Nature study: roe deer and hunting

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Here is one of our regular visitors, the roe deer. This one is looking very intently at his two companions in the trees. We have had a stable population of three or four roe deer who include our land in their territory for over a decade. I decided to do a bit of nature study on my own and find out more about them. Until this morning I didn’t know their name in English.

The things that interested me most are the interactions between humans and the roe deer. Like many ubiquitous animals in populated areas, it has proved good at adapting to a humanised environment. Although it prefers to eat leaves, it will graze on young crops for example. In the absence of predators other than humans, its population is rather dense. The worst thing about this is that it encourages the spread of lyme disease, and other parasites and diseases that may affect the deer primarily. It seems that the deer can also limit the rejuvenation of forests. I must say that they don’t seem to be doing such a good job of that on our land. It’s also shocking to learn that in the absence of predators, roadkill is one of the most common causes of death. Striking an animal of this size is obviously also dangerous to the humans in the car.

Nature study has many facets, and this morning made me remember the social and political aspects as well. As societies and individuals, we all have to make decisions related to nature. In France, the possible reintroduction or natural return of large predators is one vector of social debate. In practical terms, right now, the main predators are human hunters, and the roe deer is one of the more common prey.

I knew very little about hunting around here, and decided it was time to find out more. It turns out the situation is rather complicated. Hunting varies a lot legally and culturally within Europe, and presumably even more elsewhere. Before the French revolution, hunting was largely a privilege of the aristocracy. At the revolution, the right to hunt was granted to everybody. It became one of those liberties that many people are emotionally attached to, rather like the right to carry guns in the US. Of course, there is no such thing as unattributed land in France, and the universal right to hunt essentially meant that anyone could hunt on anyone else’s property at any time.

In modern times there have been some changes. As a society ‘we’ use hunting to regulate the numbers of some species, and ban or severely limit hunting of other species. Quotas apply to most species, and there may be selection procedures in place. Although anyone can hunt, in most places it’s obligatory to join a local association. And, after several massive fights in the European courts, French landowners can now declare their own property as a no-hunt zone. Information like the opening and closing of the hunting season, and the various quotas should be easily accessible to the public, and actually, I found it on the internet without too much trouble – not so common in France!

In practical reality, this is the face of hunting we see as spectators: autumn around here sees the country roads lined with men hanging around on their 4-wheel drive jeeps and toting rifles, clearly enjoying the macho, male-bonding experience. Meanwhile, their dogs are busy getting lost all over the mountains, sometimes showing up on people’s doorsteps weeks later. And a few of the more timorous residents complain that they hardly dare take a walk during the season. I must admit I’ve never heard of a real accident. But it’s hard to believe, looking at this lot, that they actually have a clue what they’re doing. And some part of me would really, really like to see a few women try to join their little hunting club. It’s just so darned obvious that that would spoil their fun.

For me and for my daughter in the future, there are lots of decisions to make, choices that are emerging in our society from a combination of individual and group action. Other societies are dealing with different situations and consequences even around a similar topic like hunting. Nature study is also valuable for hopefully allowing our decisions to be made based on real knowledge, rather than on knee-jerk reactions.

Second day of Spring

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It’s technically spring, but I won’t be removing that little line from my banner just yet.  Here’s the situation round here at nearly lunchtime.  The chaffinches has been around to complain that their bird seed has been snowed over.  I went out to give them some more and startled a whole bunch of feathered squatters who were hiding in the ivy.

Antonia is gainfully occupied drawing an epic narrative in pictures in her nature study book.  It involves the adventures of a catwoman whose long, white hair makes her look a bit like me.  I am following my golden rule of leaving her alone when she is busy.  My own brain is feeling rather mushy at the moment, and I’m not really settling on anything – least of all on doing my chores.

Nature walk: our village

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We’re busy exploring new paths in our area.  Here is our village from perhaps its most traditional perspective: the church, the chateau and an old farm building.  I had never seen this view before.  Ours is a very spread out community which is traditional for this area, with many outlying hamlets and isolated farms several miles away from these focal points.  The latest mayor seems to be into development at all costs, and has allowed an ugly smear of new sun-catching dormitory houses to spring up in the prairie between the chateau and the church.  I haven’t really figured out why.  Fortunately, a lot of the terrain around here is just too steep to build on.

Gendered perspective

I commented on a thread the other day in response to somebody who was staking a claim for the ‘girls like dolls/boys like trucks’ point of view. (Waste of time, I’m sure, but I did it anyway).  I noted the subtle way these tendencies had been produced or reinforced by the staff at the daycare Antonia attended.  Little boys who picked up dolls were ignored, whereas the adults interacted a lot with girls who did the same thing, asking them all kinds of questions about the doll.  All of it completely unconscious.

One way or the other, our children grow up with gendered perspectives, but it isn’t always as straightforward as it seems.  Yesterday, Antonia described and drew for me the transport she wants to own as an adult.  It’s a massive, powerful, monster of a purple motorbike, with a propellor and a retractable raincover.  Batman would be proud of it.  It also has four seats, for her babies and her dear old Mum (me), and a sidecar with nappy changing facilities!

