Heifers in the Mist

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This morning, I woke even before the rooster. I couldn’t stop myself from involuntarily recycling the images and events of 2001.

When training started at 8am, I had two things to put on the safe, nurturing table we have here: 1) could we nix the unsustainable tractor hayrides? and 2) could we have a moment of silence around our Peace Pole?

I got shot down on the tractor request, comes from the top that the information-hungry, self-improving day-visitor groups only want to face their sustainability so much, and gosh darn, they want that tractor hayride.

The second request was met without hesitation, a twitchless affirmative nod, followed with a slightly nervous story of yet another person who was late to work that morning and escaped their death.

It’s weird, I understand now that I will never have another September 11th of intimacy, because it is the people who I was with that morning, day and night with whom I have the closest understanding. No other camaraderie will replace those bonds.

Even knowing how socially aware all of the volunteers and staff are here, I still felt we should honor the day and the state of the world, and perhaps eventually we will swap the “I was ---ing when I saw --- or heard --- or felt --- and then I…”.

Continuing on…

At 8:45, we broke the training spell and headed out to the Peace Pole. I put out a call over the radio to all farm volunteers and staff. In response to my “One minute of silence” invite, we got, “Howsabout one minute of activity instead?”

Two seconds later we had our unscheduled chore galloping towards us, waltzing in the eeriest Tim Burton mist you’ve ever seen. The cows had gotten out; nose-ringed bull and all.

The fog was so thick, you could slice it with a chicken “processing” blade. Visibility about 60 feet, one could hear volunteers’ coaxing voices and cattle snorting chorused with low mooing. There were clapping and hoofing sounds, though headed off in opposite directions. Smell of wet and dung were everywhere. And the stubborn dance of the cows, majestic. Turning abruptly, their girth would sway from side to side then suddenly back, hooves prancing up and out into the ethereal wet whiteness.

Having no training on cow herding, or any herding really, I knew it was better that I stay back or help with the more docile ones. At one point I linked into a human chain to prevent a few of the lingering bovines from joining the others who had made it into our garden (which we rely on for most of our food).

The cows were in heaven, and the volunteers were in a complicated dance in which they were not the leaders. Cows in the parking lot, cows on the hillside, cows in the sheep paddock, cows headed for the woods, cows checking out the rabbit hutches, cows in the pumpkin patch. Cows everywhere, except in the cow pasture.

After 20 minutes of team and work, we eventually got the cows herded in, and ourselves gathered out around the Peace Pole. We had our minute of silence. But I have to say, by then I was so elated to be on the farm, that the minute seemed like five—and I was happy to get back to the task at hand: just another day of creating world peace through solving world hunger. What better place to be on September 11th?

And let me apologize for not carrying my camera on my hip. How I would love to share my waltzing cow imagery. I’d pay more for that spectacular than for front-row seats at Riverdance, starring Kermit thee Frog.

*PeaceNote: 1 week later, I had the privilege to see Scott Ritter speak. A military man, giving military advice, gesticulating madly in military maneuvers, all in the name of Waging Peace. Check him out.

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Photos

DewDew on the MooMoo
While I don't mind Abu's sloppy kisses, I keep my distance from this guy.

Peace Pole
1 of an estimated 200,000 around the world.

Special FX
Fence. Behind which the cows should have been.

Don't be fooled...
by this docile smile.

Herbivores my...
i don't give'em a chance to prove otherwise.