A Good Day

Yesterday’s field-harvest . . . was a special one for me.

With the passing of my dad, it’s been a rough month.

(Understatement of the year.)

And yesterday morning I was feeling tired and down.

But I had a slot at the butcher, and the work has to get done.

So I saddled up and field-harvested a bison and then drove it to a different pasture to field-dress it.

I was a little over a half mile from our house.

I went to work field-dressing it — and just was not myself.

I was not in a good head space.

And then I heard two little voices in the distance.

I couldn’t see them, but I heard Otto and Greta.

It made me smile; I love their voices.

I continued to work.

And then I heard one of them yell, “Dad!”

I looked over and saw them walking towards me through the sagebrush.

They were out exploring — and stopped by to see me. They stayed with me while I finished field-dressing the bison.

The bison are shedding their winter coats right now, and Otto and Greta pulled a bunch of hair out and left it on the landscape for the birds and small critters that use it to line their nests and dens for warmth.

I snapped a few photos to remember the field-harvest.

When the work was finished, they walked off to continue exploring, and I drove to the house to clean myself up.

Otto and Greta completely changed the trajectory of my day.

I was smiling, and I had energy again. And it lasted the rest of the day.

It might seem minor, but it was a good day, and it felt big to me.

The moral of the story?

I love these two so fucking much it hurts.

— Matt