One place to find books for resale is at Friends of the Library book sales. Most libraries have these sales once or twice a year. Books for sale are usually books that have been donated to the library but because they are duplicates or have not been checked out in some time, they may be discarded by the librarians. Not all of these books are ex-library books (books that have been processed in as library books and have stamps and pockets pasted in to the front or back). Some of the books are like new, don't have library markings, and most libraries don't differentiate but sell all books for one price. Certainly the like new or very good books without library markings are worth a good look but don't overlook the older ex-library books.
Some books are designated from the printer as bound for libraries and these have a thicker, heavier duty cover. With a little experience, it is easy to pick out the ones designated as library binding.
Recently I sold an ex-library book. The topic was how to build a child's car at home and the sales price was $30. I was happy with this sale. Those booksellers who don't agree to sell books at a lower margin of profit would not have given this book a second glance as they would have felt it was not worth their time.
Often times the better books are the ones that were originally designated as library and therefore more likely to sell if a seller is willing to take a lower profit on books they resell.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Oh No, An Opossum
Being the proud new owners of 10 peaceful acres in the country, we acquired ten chickens and a rooster or two as a bonus. Having had no experience with chickens, my husband Pat and I talked with an Ag Extension Agent who assured us it was relatively easy. We already had a suitable pen with nests so we would just feed, water and gather eggs.
One morning a hen ruffled her feathers and let me know she definitely didn't want to be bothered when I went to gather eggs. The agent told us this was a "broody" hen and she wanted to set on her eggs so that they would hatch into baby chicks. We separated her nest slightly from the others and let Mother Queen Hen keep her eggs warm.
A couple of nights later we were awakened by a commotion outside in the area of her coop. Making my husband go out with me I threw on a robe, stepped into houseshoes and grabbed a flashlight - Pat grabbed the gun.
Squawking continued unabated as we drew near. The flashlight beam showed a long, scrawny tail protruding from the nest. The hen was squawking and flapping her wings. The Agent hadn't mentioned this problem.
Pat recognized it as a opossum but had no idea how to get to it. As he walked to one side of the coup for a better look the opossum turned toward him and suddenly the long skinny tail was pointing toward me. Without a lot of thought, I grabbed it and started pulling. The animal was clawing at the dirt as I pulled on its tail but I wouldn't let go, saving that poor little hen was foremost in my mind. I kept yanking away until I won and out came the creature that was at the other end of that scrawny tail. He was not happy.
Oops, now what? His body was the size of a small melon with thin whitish hair and he had wicked looking teeth at the end of a long, pointed snout. He kept opening and closing has mouth to give me a better view of those wicked looking teeth.
I raised my arm, still holding on to the tail, and hoisted him into the air but he kept swiveling around and curling his body up toward my hand who had a hold of his tail. Each time he did this I would allow my hand, that was as far from my body as I could get it, to drop slightly and he would fall several inches toward the ground. When this happened, his head would go down but almost immediately he would swivel around and curl his body up again trying to reach my hand. "What do I do with him?" I screamed? Pat was trying not to laugh but he didn't know either and his only advice was "take him down to the pond." It was step hand-jerk, step hand-jerk for 20 or 30 feet then I tried a discus-thrower's maneuver and flung him as far from me as I could, then started running away from the direction I had tossed him.
The last we saw of the opossum, he was walking a little drunkenly in the opposite direction toward the pond.
One morning a hen ruffled her feathers and let me know she definitely didn't want to be bothered when I went to gather eggs. The agent told us this was a "broody" hen and she wanted to set on her eggs so that they would hatch into baby chicks. We separated her nest slightly from the others and let Mother Queen Hen keep her eggs warm.
A couple of nights later we were awakened by a commotion outside in the area of her coop. Making my husband go out with me I threw on a robe, stepped into houseshoes and grabbed a flashlight - Pat grabbed the gun.
Squawking continued unabated as we drew near. The flashlight beam showed a long, scrawny tail protruding from the nest. The hen was squawking and flapping her wings. The Agent hadn't mentioned this problem.
Pat recognized it as a opossum but had no idea how to get to it. As he walked to one side of the coup for a better look the opossum turned toward him and suddenly the long skinny tail was pointing toward me. Without a lot of thought, I grabbed it and started pulling. The animal was clawing at the dirt as I pulled on its tail but I wouldn't let go, saving that poor little hen was foremost in my mind. I kept yanking away until I won and out came the creature that was at the other end of that scrawny tail. He was not happy.
Oops, now what? His body was the size of a small melon with thin whitish hair and he had wicked looking teeth at the end of a long, pointed snout. He kept opening and closing has mouth to give me a better view of those wicked looking teeth.
