Cate Ellink's Blog, page 34

Wildlife Wednesday - goats

Back to the zoo this week, to talk about goats.

I have a soft spot for goats (and it has nothing to do with me being a goat in the Chinese Year thing!). I think they're intelligent and funny. They always have wild characters.

At the local zoo, there's a herd of goats. There are always a bunch of kids, a big bossy bloke (or a few), and a lot of milder mannered nannies. This one (pictured) was one of the bossy blokes, but he was a polite alpha, not an obnoxious one :) I like their structural hierarchies, where kids are brought into line even though they're allowed to show character and pushiness to a degree. They're cool.

I have farming friends who caught wild goats to supplement their income in a drought when the farm wasn't producing. I think in drought times, goats have kept many a farmer out west in a bit of money.

There are quite a lot of wild goats in western NSW. Some years back (2013) we were driving to Tibooburra in NW NSW and there were heaps of wild goats.

I'd been there before in the early 1990s and again in 2004. Both my early visits the town was in drought - oh, we broke it in the 1990s and got stuck there, but that's another story. There were nowhere near as many goats in those visits but in 2013 the number of wild goats on the roadside (and some playing chicken with the vehicles) was astounding.

When we got to town and were talking to the National Parks Ranger, I asked if it was a good year but she told me it was dry. Which didn't make sense to me, because the roadside vegetation looked plentiful and the goats were dense. Then I asked if the previous years had been good. And yes, they had been.

In the good years, the wild goat population exploded because feed was plentiful and farmers weren't actively killing/capturing them. But as the feed dried off and goats were hunted out of paddocks by farmers or their livestock, they became abundant along the roads. I imagine as it got drier, enterprising farmers would round them up and take them to the saleyards. The population would stabilise to a low level that could manage to survive the dry years ahead.

Enterprising beasts, goats (and farmers) :)

Phallic Friday - those three words

I read a book last night that left me confused and it was all about the "I love you" declaration.

A girl and guy worked together and she resented him coming in to 'over rule' her, not only this but she hated the fact that he didn't listen to her. Ever. But, you know, he was hot...and sparks flew when they were together, so they ended up shagging.

Sex was off-the-charts (of course). They're both hot and can't keep their hands off each other even though he still won't listen (even in the bedroom, or wherever they manage to do it) and she still harbours resentment about his role at work.

During one sexual encounter, he is so far into not listening, he doesn't hear her talk about birth control and how she needs to go do something before they continue - he just fucks her. So this not listening is a serious issue and she's really distressed by it and storms off.

Time passes where they're mostly not talking due to the issues. Then they have this awe-inspiring sex again. And within the blink of an eye, she declares, "I love you," and he says, "I love you too."

And I was lost.

She still has issues with him in the work place, she still can't get him to listen to her, yet she loves him? Really? Love? Not Lust?

The rest of the story has her teaching him how to listen by tying him up and doing what she wanted to him, causing him sexual frustration (but this is love, right, not lust). Then ignoring him while he tried to talk to her in the morning.

Then the workplace issues are sorted because her friend reams him out and he listens to the friend.

And then they all live happily ever after.

But I'm still at the disbelieving stage way up there where I'm still not on the love path.

When does lust become love?

I know it's a story and I shouldn't get hung up on it, but what I saw in this story wasn't what I call love. But what is love? What makes you say "I love you"? Can you love someone even with these character flaws that are detrimental to your work and your relationship (and your self-esteem)?

I was left confused.

But maybe it's me. Maybe I'm just more into lust than love.

Do you have any thoughts for me, please? :)

Wildlife Wednesday - striped marsh frog

I'm sure I've told you before that I have frogs in my yard. They're quite noisy too. At the moment there's one going "tock", "tock" about every second (or sometimes every 2 or 3 secs depending on some factor only the frog knows). It's almost like a metronome.

I had a visitor the other week, who stood with head cocked listening, then said, "I don't recognise that bird call." They didn't believe me when I said it was a frog until they tracked it down to the pond, then had to wait for it to settle down and 'tock' again.

