|Guinea hens on the Millvale Road|
There is nothing more country than having to stop for livestock on the road. Yet it doesn't happen very often anymore, does it? And nowadays, we are all in such a hurry, we would bitch and complain, perhaps even get threatening, if we had to wait for 20 minutes while livestock crossed the road.
Just imagine the irrate texts and tweets!
My husband grew up on a cattle farm -- dairy and beef -- and I love his stories about his childhood. My favourite one involves his cow, Herman, how friendly she was, how she would come when he called her. Every fall, the herd was brought from its pasture in Carrington back to the barn for winter. All Dwayne or his father had to do was shake the bucket of feed and call to Herman and she'd lead the herd out of the pasture and up the road to the farm. (I can imagine in spring how quickly the cattle did the walk back down the road, knowing where they were headed after a winter in the barn.)
It's the same route I walk the dog in the morning so it's about four kilometres from Carrington to the farm.
"I suppose we'd have to get a permit to close the road down now in order to do that," Dwayne said the last time he told me that story.