up in your burrow we can." Dream said calmly, quickly hiding the sound of his nerves. The teen found himself scooping him up in a second. He made sure to hold the man carefully, a purr leaving his throat as he walked towards the stairs and back up to his room.

"Someone's an eager beaver." Dream said with a chuckle, laying against Tommy's thumb as he was carefully brought upstairs. He took a few moments to get up to Tommy's room before they both were sitting in front of his borrow. Tommy's bed was around 2 and a half feet above the ground, the space under it being packed full of blankets and pillows.

He held the borrower by his shirt, using his teeth, as he carefully crawled his way into the plush space. His tail wished as he gave a purr and quietly curled into the space. The moment Tommy was on his back he let go of Dream and gently held the blonde borrower to his chest.

Tommy nuzzled at the man with a soft purr, immediately relaxing a little bit as he held his friend before he moved to just let him lay on his neck. Tommy would probably be more controlling over where he lets Dream lay if he was deeper into his instincts but it was mostly surface level. He felt the borrower move, resting just under his Adams apple as the small man spoke.

"So what's got your fur ruffled?" He asked calmly, no blame or accusing in his tone. Tommy liked being around Dream, the borrower never treated him like an animal or like a baby. His tail swished as they sat in the warmth of his burrow.

"It's my stupid teacher, I'm pretty sure he's being a dick about the fact I'm a raccoon hybrid." Tommy mumbled as he proceeded to quietly lay on his back. He had one hand on his collar bone, feeling Dream's tail wrap around his pinkie finger before he continued. "He keeps making these sly comments about vermin. I understand that, because it's an agriculture class, but it's directed at me. Even Purpled feels like it's insinuating he doesn't like me."

Tommy was a little angry but the tapping on his chin was enough to get him out of it. He leaned his head to the side, letting Dream crawl up his jaw and onto his cheek. The borrower sat before speaking. "Tommy, if it's something you're genuinely getting upset about you should tell your dad or Techno."

Tommy held back the urge to shake his head, instead just humming as he spoke up. "I can't. It's childish to get my dad involved, and if I tell Techno it'll cause some unnecessary drama since Mr. Squid and him are friends." He mumbled a bit before bringing a hand up to hold Dream against his face, nuzzling him for a moment before his nose was tapped.

Tommy pulled away as the little voice spoke. "Well, how about I go with you tomorrow? I'll be able to tell you if it's actually targeting comments or not." He let his blue eyes drift over to the small form in his hands, looking unsure before Dream continued. "If not it's fine, but if you don't choose who to tell I'll tell Techno myself."

Tommy gave a loud groan at the comment, immediately tucking the borrower against his chest, feeling the small thing laugh, able to hear the quiet chuckle that escaped him.

"Fine, you can come with me tomorrow, but you're staying hidden in my hoodie all day." He said quickly. Tommy was well aware his family was considered oddballs. It wasn't like anyone knew they had a friendly relationship with borrowers but most of his peers thought his family was strange due to the immense amount of hybrids types.

Dream had curled back under his Adam's apple, the flicking of his tail almost ticking the giant teen as the small man spoke. "Deal. Now get a bit of a nap. I'm sure Techno will know where to find you for dinner." The blonde borrower said calmly, gently tapping Tommy's chin before they both settled down for a bit.

Tomorrow will be fine, right?..

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Tommy could feel himself sweating and he had the insight to know Dream was in the same boat of panic. He had the borrower hidden in his hoodie pocket with his phone and the raccoon couldn't help but be nervous that Phil would notice something was wrong. They'd never let him take a borrower to school if they knew about this and he'd probably get in trouble when he got home if they found out about the fact he brought Dream with him.

The teen grabbed a slice of toast from the table, taking a bite to show he planned to eat it before he slipped his school bag back over his shoulders. He plans to let Dream have as much of it as he wants after they were at least a block or so from the house. He called out a goodbye to Phil, knowing Techno was already on campus.

Tommy relaxed as they got far enough away before he took another bite of the buttered toast and then sat down in the little backway he took to get to school. He placed his hand in his pocket, carefully letting his palm lay flat until he felt small hands grab his fingers and a weight settle on his palm.

"Finally! I forgot how stuffy and loud pockets could be!" The blonde said quickly. It broke a laugh for the teenager, smiling at the release of tension Dream brought with the little comment. He settled the borrower onto his thigh before holding out a bit of the slice of toast. The tiny man eagerly snatched a piece of it, eating at it like a starving animal. Tommy found himself rolling his eyes as he spoke.

"You're not that desperate for food."

"So what! You guys haven't had toast in a while and I love it!"

Tommy groaned before he leaned back, still watching the borrower as he spoke. "Today is gonna take forever-"

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The day had been going well so far, at least as far as Dream could tell. Tommy had been talking with all his friends and they didn't get caught in Techno's class either! It was a great day! The borrower had to admit he snuck a few peaks from he sides of his hiding place, knowing full well that he risked being seen or worse, grabbed. Regardless, he wanted to help Tommy in any way he could considering he's watched the kid grow up.

He could sense the kid's nerves as the last class of his day began to grow closer. He recognized that Tommy was very uncomfortable, the teen fidgeting on top of everything he could hear. The borrower was used to picking up noises humans couldn't considering he was so much smaller which meant quiet noises often seemed a lot bigger and more imposing for him. He could hear the raccoon's heartbeat, able to recognize the distant and uncomfortable sound. He could also make out Tommy's stomach, he was very used to the sounds but he could tell the difference between hunger and discomfort.

Being this close to a human, let alone a hybrid human, would make a normal borrower scream and panic even being caught inside something a human was holding, let alone in one's hand. He was used to being near them at this point, Tommy loved to carry him around all the time when he was a tot and Dream was only 8. Now the two of them were 15 and 20 years old, and the bond of being pseudo-brothers had turned real after a while.

He was used to human touch and it wasn't something he wanted to give up, the Crafts were his family and he had no reason to think of them otherwise. None of them saw him as a meal or some toy to throw away. He offered to help Tommy figure out what his teacher was doing because, despite the assumptions, Dream was actually very good at understanding emotions and words but, right now, he couldn't understand anything.

The entire classroom was full of sounds, speaking, squeaking, and thudding. Tommy had his hand around him, thumb rubbing his back as the teen seemed to be laying his head down on his desk, using his free arm to cradle his head. Dream was happy with having a comfortable touch with how loud everything was, he burrowed his head into the teen's palm, carefully trying to hide before everything went quiet.

Tommy removed his hand from his pocket and he listened to the kid's panicked heartbeat pick up before he went ahead and tapped the boy's abdomen through the fabrics to try to remind him he wasn't alone. He listened as the boy sighed and the class started up.

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"Alright, class! Don't forget that your essays are due tomorrow. Don't forget that if you add things from this lecture to it, I will give out extra points." Mr. Squid said simply before he went ahead and began a lecture on pesticides. It was pretty boring if Tommy was honest, unable to focus on anything considering that he'd learned about this from late-night lessons with Techno. When he couldn't sleep, he'd find himself in his big brother's room, listening to him plan lessons or ramble on about something he was currently hyperfictioning on.

Tommy has listened to his brother talk about natural and chemical-based pesticides for hours and never once did the man make him feel as though he deserved to be on the other side of these kinds of things. He knew full well his brother never used chemical pesticides unless absolutely necessary and, when he did, he would always inform those in the house. He knows the reason Techno talks about it is because Tommy had a bad habit of snagging plants from the vegetable garden before they were finished growing when he was in middle school.

The teen had noticed a small section added the next year that his big brother took care of but always made sure he never used things on it without informing Tommy first, he'd 99% sure it was added just for him but... He hasn't really messed with it as of late.

Well... not since this school year started.

Tommy used to giggle like a menace when he was caught pulling a carrot from the garden, and Techno would call him a little vermin! It hadn't ever been in a way that made him feel bad, but after he started classes with Mr. Squid, he hadn't been able to handle being called anything similar to a pest. His eyes drifted from his paper, and he saw that his teacher was scribbling down key points for the lesson.

The teen turned his attention to the small weight in his hoodie pocket, carefully placing his non-dominate hand into the fabric tube before he rubbed at Dream's back, able to feel as the tiny purred and nuzzled closer to his touch. He let his free hand start to take his notes, enveloping himself in the pattern of glancing up and down, up and down, until a hand on his shoulder grabbed him out of it.

"Mr. Innit-Craft, I've called your name 5 times now. You need to pay more attention." Mr. Squid said sternly. His touch wasn't hurting or anything but Tommy really didn't like being touched by people, it was a part of his raccoon instincts, not enjoying contact with people outside his nursery. His blue eyes drifted towards the man's face, swallowing nervously before his teacher continued. "Regardless, can you tell me what pesticides do when consumed since you seem more interested in your drawings than my lesson?"

Tommy lifted his gaze, back to the board seeing a collection of questions that hadn't been there just five minutes ago. He gave a nod before speaking up.

"Well, if people were to eat too much of it, it will-"

"No, Mr. Innit-Craft, what happens to a critter that eats it."

Tommy felt his heart sink for a moment, taking note of how Dream had gone still in his pocket before he opened his mouth. The teen was at a lost for words before he gave a small smile. "Well..." He started, his words lowering to a whisper as his tail curled into his lap, hiding the pocket of his hoodie and, in turn, the borrower inside.

"I'm not running a seminar, Thomas. Speak up for the class to hear." The man said as he stood up straight and began to walk to the front of the room. "I better be able to hear you this time."

Tommy could feel his heart pounding in his ears as he got to his feet. His eyes drifted over his peers, taking in the sight of normal humans and a wide range of animal hybrids. Not a single other 'scavenger' type animal among the groups in the room. The raccoon hybrid took a deep breath, his ears flicking to each little sound in the room.