An unusually schoolish reading/spelling resource

I can’t imagine this would be to everyone’s taste but it works for us.  Periodically, I’ve used the word lists that can be found at the bottom of this page with Antonia.  (BTW, these are part of a reading program that I never joined).  I started doing this because she’s naturally a globalising reader.  This does have limitations as well as advantages and I’ve wanted to give her phonetic skills a nudge from time to time.  I planned to do it very briefly, and soften the blow by making it into a game.  I didn’t bargain on Antonia loving to read word lists.  During the reading, she would have great fun discussing the definition of words, finding rhymes or conjugations of the same word, and putting the words in sentences.  The strangest thing though, is that doing word lists would always spur her into renewed independent reading, whereas if I had her read with me she would consider herself done for the day.

Well, she’s a bit beyond that stage, now.  Her ‘reading grade level’ of 5.6, on the test on this same page, outstrips her actual comprehension of the vocabulary.   I don’t do anything about her reading any more, I just let her read at her natural comprehension level.  But it’s recently dawned on me that her spelling level in either language is barely grade-level appropriate to be generous.  That could be a consequence of the globalising tendency also.   So I pulled out the grade 1 word list again and started working through it.  And guess what!  First, she loves doing it, and second, it’s revived her interest in writing by herself.  Yesterday, she got out a set of writing cards she was given some time ago and had polished off a couple of postcards in less than an hour.

Homeschool Record : 10 – 16 March 2008

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Lessons

  • Maths book: subtractions, plans, calculator, solids. Freres lyons maths exercises
  • Spelling: review of numbers in French, the sound o, au, eau; use of s or x for plurals
  • Writing: capital letters, dictation 1 from CP dictation book
  • Narration: Le Feuilleton d’Hermes

The Unschooled Stuff

Reading

  • Lots of independent reading during car trips, evenings at home
  • Co-read: Le Fromage Magique, various parts of Martine a la Maison, the end of The Magic Treehouse 3, Mummies in the Morning
  • Read-aloud: Tistou les Pouces Verts

Maths/Logic

  • A little phase of doing mazes several afternoons in a row
  • Play revision of telling the time, multiplication tables by 1 and 2
  • Discussion of advantages of weighing chocolate versus counting squares

Science/Nature Study

  • Examined a dead leaf under the microscope. Learning to use the slide table controls and focusing knob. Learning about the depth of a small sample under the microscope.
  • Went out for walk in the rain: catching water in cup, muddy puddles, mud, shiny pebbles and happy mosses and lichens, then home for hot chocolate, …
  • Inspected our growing sunflowers: measured height, observed second leaves sprouting, identified possible young apple tree among the weeds (from the seed case), removed others.
  • Watched 2 episodes of David Attenborough on Life in the Undergrowth
  • Lots of discussion of bees and their ways

Arts and Craft

  • Lots of free drawing
  • Looked at pictures of various greek gods we’ve been reading about, etc
  • Four seasons watercolour series
  • Snowflakes and other origami and paper cutouts, masks
  • Playdough and other modelling things
  • Made a Kolam design for the terrace

Practical Life

  • Finished making chocolate truffles
  • Made chocolate mousse
  • Picked and made crystallised violets

Music

  • Piano practice
  • Went to a harp concert
  • Cuddled up to watch Swan Lake on DVD, while I read le Peuple des Abeilles
  • Listened to bagpipes and looked at traditional Scottish costume with kilts

Sports/Games

  • Played Blind Man’s Buff, then turned it into a sensorial alphabet puzzle game

Out and about

  • Dance class
  • Swimming lesson
  • Day of downhill skiing
  • Day of play with friends

Candy-making for beginners

 Antonia and I are planning to learn to make sweets of all kinds.  And we will be calling it chemistry.  We started with crystallised violets, which can only be done at this time of year of course.

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Crystallised violets are very retro.  I suppose we must be in that kind of mood.  By the time I was a kid they had already morphed into artificial purple blobs.  Now they’ve disappeared completely, presumably because the purple food colouring turned out to be carcinogenic.  I can see why the real ones aren’t mass marketed.  If we want to improve them next time, we will paint each one with egg white individually using a small paintbrush, as the recipe suggests, instead of just dunking them.  And I would go with the ultra-refined, pure white, finely crystallised sugar instead of the earthy, organic stuff we usually use.

We also made fudge, but as we didn’t have a sugar thermometer at the time we undercooked it.  The mixture sat around the kitchen for, errrm…, several weeks while it dried to a suitable consistency.  Now it tastes just right.

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We are fairly expert at origami by now, so making the box to keep the sweets in was a singe.  I love making boxes, plates, envelopes and folders, which must be one of the most useful and easy branches of origami.

Not so insipid harp playing

Yesterday evening, we went to a harp concert that I’d picked out more or less at random.  I hadn’t taken Antonia to a concert for a while, and assumed she would like harp playing.  Of course she did, and her first reaction to seeing the seven year olds from the local school in performance was “I want to as well..”.

