Friday, 21 August 2020

A Sad Sight and the Question of America.

Today has been a day of sad happenings, the sort of things which stay with you all day and drive the low spirits even lower.

The first concerned a small herd of breeding cattle which has been living for some months in the big field which runs up the side and along the back of my house – fifteen mother cows and fifteen calves. All summer I’ve watched the calves frolicking and galloping and play fighting as they became used to this thing called life. The mothers were ever diligent, and the calves always returned to them for comfort and food.

I noticed this morning that the whole herd was being driven down to the bottom of the field where an adjoining lane gives access, and lost sight of them when they passed behind the cottage which stands there. And then they were gone and the farmer cleared his equipment away.

About an hour later I heard a plaintive bellow and looked out to see a single bull calf, about three months old, walking alone up the short incline until he reached a point close to the corner of my house. I changed my position and watched him walk along the bottom of the lea which climbs to a ridge, and then saw him disappear behind some trees way over to my left. He walked slowly and steadily without stopping or breaking his stride, and all the time the same quiet, plaintive bellows kept emanating from a head held low. I have no doubt he was crying for his mother and the companions he’s always known. I kept watch for him all day but never saw him again.

No doubt there was some justifiable reason for leaving this poor little guy alone in a world which, for him, has always been full of his mother and others of his kind. Cows are, after all, herd animals. They’re not used to being alone and aren’t suited to it, especially at three months old. I expect it had something to do with needing to be isolated following a bovine TB screening or some such. I really can’t say because I’m not privy to the farmer’s business. And yet I can’t help wondering why we humans permit ourselves to make an industry of other sentient beings so that we can have something we want but don’t need.

*  *  *

Later I read the story of Maya Moore’s professional sacrifice in her quest to have Jonathan Irons released from prison. How sad it was to lose even more faith in America and its so-called justice system, while being close to overcome by the courage, selflessness, humanity and tenacity of one American seeking justice. Is that ironic? I don’t know. Maybe those gurus who tell us that nothing at this level ultimately matters because it’s all just a game we play are right. I don’t know that either.

*  *  *

And on a vaguely related subject, but with no real sadness this time, what of Mr Biden and his convention? What of him? I think my faith in America might go some way to being improved if the presidential ticket were the other way round, but I doubt that America is mature enough yet to be offered a non-white woman as President. And I suppose it’s none of my business.

And that’s about it for today.

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