"Like with people, if an animal were to eat too much of the contaminated crops they'd probably-"

"Give us an example."

"W-what?.." Tommy found himself saying.

"An example. Like rats, possums, or even... raccoons." Mr. Squid said causing Tommy to freeze up. He looked down at his feet before he spoke up again, able to feel the concerned taps against his fingers by the borrower still tucked away in his pocket. His heartbeat was filling his ears and he couldn't help the shaking of his voice as he spoke, not really paying attention to his words as he droned them out.

"If a raccoon were to eat contaminated crops... depending on how much they've eaten they'd suffer from mild sickness, chronic poisoning, nervous system collapse, liver and kidney failure, or even death." The teen said simply before he looked up and made eye contact with his teacher. There was this sick sense of joy in the man's eyes, enough that Tommy knew he really was trying to make Tommy feel bad. His ears began to flatten back at the soft snickers of his classmates before he began to shove things into his bag.

Tommy couldn't stomach another second in the classroom...

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Dream felt his stomach sink when Tommy rushed from the classroom. He could hear the teen's erratic heart rate and his panicked breathing, knowing all Tommy would want to do right now would be shifting his body into the shape of a raccoon and hiding in the closest thing to a burrow. He didn't expect Tommy to duck into a side room. Tommy was quiet other than the panicking breaths and the soft hiccups he could pick up,

The borrower took this as a sign they were alone as he peered his head out of the hoodie pocket, looking up to see Tommy's face. The boy's face was red, a mix of anger, sadness, and fear dressing his expression. He blinked a little as a tear fell on the top of his head, causing Dream to take his eyes off the sheen appearance of his little brother's face. He shook his head, trying to ignore the feeling of liquid dripping down the back of his neck.

"Tommy?... Maybe we should go to Techno's classroom." He said calmly, glancing around to see that they were tucked into a corner in a bathroom. He yelped as a hand scooped him up by the front, laying on his belly as he was draped over the interdigital part of Tommy's palm. He didn't expect to be held like this since, normally, the teen was very careful with how he handled him.

The boy's hold was firm but still soft enough to not cause him any pain as he glanced up, squirming to get a better look at the raccoon teenager. He pushed his hands against the pads on his hands, able to feel the soft yet textured sensation of Tommy's paw pads as he was quickly lifted. His eyes drifted from the boy's face, now watching the mirror they were standing in front of. The sound of rushing water grabbed his attention as he looked down.

"Tommy? What's going on, talk to me, kid!" He said quickly, not understanding why his little brother wasn't saying anything or doing much of anything he could think about. He looked up, taking in the glazed-over look in the raccoon's eyes on top of how narrow his pupils seemed to be.

He'd seen this before, most of the time whenever Tommy was curled up in his burrow or Phil's nest after a really bad day. 'Okay, Tommy's just really freaked out. Everything will be fine, I just need to get him to Techno or find a way to convince him to call-' Dream's thought process was quickly interrupted by the fact his head was drenched in water. He went to take a breath in his panic, only to suddenly take liquid into his lungs instead of water. Panic flooded him just as much as the cold fluid drenched his clothes. It felt like an hour of being submerged before the hissing of the faucet stopped and he coughed harshly, forcing water up and out of his lungs as his chest burned.

Dream greedily gulped air down, panicking now that he looked like a soaked rat, and looked toward his little brother before he froze. Tommy's gaze was still glazed over but it had a hint of valuation behind it. He didn't understand the way he was being looked at, but his instincts were screaming that something was really, really wrong. He needed to get Tommy to put him down, or he needed a way to get into contact with Technoblade.

"Tommy!" He called out before shaking as he shivered, of course, the cold was already getting to him. "Tommy?" He continued as he was lifted upwards, faster than he'd like to experience at his small size. His eyes widened as he took in the look on the teen's face. It was closer than he had been of his own fruition. His instincts screamed in fear as he squirmed and tried to dig his fingernails into the teen's palms, not managing to do much of anything as his lips parted in front of him.

Dream's heart fell into his stomach as he watched the boy's mouth open, seeing deep reds and pinks that decorated each muscle inside. He couldn't do anything, being forced to stare into the chasm as warm breath washed over his face. The moisture he could feel inside each exhale didn't need explaining since the sheen that covered everything made it rather clear why. He could see the light scaring in the very back, able to recognize where his tonsils used to be. "Tommy!" He yelled, unable to use his hands to brace himself due to the fact his hands were pinned.

He was shaking as his body was forced closer and began to enter the kid's mouth, he couldn't believe Tommy would do something like this! He's always been such a sweet kid who didn't mind the fears borrowers held, he understood that they had natural fears and never even considered pushing those boundaries, and yet here he was, his upper body sprawled across the teen's tongue as his legs kicked in fear. He could hear his heart in his ears and his breathing seemed to echo across the space as he squirmed before his hand slipped across one of Tommy's teeth. He didn't hesitate to yelp as pain shot through his palm, his hand suddenly feeling more wet despite the saliva and water that was soaking him.

The hum that sounded out around him as the nosy muscle pressed into his wound, now frightened him more than anything else was at the moment. He looked over his shoulder, taking a shuttering breath as he took in the sight of white, clean teeth, strong enough to break him in two if Tommy so desired. He felt dread, anger, and sadness all at the same time as he was pushed and prodded.

"Tommy! Let me out! Please, Toms, stop this!" He yelled out as the tongue pressed him up and against the roof, a loud gulp sounding out as saliva was pulled down the throat. The sight caused him to freeze, watching the liquid go down told him he wouldn't be getting out of this. He yelled, trying to push the roof of his mouth to have an attempt at keeping himself from being swallowed, but it didn't work. An eager push made him lose his hold before an ill-timed movement caused his head to dangle over the end of his tongue. Dream was no longer on his stomach, the borrower had managed to get to his back as he took in shuttering frightened breaths that turned into screams as the throat pulled him inside. The gulp brought him into a slick space, no longer able to get any form of grip before a second one pushed him down further, the movement not stopping as he slipped away.

His eyes were tightly closed as the sound of a heartbeat began to fill his ears, getting louder and louder as he sobbed out of fear and anguish. He never imagined he'd be dying inside his little brother's stomach. The soft wooshing of lungs had joined the fray but the heart had died down, softer than before but still present as his hand touched something thicker and seemed to block him off, only to have it yawn open, depositing him into a resting chamber.

The walls around him were uncomfortable, shifting curiously to try and feel him. Dream was quick to try and get to his feet, his head hitting the top of the stomach and causing him to slip back onto his back. He was scared to he in here, glancing around with hesitancy before he ended up noticing that he was sitting in a pool of liquid. The sensation on his skin wasn't one of burning, but he swore that it was! There was no other option other than that he was sitting in a pool of stomach acids.

The borrower found himself curled up against the wall that gave him the most amount of leniency. He covered his ears, not wanting to listen to the sounds around him. The thudding of a heart, the wooshing of lungs, but... most currently, the sound of gurgles and groaning that seemed to surround him but it was mostly coming from his right. He didn't want to die... let alone in the stomach of someone he saw as a brother.

He wasn't even thinking about the fact Tommy had eaten only an hour or two ago, yet nothing else was in here.

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Techno was pretty used to his own silence. He enjoyed it when his students were in the classroom and learning but his free period was the best. He could read through the mix of essays and assignments without disruption or anything similar and focus on his own priorities without students bothering him every 5 minutes. He was in the middle of reading through a pretty good essay on, The God of That Summer when his eyes noticed a person standing in his doorway.

The man sighed as he pulled his glasses off and placed them down on his desk, finally turning to face the person as he spoke. "Can I help-" He started before pausing as he took in the sight of his little brother. Tommy's eyes were red and swollen, tear tracks still gracing his face as the teen made his way towards him. Techno got to his feet as Tommy approached before the man met him halfway. He could barely see the blue of the raccoon's eyes, telling him enough he understood what he needed to do. The piglin scooped his runt up, gently holding Tommy close as he closed the door to his classroom with his foot and quietly made his way back to his desk.

The piglin didn't take his hand off Tommy's back, gently rubbing between his shoulders as he carefully held him. "Hey Toms... You're pretty out of it kiddo." He found himself whispering. He would have assumed this was just an instinct rush if Tommy was purring, but the kit was doing none of the sort. The teen was trembling, his tail wrapped around his abdomen and his hands tight enveloping his shirt. His eyes drifted to the backpack by the door to his room, and he leaned back at his desk as he let his mind wonder to where his little brother was supposed to be.

He sighed as he pushed it aside, for now, he'll talk to Simmon later, Tommy was his priority.

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Tommy blinked his eyes open and found himself curled up in the living room. His head was against something warm, and he heard the beating of a heart and soft, gruff purring that he recognized as belonging to his older brother. The teen felt his face flush red as he quickly moved to sit up, swinging his head up before a faint squeal left the person he was sitting on as his head hit something.

The teen looked forward, blinking as he took in the sight of Techno's head leaning back, the man's chin already turning a shade of red from where he'd head-butted him. "Shit- Sorry!" Tommy said quickly as he reached up to feel his brother's face, carefully nuzzling the piglin's chin to try and negate the hit despite knowing there was no real point in doing that.

Techno quickly pushed him away, "Stop it, I do not need your little kisses, Tommy." The man said simply, a fond laugh dancing on his voice.

"THEY-" Tommy started to raise his voice before he shoved it back down and cleared his throat, embarrassment spreading across his face. "They're not little kisses..." He grumbled. He didn't like it when they called his instincts cute little names like that but the stupid thing had stuck since he was a toddler.

The pink-haired man simply laughed for a moment before he calmed himself, cleared his throat, and spoke up: his face and voice seeming more serious.

