Puppy Dog Tales

Innisfail dog trainer Wendy Craven runs dog training courses using positive reinforcement methods to reward a dog for it's correct behaviour. I met with her a few weeks ago at the Innisfail Showground after I saw her card on a noticeboard and rang her for a chat about dog training. She was running a one-on-one training session and invited me along to watch. Wendy says she's been involved in canine training in one form or another for around thirty years now and has been running her TOP DogS training courses for the past six years.  

This type of training was initially developed for dolphin training and later adapted for use with other animals, and involves signalling to the dog using a small clicker, and then once the dog has done the desired task, rewarding it with a small treat. The technique uses only positive reinforcement, there wasn't a choke chain in sight.

Wendy offers a range of classes, including a puppy class where dogs learn to socialise with each other and practice basic tasks such as learning to sit, walk and stay. More advanced courses continue the clicker training and dogs learn better walking behaviour as well as practice longer stays at greater distances. 

Wendy says it's important to build a bond between the handler and the dog. She showed me how well the technique works with her 6 month old working kelpie, Gidgee. A small piece of food was placed on the ground in front of Gidgee and it was obvious that she really wanted to eat it but she resisted the temptation. Wendy says this type of training is important and can prevent an inquisitive puppy from getting too close to toads and snakes.

Wendy Craven and Gidgee

If you're interested in Wendy's dog training classes, she can be reached on 0418 871 982.

Sunday Morning in Port Douglas

Port Douglas this morning. The after effects of the night before. And no, nothing to do with me. Would you believe drinking in public places including roads and on public footpaths in Queensland is prohibited under the Liquor Act 1992 and carries a $110 on-the-spot-fine. Doesn't bother some people, obviously.

War: What is it Good For?

This week in our journalism lecture we looked at war and disaster reporting. Marie spoke of the dangers involved, both physical and psychological, and the problems of remaining impartial when journalists are embedded with military units and rely on them for protection.

Over the last century the role of the war correspondent has evolved from a soldier with a camera or typewriter under direct military command to a civilian journalist either working as a freelancer or for a news organisation. 

Military control over reporting has also changed. Previously, stories that arrived back home were filtered through military censors and editorial systems supportive of the war effort and were usually up-beat stories of how the war was being won

During the Vietnam War  this began to change. Accredited civilian journalists were given an honorary military rank and were allowed great freedom in their ability to move around the war zone, hopping on and off military transport as space allowed. Photographers and journalists could be in the middle of a jungle firefight and yet still be back in Saigon in time for drinks a few hours later. This freedom, along with improvement in communications systems, meant that TV viewers back in the US could see the death and destruction of war for themselves the very next day. Journalists were also no longer relying on military press releases for their information. They'd seen first hand how events had unfolded in the field and began to doubt the official record on how well the war was going. This discontent spread to the American people and the US government started to lose support for the war.

The negative Vietnam War reportage led military commanders to try to limit reporting during the invasion of Iraq in 1991 and Afghanistan in 2001. Strong media criticism followed and so the US military began the practice of embedding journalists with military units in the field for the 2003 invasion of Iraq. Many questioned the impartiality of these reporters, who now relied on the soldiers around them for food, transport and safety. John Pilger's 2010 documentary "The War You Don't See" is also heavily critical of the role the media has played in recent times, a media that seemingly never questioned the evidence presented by US and British governments in their justification for war.

Of course, the problems of being allowed to get close enough to the action to report is not new.  Martha Gellhorn, already a seasoned war correspondent who'd reported on the horrors of the Spanish Civil War and the Japanese invasion of China, had problems getting access to the front line in 1944. US army public relations officers felt women needed to be kept away from these areas. Gellhorn had other ideas and smuggled herself on-board a hospital ship to witness the Normandy invasion for herself, and later reported on the atrocities of Dachau. She was also a correspondent in Vietnam. Highly critical of the US war machine, her reports from that time are still powerful pieces of journalism.

If you want to read some great war and conflict reporting I'd suggest Gellhorn's "The Face of War" and "Beyond the Green Zone: Dispatches from an Unembedded Journalist in Occupied Iraq" by Dahr Jamail. If you want to read about photojournalists then try "The Bang-Bang Club" by Greg Marinovich and Joao Silva. The authors and their friends, Ken Oosterbroek and Kevin Carter, were photographers covering the township wars in South Africa during the early 1990s. And of course, read and watch John Pilger!

I Don't Believe It

I don't want to turn my blog into my daily whinge (though it's starting to look that way with the recent poo-paddling story and my Jetstar woes yesterday) but I'm going to have a moan anyway. I was quite horrified at the behaviour of some of my classmates during my two lectures today. 

I don't really care what anyone does during the lecture if it doesn't disrupt anyone else. Look at Facebook, check your emails, play your games, even read your novel, just don't sit and talk to your friend all the way through it. 

