Simple Freedom

Greetings Brother,
Life is good here at the CowChows. The necessities of life are bountiful.
I was out back a while ago just rocking on the porch and watching the rain fall. There’s nothing more peaceful than a rainy afternoon in the Ozarks. While I was sitting there soaking up the peace the cattle that are pastured behind our place came down for a drink from the creek. They come by a couple of times a day and sometimes they stop to say hello. This time they did.
I watched them file into view along the fence line, and one after the other they stopped and turned my way. Ocassionally, one would dip her head to the ground and come up chewing a mouthful of fresh, wet grass. I wondered what it must be like to live your life inside a fence, not able to come and go as you please. I wondered what it must be like to know nothing of the world beyond the borders of iron posts and steel wire that enclose you. I wondered if they even realized they were captives. As I sat there wondering these things I felt sorry for these poor simple creatures and I hoped they didn’t know what it meant to be free, for then they would know what they were missing.
One of the heifers looked around furtively, and then stuck her head over the fence and looked directly at me. She craned her neck as if she were gesturing me toward her. At first I thought nothing of it, but she kept making this gesturing motion until my curiosity overcame my desire to stay dry. I descended the steps and began slogging my way across the wet grass toward the fence. I was drenched through before I had taken a dozen steps, and all the while she was nodding to me as if to say, “Come on.”
As I neared the fence, feeling more than a little silly, she again looked furtively up and down the fence line. I reached my hand toward her to let her sniff it, and then gently stroked her forehead. “What is it, girl?” I whispered, “What do you want?”
She looked me directly in the eye and whispered back, “If you ever want us to bust you out of your pen you just say the word.” And then, she winked.
"Just say the word"
"Just say the word"

Greetings,

Life is good here at the CowChows. The necessities of life are bountiful.

I was out back a while ago just rocking on the porch and watching the rain fall. There’s nothing more peaceful than a rainy afternoon in the Ozarks. While I was sitting there soaking up the peace the cattle that are pastured behind our place came down for a drink from the creek. They come by a couple of times a day and sometimes they stop to say hello. This time they did.

I watched them file into view along the fence line, and one after the other they stopped and turned my way. Ocassionally, one would dip her head to the ground and come up chewing a mouthful of fresh, wet grass. I wondered what it must be like to live your life inside a fence, not able to come and go as you please. I wondered what it must be like to know nothing of the world beyond the borders of iron posts and steel wire that enclose you. I wondered if they even realized they were captives. As I sat there wondering these things I felt sorry for these poor simple creatures and I hoped they didn’t know what it meant to be free, for then they would know what they were missing.

One of the heifers looked around furtively, and then stuck her head over the fence and looked directly at me. She craned her neck as if she were gesturing me toward her. At first I thought nothing of it, but she kept making this gesturing motion until my curiosity overcame my desire to stay dry. I descended the steps and began slogging my way across the wet grass toward the fence. I was drenched through before I had taken a dozen steps, and all the while she was nodding to me as if to say, “Come on.”

As I neared the fence, feeling more than a little silly, she again looked furtively up and down the fence line. I reached my hand toward her to let her sniff it, and then gently stroked her forehead. “What is it, girl?” I whispered, “What do you want?”

She looked me directly in the eye and whispered back, “If you ever want us to bust you out of your pen you just say the word.” And then, she winked.

Best Regards,

Tim Couch

Nature’s Plan

wasp-and-spiderAs daylight crept in through the western windows of the CowChows this morning I found myself in the midst of a life and death struggle. I stood at the window watching night slip away when sudden and frenzied activity caught my eye. A wasp was entangled in a spider’s web just outside the window pane.

I watched for a while as the wasp struggled with all his might to escape the silken threads; his wings beat the air; he twisted and grasped for purchase but could reach nothing solid. The spider crept close but stayed safely away. He reached out one slender arm, tentatively touched the struggling wasp, and then retreated to safety. The wasp was several times the size of the spider but he had no defense against the sticky strands that bound him, and the spider had only to wait.

What should I do? Should I leave the wasp to his fate, or interfere and rescue him? The laws of nature would have me leave him to the spider. After all, spider’s have to eat, too. But, my own nature called for me to spare his life. What chain of events might I set off if I were to interfere with nature’s plan, or was there no real plan but only a careless wasp and a lucky spider?

I watched as the wasp grew tired, and finally still. The spider, too, watched and waited. Finally, I could deny my own nature no longer and I slipped out onto the porch. I took a stick and reached it out to the exhausted wasp. He grasped it and clung to it as I pulled him from certain death. I lowered him onto the porch rail where he staggered to his feet. Remnants of the web clung to him and dragged him down, and he collapsed there on the porch rail unable to go on.

I stepped close, and gently and carefully began to pull the tangled strands from his motionless body. Perhaps after some rest he would revive and fly away. As I pulled the last of the spider’s web from his tiny feet, the little bastard stung me!

I guess nature had a plan after all.

Best Regards,

Tim Couch

A Butterfly Flaps Its Wings

Whatever
Whatever

Greetings,

I hope the recent storms have been kind to you. We’ve had some minor tree damage here at the CowChows but nothing serious. I was out back a while ago cleaning up some of the broken limbs when I felt a little tickle on my forearm. I looked down to see a beautiful yellow butterfly sitting there. I raised my arm to get a better look, and as I brought him close he looked up sheepishly and said, “Sorry about your trees.”

“Excuse me,” I said.

He blinked and said, “Just wanted to say sorry about your trees. I was in South America a while back and well, I flapped my wings.”

I shook my head but it didn’t help. “What does that mean,” I asked, “you flapped your wings?”

He shrugged his tiny shoulders and said, “I landed on this flower and when I saw all the nectar was gone I flew away in a huff, and I probably flapped my wings harder than I should have. When I got back here I heard about this storm and thought I should apologize. So again, sorry about your trees.”

Still struggling to understand I said, “So, you think that when you flapped your wings in South America you somehow caused the storm half way around the world that broke my trees?”

“Haven’t you heard?” he said. “It’s all connected. Every breath we take, every move we make causes ripples in the fabric of all that is. Every thought and every deed has its own cause and effect that impacts everything and everybody. It’s all connected, man.”

“But,” I said, “you can’t possibly believe that you’re somehow responsible for everything that happens because everything is connected, can you?”

“Whatever,” he said in disgust. “You are so out of it.” He flicked his proboscis at me and gave his lacy wings a mighty flap. I stood and watched him fly away and as he grew too small to see I heard far off behind me, the distant roll of thunder.

Cordially yours,

Tim Couch