Under the Wire

“Why is it there never is enough time to do it right but always time to do it over?” As a small boy my mother began drilling that thought into my brain. As do most children, I listened to the words, gave an understanding nod of my head along with a face that showed my appreciation for her imparting such valuable wisdom upon me, then immediately forgot the entire thing. This process continues to the present. Every time I rush through a project of any kind, only to watch it eventually return to it’s original state of chaos, those words enter my brain.

Why can’t I learn? My blame goes to the world I am surrounded by. It seems to have one speed. Flat out, pedal to the metal, don’t look back, forward progress towards failure. The world just doesn’t have enough time to wait for us to do it right. Rush through, cobble it up and get on to the next project. The quicker the better, that way you won’t be present when it all falls apart.

When faced with a lack of understanding of our human race, I always look for answers from the purest life form on earth. Animals. They have most of the answers we seek if you just watch them.

While checking the cows a couple of days ago, I noticed a jackrabbit running beside my pickup. For fun I began increasing my speed to see if he could keep up. These critters are amazing. At about 30 miles per hour he was passing me. It seemed he wanted to cross in front of me. Suddenly he took a sharp left turn and dashed across the road. Then it happened. Still at top speed, this most agile of animals, tripped over a weed, and rolled about 20 feet, a blur of long legs, ears, white belly and dust. A lot of dust. Finally he came to a stop, righted himself, looked around for a moment and hopped away. I’m not sure how much brain power a jack rabbit has. I do know that this one finally drove home to my brain what my mother had been trying to tell me for years.

“Slow down. You’ll get there quicker.”

Later that same day, as I was feeding the cows, one cow came to the hay apparently unconcerned that she was beginning to give birth to a calf. I watched her nonchalantly consume her fair share of the hay, then slowly stroll off a few yards, lay down and give birth to a nice bull calf. At 10 years old, this was her ninth calf. She seemed to be reminding me of something. Don’t get in a hurry. Everything will work itself out if you just take your time.

Going to try that someday.