Daisy

Spring was here and all seemed well in the valley. Yellow flowers, tiny and numerous, sprang forth on the alpine meadows, the farmer and his wife seemed to spend much more time smiling and generally enjoying themselves and all seemed well with the world. Perhaps because of the fluffy clouds, the warm temperatures or the quality of the crops. Daisy couldn’t tell. It was not as if she could speak or anything. Cows, as we all know, do not talk. So when the farmer came out with his straw hat and his pipe, Daisy had to glean his mood from his actions and the tone of his words. The wife never came near. She just stood on the porch and breathed in all that fresh air.

The other cows didn’t seem interested in the humans. That was Daisy’s job. All they ever did was wander about eating grass and licking those blue salty things. They might look up every time a bicycle rode past, but other than that, their fulltime job was eating and chewing. Daisy did all that too, but she was also keeping an eye on the humans. I mean, someone had to. Why not Daisy?

One afternoon storms rumbled in the distant mountains and the weather began to turn. A cow doesn’t really have anywhere to go, except under a tree and that was really more helpful to protect against the sun than the rain. And rain it was. Lots of it. All the cows mooed and strode about, hanging their large heads down as they withstood the onslaught. It wasn’t really a problem. They kept warm from their thick hide and just waited it out until they could easily feed again. Apparently eating in a torrential downpour isn’t anyone’s first choice.

As the storm finally abated, the sun came out. Fairly unequally, splashing its rays with abandon to the south and then illuminating the wife through a rent in the clouds. The discerning observer would have noted that the rays strode forth like daggers, illuminating their neighbouring clouds as they passed. The wife, Sally we shall call her, raised her face and smiled at the glory of the sun. The air was fresh as if the grime of the world had been washed away. This was a special time to be alive.

Daisy knew this and she seemed to understand that Sally did too. Perhaps there was more connection between them than at first thought. Daisy took a few steps out into the freshly sun-drenched paddock with such aggressive joy that her cow bell rung out through the valley. It bought a smile to the face of the humans. The wholesome gong of a cow bell on an alpine spring day after a mountainous storm had passed over. What joy.

The other cows didn’t seem to agree. They were a moody bunch, not pleased with anything other than eating all the time. Daisy, on the other hand, thought this day was just chipper. It would have put a spring in her step if springs could have been put in cow’s steps.

Unbeknownst to either of them, well past the crest of the mountains or even the seas beyond, someone, or something, was watching. They (if I can appropriate this term) were watching through a telescope that orbited the center of their galaxy. Apparently, the view is better from there, but in any case, they spotted Daisy and Sally and thought there was an opportunity for communications. The kinship between the two was clear, even from this remote distance. They prepared the communicator and then shone this ‘beam’ at the two of them. I think they even split it into two beams that somehow communicated with each other at a distance. It goes without saying that this was all faster than light. I mean, come on.

In the freshly rain drenched air, Sally stepped forth onto her porch. This was why she had moved here. The universe has such beauty, especially when left to its own devices. The valley, the green of the sloping paddocks, some pockmarked with stones, the fences, the birds, the mountains. Even the cows. Look over there next to all those other cows. A black and white cow is staring back, a few cow lengths away from the others, but all bathed in glorious sunlight nonetheless. The water glistened from the droplets on the blades of grass, from ponds, from trees. From everywhere. The clouds were really breaking up now. Soon it would be sunny everywhere. It was a glorious time and both Sally and Daisy knew it.

Far across the vastness of space, and in real time - you know, without like a 20-million-year delay - the entities that I have called Them activated their thought ray. I think I already mentioned that the beam was split, and, well, I’m guessing that the decerning among us will realise that one part of this went to Daisy and the other to Sally. Spoiler alert.

So yeah. This happened, and the two of them became deeply aware of each other. Some think this could have something to do with the fact that Daisy was already curious about Sally, while others feel that all sentient beings would behave in similar fashion.

The following is what actually happened. Sally stepped down from her porch. Daisy started striding in her cow like fashion towards the house. The farmer was way off in a neighbouring town making deliveries and it was still raining there. Quite heavily, actually. The mountains can harbour quite unpredictable weather as both Sally and Daisy knew all too well. As they each grew bigger in each other’s field of view, a calmness came over both of them. Kindred spirits, clearly. The cow bell gave a final clang as they came face to face and both stopped in their tracks.

Who would speak first? They both wanted to. It was Daisy…

“It’s a beautiful day.”