Scout at six months

Our pound puppy, seen here in her Memorial Day getup, gets more awesome every day. She hasn't turned out to be the "substantial" girl we thought she'd be, but we've decided that's just fine with us.

Picking up threads

It feels like a good time to re-visit some topics covered on KintlaLake Blog in recent weeks and months. In no particular order, then...

Scouting arms
I posted a pointed commentary last month about the disappearance of marksmanship from the list of essential Scouting skills. And while it may be endangered Scoutcraft, it's not yet gone.

Two long-gun merit badges remain -- Rifle Shooting and Shotgun Shooting. Earning each requires a Scout to demonstrate knowledge and proper mindset as well as skill with firearms.

Rifle Shooting gives a candidate the option of firing a .22 rifle, an air rifle or a muzzle-loader. The marksmanship standards might sound simple -- putting five three-shot groups inside an inch at 50 feet, for example -- but I'll wager that many of us gray-haired shooters can't do that reliably with open sights. Shotgun Shooting is similarly challenging.

It's also worth noting that Shooting Sports is an elective Ranger Award in the Venturing program, which succeeded Exploring in the 1990s.

There's no telling how long it'll be before runaway political correctness relegates those awards to Scouting's trash heap, but I wanted to temper my previous pessimism with some (encouraging) facts.

Urban Resources: Ranger Bands
Seldom does the sun set without another use for "Ranger Bands" popping into my head. It's a curse.

One sub-zero February evening I pulled a Mini Maglite from my TrailBlazer's console, and after just a few minutes the ice-cold aluminum had my hands aching. The next morning I cut a length of road-bike tube and slipped it over the housing -- problem solved.

I also found a neat idea (above) in a 1919 issue of Popular Science. Soon I believe I'll cannibalize a motorcycle tube and use that "cobbled" sheath on my Vaughan Sub-Zero Axe. Pictures (mine) to follow.

Sharps: Pocket sheaths
Looking at my "pocket sheath for the woods" the other day, it occurred to me to dose the hide with Montana Pitch-Blend Leather Dressing -- beeswax would help repel water, protecting the knife and (especially) the tinder in the fire kit.

The sweet-smelling paste darkened the leather slightly and gave it a nice sheen. Tested afterward, the surface beaded and shed moisture well. I treated my smaller pocket sheath, too, but with the Leather Oil -- less water-repellent than Leather Dressing (owing to the lack of beeswax), but just fine for the application.

Waste management
I hate to see food go to waste -- any food, for any reason. It's safe to say that it's one of my pet peeves. And although composting is a perfectly responsible way for us to turn truly disposable matter into fertilizer, I've been thinking about better ways to save fresh fruits and vegetables that risk spoiling before we're able to eat them.

At a local odd-lots store the other night I spied a brand-new five-tray food dehydrator. It was a convection-only model (no fan), so it wasn't ideal -- but it was "marked down" from $40 to $25. Besides, it came with a jerky kit.

So we brought it home. We'll do some drying, some vacuum-sealing and some canning and see how it goes over the next year or so. As for making jerky, I'll use the nifty convection oven that was in the kitchen when we moved into our house.

Winchester Model 67

I uncovered a relatively recent article about my old single-shot .22 -- "Winchester Model 67: A Product of Another Era," written by Gil Sengel and published in the January-February 2009 issue of Rifle Magazine. It covers the M67's history, development and variants, and I found it a fascinating read.

I'm unable to offer a hot-link to the piece, however -- it's vanished from Google Books. Go figure.

Scout at 16 weeks
The last time I wrote about our new puppy, she could sleep in a teacup with room to spare. Now she's four months old (give or take) and weighs about 25 pounds. She looks more Lab-ish every day -- otter's tail and all.

I agree with our vet that she'll top-out between 50 and 60 pounds before she's done growing. I hope she doesn't grow out of her disposition, though -- she has the most amazing personality.

Smart? You betcha. She was obeying "sit" and "stay" a long time ago. And she doesn't just "shake hands" -- last week she mastered "gimme five," "high five" and "all ten, up high."

She's definitely Daddy's Girl -- and Daddy is incurably smitten.

Wintry

An early January Thaw, accompanied by three days of rain around New Year's, took away our wonderland. Now it's back -- we're seeing our third straight day of light snow.

Winter, with all of its quietude and gentle beauty, has returned to our village.

Scout doesn't much like the snow, at least not yet. She doesn't tolerate the cold well, either -- as an early-winter pound puppy, she didn't have a chance to develop a thick undercoat when the seasons changed. So when we take her outside for her "business trips," one of us usually ends up stuffing a shivering black furball inside a parka.

I'm itching to head down to the woods today, but that'll have to wait 'til tomorrow -- this wintry Saturday is for taking down holiday decorations and running errands.

Still, wherever I am these days, this season is precious to me. Cold and snow aren't for everyone, I know, but I love what winter does to the landscape and its inhabitants. No sun-splashed tropical beach could bring my soul the peace I feel right now.

Meet 'Scout'

I think this is the first time that I've introduced the concept of "cute" here on KintlaLake Blog. It's been a very long time since I've had a puppy in my life, and I'd forgotten how much I love it.

You're looking at the newest member of our family -- Scout, an eight-week-old Labra-something. She came home with us from the neighboring county's animal shelter this morning.

Mrs. KintlaLake picked her out on Friday. The good folks at the shelter chose her name. Both are perfect.

Scout is entertaining us and, naturally, annoying the hell out of two fluffy toy pooches, the geriatric pair that until today had the run of the place. They'll get over it.

I predict that Scout, tiny as she is now, will grow to be quite (shall we say) substantial. We're imagining long trips in the truck with a big black dog riding shotgun, bright summer days playing fetch at the park...at the moment, though, what we've got is cute.

That'll do.

(Tuckered-out Scout, asleep on the bed that my wife stitched and stuffed for her.)