Mournful Mooing

Being Eighty-Fived?

Mournful Mooing

“Why in the world are you just standing there?”  I asked the huge Angus Steer, Eighty-Five.  “That mournful mooing isn’t doing you any good at all!”

Of course, I already knew why he was acting this way.  It was separation time.  The Dexter breed were standing across the fence from him eating.  He was standing next to the bull feeder, where he is normally fed.  He’d watched as I threw hay over the fence to the reddish-brown clan of cows he usually shared food with.  But, if Eighty-Five is one thing, he is stubborn.

After feeding the Dexters, with the Angus looking-on, I loaded up the wheelbarrow with more hay and walked right toward the bull feeder and the Three-Big-Boys, so they’d see their food and follow me to the paddock.  I walked slowly, using an encouraging, “come-on, follow me” speech.  The sound of heavy, lugging footsteps fell in behind me, so I didn’t bother to look back until I reached the paddock and ejected the carried-dinner for the lumbering, hungry steers.  But, only two had come.

“That’s odd!”  I exclaimed, as if speaking to an unseen friend.

With wheelbarrow in hand and the missing steer in sight I left the paddock and walked forward toward him.  His feet were planted firmly in the ground.  His eyes were focused, gazing, coveting the forage being eaten by his adopted bovine clan.  Saliva was streaming from all corners of his mouth and it dripped toward the ground as he verbalized his displeasure of self-professed injustice.

“You realize all you need to do is to turn a little to your right and walk?  Right?”  I chided with a chuckle.  “Your behavior is pathetic!  Your decision to just stand here, looking over that fence, while complaining in full bellyache tone doesn’t accomplish anything.  When you decide to take even one step toward earning what you want, your situation will change completely!”

Then, I took a step forward, away from him, to leave, while continuing to hear his self-pronouncing song of injustice.  For one brief moment a thought of intervention entered my mind, because of his repeated call.  I paused.

“He’ll figure it out!”  I huffed, while walking on.

He stood.  I left.

I left again in the morning.  This time from my home. The cool wet grass was soft under foot as I walked through the field, past the food-anticipating Dexter, toward the bull feeder where Eighty-Five had been standing the night before.  A smile spread across my face when he wasn’t there.

“Why in the world are you just standing there?”  I had asked the huge Angus Steer, Eighty-Five, the night before.  “That mournful mooing isn’t doing you any good at all!”

Of course, I already knew why he was acting this way.  It was separation time.  The Dexter breed were standing across the fence from him, eating.  He was standing next to the bull feeder, where he is normally fed.  He’d watched as I threw hay over the fence to the reddish-brown clan of cows.  But, if Eighty-Five is one thing, he is stubborn.

“I can be just as stubborn as he had been at times!”  I said to myself as I filled the wheelbarrow with hay for the Three-Big-Boys standing, waiting for me in the paddock.  “I just hope I can always be smart enough not to Eighty-Five myself in the future!”  

Now, or in our future, there will likely be a time when our eyes, yours or mine, are focused, gazing, coveting the things or accomplishments of our neighbor. Yes, we may even have saliva, born of personal desire, streaming from all corners of our mouth as we verbalize our displeasure of self-proclaimed injustice in mournful manner.  But, we should never Eighty-Five ourselves!  

After all, one hulking steer has shown us that we simply need to turn to our right, or left, and walk, forward to our desired accomplishment or destination and work.  When you and I decide to take even one step toward earning what we want, we change our present situation completely!

Living Off a Leash

“The most interesting things happen just on the other side of your comfort zone.” 

- Michael Hyatt

Living Off a Leash

“Where’s my leash?” Three-year-old Annie called out.

You see, Annie was such an energetic child that we often could not keep track of her in public settings.  Have you ever been shopping for kids’ clothes in a large clothing store, with three children, while one of the three is singularly playing “hide-and-seek,” by secreting herself in the middle of seemingly endless, giant round-clothing-racks, packed with textiles on hangers?  It is a frightening experience for a parent!  Such was the genesis of Annie’s “life on a leash.”