"Tommy... Why did you run out of Squids' class?" The man asked simply.

The raccoon hybrid felt his ears lay back, looking up at him hesitantly before he fidgeted and gently picked at his hands. "Oh... um..." Tommy whispered, looking unsure as he glanced over his shoulder and placed his hands in his hoodie pocket.

The lack of a small form in the fabric sleeve made panic swell in his chest. Dream should still be in his pocket unless the blonde snuck out after they got home and that made no sense. The borrower would have immediately told Techno what happened and stayed to make sure everything was fine before he'd even consider running off to hide in the safety of the walls.

Tommy gave a nervous swallow before he glanced up and opened his mouth, "Mr. Squid... I don't think he likes me very much." He said calmly. There was no way he was going to get around this.

"Simmons not liking you is not gonna cause you to come to my classroom in the middle of a Panic-induced instinct attack, Tommy. What really happened?" The man said plainly, without any judgment or anger in his voice. Techno wasn't blaming Tommy despite how it sounded, he was just trying to make sure Tommy was honest and told him what he needed to know.

A whine left the raccoon-hybrid before he glanced over his shoulder and spoke up, not wanting to look his big brother in the eyes as he spoke. "He keeps singling me out... He makes me answer all the questions on pests and vermin..." Tommy mumbled as he let his gaze drift down to his lap, his hands having began to fidget at the ends of Techno's braid. "He made me tell the class about the side effects pesticides and poisons have on animals, specifically... raccoons."

Tommy kept quiet after he finished his sentence, his eyes not leaving his hands as he carefully messed with the end of the piglin's braid, he'd redo it if he had any gold beads or clamps to add to the intertwined hair but he didn't so there wasn't much of a point. It took a moment before his brother's big and callused hands gently cupped around his little ones, rubbing the back of the dorsal side of his hands.

"Shit, Toms... Why didn't you say something sooner?" The history teacher questioned as he leaned forward, placing their foreheads together as he gave a soft chuff. Tommy relaxed at the familiar position and sound, his mind able to relax at the piglin's sign of affection and care.

"I thought I was overreacting."

Technoblade sighed in response to that. "Either way, I could have talked to him and helped clear up the misunderstanding."

"I know..." He said softly before a soft movement in his abdomen caught him off guard. Tommy managed to not make a noise at the sensation, able to recognize the familiar weight of something sitting in his storage. He didn't fully understand it, he didn't remember eating anything, especially an asshole borrower or some kind of mouse, but he could worry about that later.

"Now," Shit... he missed everything Techno was saying. "You head upstairs and curl in your burrow till Dad gets home. I know for a fact he's gonna want you in the nest tonight." The piglin said simply as he picked the raccoon up and carefully placed the teen onto the floor. Tommy glared, trying to play off his lack of listening as his big brother began to head down the hallway, no doubt heading to the backyard to call someone, Tommy had a feeling he could guess who...

The teen groaned as he flopped onto his bed, toeing his shoes off as he hid his face in his pillow. The hybrid was annoyed that this day had gone so horribly. He could feel the soft weight shifting in his abdomen, quiet growls leaving his actual stomach as clawed hands dug into the walls of his storage. He needed to move whatever it was to his actual stomach before he had to deal with a sore organ for a few day.

The teen wasn't super used to this, pulling the squirming form up and out of his storage. He didn't like having to take them back up into his mouth, but it was something every human could do so it wasn't weird, before swiftly swallowing the form's body. Having half of a borrower in your throat and the other half in your mouth wasn't the best experience considering they're decently long, but this one was bigger than he was used to.

Tommy coughed a little as the form disappeared into his chest for a second time, no doubt less happy this time compared to the first. He didn't seem to mind at least, pulling himself out of bed to change into something more comfortable as his stomach gurgled, filling the tiny space with a squirming meal. He couldn't help the chittering purr that built in his throat, the more animalistic side of his brain enjoying the stimulation and sensation of something in his belly.

Either way, he didn't want to be himself right now. Letting his instincts take the reigns sounds nice as he crawls into his nest...

☆~°.•🦝🌱💿//+🪐

Dream had come to the idea that he was safe where he was. He'd been in here for a solid hour or so now and the saliva at the bottom had disappeared at this point. The walls were plush and slick but they didn't really move around him all that much, just reacting to his own touch from the looks of it and the sounds had died down a bit, mostly just being a gentle bubbling that had gotten quieter and seemed to grow further away.

He felt uncomfortable still, not entirely sure what was going on, whatever rush had caused Tommy to do this was still active so it wasn't like the two of them could have a proper conversation. The borrower had almost managed to doze off at the sound of Tommy's and, he's assuming Techno's, purring. He wouldn't normally like to get himself into their more sensitive moments since he wasn't an actual member of their family but it felt nice to be included for once even if neither of them was, at least not fully, aware of him at the moment.

He'd listened quietly as the two of them began to talk, pride swelling in his chest as Tommy told someone about the bad attitude that Mr. Squid had been showing. He shifted his weight, leaning forward to rub the wall he leaned against only to be squeezed. He released a soft yelp, not expecting it as his tail flicked around in annoyance.

He'd have to scold Tommy later, this may be a good place to hide him but that didn't mean he enjoyed being eaten and kept in a flesh sack. He felt as the teen moved around, smiling that his little brother was heading to his room. The soft sway of his movements was actually more than gentle. It made him sleepy but the borrower assumed it was his own instincts trying to trick him into feeling like it was a nest. It wasn't so he didn't want to stay in here much longer.

His peace was quickly interrupted by a growl, feeling the muscles against his back twitch as the rumbling sensation went down his spine. Dream physically cringed away from it, slipping to the other side of the stomach- He couldn't forget that he was laying in someone's stomach. The space wasn't fun, his movements were rather restricted and limited to the soft space.

The grow was followed by a rumble before a louder groan escaped the area as he pinned himself against the furthest wall he could, shaking a bit. This was fine... He wasn't in Tommy's real stomach, that much was clear to him, but it wasn't nice to hear the actual sounds of hunger just next to him.

"Tommy-"

Dream's words were interrupted as he was thrown into the wall to his right, the one of his left pushing him against it before the area squeezed. He clamped his eyes closed as his body was forced back into the esophagus, squirming due to the constricting space. His upper body was pushed back onto the teen's tongue, a shutter of relief leaving him as he reached forward to try and grab onto a fang, something for a safe hold to keep himself secure. He barely moved his hand before the tongue pushed into it.

The pause he felt, confusion etching his face, quickly turned into panic as the muscle rose higher, the grip on his waist loosening for a moment before a loud gulp sounded out. He was forced back down, a panicked yelp leaving him as he was tugged deeper once more. He clamped his eyes closed, trying to ignore the sensation as tears dripped down his face. He'd been safe, so close to being secure. Why was Tommy swallowing him again?! He didn't understand why this was happening.

He'd felt his legs being tugged into an open space again, his entire body following in moments. For a second he thought it was just the other stomach again before the acidic scent hit his nose. Within seconds he was on his knees, pressing his hands against the roof of the stomach as he glanced down. There was a very shallow puddle of murky water in the bottom. It carried the biting smell but it wasn't all that strong. He felt nervous as the organ gurgled, sounding pleased as it shifted around him.

Tommy was moving around him on top of the stomach, the purring he could hear was frightening, knowing his little brother was pleased to have him inside of his stomach. He was nervous as he pushed before he felt the teen crawl. He was assuming they were in the burrow now, a soft tingling forming on his foot as he shoved again, opening his mouth to yell.

"Tommy! Let me out of here!" He called out, feeling a weight settle over him. The purring was still going, having not faltered at his works. Dream growled before he looked over his shoulder. This wasn't a fun idea, but it seemed like his best bet as he shifted to look at the exit and then turned his eyes back to where he'd come in through.

"Fuck it..." He groaned before he crawled over, sitting in front of the sphincter hesitantly before he reached forward and shoved his hands into the area. It wasn't fun, feeling the strong muscles trying to contradict his choices, but Dream needed to make sure Tommy got him out. He refused to sit here and take it when he, a part of him, had a feeling that this wasn't intended. He'd seen the boy in instinct waves, Phil always said he needed to avoid him during these moments and now he understood why.

His legs were already burning. It wasn't a horrid sensation, but it felt like his legs were numb with the carbonated tingling that he often felt when he accidentally rested on his limbs wrong.

He shoved his way forward, his hands almost slipping on the slick flesh of the throat as he squeezed his head through the sphincter. Within seconds an unhappy gurgle sounded out before he was squeezed back down into the stomach, gasping for a moment before the plush walls closed in on him once more. A frightened yelp had been his sound of opposement, before he was quickly shoved up and out of the organ.

Dream loudly coughed as he was forced into a hand, shaking a bit as he lay on his stomach. He needed to relax and take a few moments to adjust to the light and no longer haveing soft flesh all around him. His tail wrapped around his leg as he glanced over at his little brother, an uncomfortable laugh leaving him at the unhappy look on the teen's face that swiftly turned to horror.

Tommy then spent the next 3 days basically constantly making sure Dream felt safe around him. He even would give the borrower little treats and help him do anything he asked. If Dream would occasionally ask to sleep on Tommy's abdomen, no one knows.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

Thank you for reading! Sorry this ask took so long but any of the ones I haven't answered yet, I see you Bkdk person, and the two Tommy ideas, I promise I will get to those!

This was supposed to be a short story, maybe 1,000 words but instead it turned into this-

I don't regret writing this, but it took literally months. I've been working on this on and off for weeks now.

I hope you all enjoy it!

