The Duck

This is the Chocolate Indian Runner that hurt her left leg. She’s been in the infirmary the whole time she’s been injured. It’s been a couple weeks now and she’s still not standing on the leg. In fact, the leg is somewhat splayed out to the side and appears in danger of being frozen in that position, thereby rendering it useless. We’d prefer that this not happen, for we’d have to then put her down.

For the first week, I would go in, catch her and give her physical therapy, some passive range of motion and then check for muscle tone by pushing against her foot. The leg is still strong, but the splay was bothering me so earlier this week I upped the PT to morning and night. After the PT I set her on the ground and place the leg underneath her. When I let go she tries to stand up, which is encouraging, but soon thereafter the leg is jutting out again. Today I took her outside for a little sunshine and a “swim.” I’d like her to start using the leg a little more and maybe the water will encourage her. The water will also clean her off a bit. Ducks like to dunk their heads under water to keep their heads and beaks clean. She hasn’t been doing this, so she got a bath as well. Despite not liking being held, I believe she might have like the water and a clean head.



We have four chocolate Runners. They are our oldest ducks, so they don’t lay too many eggs anymore. If we had a larger flock, meaning that we had more of an egg business, the old ladies might have been culled by now. They still eat as much as the producers, and feed prices have gone up considerably in the last few years. The injured duck’s appetite is still good. Besides the duck feed that she eats, we are feeding her a dozen night crawlers a day to keep her strength up. We put them in her water bowl to encourage her to drink a bit more, and maybe clean her head. But we have now added another $2.00 to our costs each day.

The price for a dozen organic duck eggs has had to go up to compensate for this increase. Great, huh? No. We break even. And we’re not alone.

Farmers are selling off their livestock. They can’t afford to feed them. Corn is being grown in massive quantities now, yet it goes to ethanol production. Don’t get me started…

Untoward a Goal

I ran into Yakshi last night playing $25 at Stars. I told him I missed his blog, Government Cheese, which was abruptly removed from the interweb last May. He had pissed off the wrong people who evidently had lawyers who troll the internet looking for sites that name their clients. A shame, really, because the guy has a razor wit.

Right before Govt. Cheese disappeared, Yakshi was running a contest on who was the cheesiest pro. His contest was down to the quarter finals. I asked him who won. “Phil probably, ha ha. Scottie wasn’t cheesy enough.” Phil Hellmuth and Scottie Nguyen, yeah no contest. Scottie may be the biggest cornball, which isn’t quite the same as cheesy, and certainly a far cry from soft, white farmer’s cheese. But now I’m doing Yakshi’s schtick, so I’ll move on.

Nothing much was happening for me at Stars. I lost a little on one table, won a little on another, so it was a wash. I tried Gump’s method, looked for the right tables, found them, and they were tighter than tight. I must have come in at the wrong time, just after the donks got dunked. I’ll try again tonight.

So I poured myself a scotch and went over to Poker Academy. One hand I’m particularly proud of:

1} bastin $124.45 9h 9c
2) Spike6905 (sitting out)
3) ronj5558 $110.10 ?? ??
4) mohgan $67.95 ?? ??
5) LoungeLizard $160.80 ?? ??
6) AlAtrape * $109.50 ?? ??
7) Opinh Bombay $184.90 ?? ??
8) Prez OBAMA $100.85 ?? ??
9) sweet beer $98.13 ?? ??
10) ElkY jr $69.42 7h 8d

Opinh Bombay posts small blind $0.50
Prez OBAMA posts big blind $1
sweet beer folds
ElkY jr calls $1
bastin raises $3.50
ronj5558 folds
mohgan calls $4.50
LoungeLizard folds
AlAtrape folds
Opinh Bombay folds
Prez OBAMA folds
ElkY jr calls $3.50

FLOP: 9s 8c 6h
ElkY jr checks
bastin bets $25
mohgan folds
ElkY jr calls $25

TURN: 9s 8c 6h 6s
ElkY jr checks
bastin bets $25.50
ElkY jr calls $25.50

RIVER: 9s 8c 6h 6s Qd
ElkY jr bets $14.42 (all-in)
bastin calls $14.42
ElkY jr shows 7h 8d
bastin shows 9h 9c

bastin wins $141.84 with a Full House, Nines over Sixes
$3 raked.

I have no idea why he bet out on the river with this hand. Well, yes I do. It was my turn bet. I wanted to show a little weakness and he took the bait. The guy’s a calling station anyway, always looking for the cooler, and I’ve wanted to clock his ass for some time.

