This is a work of fiction, despite being written in the first-person perspective.
I opened the truck door and swiveled myself to the side before extending my cane. I stepped off the truck and planted my feet and cane on the ground.
At the back of the truck, my dad was already unloading some of the hay bales off the truck bed. They landed on the dusty ground with a flat thud. Soon the cows would be arriving.
I moved forward to help. Shifting my cane back and forth, I made my way toward one of the hay bales. I tapped the cane once, then twice. But when I brought it down again, it landed on something soft. I cursed.
Even though I knew what happened, I lifted the cane up for me to see it more carefully. Sure enough. The tip landed in a semi-fresh pile of cow manure.
How many times had this happened? Too many to count. I sighed and whipped the cane back and forth. Then I wiped it off on a boot heel.
“Otra vez?” my dad said, a touch of humor in his words.
I nodded. “Yep. Again. Every time I come to the ranch, the cane has to land on crap,” I said.
Luckily I had two canes, one I used around the ranch and the one I used when I went to school and for social settings. Still, it angered me that without fail, the cane seemed to be drawn to the cow’s waste.
Tapping away, I walked over to one of the hay bales. I gripped one of the metal wires that wrapped around it and pulled it away from the side of the truck. I pulled with one hand while tapping at the ground in front of me with the cane.
Once the bale was a distance away from the truck, I stepped over to the nearby fence and leaned the cane against it. Even though I was legally blind, my remaining vision was sufficient to get around without my cane. And it was easier to work with the bale without a cumbersome cane in one hand.
Returning to the hay bale, I used my hands to pry out first one of the two wires wrapped around it and then the other. The bale accordioned outward. I quickly folded the wires together and put the folded wires in my back pocket of my pants.
Dad sounded the truck’s horn. He gave it three short blasts and a long one. Then three short blasts again. On cue and in the distance the looing of cows was heard. They would be rushing to the hay. I set to work quickly. I didn’t like getting caught among the cows as I tossed the hay. It always made me nervous.
I made quick work of separating the hay bale, throwing the pieces of hay far apart from each other so the cows wouldn’t horn each other while eating.
I grabbed my cane and headed back to the truck, tossing the folded-up wires in back of the truck. Dad and I leaned against the truck, watching the cows arrive. They came in twos and threes, coming out of the brush. They came eager to eat the hay and soon the entire herd of cattle was eating.
Once the cattle settled, Dad and I walked among them. Dad walked ahead of me. I lingered a few steps behind, my cane tapping on the ground and close to my body. I walked precariously. When I first got the cane the year before, I was constantly scared that a cow would attack or charge me because of the red near the bottom of the cane. It was a needless worry, as no animal had come close to charging me. Still, I was cautious.
- Roel -
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