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rjzimmerman · 4 months ago

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The agency that carries out this "program" is called the Wildlife Services of the U.S. Department of Agriculture. I hate this agency with all the passion I can generate, and have ever since I learned about it and what it does 15 years ago. It exists to murder wildlife, particularly to benefit farmers and ranchers. Long ago, someone put handle on the agency, calling it the "gopher chokers." The name fits. I have done more than a fair amount of yelling to my dead representatives in Congress and senators to dismantle the agency or change its purpose and mission.

My favorite statistic. I don't remember the year, but let's just say 2014. In that year, Wildlife Services killed about 350,000 red-winged blackbirds. Why? They were eating sunflower seeds in sunflower farms. You'd think that a sunflower farmer should be taking that risk rather than causing us taxpayers to make his profit for him, right?

Other stats. We're starting to believe that beavers need to be returned to the wild to help us with floods and drought resistance. Wildlife Services killed 24,603 beavers in 2023. Other stats for death: 525 cardinals; 68,562 coyotes; 430 black bears; 17,109 mourning doves; 6,952 cattle egrets; 1,292 red foxes; 24,744 Canadian geese (even though they are protected by the Migratory Bird Treaty Act); 1,209 jackrabbits (four species of them); 1,981 possum; 905 robins. I could go on, but I'm going to puke. Here's the link to the chart.

Sorry about the length of this post, but it takes a while to describe pure evil.

Excerpt from this story from NPR:

The United States Department of Agriculture's [USDA’s] Wildlife Services program is a holdover from the 1930s, when Congress gave the federal government broad authority to kill wildlife at the request of private landowners. In that era, government-sponsored extermination programs for native wild animals, like wolves and grizzly bears, were common.

After the Endangered Species Act was passed in 1973, federal agencies were required to change course and start helping some of those wild animal populations recover. But today, Wildlife Services employees still kill hundreds of thousands of noninvasive animals a year, data from the agency shows. Even species considered threatened under the Endangered Species Act, like grizzly bears, are not exempt. So long as livestock or human life are threatened, federal rules allow Wildlife Services to kill those animals, too.

Conservationist groups have long protested the program, saying the government is killing animals at the request of private livestock owners without first presenting enough evidence to show that the management methods aren’t harming the environment, as federal law requires.

“One of the biggest issues that comes up with Wildlife Services, and where we've beaten them in court multiple times in multiple states, is the controversy of the science,” said Lizzy Pennock, an attorney for the nonprofit WildEarth Guardians. “We need to get out of the framework of the 1800s and 1900s where it's like, kill any carnivores that might be inconvenient.”

Wildlife Services officials say that with the exception of invasive species, employees only kill wild animals that attack livestock or cause damage. But data obtained by NPR indicates the program often kills native wildlife that didn’t kill or injure livestock.

NPR obtained and digitized thousands of Wildlife Services work orders from Montana, created from 2019 through 2022, and built a database that shows that the program’s employees frequently kill native wild animals without evidence of livestock loss. The documents reveal that during those three years, employees killed approximately 11,000 wild animals on Montana properties where no wildlife was recorded as responsible for killing or injuring any livestock. In those cases, only a "threat" from those wild animals was logged in the records.

The agency frequently used helicopters and planes to shoot large numbers of wild animals at a time, the documents show, a method activists consider cruel and scientists say can lead to local eradications.

Although some livestock organizations financially support part of Wildlife Services' work, individual livestock owners do not pay a fee when federal employees come to their properties. Employees are allowed to kill wild animals on those private areas as well as on public land, like state forests and parks.

“That’s a bloodbath,” said Collette Adkins, a lawyer who leads the Carnivore Conservation program at the Center for Biological Diversity. “That just seems like yahoos with rifles killing everything they see that moves. It’s horrible to imagine the amount of suffering involved there.”

“Of all wildlife encountered in FY 2023, Wildlife Services lethally removed 5.14%, or approximately 1.45 million, from areas where damage was occurring. Invasive species accounted for 74.2% (1,079,279) of the wildlife lethally removed,” a representative wrote.

An NPR analysis of those reports shows that Wildlife Services killed more than 370,000 noninvasive animals across the country in the 2023 fiscal year. And over the past nine years, Wildlife Services killed 30 threatened grizzly bears and at least 1,500 gray wolves in states where they were otherwise supposed to receive protection under the Endangered Species Act, like in Minnesota and Wisconsin.

But the reports don’t reveal the names of the livestock owners that use Wildlife Services. That’s to protect the privacy of people in the agriculture industry, the agency has said. Wildlife Services also doesn’t disclose in those reports how many wild animals were killed by federal employees on public land.

#Wildlife Services #Department of Agriculture #gopher chokers #wildlife #farmers #ranchers

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phoenixyfriend · 22 days ago

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Ko-fi prompt from @becauseforoncethisisme:

So I’m worldbuilding and I have a vision of a world without poverty. I know a few things: 1. People can use magic to grow food really quickly, if not instantly, on demand. 2. Things like “apples or cheese from Normandy” are still prized, which means some people have to run farms and they’re financially successful. 3. They use self-generated magic to power things like stoves and street lights (the latter by donating self-made batteries), with most of the donating being done by abled adults in the community; the elderly and the (magically) disabled (I guess people whose disabilities sap a lot of energy from them would also fall under disabled for magic generating purposes) are given the excess that isn’t needed to power the city/town/etc (also the young, but typically their parents, guardians, and/or caretakers have that handled). So, we don’t have to worry about food or power, and neither does anyone else in the world. What do we have to worry about on a household level?

A few things, but there are two things that come to mind immediately:

The first is Industry. There are a lot of things that can be run on this free power, but someone still needs to make them.

A common style of suburban house requires concrete, timber, piping, iron rods, wiring, siding, insulation, and so on and so forth. That means you have mining (for the metals and lime), either collection or creation of sand (for the concrete), petroleum refinement (for the plastic, if it exists), lumber processing (you can grow the tree, but can you cut it into the right size and shape to build, or does someone need to do that for you?), and that's before even getting into the labor. You need to hire contractors to dig the hole, lay the foundation, raise the frame. You can power these with magic, in your setting, but you still need to have a scoop/digger to make that basement, and a spinning drum to keep the concrete liquid until it's ready to pour.

This would apply to almost anything that is, in some manner, a human creation. Early in human history this would probably be things like mills (for flour) or transportation (is it cheaper to hire someone to bring giant rocks to Stonehenge than it is to use horses). This also depends on how early magic entered the human consciousness. Does it only apply to things we would consider to be battery-powered, or anything that requires mechanical power?

Plus, how many people does it take to battery power something like a skyscraper crane?

Someone also needs to design the technology that this magic powers, from the street lights to that house I mentioned: your architect and engineer are there to keep you from building something that will collapse on your head!

Even if you can feed yourself (at least in terms of raw, vegan ingredients) and produce power, anything that can be called a product most likely needed to be designed, created, and transported by someone. If you don't know how to blow glass, you have to buy a cup from somewhere, and if you aren't wealthy, then you get the cheap ones. Just like in real life, the objects we surround ourselves with are often symbols of wealth, and an intersecting element of that is that if something requires obvious Human Hand Work that couldn't be done by a machine running on magic-battery, like gold embroidery or crochet, that's going to skyrocket in value.

And that's where we get to the other thing: Education.

Who is taught magic? Is this information gatekept? Is the information on how to build machines that can more efficiently process magic batteries shared internationally, or is it kept to a handful of countries or even just companies?

A reference/lens through which to analyze this could be countries that have lots of natural resources other than agriculture, and countries that gatekept some kind of technology.

The most clear-cut example in history is probably the majority of Africa (most notably the DRC), a continent which is rich in many mineral resources that the world relies on, and was fucked over immensely by the people who managed to develop guns first (Europeans). Now, some of the modern politics could be skirted around, since oil (North Africa, Nigeria) and nuclear fuel (Namibia, Niger) aren't necessarily factors in a your setting due to the power issue. That said, other mined substances like copper, gold, gemstones, zinc, iron, titanium, aluminum, and so on? There are still plenty of uses for those other than power, and they require mining... and unfortunately, resources are historically the biggest cause for oppression, violence, and war.

So... what are your non-food, non-power resources that are still near vital for survival? What do you need for shelter, community, and education? Which resources need to be provided to avoid waves of war and occupation because someone thinks trade isn't providing enough of something at a low enough price to satisfy the demand?

#war #industry #magic #resources #ko fi #ko-fi #ko fi prompts #phoenix talks

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macgyvermedical · 10 months ago

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What is phage therapy? I heard the word somewhere and now it’s stuck in my head but I don’t know what it is. Thanks 🙌

Phage therapy is the therapeutic use of viruses to kill bacteria.

Viruses are semi-living things that use other cells to reproduce. They do this by injecting DNA or RNA into the cell, letting the cell make copies of the genetic material, manufacture proteins, assemble new viruses, and then those new viruses burst out of the cell. In the process of reproducing, the cell is killed.

We typically think of viruses that replicate in human tissue, like influenza or SARS-CoV-2. But as it turns out, where there is a cell, including a plant cell or a bacterial cell, there is a virus that wants to kill it to make baby viruses.

Theoretically, then, if someone has a bacterial infection, we can find the extremely specific virus that kills only the bacteria that are causing the infection, infect the person with that virus, let that virus replicate and kill a bunch of the bacterial cells without harming the human cells, and voila, no more infection. Once the virus runs out of bacterial cells it can't replicate any more and it dies off.

And when I say "theoretically" I mean we have absolutely, definitely done this. Like a lot. And while phage therapy is extremely difficult to do good clinical trials with, as far as we can tell it's been pretty effective, and has few side effects that we know about.

So why don't we use phage therapy all the time?

Well, probably because of how specific the phages are. The phage that kills one kind of staph probably won't work on another kind of staph. So you need giant libraries of phages in order for them to really be useful to a large number of people.

