Hurry Slowly & other fables of 40 Hectare Farm

By cookiejar

Seventy original fables. Less like Aesop and more like Brothers Grimm meet Winnie-the-Pooh. Life is hard, but rich with moments of wonderment. Fables tell us a bit about both. They tell us about ourselves. Owlbert, Dolly llama, and Fergus dispense wisdom of the head, heart, and hands to a cast of dozens. Mental, spiritual, and practical words of wisdom. You may find yourself on Forty Hectare Farm.

• Language: English
• Publisher: cookiejar
• Release date: Feb 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223313984

Book preview

Appreciation

There is more to life than simply increasing its speed.

Mahatma Gandhi

Cob Corn

Refuse all but the best, and you’ll receive nothing left.

When the farmhand tossed cob corn into the pen, most piglets butted heads in their rush to the trough. Not Oinkers, however, who held herself special and made a spectacle of pushing to the back.

Oinkers was easily the most pinky-clean pig; a state curiously not prized by her peers. Still, she earned an occasional smile from the farmhand, who would surely save her the biggest cob.

The biggest cob was indeed saved for last, but tossed and gobbled by the biggest of pigs. For a long moment Oinkers blinked disbelief, then she let out a squeal and tossed herself into the mud.

Talk the Talk

To be effective, a message must first be understood.

Animals understand each other. Much like laughter or tears, with a hiss here or roar there, the message is clear, and any difference is in the accent. Most animals, most messages; not all. Sometimes, a hiss is just a hiss, and it’s a mistake to make it a roar.

Sometimes, a lack of listening accounts for misunderstanding. Doodle rooster, for instance, knows the least and knows it the loudest. The word listen, reflects Owlbert, hoo hoo takes it all in, has the same letters as silent.

The farmhand understands the animals. A moo here or oink there, chirp, croak, or quack. But it might be said the farmhand understands context and infers content. A desire for food or attention or expression of injury. What would I utter under the circumstances?

Old Hens

Memories are a second chance at happiness.

As the farmhand opened the hen coop for cleaning, the old birds waddled out, clucking all the while. A horde of chick cousins pushed them aside in a rush toward the sun to flap flightless wings.

In the yard, the chicks chased one another. They chased leaves in the breeze and even chased their own shadows. Eggatha and Yolko, two hip young chicks, asked why the hens did little but cluck. No chasing.

That brought on a cackle from the senior avians. Best be about your run while the sun still shines, chuckled the hen Henrietta, for one day will you, with slow bandy legs, come to understand.

Migration

Measure success by your personal best.

Daddy drake held the ducklings’ attention on the pond. We are migratory birds with long flights ahead. We must flap these wings so small, so fast to hoist bone-heavy bodies up above to the clouds.

They practiced all day, each determined to master liftoff, gliding, and formation while flying. Dawn grew into the afternoon, and afternoon turned to dusk. Angus was natural, but Fergus … well, wasn’t.

Angus asked his brother why the big smile when you barely made it across Skitter Pond’s length. This morning, I landed in cattails which sprout midway, Fergus said. Having flown over, I’m double as far as myself at dawn.

Hard Work

We work hard to avoid harder work.

Why does the farmhand work so hard? Angus asked Fergus as they landed by the shed. Lift this, push that; dawn to dusk. The two ducks