I raised my arm, still holding on to the tail, and hoisted him into the air but he kept swiveling around and curling his body up toward my hand who had a hold of his tail. Each time he did this I would allow my hand, that was as far from my body as I could get it, to drop slightly and he would fall several inches toward the ground. When this happened, his head would go down but almost immediately he would swivel around and curl his body up again trying to reach my hand. "What do I do with him?" I screamed? Pat was trying not to laugh but he didn't know either and his only advice was "take him down to the pond." It was step hand-jerk, step hand-jerk for 20 or 30 feet then I tried a discus-thrower's maneuver and flung him as far from me as I could, then started running away from the direction I had tossed him.
The last we saw of the opossum, he was walking a little drunkenly in the opposite direction toward the pond.
Chaos Causing Coyotes
We'd just gone to bed one night, shortly after moving in, when we heard it. A high-pitched wail that made me sit upright in bed and nudge my husband. "Did you hear that?" I asked worriedly. He had but had no more idea than I what had made the sound. Suddenly the wail was joined a chorus of high-pitched Yip-Yip-Yip-Yip... I wondered later if our city dogs, who had thundered forth their objection to this obscene night noise, had instinctively known that our land was being crossed by a pack of coyotes. I was told later that coyotes would kill chickens, cats and lure dogs away and kill them. I decided right then that we didn't want coyotes - but want them or not, they were there.
Everyone Should Like Me
She was just an 'ole hound dog with liver and white spots and very pregnant the first time we saw her - the unforgettable feature was that her eyes twinkled and she just seemed to like us (only later did we find out she likes everybody). We were new in the area and had made our first friend.
Several weeks passed and we didn't see her again, then she reappeared, her tummy had shrunk but her appetite had not. After eating and drinking she disappeared almost immediately but returned more quickly after that time and we provided food and affection.
One morning she presented a tiny pup for our inspection. We oohed and aahed over him but we were surprised she had only one. The next day she brought a second. This continued daily through nine puppies and we named her Mama Dog.
We were unable to care for all her pups so we managed to find good homes for them, but nine months later this experience repeated itself through three litters. Finally, belonging to us alone or not, we had her spayed.
Although she stays at our place predominately, she makes the rounds of the neighboring farms. We were told by one person that their dog was probably the father of Mama Dog's pups and by another that she had been in the area for a long time.
Our personal menagerie consists of five dogs, all within a large fenced yard, so we didn't consider introducing a sixth. Dogs are very territorial and our crew does not like Mama Dog in their space (even though she is outside the fence), and they will bark and run at her when she comes near. She will slink away with tail between her legs and often we will run out and pet her, assuring her of our love. Even the barn cat, Roxie, will rub enthusiastically against her leg, but she seems to want Everyone to like her.
Funny how our lives coincide. We've been here now for 6 years and we wanted everyone to like us too ... but not everyone does. I guess that's just the way it is for two and four legged creatures.
Often at night we hear a mournful bark - it's Mama Dog, baying at the moon and asking "Why doesn't Everyone like me?"
Several weeks passed and we didn't see her again, then she reappeared, her tummy had shrunk but her appetite had not. After eating and drinking she disappeared almost immediately but returned more quickly after that time and we provided food and affection.
One morning she presented a tiny pup for our inspection. We oohed and aahed over him but we were surprised she had only one. The next day she brought a second. This continued daily through nine puppies and we named her Mama Dog.
We were unable to care for all her pups so we managed to find good homes for them, but nine months later this experience repeated itself through three litters. Finally, belonging to us alone or not, we had her spayed.
Although she stays at our place predominately, she makes the rounds of the neighboring farms. We were told by one person that their dog was probably the father of Mama Dog's pups and by another that she had been in the area for a long time.
Our personal menagerie consists of five dogs, all within a large fenced yard, so we didn't consider introducing a sixth. Dogs are very territorial and our crew does not like Mama Dog in their space (even though she is outside the fence), and they will bark and run at her when she comes near. She will slink away with tail between her legs and often we will run out and pet her, assuring her of our love. Even the barn cat, Roxie, will rub enthusiastically against her leg, but she seems to want Everyone to like her.
Funny how our lives coincide. We've been here now for 6 years and we wanted everyone to like us too ... but not everyone does. I guess that's just the way it is for two and four legged creatures.
Often at night we hear a mournful bark - it's Mama Dog, baying at the moon and asking "Why doesn't Everyone like me?"
Sunday, July 15, 2007
What animals are NOT included!
My husband and I retired and moved to the country where we planned to have lots of animals. We both loved animals - of any kind ... or so we thought!
The city had always been Pat's home and I had not lived in the country since I was 12 so this move to a rural area was a big transition for us. We rhapsodized about the quiet of the country and the amount of stars we could see in the black night sky. Unlike our life in the city, our nearest neighbor was quite a distance away and we loved it!!
We'd just gone to bed one night, shortly after moving in, when we heard it. A high-pitched wail that made me sit upright in bed and nudge my husband. "Did you hear that?" I asked worriedly. He had but had no more idea than I what had made the sound. Suddenly the wail was joined a chorus of high-pitched Yip-Yip-Yip-Yip... I wondered later if our city dogs, who had thundered forth their objection to this obscene night noise, had instinctively known that our land was being crossed by a pack of coyotes. I was told later that coyotes would kill chickens, cats and lure dogs away and kill them. I decided right then that we didn't want coyotes - but want them or not, they were there.
