A truth is, I like to hang around cows. One of my favorite memories from a Nova Scotia vacation involved, yes, watching cows. I’m quite familiar with the bovine species having grown up on a six-generation southern Wisconsin dairy farm. I’ve logged hundreds of hours of milking them, throwing countless hay bales to feed their four stomachs and even assisting in the births of their calves. My lengthy farmer checklist is ad infinitum nauseum. Let’s just say when it comes to cows, “we’ve met”.
Alright, back to my rather tame Canadian cow story. There I was sitting quietly seaside in this gorgeous North Atlantic pastoral, coastal setting. Nearby, I hear the roar of a tractor approaching, driven by the neighboring farmer. He stops. I see him slowly get off his green steed—a mighty six-wheeled John Deere. He walks over and opens a long wooden gate that leads into an expansive green field, filled with fresh clover.
I watch the Holstein cows (the black and white ones) carefully watch the farmer. They await the call. He signals them to come. Kicking up their hoofs in a high chorus line fashion, they run immediately towards the farmer. At first wildly, then more smoothly, they all file into the newly opened green pasture.
I pause and reflect. “Wow, what if I could trust life like the cows do?” Cows don’t seem to stand around questioning the farmer’s motives. Can you imagine hearing a herd of worried, cud-chewing heifers complaining “Where’s our next pasture?! Where’s our next pasture?! Where’s our next pasture?!”
No, the cows appear to relax and enjoy the one they’re already in. And when the farmer does arrive, they are so glad to see him or her. They know this gentle farmer takes good care of them and with that, they simply continue to trust.