I anticipated that Annie’s living on a leash would make my parental responsibilities less harrowing.  What I didn’t foresee was an unintended “comfort quotient” for my daughter.  Being tethered during complex and challenging moments became akin to being wrapped in a comfort blanket.  I didn’t realize that until I heard her “where’s my leash” question as we were preparing to leave our house one day.

More than twenty years later, on a day not more than one week ago, during a virtual meeting with a Client, the discussion of alternative paths forward for her business became paramount.  As with almost all real estate decisions the conversation was centering on location and she had become intractable. At the same time, I knew she was counting on me to give her viable growth solutions.  Solutions that could only be discovered by cutting the tether of current comforts.  She, like little Annie, had to decide to remove her own leash.

 

“Are you living on a leash?”  I carefully asked.  “What if you cut the fetter currently binding you to your existing location?  What if there was something better, or bigger waiting for you?  Would you like to have the chance to find out?”

Then I held my breath and stopped!

“Are YOU living on a leash?”  I asked myself, hanging on to an eternity of silence, while waiting for her reply. Realizing that everyone continually experiences both seen and unseen leashes throughout life.  And, sometimes obtaining more peace, more happiness, more love, and more fulfillment are only available to us by cutting a string currently binding our options and growth.

Michael Hyatt once taught me that, “The most interesting things happen just on the other side of your comfort zone.”

This meeting’s continuing silence allowed me to once again hear Annie’s young voice call out, “Where’s my leash?”

You see, Annie was such an energetic child that I often could not keep track of her in public settings.  Have you ever been shopping for kids’ clothes in a large clothing store, with three children, while one of the three is singularly playing “hide-and-seek,” by secreting herself in the middle of seemingly endless, giant round-clothing-racks, packed with textiles on hangers?  It is a frightening experience for a parent!  Such was the genesis of Annie’s “life on a leash.”

“I can begin living my life off a leash!” My Client announced, ending the eternity of silence.

Now the question hiding in the white space between these lines is, will you and I cut our own leashes and begin to experience the interesting things that will happen for us on the other side of our comfort zones?

Skeleton Dog

A bed of hay for a sign of an early Halloween

Skeleton Dog

“It must be getting close to Halloween!” I said, muttering to myself as I walked through sort of a grim looking, yet still green grass on an early October, darkened morning.  

On such mornings there isn’t usually much to see anyway.  Yet, I didn’t have much of a visual option, as the moon wasn’t shining brightly and the sun didn’t seem to be very interested in getting up, out of the eastern sky yet.  It was so early that there wasn’t really even any shine being proffered from lights gleaming through windows from surrounding homes.  I could see well enough though.

At least I thought I could see well enough, right up to the time when I wished I could see very clearly!  So, of course, that’s when I saw something!  Well, sort of saw something.

My big red bull feeder was just up in front of me.  I could see its bright, yet lack of light diminished color.  I saw its outline, but I couldn’t make out the identity of a shape curled up inside of that round, curving, sustenance-offering-sculpture.  There was something there!  I just couldn’t tell what it was.

“It’s way too much like spooky Halloween!”  I instinctively thought, as shivers of fear began to convulse throughout my body.

There was a definite, in the wrong place, shape there!  It was an unrecognizable shape, yet providentially, the color was all wrong for the one thing I would normally, well, always want to avoid at all times on Salty Shores Ranch. Luckily, it wasn’t black as night with a white stripe.  Not a skunk! 

Whew!

Gray was its color.  Which gave me courage to pursue a closer look.

I apprehensively edged a little closer.  After all, I’m a careful sort.  Just ask my daughters!  Because they’ll tell you I’m the guy who abandoned them.  Yes!  I’m the guy who fled, leaving my little girls to fend for themselves, when one of those giant, terrifying Egyptian upright-walking dog type creatures, who I thought was a statue, reached out and touched my shoulder while we were “enjoying” a walk though “The Mummy” experience at Universal Studios.  Yep!  I have proven I know when to run!

It was feeling very much like Halloween, so I was ready to run.  To scram! If necessary.

Its head lifted!  I saw it move.  Its angular body followed, slinking off its luxurious bed of uneaten fodder toward the edge of the hay’s red metal halo. 