Maybe I should have written “waited” instead of “wanted.” Maybe I can do both at the same time. That’s the great thing about Poker Academy: the usual suspects always show up and I can get a great read on a player after several sessions. I find a target and I wait for the right opportunity to strike.

Now, I realize that this may look as if I’m letting my emotions get in the way of my game, or at least be in danger of that. Maybe there’s a bit of anticipation involved, and certainly aggression. Neither of these seems to be out of line in poker. I am anticipating the time when I can felt a player, and when I do, I’m going to do it in such a manner that sends him/her reeling. Ha!

I have a list.

Change of Plans

“What time do you want to have dinner?”

Dear Wife: “I think it’s going to be too hot to use the stove. Can we hold off?”

“But I already wrote on my blog that we were having the tuna tonight, and that I was blowing off the pub tourney in order to barbeque.”

“Ha! Well, I don’t want to heat up the kitchen by cooking rice (basmati). Why don’t you go on to poker. It’s going to cool off tomorrow, so we can have the tuna then.”

“Well, I better get going then.” And with that, I scurried off to the pub.

The parking lot was pretty empty, signifying a slow night and just a handful of players, 11 to be exact. May wasn’t there, nor were several other regulars. But those who did attend were diehards.

I actually caught hands, and from the get-go, I started to amass chips.

Was I on my game? I actually made a few bad calls that were crippling. A guy who calls himself “Skunk,” and who has the world’s longest mullet, went all in when a heart-laden flop came with a K. This guy pushes at the drop of a hat. He had lost a pot earlier with 92 off when he pushed on a 9. I figured much the same here and my K9 may be good. I had him covered and called. K 10.

I had to grind back up, made a wicked bluff, caught a straight and was back in the game. Skunk was to my right and limps with 3 other players to my AA. I counted up the chips on the table and raised 3 times that amount to $16000. Skunk is my only caller. No, check that, he puts me all in for my last $8K and flips over J 10 off. Thank you Skunk. I am now second in chips only to Babs.

Babs is fairly new to poker and has taken to playing several nights a week. Babs never shuts up. Because she had an early dinner, tonight it was all about how hungry she was, and what her food options would be when she got home. This preoccupation would help me later in the game. In the meantime, I made a stupid call when she raised big on the turn and I called. She had caught her boat and I was drawing dead with a pair and a str8 draw. I couldn’t put her on her hand even though the board was scary as hell.

I was once again crippled and had to fold a lot of hands that would have taken the pot. In fact, I was so beat up that I was down to only having enough for the blinds. I had to fold my BB when nothing hit. I was down to my SB with K6 off. K high held and I quadrupled. The next hand I doubled up through Babs as she was still talking about food (Maybe I can have some diet jello. It’s too late to have any real food.) and went “fuck it, I’m hungry” all in and my AQ held. And just like that, I’m heads up with the chip leader, Paula.

Paula has about three times my stack. Paula is a sweetheart. She’s also the table Mom, reminding everyone that they owe a blind, it’s their turn to act, etc. She gets mild shit about this. Her husband is dealing. Paula is not so crazy about being heads up with yours truly. Most of the players in our weekly tourney know that I can play and know the game, despite the fact that I have only won this damn thing once in the two years I have been playing.

Well, I have to say that my two-plus years at Poker Academy paid off. I set a strategy. I played very cautiously at the start, folding a couple small blinds and never raising her limps. The chip situation stayed about the same for the first ten hands. Then I started pushing. Raise with 92c, bluff a flop when she is telegraphing that she didn’t hit, and finally getting it all in with AQ against her Q9s. She went all in with her remaining chips and I called for a mere 2K and J3 off in the BB. J high wins the tourney.

I say my good-byes and walk out to the truck. It’s late. I call my dear wife to let her know I’m coming home.

“I hope you won.”

“I did.”

She squeals with delight. I love it when she squeals.

That’s Why They Call it Fishing

Well, at least I didn’t get skunked fishing yesterday. I caught a couple Cutthroats and hooked into one really nice Steelie before my line broke. My buddy caught a big Cutthroat and two 10# Steelies, which he let go. He is a catch-and-release guy. I am as well, after I have my first fish for the grill. Can’t keep Cutthroats, so I came home empty-handed. Well, not quite. My fishing buddy also is a chef/owner of a great restaurant, so we stopped off to pick up some tuna steaks wrapped in bacon to bring home. I’ll grill those babies up tonight.

Tonight is pub tourney night. I guess I won’t be going, opting for dinner with my dear wife. If she were cognizant of my schedule, she would insist I go, suggesting that the tuna can wait another day (no, it can’t) and that it’s too hot to barbecue (never too hot or too cold). Perhaps I will be missing an opportunity for a blog-worthy moment, something that will keep me on-topic, that being poker, yet I think I will want to stay home anyway and play online.