It's not the 'ribett' or 'croak' that I usually associate with frogs. This makes a noise not unlike when you stick your finger in your mouth and pop it against your cheek (you know, if you're silly and do that - I won't say I had to do it to check and then to work out how to write it!). All I could think was a 'tock', like half a tick-tock of a clock. That deeper tock one.

Anyway, I don;t know if this is my noisy frog, but this little guy was in a bucket near the pond the other week, so I'm guessing it is the responsible one. Oh, good grief, I found him...well, what sort of frog it is anyway. I thought that was going to be way too hard.

Striped Marsh Frog. You can find info here and even hear the sound I'm hearing! The males do the calling, so I can keep calling him a him. Oh, I'm stoked now :) Some weeks i love doing this post!

Down & Dusty Facebook Party

The Down & Dusty authors are hosting a Facebook party this afternoon.

If that's your thing, come along for some fun.

There's an Amazon gift voucher to be won!

And lots of silliness no doubt :) Well, when Rhyll and I are on there will be! We start at 3pm.

The party kicks off at 12 noon Australian Eastern Daylight Savings time. And there'll be an author every 30 mins, so until 4 pm. But if you come in late, chat away in post comments and we're bound to talk back - at some stage! Time zones are a pest :)

Holy cow, it looks like almost 100 people are going! Thank goodness it's on FB, real life events with that crowd would have me running! :)

Come and join in the virtual fun. Give me a yell on FB if you need an invite or anything - hopefully I'll work out what to do.

Phallic Friday - a needle

I was thinking about this post last night and I thought I might do some writing - pick a fetish item and write from the point of view of the inanimate object. I don't know why I thought of that - and I've no idea why I came up with a needle - but there you have it. A glimpse into my scary mind.

And I had great lines last night...but today they aren't so hot. So my apologies, but I need a post!

The NeedlePressure surrounds me, guiding me, forcing me, pushing me. I have no choice in where I go, how I go, or even if I do this. I've been possessed by a master and I have no choice but to give up control. I hate the loss of control; never knowing what I'll be subjected to but I need to place my trust in these fingers and hope they use me responsibly.

While maintaining pressure, my sharp head is pushed against an elastic-like surface. I bounce from the first touch as if my master was unsure of the force required. Then those fingers close tighter and I pierce the surface of the flesh. A tiny droplet of blood smears along my length as my sharp point is pushed inside.

Pressing against flesh and muscle, just along the surface, I slide past a tiny vein, warm with the movement of blood. But the fingers do not let me bask in this warmth, I'm pushed further along. Exploring new territory. I'm opening flesh that had previously been knitted together. I've created an entry point and I'm inserting smoothly through tightly woven cells. The flesh pressing against almost the entire length of my steel is warm, elastic, moving and alive.

I'm stopped. Just short of a pulsing blood vessel that I was looking forward to moving against. The fingers release me and that tight pressure on my furthest point vanishes. Replaced by flesh and muscle closing tightly around me. I've not felt anything like this before. Enclosed in warmth. A moving warmth. Beneath my steel muscles ripple as if my tiny body is upsetting the balance of the body. Maybe I am. Maybe my sliver of insertion has caused problems for the flesh. Maybe I'm an irritant. A foreign object the flesh wants to expel.

But it's pleasant here surrounded by such incredible beauty. The colours of the cells around dazzle me. Needles are all silver, all the same. Here, each cell is a slightly different shade. Each shade emits a different feel against me. It's fascinating to lie here and to never be still.

To be inserted so deeply that only a small point protrudes into the air is more than I ever imagined would happen. To have my entire length surrounded in warmth, pulsing warmth is more than I can bare.

I feel a vibration through my length. Thrilling movement. All along me.

Then pressure on my external part. Damn it. No! I don't want to be removed.

Submission means I have no choice.

Quickly, so quickly I can't feel a thing, I'm pulled out of the flesh and exposed to air. Boring air that just floats on by.

I want the flesh. I want to be inside again.

I'm sure the flesh wants me.

