The Farm

Your heart leaps when the aging man asks if you want to go see the calves.  You gaze out over 600 acres of green pastures and bright cattle.  The air is cold and you stuff your hands into your pockets.  He beckons over to a green gator tractor and tells you to get in the back.  You willingly obey, allowing the adult with you to sit in the comfortable front.  The engine revs and you bump along.  You feel like a real hick, in your boots and sweatshirt.

You gaze at the passing cattle and horses as you bump down between rows of giant pastures.  You are jolted around, but happy, as the man explains all of the hay equipment and giant, majestic tractors.  The sky is blue above you and you take a deep breath of country air.  He turns away from the tractors and drives quickly to the pasture.  The lady in the front hops out and moves a floppy barbed wire fence.  She hops back in and you drive over lush green grass into the pasture.

The first thing you see is the calves.  A small one, maybe just above your knee peers curiously at you from behind its bulky mother.  She seems unconcerned.  Then you see the other ones.  They lie laid out in the grass like giant scraps of leather.  You ride up close to them and a dark, velvety one looks up.  Its wide ears watch you intently, its placid brown eyes blinking softly.  It is softness and innocence in its purest form.  It thrusts out front legs and lies upright, tiredly, softly in the deep green grass.  It seems like paradise.  Then, it is up, and it ambles to its mother to guzzle down warm milk.

There are lots of calves, sweet and milky smelling.  Their mother moo when they stray to far, but there is no need.  They are safe in the beautiful meadow.  The cows are all different colors; black, red, white, a mixture.  They are soft and wise looking.  Undisturbed by your intrusion.  The calves are more curious and stare at you with wide eyes.  You step slowly out and run your hand over the hide of a red and white cow.  She has small horns and her coat is thick and soft.  She gives you a long look, and then returns to grazing.  You stroke her slowly and then leave her reluctantly.

You see the bull.  He is a great bulk of flesh, muscle, and black fur.  He is majestic and slow, yet a calf lies at his feet.  It is the lion and the lamb.  He swings his huge, dark head toward you.  He watches you intently as you bump past him.  His shoulders are huge and powerful, his flank ripped with muscle, but a gentleness in his eyes.  This is an animal to respect.

Then you have to say goodbye.  You watch as you bump away from the slow, warm cattle.  You watch them, wishing with all your heart that you could stay in this paradise.  Soon, they fade away into black, red, and white specks on the rolling hills.

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