Country Silence

You know how they always refer to the sounds of the city and the silence of the country. I’m here to say that it ain’t necessarily so. I awaken at 5:15 or so to a full choir of birds all excited about a brand new day and a flurry of new attempts to raid my vegetable garden.

Later in the morning I walk down to the paddocks to check the steers and sheep serenaded by Benny the Bull. His long, mournful bellows echo across the hills. Benny is a young bull just approaching his prime. I’d say he is about 17 yrs old in human terms. He doesn’t have any idea why he gets so hot and bothered all the time but has some vague suspicion that he has to do with all those receptive cows in the next paddock – none of whom seem to be available to him.

Benny is a registered Angus bull and as such in great demand to stud. Or should be. He was scheduled to join a herd of Angus ladies a few miles off but the farmer already had one bull and after viewing Benny the roisterous one (and listening to him) the deal was off. So Benny is as ready as he’ll ever be and so far the bell has not tolled for him.

Instead Benny spends his days (and his nights) bellowing his frustrations to the wind, the hills and to me. Occasionally there is a bull across the valley who bellows right back and I get the baffled fury in stereo. Lucky me!

But Benny and the birds are not the only sounds. We have train tracks just the other side of the road from our property, about a mile away. Trains actually use them – not like the States where I almost never see a train any more. And don’t forget the flying school and airport about 4 miles away. We seem to be in their flight path. And of course there are the quad bikes.

I am the only farmer on the mountain without one and I walk everywhere. No one else does. They all ride and noisily too. No that is not indignation that you hear in this blog but pure envy. I WANT one. I want one bad. To sail over the hills astride my modern steed seems perfection to me. Particularly on days like today when it rains and rains and rains and the winds howl around me as I make my twice daily trek the check the stock.

But the serenity of the countryside is also assaulted by tractors, trucks, and seasonal machinery such as haying thrashers, lawn mowers, etc. Sometimes I think that the city couldn’t be much louder. Then I think again. The quantity of sound might be similar but the quality is very different.

I don’t hear sqealing brakes, screaming teenagers, drunks arguing at 4 am outside my window. Come to think of it, Benny is sounding pretty good to me right now.