Sometimes it's important to take time over something. Some tasks need care and patience. Some things should not be rushed.
Every morning, I let the blind cockerel, Cogburn out of the controlled environment of his run, for some exercise. I can only do this when the other cockerels and the geese are safely out of the way, for as big as he is, he remains the most vulnerable animal on the field.
I have a 101 things to do most mornings. Today was no different. I needed to fill the water butts on the field border, the eggs in the incubator in the kitchen needed candling, potatoes needed to be planted in bosoms, which is now full of weeds after the overnight rain and I needed to start the strimming of the mountains of nettles which are now screening the pig pen, but something in Cogburn's behaviour made me pause for a moment in order to watch him.
In the breeze and the early morning sunshine, Cogburn seemed to blossom. He moved his big feet on the grass, like a city dweller does when on the beach for the first time , and he turned his head to face the warmth of the sun, blinking his unseeing eyes slowly and carefully in obvious enjoyment.
It may sound odd to say it, but it was incredibly moving to see the big fella so alive and so vital.
Despite the list of jobs, irritatingly fixed inside my head.
I slowly sat down beside the blind old cockerel to let him enjoy the morning sun without being rushed