Also, there's politics:

See, depending on what you consider the start of the antibiotic age, phage therapy and antibiotic therapy kind of came into being around the same time. By the start of WWII we had a couple of each worldwide.

Then the war happened and the Iron Curtain came into being. On the Western side resources were funneled into the mass production of a new antibiotic called penicillin, and on the Eastern side, resources were funneled into further developing phage therapy.

Throughout the Cold War this pattern would continue, with the Soviet Union eventually using both antibiotics and phages, and the West using only antibiotics (honestly, it's probably capitalism's fault- making money from phages is extremely difficult because they can't be mass produced like antibiotics can). When the Soviet Union fell apart, the research on phage therapy largely disappeared with it.

The West, now saddled with the burden of antibiotic resistance after decades of overprescription and use in agriculture, is trying to rebuild some of the knowledge that was lost with the fall of the Soviet Union.

Unfortunately, there have only been a handful of people who have been treated with phage therapy in the West. This is because the way phages work makes them extremely difficult to do high quality studies on, which makes them impossible to get FDA approval for in the US. Another factor standing in the way of approval is that they tend to change over time as the bacteria they replicate in evolve. So there are potential approval problems if we approve one type of phage but not the type it becomes in a few years.

So if something needs to change itself to work, how do you monitor to make sure that the changes aren't something dangerous? Do you have to repeatedly apply for approval? It just has all kinds of legal and policy issues.

If you want more info, there is a book called The Perfect Predator by Steffanie Strathdee. The author ended up saving her husband's life using phage therapy after he ended up with a life-threatening multidrug resistant infection.

If you want something shorter than a book, I highly recommend this video by Patrick Kelly.

#whump reference #writing reference #phage therapy

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elminx · 8 months ago

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Witch Tips: 8 Ways To Advance Your Kitchen Witchery

Note here: as always, not all of these tips will work for everyone. Take what resonates with you and leave the rest. Where you are in life (how old you are, your budget, and where you live) will influence which of these are available. That’s okay.

One of my biggest frustrations with Kitchen Witch spaces online is that they are (almost always) simply a list of recipes or general kitchen correspondences. Sure, these are parts of kitchen witchery, but there’s more to it than that. I’ve decided to compile a list of things you can do to up the practical side of your craft. You’ll notice that these are not magical tips, per se, but tips on how to deepen your connection to the food you eat and craft with.

Join a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) Farmshare

I’m starting with the big guns here. A CSA is a way to buy a share of a local farm. You give the farmer money ahead of the season (often in the fall, but you can sometimes sign up year-round), and then you get weekly or monthly pickups of their produce all season long. There are so many ways this supports kitchen craft: you are supporting a local farm in your community, you are guaranteeing yourself local seasonal produce, and it’s a great way to save money.

CSAs tend to be a big investment up front, but the payoff is great – pound for pound, you don’t get those prices in a store. With some CSAs, you can go directly to the farm and choose some or all of what you take home, while others give you a premade box. Some deliver or have pickup points in major cities all over the country. Some come with pick-your-own herbs, tomatoes, and flowers. This is a better choice for an adventurous eater – you will encounter things you’ve never eaten! (If you’re a pickier eater, the next tip might be more your style) Some places have CSAs that include more than just vegs, too. In my area, I could sign up for a meat share, a fruit share, an egg share, and even a flower share!

Visit Your Local Farmer’s Markets

If you like complete control over what you eat but also like the idea of supporting local agriculture, farmer’s markets are a great place to start. You will find anything from in-season fresh-picked produce to eggs, meat, local honey, and more! They are also a great place to find fruit seconds during canning season. When you buy directly from a farm, the money goes into the farmer’s pockets, and the food is often cheaper without the grocer’s markup. Plus, you may get to talk to the people who grow your food, which is a big win in my book. This option is great because it does not involve a big investment like a CSA, and you can buy only what you will use.

Grow Your Own

If the above two options aren’t available to you, or you want to try out your green thumb, why not grow your own herbs, fruit, or veggies this season? I’m not suggesting starting a whole-scale garden if that’s not something you have ever done before – start small and manageable. Pick one thing you KNOW you will eat and grow that. This takes more planning because you must consider your space and time constraints. All plants need soil, light, and nutrients, but each has different needs. Most herbs, tomatoes, and peppers can be grown in containers in smaller spaces, while other plants need a lot of room to grow. A lack of outdoor space can be remedied with a few grow lights. If you’re starting for the first time, this is a list of herbs that are very easy to grow for beginners so long as you give them enough light to thrive: basil, cilantro/coriander, garden sage, lemon balm, mint, lavender, oregano, parsley, rosemary, and thyme.

This can be a really budget-friendly option, too! Many areas have active plant groups with friendly people who are very willing to donate an old grow pot and a start to a newbie gardener. Plus, if you’re growing it yourself, you don’t need to purchase it in a store.

Can, Freeze, Dry, Dehydrate, and Save

If you end up with a CSA or grow your own, there will likely be a point in the season when you have a bounty too large to consume. When we have enough, we share or save for later. This isn’t a manual on the best ways to preserve your harvest, but you definitely can preserve it for a later date. And, I promise you, nothing is more rewarding in the dead of winter than pulling out something you preserved in the height of summer. Your preservation methods will change depending on what you have an excess of. If you want to get into water bath canning, I suggest picking up any version of the Ball Blue Book, which gives you directions on safe canning methods. If you live in a dry climate, you can dry your herbs by hanging them, but if you’re like me and live in a humid zone, a dehydrator is a safe way to avoid pesky mold issues. Many fruits and vegetables can be frozen, cut up, or whole. Do some research here – you’ll be surprised by what you find.

Use Those Scraps

If you want to be frugal and more environmentally friendly, start keeping your kitchen scraps. Bones and leftover vegetable ends can be frozen and later turned into broth. Citrus peels can candied, dried, or infused into vinegar or vodka. Apple peels can be turned into pectin for jam or jelly making. The ends of tender herbs like cilantro, basil, and parsley can be pulsed into pestos and sauces. The rinds on parmesan cheese can be saved to add to soups or sauces for some extra umami. I could go on, and I’m sure there are a million uses for kitchen scraps I’ve never heard of. If you are interested in this, there are many folk magic resources about using what you already have, and that would be a good place to start. Being frugal saves money and keeps unnecessary waste out of landfills.

Compost

Speaking of landfills, how about keeping your vegetable scraps out of them altogether? Many improvements in composting have allowed it to be done in much smaller spaces. I have a postage stamp-sized backyard, but I have two large compost bins that I rotate using yearly so that one is always curing while the other is being filled up with new produce. Plus, I have natural fertilizer for my garden that came from my kitchen! If you don’t have outdoor space, devices on the market now can compost your kitchen scraps in a few hours. Some seem to be rated for bones, which is pretty cool. They still seem to be pricy, but it’s an option if you can afford it.

Make Your Own

Are you into baking? Did you know you can make your own vanilla extract by putting a vanilla bean into some vodka? It’s virtually eternally reusable because you simply refill the bottle every time you use it. (Sidenote: for a deeper flavor, sub in your favorite dark liquor for the vodka here) Now, you have vanilla extract, which is also vanilla vodka. This also works for other extracts (mint, coffee, and almonds come to mind), but you should research how long to infuse them. Do you love pies? You can make and can your own pie filling while the fruit is in season. Do you love tacos? Make your own salsa. This can really level up your witching because it gives you an extra chance to infuse your magic into your food – once while you prepare the base ingredients and again when you cook them into your meal.

Pick-Your-Own

There is nothing quite like making a strawberry shortcake from start to finish. For me, that starts in the strawberry fields. Picking the berries myself guarantees the best and freshest berries! And it creates a great link between me and the plant where it was growing. In my area, I can pick herbs, flowers, salad, tomatoes, and beans at my local farm share, but depending on the season, I can also find you-pick strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and apples. I try to take advantage of every one. This weekend, I’ll be staying near a you-pick lavender farm and will definitely be visiting there, too! Since you do the work to pick your own, the produce prices tend to be lower, too. This is a great way to get outdoors and connect with what you are cooking with where it is growing.

Wild Harvesting

This comes with several caveats: You ABSOLUTELY need to do your own research and be 100% sure of your plant identification before you eat anything you harvest from the wild. A mistake can literally kill you! If you have known food allergies, this is not the tip for you—trying any food you haven’t had before is a risk of an allergic reaction, so don’t risk it. Additionally, some wild foods are protected or endangered. Know before you harvest. Take only what you’ll use and leave some for the animals. Practice safe wild harvesting, too – avoid taking from places near major roads, cemeteries, or known hazardous waste dumping grounds for your own safety. On the other hand – harvest invasives to your heart’s content!

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There are, of course, a million ways to kitchen witch and this is simply some of the ways that I like to connect more deeply with my food in all stages of its journey. How do YOU kitchen witch? I'd love to hear more about it - feel free to send me asks telling me what you like to do.

Do you like my work? You can tip me over on Kofi, commission me to write an astrological report for you, or signs up to be a monthly supporter of my writing.

#witchblr #witch tips #kitchen witchcraft #kitchen witchery #kitchen witch tips

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elbiotipo · 10 months ago

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Someone in the notes on your post about food in fantasy mentioned connection between at least early modern production of sugar and colonialism and slavery, and while I 100% agree that it's something that should be known, I think that if you want to have lighthearted fantasy setting there are definitely ways to work around this.

Like sugar is also produced from sugar beet. I don't know could it be done without modern equipment (production started at the very end of 18th century so while industrial equipment was primitive it was), but like you may do something with it, like some wizards developing production technology.