This morning two guys behind me chatted through the photography lecture, then this afternoon two girls had a lovely conversation during political science. And this time it's not just me having a Victor Meldrew moment, some of the other older class members weren't happy either with the disrespect shown. If you don't want to be in the lecture, don't go. If you want to have a loud heart-to-heart with your friend, go and do it in the library like everyone else.

Whinge over, until next time, I'll go and have my medication now. 

Not Giving Up Without a Flight

When I was a kid, I was always fascinated how someone could walk into the travel agents and book a flight for sometime in the next year. The next year! By some curious trickery, the airline could say where and when their jumbo jet was going to be months in advance, they'd even tell you to the minute when it was going to take off. I couldn't figure out if I'd be doing maths or PE later that afternoon, how were they so organised?

Well, years later, older but not necessarily wiser, I've learnt that their trickery was just someone with crossed fingers and a spreadsheet, and that planes don't take off on time, in fact sometimes they dont even take off at all. Jetstar JQ926 from Brisbane to Cairns this morning for example, was cancelled due to unforseen mechanical problems. Of course, you know who was supposed to be sitting in 10D don't you?

OK, not the end of the world but a pain in the butt for sure. The cynic in me wonders if it really was my plane that had the mechanical problems or if another plane on a more important route such as Brisbane to Sydney or Brisbane to Melbourne actually had the problems. We can't keep important business people waiting, lets ditch the tourists instead. Or maybe the flight was only half full and they thought they'd save some money by cancelling it.

There's only one way to find out and as soon as I get to the airport, I'll be requesting copies of their maintenance logs and flight manifests. It'll give me something to read while I wait for my new, and most likely delayed, flight to take off.

In the Sh*t Again

I knew something was wrong before I even walked into the room. The smell gave it away. The stench of human excrement isn't totally unexpected in a public toilet but it is certainly surprising to smell it in the shopping centre corridor outside.

Inside, someone had managed to poo all over the floor of one of the cubicles. A length of toilet paper led the eye nicely from the cubicle to another brown patch just outside the door. Now, I'm not saying I'm the most observant person in the world but the smell and the toilet paper were good enough clues for me to think that I should probably watch where I put my feet. Maybe Gen Y nostrils aren't as sensitive as mine because the smart looking young salesman that followed me into the toilets was oblivious to the danger and marched straight through the mess, adding a hint of brown to his previously all-black outfit. The Man in Black was now the Man in Brown. Literally.

I went in search of the cleaner but he was nowhere to be found. Maybe he'd already seen the poo pile and had decided to quit rather than have to clean it up. My good citizen gene kicked in and I went off to find the phone number for centre management. That's when I found the source of the earlier noxious niff in the corridor, yet another brown land mine waiting for an unsuspecting foot. What the hell had this guy been eating?

I figured standing in the way of passing pedestrians was the easiest way to keep them out of the poo. It was certainly easier than giving a mind-the-crap-on-the-floor speech to everyone walking by, especially if there was a chance that they thought I was the culprit.

A cleaner eventually turned up and the air went from brown to blue when he found the enormity of the task our anonymous exploding male had left him. I'm also disappointed to report that the centre management's phone menu doesn't have an option of "in case of poo-related emergency, push number two".

Wax John, Wax Off : Randy's Charity Strip

If you're a very hairy man possibly the most painful way to raise money for charity is to be waxed. All over. In front of people. In a pub. And just to add insult to future injury, John "Randy" Urquhart hadn't even been drinking when he decided to do it.

When I spoke to John yesterday, I asked him about the motivation behind his Wax John, Wax Off campaign in which he aims to raise at least $5000 for children's charity Variety. "I was looking at ways to support two mates who were doing a four wheel drive tour to raise money for Variety and had the idea of being waxed. People are always commenting on how hairy I am, I thought I'd make them put their money where their mouths are and get people to donate. And believe it or not, I was sober at the time " Randy said.

John's a paramedic with the Queensland Ambulance Service based at Northgate in Brisbane, and gets his nickname from his resemblance to Earl's crazy brother in the US comedy show, "My Name is Earl". His wife Elysha even has to ask for Randy when she rings the station as some of the other ambos don't associate him with "John". He said the QAS have been very supportive of his plans and gave permission for him to be photographed in uniform for the event's advertising.

John's big, and painful, day is 27 April 2013 at The Full Moon Hotel in Sandgate. The event starts at 6.30pm and will include a raffle, though probably not this author's suggestion of a "lucky-doormat prize" made out of the first wax strip to come off of Randy's back. He plans on a little Dutch courage prior to his depilation and says his main aim is not to scream out loud. 

John's encouraging people to go along to the Full Moon on the 27th and enjoy a meal and a few drinks and support him in his efforts. Take earplugs, the screams are going to  be awful.

For more details and donation information check out Wax John, Wax Off at the Variety website.