“Lucky for me!”  

This thing was more afraid of me than I was of it.

I watched its front legs rise above the feeder’s rim. Next, its rear legs thrust the rest of its body up and over the rim.  I had just observed the thinnest dog I’d ever seen duck under a fence rail and trot its bones away, while blending perfectly into barely morning gray.

“A skeleton dog!  It is surely close to Halloween!”  I said, muttering to myself as I walked through a sort of grim looking corral on an early October, darkened morning.  

On such mornings there isn’t usually much to see anyway.  Yet, I on this morning, I was frightened by a most unusual, even spooky sight, as the moon wasn’t shining brightly and the sun didn’t seem to be very interested in getting up, out of the eastern sky yet.  It was so early that there wasn’t really even any shine being proffered from lights gleaming through windows from surrounding homes.  I could see well enough though.

It was a sign of an early Halloween for sure.  Because I had just seen a Skeleton Dog!

Yet, this eerie sight tugged at my heart as I watched him go.  I could still see the imprint of his body pressed into the hay and I felt grateful to have unintentionally offered him some comfort and rest.  Because, even though I’m often afraid to offer help to one in need, it’s always the right thing to do.

Noses on both sides of the fence.

Nosey Neighbors

A cool blue sky was brightening with every step toward the thirsty watering trough near the fence, on the east side of Salty Shores Ranch.  It was bright enough to be able to see that the water needed to be freshened from a night of moistening noses, black noses.  Yes, some of the of the noses belong to me.  Those specific noses are attached to huge Black Angus steers as well as to my smaller, three-quarter size Dexter, heifer noses.  And, I knew there had been other noses in that water as well.

I looked across the fence toward the orchard to the south, across the tall, dried strands of rye grass.  That’s where I spied long, spike-like ears rising just above the tassels of fancy grass seeds atop swaying stalks.  In between those alert ears, just a little lower, barely visible through the dim light were some of those other noses.  They belonged to bedded down mule deer in repose, though still watchful, after a night of browsing and quenching their thirst in the filling container sitting at the end of my toes.  The sight teased a smile from my sleepy face while coaxing my eyes to do a little more looking.

I looked to my left and saw three more noses pointed in my direction.  One nose was attached to a black-as-night, Alpaca.  Another to a shaggy pygmy goat.  And, there was one more nose.  It was one attached to a larger, mid-sized goat, covered in white, punctuated with brown, mud-looking splotches.  They stood in a perfect straight, in line with the fence, rubbernecking.

“Good morning!”  I brightly called out, with my right hand grasping the red rubber hose spewing additional cool water rushing to fill its temporary reservoir.

Morning rays from the altitude-gaining sun scratched the topping rocks, trees and dirt crowning the Oquirrh Mountain Range. It’s strands of gold began to illuminate the whole scene stretched out before me.  It delivered a courageous message.

My rays shine freely on all!

The cool blue sky was brightening and warming there, at the now thirst-quenched watering trough near the fence on the east side of Salty Shores Ranch.  The freshened water was again prepared for another day of moistening noses, similar black noses.  Yes, some of the of the noses belong to me.  Those specific noses are attached to huge Black Angus steers as well as to my smaller, three-quarter size Dexter, heifers.  And, I had just surveyed many other noses that had been and would be again dipping into this refreshing water.

I looked again, across the fence toward the orchard to the south, across the tall, dried strands of rye grass, where I still spied long, spike-like ears rising just above the tassels of fancy grass seeds atop swaying stalks.  In between those alert ears, just a little lower, barely visible through brightening light were some of those other, noses in common.  They belonged to bedded down mule deer as they relaxed, though still watchful, after a night of browsing and quenching their thirst in the filled container sitting at the end of my toes.  The sight teased a smile from my sleepy face while coaxing my eyes to understand the sun’s fundamental message.

There is plenty for all.  Those already living here.  Those who are just moving in.  Even those who are very different breed.

We all have one important thing in common.  Noses.

Welcome all.  Let your smile shine freely and brightly just as our common sun does.

Be a nosey neighbor.