Blindness

As I lost the battle of holding the flashlight between my chin and chest this morning in the pitch-black darkness of the wee morning hours I had a moment of blindness. The magnificent beam of the high strength flashlight my son-in-law had given me a few years ago had flicked off when it hit the ground somewhere with lumber all around. From there it must have rolled into the only crevice anywhere around the spot it dropped.

Even after a few moments of adjusting my eyes to the darkness I could not find the flashlight. Finally, I relented and took my gloves off, pulled my cellphone out of my jacket, and turned the flashlight app on. It was then that I saw there was a crevice between the lumber pieces and eventually saw the shiny black metal glimmering back at me.

Within two minutes or less I surmise before I was out of the blindness. What if the blindness was a permanent physical attribute? How would I find my way around the barnyard and cattle herd? I have often said over the last fourteen years that I could drive myself blindfolded out to the ranch as I make the trek twice on a minimum each day – almost 365 days a year. Sometimes I get a few days or a glorious week off for good behavior! 

Just because I could drive blindfolded and navigate my way out to the ranch be certain dear readers, I wouldn’t. Why, not even on a double dog dare? The answer is simple. I may know my way by heart and feel or tread of the truck tires but there is one huge variable, what might come into my path that I can’t obviously see, wouldn’t necessarily hear, or smell being contained in the truck. Quite often I have more people suddenly interject themselves into my lane of traffic than animals but there are those too.

Just yesterday I had to slow to almost a stop while the car in front of me (out of stater) decided to full on stop for a flock of turkeys crossing the road. Even if the license plate hadn’t signaled me to the fact, they were out of stater’s I would have known they weren’t from this neck of the woods. Turkeys are large but they are foul animals and can most definitely fly. Yep, you heard it, if you didn’t already know it – turkeys can fly!

How do I know this? Well, each night for the last couple years since 100 wild turkeys have called the ranch home, they fly up into the tallest ponderosa pine tree they can find. That is also why they multiply and aren’t picked off by predators. They don’t sleep on the ground. That is how they stay blind to nightly predators, and you don’t find them beak up on the asphalt. 

This morning, I had to come to a full stop and let four deer of various sizes and ages cross the road when they blindly jumped into it in front of me. When they did this, it gave me more thought on blindness. I’m sure the deer wouldn’t have avoided me if I was blindfolded driving down the road if the roles were reversed. 

Having known two blind individuals in my life, I know for certain that they may indeed have a disability but that doesn’t stop either of them from living life to its fullest nor avoiding activities that they enjoy even if more challenging. In fact, one of them would be quite indignant with you if you even said they were “disabled” because of their blindness. 

One of my most sweet, beautiful, young Hereford cows became blind after a double pink eye infection in 2017. The condition was so grave that we weren’t sure at the time if she wouldn’t lose both eyes as well. She was born in the year of flavorings when it came to naming the calves and so this cow was named Spice. Her best cow friend, Clover, was born just a month after her. Fortunately, Spice was the only cow that acquired the infection from the mass number of flies that year up in the summer pastures. 

I had discovered it when doing my weekly check and by the time I was able to get back up to the summer pastures with a trailer in tow the infection had worsened. Luckily her calf was a good calm one that allowed us to trailer them without incident but not before Clover and her own calf jumped in the trailer too. Once Spice was back at the ranch the vet was called, and the eyes were both treated and sewn shut for several weeks. Blindfolds were also glued to her face around the eyes to keep them as clean and protected as possible to allow healing to begin. The hope was that she wouldn’t lose her sight altogether.

Since there were no other cows on the ranch during the summer months, I became close to this group of four. They were fascinating to watch. When the calves weren’t suckling milk or sleeping as calves do, Clover would walk slow swishing her tail to allow Spice to feel and smell it allowing her to follow and wander the ranch’s pastures and graze with her. This amazed me. How did Clover know? How did Spice know to follow? How did they communicate this? Over time Spice could be seen meandering the familiar pastures and trails around the ranch by herself as her other senses had picked up where her eyes could not. 

Around the six-week mark the blindfolds began to wear away and eventually fall from her face. I’m sure she scratched her face against anything that felt good too. The heat and stiffness of the blindfolds probably caused quite the itching. The sutures were finally removed and as suspected her beautiful eyes were cloudy. Her left eye had enough vision that she could easily be spooked. Most likely she only saw shadows but there wasn’t really a way to know for certain. 

I just learned not to come at her quickly without speaking first as she recognized my voice and seem to take comfort in it the same way whenever Clover was with her. Spice adapted at being 90% blind and is still with me today. She is one of the most peaceful cows on the ranch and if there was a best cow mom award it would certainly be hers. You will often still find Clover and Spice together resting in the shade of the ponderosa pine trees or grazing on one of the ranch’s pastures, friends forever. 

However, each summer following Spice and her calf of the year would have to remain on the ranch while the rest of the herd went to the summer pastures. It was just too wide an area with unfamiliar terrains for Spice to traverse even with Clover as her guide. It would be as dangerous as me driving blindfolded to the ranch. Blindness is a vulnerability to what lays in our path. 

Sometimes we humans are “blind” without the impairment of physical blindness. We have obliviousness, unawareness, inattentiveness or absentmindedness towards a person or situation that can be just as or even more treacherous than driving blindfolded. 

We are unable or unwilling to discern such as “blind to a loved one’s faults”, or unquestioning such as “blind loyalty”, or having not regard to rational guidance such as “blind choice”, or lacking a directing or controlling consciousness such as “blind chance”, or “to turn a blind-eye” in which you intentionally ignore or overlook something especially if conscientiously you know it to be wrong.

I know I’m not alone or embarrassed by saying that sometimes I need a Clover in my life to swish her tail diverting me back out of my own blindness and into full vision of what lay ahead. When? Well. Someone saying all the right things in your ears but actions not aligning with the words, but you keep listening. Continuing to take someone’s defense without relenting because there’s no way you’re going to admit you were wrong about them even when you know you are. A little ache or pain that’s easy to blow it off as aging or random only to end up in the er or emergency surgery. Hearing something about someone you care about but not wanting to “get involved” or have people look at you, and so you wave it off and pretend you didn’t hear it. 

Any of those sound familiar? There are always lessons to be learned from watching the cattle herd. I’m not saying that I don’t have faith and belief in God, but he formed us with brains, hearts, and with free choice. He isn’t responsible for our blindnesses. That is completely on us! 

I wouldn’t often tell others to “act like an animal” but in this instance perhaps it’s fitting. I’m not going to use “blindness” as an excuse and I hope you won’t either.