In the same vein, crop exchange in the Old World was mostly peaceful, or at least it wasn't due to slavery. Like rice was already grown in Egypt in 1000 BCE and made its way to Spain by 7th century CE. Bananas were grown in Turkey by 15th century CE. And tons of agricultural goods come from West Asia both ways. What I am trying to say is that if your world has equivalent of Americas your Europeans* could have just acquired potatoes and corn without colonization (because they were more ethical than irl or because they didn't have resources for conquest or because American nations were strong enough to stop them). Like potatoes and such are just crops, sailors could have picked them as a supplies and then someone decided to grow them at home.

This is like a suggestion specifically if you want to have a world for costume drama without dealing with heavy themes. I would suggest describing it specifically to point that out, and I can't say that it's very politically aware but definitely not worse than "they just have it" or "yes there are overseas colonies but pay it no mind".

*Because that's usually the case in examples that are discussed, from what I heard East Asian fantasy set in East Asia also suffers from this for the same reason, but I didn't read enough of it to say

Let me say you make real good points and I broadly agree with you. I do think the history of colonialism and where our foods came from is important (I do research that so no doubt). And I also agree that sometimes, those themes are too difficult to board properly, especially in a lighthearted story.

However, in fiction, it's not so much that I want people to do more "clean" ways of getting those crops. Many people told me "well, what if they get it through trade, or what if they got it through magical portals and such" my point is not that you find a "colonialist free" way to have potatoes in your setting, my point is that every crop in real life has a history behind them, and when you place them in your setting, I think you should consider that. Not only because you will learn about real life and its history, but also because of the storytelling potential.

I mean, I do have "worldbuilding fundamentalist" in my bio, and I think even if you don't sketch the entire world, you should at least know where your heroes are. Much of modern fantasy loves to adopt the "medieval" aesthetic, while in fact presenting a world with widespread trade, urbanization, a growing artisan class, etc. (I've done a longer rant about it here). Those things aren't just aesthetic choices, they are different societies that have different dynamics and they do affect the kind of plots and characters you might make on them.

I don't think fantasy should shy away from exploring themes such as imperialism and colonialism, trade and politics, intercultural contact and social change. One reason why I'm so insistent with the theme of crops and trade is that it's because it's emblematic of those issues. Sure, you don't want to explain the potatoes or chocolate in your setting, whatever. Don't you WANT to, though? Don't you want to explore beyond the pseudo-medieval aesthetic, and explore what an American or African -inspired setting might look like? Of course, you could and should also make your own new settings, but exploring actual history, geography, biology (at the broadest term, natural history) will make you a better worldbuilder and a better writer, AND also let you learn more about the world.

Sorry if this rant is a bit unfocused, just woke up from a nap after some wine, but this is why I'm so insistent with the stories that can arise just by considering the crops in your setting. Imagine what else can you write.

#worldbuilding #fantasy #writing #biotipo worldbuilding

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echidna-auxiliatrix · 29 days ago

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Above all else it should be universally acknowledged that pregnancy is an injury you never fully recover from

After you give birth you have a dinner plate sized wound inside of you.

Your pelvic floor never ever recovers. Pelvic floor therapy helps but can never fully restore your strength, and it gets worse and worse with each vaginal delivery.

You experience incontinence, painful sex, weaker/fewer/no orgasms and pleasure

It's not uncommon for your vagina to literally tear apart during delivery (this is made worse w/ western medical practices that make women lay down on their backs, which is not the optimal way to give birth vaginally)

And C sections are a whole other issue b/c C sections are intense abdominal surgeries where the nerves that connect to the clitoris and the sensitive areas inside the vagina and on the vulva are all in the line of fire and can be severed. If that happens to you then you're just plain SOL! This can be improved w/ further research into bodies that can give birth, but point being that being cut open like a fish should not be considered an acceptable alternative.

Also it's very common to get gum disease, cavities, and other dental issues due to morning sickness and the fact that your body is literally siphoning calcium from your teeth (and your bones!)

There's a reason why in so many religions and cultures pregnancy and childbirth are considered women's punishment for being mischievous, stupid, etc. And then take into account how common it is to die in childbirth. Ancient peoples were more in touch with and honest about the brutality of this and their societies wielded it to men's advantage

And because of all of this, there is a part of me that believes you have to be sorta kinda evil to inflict this upon someone else. Looking at it without cultural baggage, how is it any different from beating someone to a pulp?

So why is only ~50% of the population capable of pregnancy and childbirth? Well it's evolutionarily advantageous to have different types of bodies that do different things, esp. Something as risky and lethal as childbirth, because less death is pretty much always a good thing. That's really truly the only reason, but as per usual humans have mythologized it in a million ways, none of them accurate or helpful.

Its important to know that pre-agricultural humans didn't have dozens of kids, and that pregnancy and childbirth were made significantly less miserable by the lack of misogyny and the fact that after you were done breastfeeding you were no longer the primary caretaker of that child. Remember this was before children were legally considered property. Add to that the fact that ppl have been pulling out & tracking their cycles since forever. These are not super effective methods of contraception but they do work a certain percentage of the time.

Interestingly pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood are almost never radicalizing experiences for women, (though they should be), but rather women often sink deeper into the clutches of oppression. They think they are better for having endured this because that's the only way they can rationalize why it happened. Looking at the situation logically women's quality of life decreases in every single meaningful way during pregnancy and motherhood.

The reasons women as a class are in such denial over this are multifaceted but imo it basically comes down to women and girls not being afforded enough accessible opportunities in society to actually make something of themselves whereas getting pregnant is very accessible (most can do it) and getting pregnant and being pregnant cost no money theoretically. This is most obvious when you examine the phenomenon of teenage pregnancy, where the girls who seemingly enthusiastically give birth to and raise their children (as opposed to getting abortions or giving the baby up for adoption) are pretty much universally impoverished, socially ostracized, not high achievers, come from dysfunctional or abusive families, and end up spending their lives addicted to substances and/or the attention of men and/or their child(ren).

Then there is the fact that pretty much everybody has been abused or traumatized during their upbringing (women especially, because little girls are lightning rods for the violence of the family and patriarchy) and consciously or not relish in the idea of unleashing that onto someone more vulnerable because that is the only way they know how to process what theyve been through. For women, motherhood is the easiest way to accomplish this, because the opportunities afforded to men to achieve this same goal are typically less accessible. I really believe that being a parent (the way we define being a parent currently, not simply reproducing) is similar to being a cop in that it's a role that exists for the sole purpose of committing abuse and maintaining oppression

Tldr abolish the family and invest all time money and other resources into artificial wombs now!

#personal content

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memecucker · 1 year ago

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I figured out a way to weaken the pro-slavery cause really early in Victoria 3 bc it starts off really strong bc the Rural Folk are the strongest interest group and they’re led by the pro-slavery Andrew Jackson so you can fuck up the Democratic Party ‘a performance in the 1836 election by just pretending to pass a law that specifically makes just Andrew Jackson mad enough he’ll start organizing a revolt but not the powerful Landowners (bc then that’s just a Civil War with an extra strong South) and that consists of trying to enact Monarchy and if Andrew Jackson is so upset about that even being considered he’ll start a civil war to stop it then he can’t run for President so then he’s not head of state anymore he’s just another IG leader you can exile and he’ll just fuck off and wander the earth until he dies bc conservative countries don’t want someone so supportive of suffrage and liberal countries won’t want someone that’s gonna try and enact slavery. And the reason you want just him to rebel/boycott the election but not the Landowners is bc then the Landowners get to suffer a big loss in clout from losing an election and then you can try to abolish slavery to make the civil war happen and wind up with a really weak CSA in 1838 that’s missing half its states

Anyway I did that bc I wanted to get the civil war over with quick bc I was trying to test out a concept build I’ve been thinking about of turning the US into an anarcho-market-socialist society without using the communist revolution events bc then everyone is gonna wanna abolish the market part (it’ll work better when 1.5 full release happens bc default US rural folk will now support Anarchism over any dictatorial or illiberal voting laws) and incidentally part of the steps I worked out does involve actually going monarchy as the US bc then if you get Nihilists in government they’ll equally support any form of republic over monarchy which is the only non-trade union/non-communist ideology way to enact a Council Republic which you need to enact Anarchy. I felt like doing that bc Anarchism’s effects are kinda lame rn it mostly just greatly reduces the amount of extra political power wealthier pops get but since you normally need to have mostly done a communist revolution that’s literally pointless bc you won’t have rich people if that’s your path but if you circumvent that with the US and installing a monarchy and then having it abolished by a Nihilist setting up a republic of workers councils you could end up with rural folk who don’t want to collective rural jobs and Anarchism could keep some Aristocrats and Capitalists that own rural/agricultural stuff around for like their bonuses but they can’t easily wield disproportionate political power from wealth or something

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pallastrology · 1 year ago

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ritualising the mundane: imbolc with chronic illness

artwork by john duncan

imbolc is fast approaching. i find the debate around whether or not the eight 'wheel of the year' days are historically accurate fascinating, but i don't think today is the day to get into all that. for me personally, it makes sense to celebrate these days from quite a few perspectives, so i like to include a small celebration as part of my own practice. this post is all about how i am holding space for imbolc celebrations without ignoring my limits.

imbolc is all about spring. it signifies the end of winter and that light and warmth is on its way to us. it is the feast day of saint brigid of kildare, and a sabbat for neopagans. the goddess brigid rules over lambing, smithing, agricultural workers, spring, poetry and healing.

in previous years, i either haven't done anything to celebrate, which led to feeling sort of left out and upset, or have planned out so many things to fill the day that i end up stressed and fatigued afterwards. around a year ago, i got diagnosed with a chronic illness. it wasn't a huge surprise, as it's a genetic thing i was born with and i've had symptoms for a long time, but it did make it clear that i need to change my thinking about my physical health and work on treating myself a bit more gently. i also have a toddler, so the amount of time and resources i can spend on a day has definitely changed. however, it's important to me to be able to include him in my celebrations where it's appropriate and safe to do so.