My Stars game isn’t going too well. I’ve been almost card dead every time I’ve played. And when I haven’t been card dead, I’ve either been pushed off by a re-raise, made little on the hand, or drawn out on. I’m playing about 15%, mostly at .10/.25. So far, I’m down $20 from the initial $100 I deposited, so I’m not real worried. I’m going to deposit another $200 soon, and this might help get me off of worrying about the smallish amount I have to work with at the moment.

I want to thank those readers from Poker Academy who have given me advice on how to proceed. (http://forums.poker-academy.com/viewtopic.php?t=9622). Gump has also offered this:
A couple of general tips that might help:
- in the lobby, I sort by pot size then scroll down looking at full tables which are pretty loose. ~40% played is my minimum. I have a 50-50 rule of 50% played and $5 average pots is usually pretty sweet.
- if i don't find a good seat at a good table, i just don't play. You've got it good as there's typically 120,000 players during the U.S peak hour. When I play after work, its early AM and I'm lucky if there's 60,000 online, so the picking are sometimes slim. Table selection #1 over everything..
-play UBER tight and UBER position. Muck the AQ's etc from EP. When you do play a hand, I find 5BB ($1.25) is a good figure to drive people out so you know where you're at post flop.
- I don't play long sessions at a table, esp. when they starting noticing how tight I play and respecting my raises. Maybe 3 or 4 orbits is plenty. Unless the table is particularly juicy I'm always on the hop.
- any pair is gold at this level. When you hit a set you're a good shot to double up. I limp with any pair and call most raises depending on who and how many are in the pot.
- C-betting is a waste of time unless all the moons are aligned i.e. you're in position, your heads up, you think the person is capable of folding etc
with AA/KK typically limp from early. It's just impossible to know where you're at post flop. If you're lucky, someone will raise so then just come over the top for a big chunk of your stack. You'd be surprised how often you get called cos they think you're stealing with a low pair. The TAG's will see what you're doing and insta-fold but that isn't such a bad thing. You' want to avoid ugly situations where you're out of position trying to figure if your overpair is good.

He’s had success with this method. Yet, as I’ve written elsewhere, this is going to get me down to playing a percentage of hands that is going to be boring as shit, maybe 10% or less. If I stick around for 3 or 4 orbits, I may only play 4 hands, if that. And then I have to go looking for another table?

I can see value in this. For one, if I’m table-hopping, perhaps I won’t get bored. Looking for the next table will be akin to reading while playing, necessitating playing the ABC poker Gump recommends. Plus, I’m thinking that such a playing style allows one not to worry too much about getting a read on the players. It will, nevertheless, take some getting used to. Now, if I can just start getting some cards...

Why are poor poker players called fish?

Because they “flop” around?

My fishing buddy called this evening. He wants to go to our favorite river and hunt the elusive Steelhead Trout. I say elusive because the rule of thumb is 40 hours of fishing = 1 fish. They’re in there. You can see them. Getting them onto the hook is entirely another thing. Landing them is no picnic either. Pound-for-pound, Steelies fight like no other fish, making 50 yard, spool-squealing runs and 5-foot jumps. Funny thing is, when we lose one, we’re still tickled pink that we had a go at it. I’ll take the camera.

I’ve been playing at Stars the last few nights. The first couple nights I had minor swings and ended even. Last night I picked up Kings in the Big Blind with five limpers and bet it up 11 X BB. UTG called. In that this guy was to my left, I had been watching him and was so far unimpressed. Actually, just nonplussed, as he didn’t stand out in any way. Long story short, since I didn’t put him on Aces, I lost it all to a set of 4s on the flop.

“Ballsy,” I wrote.

“ty”

And then for the next hour I watched him call down everything, only to fold on the river. None of it came back my way. Finally, I typed: “Figures that the fish would get lucky against me and then donk it all off. Yeah, I know. I overplayed my big pocket pair.

I managed to get 10% of my loss back and headed for Poker Academy where I could chat with friends and pour a scotch. It’s tempting not to play for money. But then again, translate a hand like the one below into cash, and I’d be quite happy. Courage, my dear friend. You just might get your second pair on the river.

