Lo! Cows are much alike to us; and, if God will, we may be led aright.

Sûrah II, The Cow

Summer heat ripens the grass. Cows are up in the high meadows, strung out thinly along the contours. Lower down the slopes others mill in the shade of pine groves. More are chewing the cud on the riverbanks. My heart sinks, for I was hoping to round them in quickly toward the farmyard so I could go swimming. I stand with two experienced herdsmen. They look at me, and perceiving my anxious state, one of them says with a twinkle in his eyes, “Looks like we are going to be here all day.” The alluring lazy weather seems to agree, and I hear myself say, “It’s going to take hours.”

We walk together, the men and I, along a winding animal-path. We are deep in a valley, with the play of the river sounding cold water into stone-ringed pools. After twenty minutes, the men stop and survey the settlements of cattle. They squat and call me closer to them. One takes a blanket that he has been carrying and throws it over the three of us. The other cups his hands over his mouth and begins to make a low moaning. He gradually raises the pitch, all the while peering out through an opening in the blanket. The bawling vibrating from his belly boomerangs throughout the valley. I hear it turning, turning. One by one, each of the animals scattered over the landscape shifts its attention in the direction of the emanations, and within moments some begin to gravitate towards the source of the calling. At first this movement is only a trickle, but it grows steadily until even those animals which had been lying comfortably have risen and are heading along the line of the call. It is not long before there is a small herd moving towards the three figures squatting under the blanket. With measured application, the man-made sound continues, its vibration suspended in the fertile silence. After removing the blanket, the caller heads west in the direction of the corral. His companion beckons me, and we swing out, casual but steady, clear in intent to come up behind the herd.

That afternoon I observed simplicity of approach, and received without words a technique which to this day lives in me and gives me pleasure.

To teach without teaching calls for a tough skin and a sensitive heart and in my living memory, the two wise herdsmen were suffused with this teaching. They walked, falling calmly upright into their listening place on the line of generations drawing the cows home with an effortless effort. And I, the grateful student, that evening devoted the hours that I envisioned would be spent running up and down the hillsides to diving for white stones in the river.