We had inherited ten chickens and five guineas, along with their coops, were from the former owners of our 10 acres. My husband's job was to feed the chickens and I would gathered the eggs. Breakfasts were enjoyed all the more because the eggs had been gathered from our own hens. One morning there was a hen sitting on a bunch of eggs and she ruffled out her feathers at me when I tried to get close. She was definitely "broody" so I decided to leave her alone and fix a 2nd nest for the other chickens. Later that night we heard an awful commotion from the chicken coop. Pat and I went outside to check. The hen on her nest was making all the fuss. Somehow a big animal with a long scrawny tail was in the nest with the hen. I told Pat I thought it was a 'possum and I didn't think it would hurt us but how did we get it out? Pat went to the other side of the coop and the 'possum turned toward him - it's tail was sticking out towards me. I'm not too smart. I saw an opportunity and I grabbed the 'possum's tail and started to pull. The 'possum was clawing at the dirt, trying not to be pulled out, but I was winning! Suddenly he was all the way out and I had him by the tail. Oops! I raised my arm and hoisted him into the air but he kept swiveling around and going for my hand. Each time he would do this, I would allow my hand to drop slightly and he would fall several inches toward the ground. At this, his head would go down but almost immediately this maneuver would be repeated. "What do I do with him?" I asked half-hysterically to my husband. He was no help whatsoever because he was laughing too hard to straighten up! Finally I flung the 'possum as far as I could from where we stood and away from the henhouse. I decided we didn't need any 'possums.
I guess fire ants and mosquitos are not animals but we'd just as soon not have them either.
After 4 years I'd say we have succeeded in filling our place with all the GOOD animals that we can afford to feed. All of our animals, except one little donkey who was born on our place, are rescues. We currently have 7 dogs, 2 cats, 1 horse, 3 donkeys and, of course, the chickens.
"You and Pat are joined at the hip" a friend said. I don't think it was meant as a compliment but if we are that makes us four-legged too doesn't it?
The city had always been Pat's home and I had not lived in the country since I was 12 so this move to a rural area was a big transition for us. We rhapsodized about the quiet of the country and the amount of stars we could see in the black night sky. Unlike our life in the city, our nearest neighbor was quite a distance away and we loved it!!
We'd just gone to bed one night, shortly after moving in, when we heard it. A high-pitched wail that made me sit upright in bed and nudge my husband. "Did you hear that?" I asked worriedly. He had but had no more idea than I what had made the sound. Suddenly the wail was joined a chorus of high-pitched Yip-Yip-Yip-Yip... I wondered later if our city dogs, who had thundered forth their objection to this obscene night noise, had instinctively known that our land was being crossed by a pack of coyotes. I was told later that coyotes would kill chickens, cats and lure dogs away and kill them. I decided right then that we didn't want coyotes - but want them or not, they were there.
We had inherited ten chickens and five guineas, along with their coops, were from the former owners of our 10 acres. My husband's job was to feed the chickens and I would gathered the eggs. Breakfasts were enjoyed all the more because the eggs had been gathered from our own hens. One morning there was a hen sitting on a bunch of eggs and she ruffled out her feathers at me when I tried to get close. She was definitely "broody" so I decided to leave her alone and fix a 2nd nest for the other chickens. Later that night we heard an awful commotion from the chicken coop. Pat and I went outside to check. The hen on her nest was making all the fuss. Somehow a big animal with a long scrawny tail was in the nest with the hen. I told Pat I thought it was a 'possum and I didn't think it would hurt us but how did we get it out? Pat went to the other side of the coop and the 'possum turned toward him - it's tail was sticking out towards me. I'm not too smart. I saw an opportunity and I grabbed the 'possum's tail and started to pull. The 'possum was clawing at the dirt, trying not to be pulled out, but I was winning! Suddenly he was all the way out and I had him by the tail. Oops! I raised my arm and hoisted him into the air but he kept swiveling around and going for my hand. Each time he would do this, I would allow my hand to drop slightly and he would fall several inches toward the ground. At this, his head would go down but almost immediately this maneuver would be repeated. "What do I do with him?" I asked half-hysterically to my husband. He was no help whatsoever because he was laughing too hard to straighten up! Finally I flung the 'possum as far as I could from where we stood and away from the henhouse. I decided we didn't need any 'possums.
I guess fire ants and mosquitos are not animals but we'd just as soon not have them either.
After 4 years I'd say we have succeeded in filling our place with all the GOOD animals that we can afford to feed. All of our animals, except one little donkey who was born on our place, are rescues. We currently have 7 dogs, 2 cats, 1 horse, 3 donkeys and, of course, the chickens.
"You and Pat are joined at the hip" a friend said. I don't think it was meant as a compliment but if we are that makes us four-legged too doesn't it?
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