Poker Academy Online #41,146,179
No Limit Texas Holdem ($2/$4 NL)
Table Granite
August 03, 2008 - 00:29:33 (PDT)

1} bastin $400.00 Ad As
2) Le Poissard $357.00 ?? ??
3) ManOnFire $927.10 ?? ??
5) patounet90 $367.00 ?? ??
6) sbstar * $559.40 ?? ??
7) Aristophanes $396.90 ?? ??
8) hommell $319.20 Kc Jc
9) SilverHands (sitting out)

Aristophanes posts small blind $2
hommell posts big blind $4
bastin raises $16
Le Poissard folds
ManOnFire folds
patounet90 folds
sbstar folds
Aristophanes folds
hommell calls $16

FLOP: 3d 4s Kh
hommell checks
bastin bets $42
hommell calls $42

TURN: 3d 4s Kh 3h
hommell checks
bastin bets $126
hommell calls $126

RIVER: 3d 4s Kh 3h Js
hommell bets $131.20 (all-in)
bastin calls $131.20
hommell shows Kc Jc
bastin shows Ad As

bastin wins $637.40 with Two Pair, Aces and Threes
$3 raked.

Too bad I don’t have a good hand to post in which I am in it with Le Poissard.

Among Friends

Last night was Home Game Night. I manage to hit this game about once a month. Anywhere from 12 to 18 people show up on the first and third Fridays of the month for a tourney, and after folks start busting out, a .50/1.00 cash game.

The tourney is $20 with a $15 rebuy/add-on, and a $5 kill chip. 3,000 to start and the blinds move at a fairly good clip. By the time the blinds are 400/800, blood starts to flow. I have never made the money in this tournament, and never even come close. A lot of these guys play in pub tourneys four or five nights a week or hit the casino a couple times a week, and a good number of them have been playing each other for years and years. I really don’t stand a chance. We all know that I’m dead money in the tourney, and this is why I have taken to coming late, in time for the cash game. I rarely leave the cash game down.

Last night I made it just as far as I usually make it when I play the tourney, to that 400/800 level. I had a decent stack, about 10K, as I had hit some big hands early on and we had just added on. I didn’t raise enough on the button with my AQ to get an early limper off of his KJs (he went into the tank preflop) and he hit a J on the flop. I had to see the turn and then folded. Crippled, I went all in from the BB with K9h when the Button raised. He had KJ and it held.

The cash game started out well. I won a couple small pots right away. A guy I hadn’t played before raises 3 X BB from early position and I called from the CO with AQ. Hit a Q on the flop and led out. Called. Turn was a blank and got it all in the middle. I had him covered. He shows JJ. 2-outer on the river. This is the way my game has been going the last few days, getting AA cracked left and right, falling for an early limp with AA against my KK. I could feel myself listing and taking on a little water. I managed to mutter a “nice hand” and then worked to re-establish buoyancy. I still had about $20 of my original $50, fought my way back to nearly even with a straight and called it an early night.

I like playing cash with these guys, and there are a couple regular fish/calling stations that make the game profitable. The group itself is really cordial, and, as one might expect with a bunch of folks who know each other well, the jokes and taunts fly. F is the brunt of many of the jabs. F is a good, aggressive player. He had the KJs and eventually took 2nd in the tourney. The standing joke about F is that he has no friends. The thing is, he’s a pretty likable fellow, quite congenial. The joke last night was “Do you know how F gets his girlfriend drunk?” The jokester then pours a little beer into his right palm.

M told the joke. An interesting guy. He likes to be in a lot of hands and will call with nearly anything. He called my AK raise with 10 6 off and hit a 10. The only way to get him out early is to make it way too expensive, which doesn’t make for building a pot, but he also is one lucky SOB. I play 20%, he plays 75%. He has high variance but doesn’t seem to care.

M has lost a little weight in the last couple months. He had to as he had a heart attack. I attended a home game with him just 4 days after the infarction. I was hanging around outside, waiting for the game to start when M pulled up in the drive. We exchanged greetings, and then M told me about his trip to the hospital and all that occurred. He seemed fine but I could tell that he had faced his mortality and it had shook him up. The game had started and he still wanted to talk. He wrapped it up by telling me how another home-gamer, P, and his wife, J, had come to the hospital to see him home.

That night, M was the target of jokes, all centered around his heart attack. “Let M win the pot,. We don’t want him to die on us here at the table.” Stuff like that. Even P was getting in on the act. I was somewhat appalled. I had felt like M had more or less sought me out (the somewhat quiet, sensitive guy) in order to talk through what had happened. The group was laughing in the face of Death. Well, that’s guys for you.

Speaking of death, last night I wore my “Dead Guy” ball cap. It’s a black cap, and the words are spelled out in bones. The cap promotes Dead Guy Ale from the Rogue Brewing Company and it is a damn fine beer. It’s become my poker hat, signifying a little “dead money” subterfuge. I just now wondered if M might have been bothered by it, yet thinking back on the evening, I think he got a kick out of it.