Wildlife Wednesday - Emu chicks

Recently at the zoo, there were a clutch of little emu chicks.

I'm usually fond of zoos and the role they play in education of the general public. Sometimes I get sad though, that animals have to be tucked into such small cages or exhibits - and these chicks brought out that feeling.

I've written about the emus I've seen out west a few times, you can see the older posts here. Even when the chicks are this little, their father, who is the major care-giving parent, leads them on walks across the countryside finding food. Imagine what the chicks must be exposed to. Imagine how their little bodies grow and muscle up. And these guys are in a tiny hutch, parent-less.

I'm hoping that when the visitors go, they get to roam around and explore their environment. I'm hoping that they're a great educational tool and they bring lots of knowledge to the general public.

But a part of me feels for the babes.

Sunday Story - craft vs story

No titles mentioned in this post because I know how hard it is to put your work out there.

I've been doing a lot of reading lately - some good, some bad, some frustrating - and I need to vent a little (or a lot).

Sometimes a book can have a great story, fabulous writing, and then one little niggly thing will whip me out of the story quick as a blink. And then it's difficult to get back into it, no matter how much I try. The other day it was a great story about a guy who'd lost an arm. The point was made about how many things he couldn't do - like put on a condom, and how he'd have to practice. Cool. I liked it. And then after a most delicious sex scene, he flicked the condom off and tied it before dropping it on the floor. Man!?! He tied it? One handed? When he couldn't put it on one handed? Such a tiny thing, yet it bugged me all through the rest of the story. I was believing every word, until then.

And I know that stuff happens. I do it myself. Recently I had a guy who didn't drink visiting wineries. Yep! No idea what he'd do at one of those. A trusty editor picked it up. There are so many things to think about when you write that slips like this happen. And maybe a little slip like the tied condom will make me always remember what a great book that was, and how that scene pulled me out. So maybe it's a good thing - a lot of other books just get swallowed in my head!

But my real vent is on books that have so many mistakes in them - in the story line or with the writing craft. The ones with story line issues send me demented and I've stopped reading a lot of them, especially the dark, almost abusive, ones. I don't want my reading taking me to the brink of death by some self-serving dick of an alpha who's only wrapped up in himself. No thank you. Reading is subjective. I don't like that, but if you do, that's fine. It tweaks my buttons so I keep away. Easy done.

When the writing craft that lets a story down, that's harder for me to walk away from (or to pick). I'm reading one now and it's so totally frustrating. Spelling errors, typos, grammatical strangeness and horror, sentences that don't make sense, first person to third person flicks, POV shifts within a sentence/paragraph sometimes, past vs present issues. It drives me bats reading it - yet I want to read the story. The story is interesting and the subject something I'm keen to know more about...but I don't know if I can keep going.

Usually a few typos, or the odd weird thing, I can overlook. This has mistakes on almost every page. The scariest thing is that the acknowledgements thank quite a few editors. Did the author actually use them and listen to their advice? That's terrifying if they did. I know it's the author's final say, but if I was an editor, I wouldn't want my services listed in a book with this many mistakes. Maybe a good proofer would help...but I really consider this story a first draft and not a publishable piece.

But should I be making these judgements? I'm not sure, which is why I'm not naming these books.

I have had extensive training in being anal about publications. In the world of science, mentoring with an older scientist is almost mandatory (or it was for me anyway!), and the mentors I had didn't let a thing through. One guy even went so far as to mark up my Ellinkisms in my thesis - things that I wrote (like creative writing - my opinions, my observations, my colloquial comments, whatever) that were not appropriate for the document. These guys were harsh. My first drafts of anything came back with more red pen from their scribbles than typed words. It was horrifying...but I learned. I don't think I'm at their standard of anal-ness (I got out too soon for that) but I know I have issues :)

Maybe I've learned too well. Maybe my expectations are too high. I don't know. But reading is subjective and those are my standards.

Do you have issues when you read?