so, what will i be doing for imbolc this year? i'm planning to make bread, go for a family walk to look for signs of spring, and make a brigid's cross to hang if i can find some rushes while out. i also want to take some time to plan out my garden for the upcoming year, as imbolc is traditionally when you'd start sowing that year's crops. my garden is currently a patch of mud with some rubbish from the previous tenant littered about, and a couple of nearly-dead little trees, so i don't think i'll be doing that much planting this year; it's more about giving the garden some much-needed love and care, and helping to bring it back to life. i think to some, my imbolc plans might sound quite mundane or boring, certainly not very witchy... but to me, connecting with the earth through a cold walk, engaging with traditional folk practices like bread-making and hanging a brigid's cross, preparing to bring a little piece of earth back to life... that is magical to me. it's all about reconnecting with myself and the world around me, working in harmony with it where i can, putting my intentions out there and nurturing them throughout the year. imbolc is the first whisper of spring, and a time to let hope take hold. this year, i want to believe that i can learn to work in harmony with my body as well as my surroundings, and become more attuned to its needs over time. i think that being outside and active as much as possible is, for my illness at least, one of the best things i can do, and i want to take the time on imbolc to appreciate how lucky i am to be able to do that.

what are your plans for imbolc, if you celebrate? if you have a chronic illness, how does it affect your practices? i hope this post was interesting or enjoyable, if you liked it, please consider checking out more of my work here! xo

#pallastrology #imbolc #candlemas #brigid's day #wheel of the year #witchcraft #witchblr #witch community

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dailyanarchistposts · 6 months ago

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I.8.5 How were the Spanish agricultural co-operatives organised and co-ordinated?

Jose Peirats described collectivisation among the peasantry as follows:

“The expropriated lands were turned over to the peasant syndicates, and it was these syndicates that organised the first collectives. Generally the holdings of small property owners were respected, always on the condition that only they or their families would work the land, without employing wage labour. In areas like Catalonia, where the tradition of petty peasant ownership prevailed, the land holdings were scattered. There were no great estates. Many of these peasants, together with the CNT, organised collectives, pooling their land, animals, tools, chickens, grain, fertiliser, and even their harvested crops. “Privately owned farms located in the midst of collectives interfered with efficient cultivation by splitting up the collectives into disconnected parcels. To induce owners to move, they were given more or even better land located on the perimeter of the collective. “The collectivist who had nothing to contribute to the collective was admitted with the same rights and the same duties as the others. In some collectives, those joining had to contribute their money (Girondella in Catalonia, Lagunarrotta in Aragón, and Cervera del Maestra in Valencia).” [The Anarchist Collectives, p. 112]

Dolgoff observed that “supreme power was vested in, and actually exercised by, the membership in general assemblies, and all power derived from, and flowed back to, the grass roots organisations of the people.” [Op. Cit., p 119fn] Peirats also noted that the collectives were “fiercely democratic” as regards decision-making. For example, in Ademuz “assemblies were held every Saturday” while in Alcolea de Cinca “they were held whenever necessary.” [Anarchists in the Spanish Revolution, p. 146] Eyewitness Gaston Leval summarised this explosion in self-management as follows:

“Regular general membership meetings were convoked weekly, bi-weekly, or monthly … and these meetings were completely free of the tensions and recriminations which inevitably emerge when the power of decisions is vested in a few individuals — even if democratically elected. The Assemblies were open for everyone to participate in the proceedings. Democracy embraced all social life. In most cases, even the ‘individualists’ who were not members of the collective could participate in the discussions, and they were listened to by the collectivists.” [The Anarchist Collectives, p 119fn]

Work was “usually done in groups on a co-operative basis. In smaller collectives, all workers gathered to discuss the work needed to be done and how to allocate it. In larger collectives, representatives of each work group would gather at regular intervals. General assemblies of the collective met on a weekly, biweekly, or monthly basis, and took up issues ranging from hours and wages to the distribution of food and clothing.” [Martha A. Ackelsberg in Free Women of Spain, p. 106] It was in these face-to-face assemblies that decisions upon the distribution of resources were decided both within and outwith the collective. Here, when considering the importance of mutual aid, appeals were made to an individual’s sense of empathy. As one activist remembered:

“There were, of course, those who didn’t want to share and who said that each collective should take care of itself. But they were usually convinced in the assemblies. We would try to speak to them in terms they understood. We’d ask, ‘Did you think it was fair when the cacique [local boss] let people starve if there wasn’t enough work?’ and they said, ‘Of course not.’ They would eventually come around. Don’t forget, there were three hundred thousand collectivists [in Aragón], but only ten thousand of us had been members of the CNT. We had a lot of educating to do.” [quoted by Ackelsberg, Op. Cit., p. 107]

In addition, regional federations of collectives were formed in many areas of Spain (for example, in Aragón and the Levant). The federations were created at congresses to which the collectives in an area sent delegates. These congresses agreed a series of general rules about how the federation would operate and what commitments the affiliated collectives would have to each other. The congress elected an administration council, which took responsibility for implementing agreed policy. The Levant Federation was organised as follows:

“The 900 Collectives were brought together in 54 cantonal federations which grouped themselves and at the same time subdivided into five provincial federations which at the top level ended in the Regional Comite … [This] was nominated directly by the annual congresses answerable to them and to the hundreds of peasant delegates chosen by their comrades … . It was also on their initiative that the Levante Federation was divided into 26 general sections in accordance with specialisations in work and other activities. Those 26 sections constituted a whole which embraced probably for the first time in history outside the State and governmental structures, the whole of social life.” [Gaston Leval, Collectives in the Spanish Revolution, p. 154]

The Aragón Federation statues were agreed at its founding congress in mid-February 1937 by 500 delegates. These stated that there would be “as many county federations” as deemed “necessary for the proper running of the collectives” and the Federation would “hold its ordinary congress at intervals of six months, in addition to whatever extraordinary ones … deemed appropriate.” New collectives could join after “consent in general assembly of the inhabitants of the collective”. The federation aimed to “coordinate the economic potential of the region and … be geared towards solidarity in accordance with the norms of autonomy and federalism.” [quoted by Jose Peirats, The CNT in the Spanish Revolution, vol. 1, p. 240]

These federations had many tasks. They ensured the distribution of surplus produce to the front line and to the cities, cutting out middlemen and ensuring the end of exploitation. They also arranged for exchanges between collectives to take place. In addition, the federations allowed the individual collectives to pool resources together in order to improve the infrastructure of the area (building roads, canals, hospitals and so on) and invest in means of production which no one collective could afford. In this way individual collectives pooled their resources, increased and improved the means of production ad the social and economic infrastructure of their regions. All this, combined with an increase of consumption in the villages and towns as well as the feeding of militia men and women fighting the fascists at the front.

Rural collectivisations allowed the potential creative energy that existed among the rural workers and peasants to be unleashed, an energy that had been wasted under private property. The popular assemblies allowed community problems and improvements to be identified and solved directly, drawing upon the ideas and experiences of everyone and enriched by discussion and debate. To quote one participant: “We were always prepared to adapt our ideas in every area of collective life if things did not work. That was the advantage of our collectives over state-created ones like those in Russia. We were free. Each village could do as it pleased. There was local stimulus, local initiative.�� [quoted by Ronald Fraser, Blood of Spain, p. 357] As we discuss in the the next section, this enabled rural Spain to be transformed from one marked by poverty and fear into one of increased well-being and hope.

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hylianengineer · 10 months ago

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Okay I'm done with the film review for my sociology class, now you can all have my rant about it, and it's LONG so it's going under a read more:

I'm watching that new Netflix documentary about dirt - Kiss The Ground. For context, I'm an undergrad researcher in biogeochemistry and I study the carbon cycle, particularly a very specific type of decomposition that occurs in waterlogged soils - methanogenesis.

I'm so thrilled that something this mainstream is talking about soil carbon, soil microbes (my beloveds), and carbon sequestration. They're talking about root exudates and mychorrizhae and agriculture as part of an ecosystem! That's exciting. There's also a really excellent dose of climate hope in this documentary - and I am really excited to see that concept getting out of niche environmental circles and into things that regular people might actually watch.

On the other hand, parts of this documentary tick me off. I do not consider Tom Brady, nor his wife, to be a reliable source about the importance of organic agriculture. I know you're trying to interest the non-science types but come on, that is a classic appeal to irrelevant authority fallacy. And they should have said the thing about how we do still have to stop using fossil fuels and reach net zero emissions IN ADDITION TO sequestering the carbon we've already emitted more than one time in the whole film, because I just know people are going to take the rest of this message and run with it in the wrong direction. And they are really hammering home the appeal to emotions in the first half, to the point where I think the core of their argument suffers for it. Are you trying to explain this thing to me or are you throwing around buzzwords and pictures of sick children in hopes I'll get distracted?

Also they keep introducing guests with credentials like "ecologist from the Rodale Institute." You know nobody knows what the fuck that is, right? (It's an NGO dedicated to organic farming, for the record, but I did have to google it, and they had multiple guest speakers from this group.) Come on, you have no credibility if I can't tell where your info's coming from, and most people are not going to do background research as they watch a documentary.

Overall, I agree with their main points but I'm annoyed with how they made them. They're right about the ability of soil to sequester carbon, they're right that it could play a big role in climate change mitigation, and they're right that helping the soil is also better for people, ecosystems, and the planet. They're right about no till farming, permaculture, and crop diversity. They're even right about the bullshit that is the US industrial agricultural system, and they dug into how it came about in the post-WWII era, which isn't something I see talked about much. Kind of baffled how they managed to talk about soil degradation in the Midwestern USA without getting into the unique ways prairie soil and roots work, and instead went down a weird rambly path about how plows are bad (true, at least here - I cant speak for ecosystems I don't know as well - but explained poorly) and cows are good because this system evolved to have bison in it (sort of true, but incomplete. Cows aren't bison and the differences do matter.)