I was hanging around outside waiting for the cash game to start and, after busting out himself, M came outside to smoke his cigar.

Cat Ballyhoo

My dear wife is putting the birds out today. She just called me on the radio to tell me that our cat, Mittens, just crawled into a culvert pipe. She needed me to come out and help retrieve him. Mittens is — or was — well, he still is our outdoor cat, sort of. In the past, that culvert was part of his daily prowl.

The previous owners of this place had 3 cats, which were all indoor/outdoor cats via a cat door in the basement door. They took with them when they moved down the road about three miles. Mittens was one of those cats. He evidently didn’t like the new digs, for by the time we moved in, Mittens was back. We called his owners, they came to get him, and three days later he was back here. It seemed pointless that they come back to get him, so here he stayed. He sealed the deal when he brought me a mouse. A farm needs a good mouser.

Yet, our farm is small, and to my way of thinking, we only needed one cat to patrol the grounds. And Mitts had competition. Feral cats abound.

The first day we moved in I had the shit scared out of me when I walked into one of the barns and a gray streak took off up a ladder into a loft. I climbed up the ladder to see a long-haired Mane Coon-looking cat back in a corner. And over the next couple days I saw a few other cats wandering around out in the fields.

Before I go any further with this story, I want to say that I have nothing against cats. I’ve had them as pets: Freud, an orange tabby I found when I was a senior in High School; and Louie, a tuxedo (Mitts is also a tuxedo) that I got custody of after a divorce. They were good companions. However, feral cats are a nuisance. While they may keep down the vole and mouse population, they also wreak havoc on birds, and that’s where they cross the line. Oh, and they also carry a shit load of diseases. Let me just say this: If I get the opportunity, feral cats get composted.

Yet, when we first moved here, I didn’t have the tools necessary for a permanent solution. I had a pellet gun, a deterrent. And the next time I saw the gray cat, I let him have it as he was running away.

Weeks went by without a sighting. In the meantime, we changed the basement door and got rid of the cat door. Mittens stayed out all day and in the evening we would put him in the laundry room for the night. One day I caught sight of a gray flash from the corner of my eye headed toward the blackberries behind a barn and went to investigate. Huddled under the brambles was what was left of the Mane Coon. He was emaciated and had a long, gaping wound on his back. He didn’t bother to run away when I approached. He was obviously near death.

I went up to the house to get the pellet gun. A properly placed pellet would put him out of his misery. I told my dear wife about what I ad seen, and she insisted that she go have a look for herself. By the time I got back outside, she had the cat in her lap.

I married a very empathic city girl. Four years later, that cat is still in her lap. His name is Granero (Spanish for barn). He stays in the house full time, has a pellet under the skin on his right hindquarter, and he came to us already fixed. A dump job. He’s a good cat, yet he stays pretty clear of me, and I don’t blame him.

All of this to get back around to Mittens.

Mittens has had a run-in with a gun as well. His previous owner told us a story of him laying in one of the outbuilding for weeks recovering from what apparently was a .22 caliber bullet to his butt. He must have strayed onto someone else’s property and crawled back home. Because of this wound, his tail is dead and just hangs behind him. X rays show the bullet still lodged in his innards.

About eight months ago, Mittens had another brush with death when he became lethargic, feverish and quit shitting. We took him to the Vet right away, but it looked like he was a goner. His colon had shut down. Yet, after a week of intravenous feeding, antibiotics, steroids and what have you, he started to turn around. My dear wife was convinced that somehow, something outside had caused his illness, thus ending his days as an outside cat. Dear Mitts was not thrilled in the least. You see, even though he was fixed at some point, he still sprayed. The barns, farm equipment and vehicles (and his limp tail) all have his mark on them. And when given the opportunity to stroll around upstairs, he would attempt to claim that area as his as well, which simply wouldn’t do. The basement was the only place where he kept this tendency in check, so the outdoor kitty became the basement kitty. And he howled in protest.

Since the basement is also my studio, I had to endure his misery and try to ignore it while working or playing poker. It did not go well until a compromise was reached. Mittens could go back outside only if I built an enclosure for him. I gladly took on the task.

We have a small shed behind the garage that we use only to store our generator. It is about 8 feet by 14 feet. I built a pen with the same dimensions on the front of this shed and this is where Mitts spends his daylight hours. He still howls from a perch in his cage, but at least I can write this undisturbed/perturbed. When he comes in at night, he sleeps on a chair next to my desk, allowing me the quiet I require while playing poker.

Last night I put my first $100 into Stars. Wish me luck, Mitts.