This weekend, the temperature was up in the 50s. Very warm for January, but we’re not complaining. In fact, we’ve taken advantage of the sunshine to spend a little more time up at the barn. At first we tended to the few things that needed to be done. Hay piled up. Pens secured. Grain bins filled. But then, as the list of chores dwindled, we just sat down for a minute to rest.
That minute turned into an hour.
The next day we did it again.
And the next.
There’s something special about taking the time to just be around a bunch of animals. For us, it’s the herd of goats and the queen of the barnyard, Miss Fluff Puff, our long-haired cat. (Check out the post before this one to learn more about her.) She takes full advantage of our presence by sitting on my lap the whole time. She’s never been much of a lap cat, but I guess her old age is mellowing her out. Now she purrs like an old 380 engine and is content to remain with us as long as we’re content to provide her a warm pillow to sit on.
The goats spend the time munching on hay. Their little teeth crunch crunch crunch on the dried strands and it sounds like a million tiny footsteps on miniature gravel stones until they snort. For some reason goats have to snort while they eat. It’s a quick exhale out the nose that sounds like an old man honking into a hanky. Crunch crunch crunch…snort!…crunch crunch…snort! Snort!
It may sound a bit strange, but this sound is peaceful to us. After a few minutes of just sitting quietly by, listening and watching them eat, we fall into a sort of relaxed meditative state, and all seems right with the world.
Some people have to cross their legs and hum a mantra to feel that sense of peace. Others light a candle and close their eyes. Still others go for a walk in the forest, or attend a special meditation class. We sit up at the barn, and listen to the goats crunch their food.
And snort.
Perhaps it has something to do with how animals can just live in the moment without having to think about it. Diving their noses into the hay, they crunch and snort and swallow to their heart’s content. They don’t care if they gain a few pounds. They’re not counting calories. They don’t care what the other goats think of their figures. They’re just fully enjoying the pleasure of eating a meal.
Or perhaps it’s the fact that animals have no fear, and no tension, unless there’s a real reason for it. We’re surrounded by calm heartbeats the entire time. If a truck or motorcycle comes driving down the ditchbank, the herd will head up and come to attention, but otherwise theirs is a carefree existence. No bills to pay. No cholesterol levels to worry about. No deadlines coming up.
They don’t even have digestive problems. Most of the time. Can you imagine?
Ah, life is good.
So we sit. And we watch. And we relax. And we learn.
It’s a joy just to eat. It’s a blessing just to be here.
