Thursday, December 4, 2008

Go Placidly


I don't know why cows don't get more kudos as therapy animals. We hear all about the rumbling purr of a cat, the treasured nuzzle from a beloved dog, the belly-warming nicker of a sweet horse. But have you ever spied a copy of Chicken Soup for the Cow Lovers Soul?

I can't figure that out because cows embody the serene "acccept the day as it comes" philosophy of so many self-help books. They roam around on their range, find food and water, socialize, investigate curious occurrences on said range, and sit down regularly during the day to ruminate on it all.







This week brought me back to Anacortes, where there are many more seagulls than cows. We celebrated Thanksgiving, family and the American way, and visited with Dad in the care facility where he's working on getting his strength back.

It was a time to celebrate a life just starting out and to savor those already on their way. And when the family headed back to their homes, Mom and I did like the government and stimulated the economy a bit.

But I found myself missing our cows. I like to stand out in the field and just be with them. Sometimes, either on foot or mounted, I'll play with them a bit and move them from place to place. I win if they go where I want them to and they've not gone faster than an amble. They win when they fling their tails into the air and dash off to the other side of the pasture.

Goddy and I often spent weekends and evenings on the farms in New Zealand checking the cows. They didn't always need checking but it was a good excuse to take a purposeful walk and enjoy being amongst our livestock. The early evening shadows are kind to the landscape and its creatures and the cows looked especially sleek and healthy then.

Cows are peaceful and live out the Biblical admonition of being content in whatever circumstances they are in. Except at weaning time. Then they make their discontent known to each other, the neighbors and the world at large. But sometimes we should do that too. A bit of hollering at the universe is good for the soul.

But mostly they hang out together; the most violence I've ever seen a cow do toward another is a mild head-butt near the mineral licks.




My mom has a copy of the old poem, "Desiderata" on the back of one of the bathroom doors. As I studied it at various times over the past days, the first line always reminds me of cows...
"Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence."

1 comment:

mommarazzi said...

Your observations put to words are food for the soul.

This time of year we are all brought back to remembering a cattle shed in Bethlehem. I'm sure it's occupants were as unconcerned as the cows in your pictures.

You are a blessing, Kathryn. Thank you.