(prompt: 'choice' Mar 12, 2021)

Once upon a long time ago, during our dairy farming decade, I followed my nose AND gut-feeling (significantly removed from that olfactory organ, thankfully!), finding myself on the longest walk, in an ever-increasing and bewildering circle with absolutely no idea where I was. Lost in a paddock... who would believe it?

It must be mentioned, we were brand-new to dairying on the day of this pea-souper-fog, as I attempted to bring in the girls for milking. My seemingly never-ending circles were a result of not yet encountering a paddock fence. If I could just find ONE of those lifesavers, I'd at least know to head in an uphillwardly direction. THAT piece of knowledge was a definite; house and dairy sat atop the highest elevation of our new farm. ALL could come clear... if I only had a fence (wait a minute, that reminds me of a famous straw man's song, but it wasn't a fence he wanted. Hmm...)

Meanwhile, back in the mists of time in the paddock, simultaneously to me encountering a fence (in a not-so-desirable way, being full-on into barbed wire...ouch!), the first of our girls loomed out of the nothingness and silently glided past me. I couldn't believe it. All my calling had yielded results after all. Our treasures were coming in on their own. The fascination that stays with me all these years later, is how quietly such large animals move in fog. We all know they can't tiptoe, but to place each hefty hoof so softly and never utter even a murmur of a moo, is simply stunning. And no-one crashed into me either. Not a nudge. Not even a nodded 'G'dday'. It was spooky, to be honest.

I hoped and prayed we might ALL arrive at our designated meeting house, as well. Having no idea how many cows had chosen the dairy as their destination, I simply followed (somewhat desperately) in the direction they were last seen heading... a wise choice, as it turned out. Breathlessly thankful to actually BE there at all, the next most miraculous moment was a head count finding not a single girl gone AWOL.

And herein came one of the earliest lessons about milking cows. They ALWAYS know what they are doing, even when it sometimes appears to be the opposite of what the dairyman desires. I would learn that on limited vision days such as this one, all I needed to do was yodel several times into the great grey yonder, and wait at the top gate.

Amazingly enough, more music springs to mind—well, actually, the sing-song rhythm of an old nursery rhyme this time around —

...leave them alone and they will come home,

wagging their tails behind them

(although, truth be told, cows do more swinging and swishing of tails than wagging. Speaking of that, did I ever tell you about the time one whacked Kanute right in the eye? No?                      Well... on second thoughts, nope. Another time).

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

Namerology and other Embroidery by cdcraftee