Also, reduced meat consumption is a very common thing that a lot of experts say is needed for climate change mitigation, and don't think I didn't notice how you sidestepped the issue just to say 'cows are good actually, stop vilifying cows.' I call bullshit. Just because cows work well in some ecosystems on a certain scale does not mean that it's possible to farm meat sustainably on the scale we currently do - factory farming and feedlots (CAFOs, if you want to get technical) are what allows us to make this much meat in the first place. You just admitted we need cows spread out on a lot more land to making ranching sustainable, and then failed to address the fact that this idyllic system doesn't really mesh with a world in which everybody eats multiple servings of beef per day. I see that decision and I know why you made it, because asking people to make sacrifices for the climate tends to make them ignore you, I don't even necessarily disagree with that decision because I know you're trying to persuade normal people and not environmentalists, but don't think I didn't notice.

Okay, fine, NOW they're talking about eating less meat and how what meat people do eat needs to come from more sustainable agricultural practices. Good. Better.

Oh look at our free range eggs, they're orange and that means they have more nutrients. Do they? Please back up this claim with scientific evidence. Of course the farmer says his eggs are better, he raised them. It's plausible, but I am pedantic and a scientist and I want data. You have to prove things to me.

Overall not a horrible documentary but ticks me off in several ways and tries to cram too many different subjects into like an hour and a half. Also, visiting the film's website makes me MORE ANGRY because they say even STUPIDER things about how they think climate science works. They make it sound like carbon sequestration in soil is THE solution which is BULLSHIT. There is no THE solution, there's gotta be a bunch of em stacked on top of each other - according to basically every climate change mitigation plan I've ever heard of (Project Drawdown is a good example). There's this metaphor I like to use to explain this to people - there's no silver bullet, but there could be silver buckshot. I read that somewhere once and cannot remember where but I'll never forget it.

Anyways, if you want a good intro to soil health directed at non-scientists/environmentalists, Kiss The Ground isn't bad, but you gotta think critically about some of the claims it's making because some of them are bullshit.

#hylian rambles #hylian does science #it's time for soil ramblings babes #get ready to learn what a root exudate is #kiss the ground

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chimeraacademy-comic · 1 year ago

Text

Blessed Children

As a devout priest to the knowledge god Oghma, Father Connery liked to believe he was more well learnt than the average folk around Airytile. He was no academic by any stretch of the imagination, but his library was nothing to sneeze at.

It was after all the best library in a 100 miles of any town or village in any direction. Though to be clear, to call any settlement a town within a 100 miles of Airytile was being generous. In fact calling Airytile a town was in itself incredibly generous. Had Airytile not become a market center point for all the other homesteads, villages, hamlets and towns' around it, the temple in which he served would not have existed.

While Oghma was a fine god (if Connery did say so himself), his personal deity would not have been any small settlement's first choice. When you lived at the edge of civilization, deities to the values of justice (Tyr) or agriculture (Chauntea) held a greater importance. However, being a sort of pseudo-town, allowed Airytile to have not just one temple, but two temples! Three if one included the small shrine Tymora down the road that was looked after by one of her devotees.

Yet, he found himself at a loss the day he met Darlina and her children.

She had entered Oghma's temple looking for knowledge, with one child held against her chest and another balanced on her hip. Darlina would not have been out of place on a farmstead with the strength she had to have to carry her twin girls from their little village to Airytile. However, it was the girls that had caught his attention.

He would quietly admit later in prayer to Oghma that he had jumped to the conclusion that someone or something had cursed the woman's children. An error that one who followed the god of wisdom should have not done, but, surely no one could blame him?

They were adorable children, and clearly took after their mother in looks… well mostly took after their mother.

"I know this is gonna sound very odd," the woman spoke as she clutched her children close to her, "But do you know what children like them are called?"

"Called? I'm… sorry, I don't understand," Connery was taken aback.

Whatever question he thought she had for him, that wasn't the question he was expecting.

"The neighbours call them demons and fiends, because they're always so odd looking," the mother explained looking down at the child at her hip, "But I know that's not right. They're sweetest little things you'll ever have met, and I heard from a traveling merchant that sometimes children are born different without any explanation. Like with white hair, or gold eyes so I thought maybe they're like that? Only you get horns, tails and big doe eyes like theirs."

Father Connery winced, he had heard of such children. Aasimars they were called and were considered a divine sign, but he was pretty sure that is not what these children were. He eyed the children, one of them flicked their tail upwards so they could grab it and suckle on the tip. Despite the uncanniness of their doe like stares, he couldn't help but think how adorable the action was.

"I haven't got much, but I can do a bit of magic to help with cleaning," she continued, "And I can sew clothes and quilts, so if you got anything that needs repairs…"

It occurred to Father Connery right then that this poor woman upheaved everything she had to just come this way out for a bit of knowledge. Not just any knowledge, he wasn't obtuse. She specifically wanted something that could help ease her children's lives by giving a name to what they were.

"A bit of help cleaning would be a godsend," Connery tried to reassure her with a smile, "Stay as long as you need to get yourselves on your feet, and I will see what I can find."

There was a look of relief and joy in her eyes as she thanked Father Connery for helping them. Her eyes became teary as she promised to work hard to help the temple in return. It was at that moment that the old priest remembered why he promised himself to Oghma, because knowledge was such a gift.

It was also, as he would discover a month later, also very much a curse. There was a reason why the old saying 'ignorance is bliss' even existed, even if it went against everything that Connery believed in. Finding out what the children were was not hard. Father Connery collected all sorts of books, even ones that were pure works of fiction, because in fiction, he believed, you can glean quite a bit about the society the writer lived in.

Tieflings, are what children like the twins were called. Folks whose primary traits were horns, tails and large doe like eyes. However, writings were not kind to tieflings. Ironically, like aasimars, what brings about their existence is shrouded in mystery and conflicting accounts. Many accounts connect tieflings to the lower planes where fiends and devils live, while others considered them a curse or punishment for some sort of past transgression. Fascinatingly enough, none of the writings ever mentioned out right that tieflings were evil natured, but rather they were just humans who had a connection to the lower planes.

In some ways, they had a lot in common with the aasimars who were said to have connections to the higher planes. However, unlike tieflings, aasimars were considered an auspicious sign and were quite beloved by the communities they were born into.

Perhaps, he thought, there was some truth to the idea that tieflings were cursed, because society would not look kindly on them. It, made the old priest's heart hurt, in the month they had been living in the temple, he thought the twins were nothing but of light and sunshine. Surely, there must be one good story, one tale of a tiefling that was something other than cast out or cursed.

He recalled in the back of his mind a tale once told about a fallen aasimar, one that laid waste to many towns before they were defeated by an adventuring party. If there was such a tale of an evil aasimar, surely there must be a tale, somewhere of a beloved tiefling. With a prayer to his lips, Connery rolled up his sleeves and got back to work. If he did not have such a story in his library, he would write to the other temples. Someone, somewhere must have a tale that he could give to Darlina and her children.

It took another three months for him to find what he was looking for, and by then Darlina had found work as a freelance seamstress. Well, seamstress didn't quite cover what she did. There was a bit of a market for a little luxury, and Darlina could make beautiful quilts and soft plushy toys. So if anyone wanted anything extra special, they went to Darlina for it.

It was another month before he found the courage meet with her in her new home. He sat across from her with a wooden mug full of tea and a pile of books beside him. Connery pressed his hands against the heat of the mug in an effort to ground himself.

"They're called tieflings," he said without preamble, unable to find a delicate way to put it, "They have some sort of connection to the lower planes, but-" he added hurriedly, "- they are not fiends or devils. Just an unfortunate happenstance. It's just as likely you were in the wrong place at the wrong time when pregnant with them or that maybe an ancestor of yours made a pact with a fiend somewhere and that pact has now come to roost, but it's nothing they did, and they are not evil."

"Of course not!" Darlina hissed out, "They're angels, the both of them!"

Connery nodded at this, he understood her frustration. This was, and wasn't what she wanted to hear, "I'm not going to lie, things are going to be tough for them. People won't be kind, not here anyways. In a city though…"

His contemporaries had told him that there were more tieflings in the cities, or in towns that were on major trade routes. It would be, at least a bit easier for them.

But Darlina shook her head, "Couldn't afford it. If I knew more magic, or could teach it, maybe, but I can only manage a handful of tricks that any student at a fancy magic school can do. At least out here, I can ask for a few coopers to get out a tough stain."

"Aye… you're a luxury out here, even if it's just for cleaning and a few illusions," Connery agreed, "I can't say I have any good news, but I do at least… have one thing."

He reached over and picked up a book from the pile, and handed it over to her. It was an old leather book with the little "The Order of the Wandering Guides" on the front.

"A tale," he told her, "There aren't many tales of tieflings that aren't adventuring stories."

And maybe one day he would collect those for them, but for now he had this one.

"There is… they're not a monastic order, or any order related to any deity, but they are an order of wanderers that travel from place to place to teach whoever they come across. The story goes, a long time ago, there was a tiefling…"

And so he began to tell her, the story of a tiefling who had wandered the wilds for years and years. Teaching anyone who needed a bit of help along the way. A tiefling who would later disappear but became so beloved that an order of wandering teachers sprung up in his stead.

Because, sometimes just the knowledge there is someone like you who went onto do great things, a very precious gift indeed.

#chimera academy #dnd #tiefling #dnd oc #writers on tumblr #short story #creative writing #fiction #why representation can mean the world #world building #fantasy writing

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