During the last 15 months or so I’ve begun to feel that I’m being observed.
It’s as if I’ve become a player in someone’s private showing. The play is nothing special – it’s a terrible script, there’s no plot, and the actor is sub-par. In fact, if I had to describe it, the word would be tedious. Not only is it dull, but it repeats. Daily. There are subtle variations of course but the overall message and general narrative remain nearly the same. And yet somehow the audience seems mesmerized. She must be, for she has been seen standing for hours every day, just waiting for the curtain to rise. Even again today.
Meet Sophia, the pail-bunter turned audience-stalker.
There is an old, rough lumbered, grey wooden corral just a few steps from the front door of the house. Within you will find plenty of fresh water, acres of green grass, and a cozy warm shelter. From time to time there can also be found special rolled oat treats in a red plastic feed pail, treats never last longer than a second or two. In fact that pail will usually just be touching the grass when a soft black muzzle plunges deep to retrieve all those scrumptious bites. Sophia cannot seem to get enough. And in case you’re a bit late with those tasty morsels in the morning, she’ll remind you. She’s as good as any rooster we’ve ever had, and will unabashedly inform you that your clock is running a little behind.
Sophia has never lived anywhere else. Often times on the farm things come at you a bit sideways and you just have to deal, there really is no choice. That’s how Sophia came to be in her home. Her momma, although she is a great cow, just didn’t have the milk Sophia needed. This new born calf had to be fed from a bottle to ensure that she would get everything any young heifer needs to grow. Soon she went from milk bottle to pail, to water trough, to grass, and even oats. She stayed with us, in her corral, and grew.
The sun is up as I close the door of the house, enter stage left, and walk towards the barn.
Soft big brown audience eyes are palpable with my every step. I look at her as I pass, moving only my eyes. I can’t move my head. If I turn my head she’ll notice, get excited and start bucking up and down on her side of the fence trying to get my attention. It’s her way of saying “Come on! Come over here! Let’s play”. Oh, by the way, did I mention she likes to wrestle? It was kind of fun and funny to wrestle with her when she was a small calf. But now, 600 (or more!) pounds later, the wrestling is completely-one sided. But even so, her invitation is always irresistible.
“Ok Sophia, just a minute or two.” If oats are her favourite, well then getting attention and spending quality time with her family is a close second. What a character.
Exit stage right. Curtain.