After the school performance, which was all very nice, we got a performance from a professional harpist, Isabelle Olivier.  It was, to say the least, experimental.  She worked with a sound ‘wizard’, Olivier Sens, and they produced an improvised exploration in sound.  It wasn’t until they started, and my ears perked up all by themselves, that I realised to what extent I’d just been listening politely to the previous half.  I hadn’t enjoyed myself so much at a concert since I lived in London.  I was just about to revise my view of Grenoble as a provincial backwater of culture, when the old fogies in the audience started to stir.  They peered desperately at their programs as if seeking an explanation. Then they began to leave – about 30 of them all told!  I don’t think I’ve ever been to a concert where that happened.  So Grenoble remains pretty provincial in my book.

I don’t know what I think of their manners.  OK, so they didn’t like it, fair enough.  I did, and their messing around getting their coats and so on was pretty disruptive to my listening.  I don’t think I’d walk out on a concert myself if I hated it. I’d just chalk it up to experience.

Rambling about reading

martine-a-la-maison.jpgThe right to read trash

The readers bill of rights is pretty clear: readers have the right to read anything. I shouldn’t be surprised, should I, if my daughter’s favourite reading consists of pink trash like Winx and Martine. Of the latter, I will only say that when I asked on her behalf at the local library, I was met with a dirty look, and informed that they didn’t stock anything as old-fashioned as that. Quite right too – the collection I bought today from the local supermarket consists of edifying works such as ‘Martine does the spring cleaning’, ‘Martine the little cook’, ‘Martine takes care of baby’, … you get the picture. Never mind. I read Martine when I was little, and I still grew up to be a tomboy, then a feminist. Maybe it helps to rub our noses in this stuff when we’re young, so that we recognise stealthier approaches to sexism as we grow older?

Co-reading

This is how Antonia likes to read best: we snuggle up together and take it in turns to read aloud, one page each. So it looks like I’ll be enjoying ‘Martine, the traditional little girl’ all over again.  Mine is a very social kid, and wouldn’t read nearly as much if she didn’t have an opportunity to make it a social activity.

Invasion of privacy

After being able to read quite well for some time, Antonia’s finally crossed over to the point where she can read my emails, regular post, blog posts, other people’s blogs,  newspaper articles, or whatever I’m translating over my shoulder.  For some reason I wasn’t ready for this.  Naturally, I haven’t been able to call my body or my time my own for the last six years or more, and on the whole I coped with that quite well.  Now I’ve lost this tiny bit of private adult space as well, and I’m starting to realise just how much it meant to me.  I’m also freaking out just slightly about the content of some of the things she is reading. There will be readjustments, and it’s really a positive development of course.  The whole point of reading is to be exposed to stuff.

Wild about honey bees

bees-book.jpgI bought this book just as a treat, because the pictures in it are too beautiful. Now the passion for honeybees is growing on me and Antonia. In another life, a life in which my husband was not allergic to honey and I traveled less, I think I would be a beekeeper. I’m fascinated by their senses, their communication, their life cycles and their castes. I’m blown away that they have five eyes of two different types, and two kinds of ‘ears’. And that the workers cycle through a series of tasks during their life, from comb maintenance to brood nursing, guarding to gathering, and that they develop the appropriate organs accordingly. And the stuff that they collect and produce is so attractive to the senses: pollen, nectar, honey, wax, propolis. They’re so furry, I could cuddle them if they didn’t sting, and they have such a hypnotic hum.

In my dreams, I would have a natural observation hive, in which I could just watch the bees do their own thing, and maybe pinch one of their smaller combs from time to time. In fact, the hive I want is this one, below. Maybe I could get those people to swap houses with me! The wild combs are so beautiful, I just can’t help wanting to reach up and steal one, and munch straight into it. They look like galettes, and they must be appealing to some very primitive instinct in me. I don’t think the manmade combs are pretty at all.

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Taken by Max xx, a fellow Brit in France, apparently, from Flickr with a CC licence.

Poor bees. They have been having such a hard time lately. It would practically be a civic duty to let some live behind my shutters. Can you just hear me talking myself into something here? In my obsession, I’ve been reading everything I can find about bees. Some proponents of natural bee-keeping like this one, think the bees will do better in more natural conditions. Standard bee-keeping encourages them to build bigger cells and bigger bodies, produce more honey and less wax than they might choose, get moved around so that they produce honey from single plants, refrain from their usual reproductive activities if possible, and live off sugar syrup once the results of their labour has been harvested. When you look at it like that, it’s no wonder they’re struggling. And those nasty artificial combs don’t look nearly so hygienic, safe or well-ventilated as the natural ones, to me.

I was musing on this today, and it suddenly struck me as a pretty good metaphor of homeschooling versus schooling. Like the standard hives, schools provide a ‘safe’, prepared environment that’s designed to draw out some human characteristics further than they might otherwise go while repressing others, and train kids in the habit of over-productivity. Turns out the environment isn’t as safe as all that, and the kids end up weakened in various ways. Then lots of us go on to live adult lives that are much the same. Too much working to produce honey/knowledge/money and the honey ends up too thin, too purified and easily diverted to other people’s ends. Not enough wax, the relationships and life skills that hold people’s lives together in the first place. Bzzzzzz…. I imagine this metaphor will only make sense to me.