Calves at the Fence
The other morning the heifers gathered along the back fence to eat dead cactus and lounge in the winter sun. It was cool but not cold. They were accompanied by two calves still sucking their mothers’ teats. When I noticed them, they were lying on the ground, as calves tend to do, while the mothers’ chowed down. My appearance on the porch got the calves’ attention. They popped up in anticipation of the need to run.
To alleviate their fear, I stood by one of the porch poles and tried to be invisible. I needn’t have worried. A few seconds later, mama cat came walking up from behind me and then went down the steps to my left. This was something new for the calves, so they started watching her, and even moved in for a closer look. I guess little is less frightening. After a few seconds of cat watching, a bird flew up and landed on the fence, right in front of them. The little calves took notice and watched the bird, a phoebe, as it sat on the fence and twitched. Meanwhile, their mothers cared little for birds, cats, or men. It was all about the cactus and the cud.
As I watched this little scene play out, I realized I was like those heifers, I’d lost my inner calf. The joy of discovery had been replaced by monotonous sameness. Life was all about the dead cactus, and a place to sit. I suppose it was chased away as my wife and I dealt with doctors, declining health, and ultimately her death. But that’s done and it’s probably up to me to brighten things up. After all, no valley is endless even the valley of tears. There are mountains to climb on either side, a river to float as it flows to the sea, or just a pasture to ponder as I sit in the breeze. I just need to remember that every day is actually a new day and that bird will never sit on the fence in the same way twice.