Phallic Friday - another idiot footy player

There's another idiot of a footy player, and his so-called mates, in the news again for videos of a lewd nature. I'm not even going to point you to a news article because I'm a bit sick of the publicity of this one - already.

In this one, the guy has pissed on himself, pissed on a lounge that doesn't belong to him, tried to kiss a woman who didn't want to be kissed, refused to leave her house, and threatened to fuck her dog with his shorts on.

In my mind, trying to kiss this woman and refusing to leave her house aren't great traits. It doesn't show a lot of respect... and his mates didn't drag him out, which doesn't say a lot for them either.

But what the media is incensed about is that he wanted to fuck the dog. Seriously? He has his shorts on and he simulates the act by putting the dog in front of him and thrusting his hips. Most of the reports are about this so-called bestiality act. I think that act more reflects his lack of regard for the owner of the dog, the couch, the lips and the home he's in.

But anyway, I'm not going to rant. But it sickens me that yet another idiot has been allowed to get away with this type of behaviour for far too long. He's 26, has been in this sort of trouble numerous times and has always been protected. It has to stop.

The world has become a place where privacy is rarely possible. Social media, access to phones with cameras, wi-fi everywhere all means that you do something, everyone knows about it immediately. Surely these guys realise all this?

Wildlife Wednesday - butterflies

I grew some onions this year and the number of new butterflies I had stopping by astounded me. We get a few butterflies around (maybe 4 or 5 species) but the onions drew at least 2 I hadn't seen before. This isn't a great photo, but the new butterflies were skittish.

So I did a bit of a hunt around for butterfly information. There's this article about a butterfly garden in Brisbane, which reminded me that a while back we went to the Cairns Butterfly place (my post is here) where I took photos of the different caterpillars being fed leaves of different plants in their hatching labs. So, yes, of course different butterflies prefer different plants. Why didn't I remember that? I didn't put that bit in a post is probably why! The pictures aren't real flash, but here they are.


I might have to look into this butterfly gardening. I love having butterflies flitting about, and I enjoy trying to get a good photo of them.

So... stand by for more butterfly photos, just as soon as I get my garden going better!

And if you'd like more butterfly garden info, here's a link for Melbourne gardeners, some general info, Brisbane plants sales, North coast NSW, Sydney (click on the invertebrate PDF), North Queensland, Western Australia, South Australia.

So...anyone joining me in the butterfly garden growing?

Phallic Friday - sexual assault

This article caught my eye today (you can read it here but it's not an easy read). It's an article about rape and sexual assault. University researchers (from Georgia State Uni) studied personal accounts of rape and sexual assault they found posted anonymously online and looks for trends as to why these assaults happen.

The researchers posed a question on Reddit and waited for people to respond. They asked perpetrators for 'their side of the story' and more than a thousand responses (that in itself is scary!).

They then used 68 responses to try to find patterns as to why these assaults happen (not sure why they only chose 68). The reasons for the assault fell into a few categories - they blamed male hormones/horniness; the victim; or a decline in their treatment of women over time.

The article mentions that many respondents questioned whether what they described was sexual assault. Not sure what they were after with that query, although the researchers wonder if it was 'getting it off their chest' (a confession). It makes me wonder if they wanted validation more than forgiveness.

Sexual assault is a power game...that's gone past the game state. It's the domination of one person over another.

Society gives mixed messages about domination. In some ways we laud it - especially in the media with sporting events where one team is applauded for annihilating another (eg football, rugby, soccer, basketball, etc), or one person over another (eg tennis, boxing, cycling, etc). We might like to watch a closely fought battle (eg crowds are up when the contest is evenly matched) but the headlines are made by an annihilation (eg when the 'home' team wins by a ridiculous amount).

We have 'hero' comics, books, TV shows, movies where one man/woman dominates, overcoming all manner of obstacles.

In these ways, we cheer for the dominator.

In reality, we don't want such a thing to happen, especially in personal relationships.

We're a society full of mixed messages. And then we wonder why society is screwed up.

I don't have any answers, just thinking as I read this article and wondering about how we've come to this. Do you have thoughts?