Inches
On Thursday last week, we brought home a 14 week old Jersey/Friesian/Wagyu steer from a local dairy farm, who we named "Spartan." He had barely been handled and was afraid of people - we unloaded him from the truck into the yards and the first thing he did was run a lap around the yard, find a gap in the fence, and climb out. Today is the fifth day. Spartan now comes for pats, lets us halter him, and will walk on a lead if he has the other calves to follow.
The day after Spartan arrived, a tree fell down in their paddock, destroying the gate. Luckily at the time all the calves were still in the shed having breakfast.
This afternoon around 4pm, all four calves were out in the paddock (the gate had been repaired) when a sudden storm hit. Very strong wind and heavy rain coming down sideways. There is a shelter shed in the paddock, but with the tree still down in the middle the calves would have had to walk all the way around it and then back, and they hate walking directly into the rain. So they all stood with their backs to it, between the fallen tree and the still standing one, looking miserable. We decided we should go out there and guide them to the shelter. Jessica and Chana went first and started trying to get them out from under the tree. I didn't have my raincoat so I was watching from the house when I saw the standing tree starting to lean over, and the ground around the base of it start to lift. I wanted to shout a warning but the words stuck and I could only watch in horror as Jessica grabbed Spartan's halter and pulled him away from the tree, literally seconds before the tree came down right where the calves had been standing, destroying a section of the fence (again). Now, I'm not prone to swearing but at this point I was incredibly close to doing so, out of sheer terror at how close that tree had been to falling on either my sisters or our calves. I grabbed Mummy's rainjacket, screamed at Chantel "get out here now, we have to get the calves to the shed!" before running over to the main shed to get the halters and leadropes. The rain felt like tiny bits of ice hitting my face and hands, the wind whipping my hair around. Water was everywhere. Mummy, Chantel, and Chana met me at the shed and I handed out the halters and leads. I ran back to the paddock, climbed over the damaged fence and the fallen tree. My fingers slipped on the wet rope as I struggled to tie Logan's halter on, the rain permeating everything in seconds. I got it, and started leading Logan around the tree. He baulked as we turned into the rain, head lowered and ears down, feet planted firmly. There was no time for niceties, the icy rain nearly horizontal and the wind ripping away any words I spoke the second they left my lips. I pulled hard on the rope, and Logan took one hesitating step, and then another, and in a moment he was trotting after me as I ran for the gate. Mummy had the gate open already and we hurried through. Logan knew exactly where we going and he literally ran to the shed. The rest of the calves followed shortly afterwards. Safely in their pen, the calves shoved their faces into the hay feeder and started eating as though nothing had happened. I was still shaking.
People talk about some sports being "a game of inches," but it's not just sports that are. Those inches are in every moment of our lives. Those split second decisions to go left instead of right, that one more step forwards that you took, and the wind turning just slightly to send the tree across the fence instead of falling in the same direction as the previous tree, those inches are the difference between life and death.
The day after Spartan arrived, a tree fell down in their paddock, destroying the gate. Luckily at the time all the calves were still in the shed having breakfast.
This afternoon around 4pm, all four calves were out in the paddock (the gate had been repaired) when a sudden storm hit. Very strong wind and heavy rain coming down sideways. There is a shelter shed in the paddock, but with the tree still down in the middle the calves would have had to walk all the way around it and then back, and they hate walking directly into the rain. So they all stood with their backs to it, between the fallen tree and the still standing one, looking miserable. We decided we should go out there and guide them to the shelter. Jessica and Chana went first and started trying to get them out from under the tree. I didn't have my raincoat so I was watching from the house when I saw the standing tree starting to lean over, and the ground around the base of it start to lift. I wanted to shout a warning but the words stuck and I could only watch in horror as Jessica grabbed Spartan's halter and pulled him away from the tree, literally seconds before the tree came down right where the calves had been standing, destroying a section of the fence (again). Now, I'm not prone to swearing but at this point I was incredibly close to doing so, out of sheer terror at how close that tree had been to falling on either my sisters or our calves. I grabbed Mummy's rainjacket, screamed at Chantel "get out here now, we have to get the calves to the shed!" before running over to the main shed to get the halters and leadropes. The rain felt like tiny bits of ice hitting my face and hands, the wind whipping my hair around. Water was everywhere. Mummy, Chantel, and Chana met me at the shed and I handed out the halters and leads. I ran back to the paddock, climbed over the damaged fence and the fallen tree. My fingers slipped on the wet rope as I struggled to tie Logan's halter on, the rain permeating everything in seconds. I got it, and started leading Logan around the tree. He baulked as we turned into the rain, head lowered and ears down, feet planted firmly. There was no time for niceties, the icy rain nearly horizontal and the wind ripping away any words I spoke the second they left my lips. I pulled hard on the rope, and Logan took one hesitating step, and then another, and in a moment he was trotting after me as I ran for the gate. Mummy had the gate open already and we hurried through. Logan knew exactly where we going and he literally ran to the shed. The rest of the calves followed shortly afterwards. Safely in their pen, the calves shoved their faces into the hay feeder and started eating as though nothing had happened. I was still shaking.
People talk about some sports being "a game of inches," but it's not just sports that are. Those inches are in every moment of our lives. Those split second decisions to go left instead of right, that one more step forwards that you took, and the wind turning just slightly to send the tree across the fence instead of falling in the same direction as the previous tree, those inches are the difference between life and death.