Of Yearning and Mercy, Part II
November 9. Day 5, A Private Ranch in Chekotah, Oklahoma. I arrived this expansive Oklahoma ranch yesterday just before sundown. It is quiet here, a world apart from the highway . . . and home. Not that home is not quiet, but each mile is a distance, a reach on this journey of untold days.
The small herd of longhorn cattle and chickens here are “for petting not eating,” I am told. We are vegetarians,” says S, the owner and caretaker. This proclamation enchants me: a cattle ranch shepherded by vegetarians. It is immediately visible to me that she and her husband, C, steward this pastoral land and shepherd the animals that feed from this place.
I purchase eggs and pet the hen who gave them. She turns her pointy beak toward my hand. Already, her body is preparing to offer more of the substance of her life. I know she does not do so for me.
She gives to brood over until what she broods faces the morning sun, sees the light of day. Once taken from her and washed free of what traveled with …