The First Day of Spring

Yesterday was the first day of spring. It snowed a little in the morning, but that did not last long.

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Lawrence came by as usual, because it was Wednesday. But because he had seen him as recently as Monday, Bow did not display at him. Instead, he was calm and happy to see Lawrence, and Lawrence was able to go in with him immediately.

While this is not in the nature of a great scientific discovery about chimpanzees, and it ought to be well known to anyone who has ever worked with a chimpanzee, it is still worth repeating: to do well with Bow, you need consistent and frequent contact. The absence of a day is not a big problem, but if you are away for a week, you are already a bit of a stranger. That's why people who used to have good relationships with a chimpanzee but went away for a prolonged period of time cannot come back and expect to be greeted with open arms. I believe a lot of tragedies could be averted if everyone were aware of this fact.

The human attitude toward time, distance and strangers has changed a lot since prehistoric times. But we would all do well to realize that long absences do change relationships and that absence does not, in most cases, make the heart grow fonder.

In the afternoon,  Sword and her friend came over to study French and then go to their music lesson together, and Bow got to have a nice chat with Sword's friend. He was calm, well-behaved and happy as he greeted her.

Wednesdays are my days off so that I can accompany Sword and her friend to their lesson. It is always a treat for me to visit the Dabney Farm, which I honestly feel is a magical place. Yesterday, as we drove up, we saw Trixie, the milk cow, grazing peacefully in the front yard.

I stopped to take some pictures. There was an American flag on the front balcony, and in the yard the cow was grazing. It was such a pretty sight.

When we all came in the front door, Jill Dabney, the music teacher, greeted us with this question: "Did you see our lawn mower?" At first, I was confused, for I had seen a cow, but not a lawn mower. Then I realized that she meant Trixie. As the girls started their vocal warm up exercises, I went up front to get a closer look at the lawn mower.

Wouldn't it be great to have a lawn mower who not only cuts your grass down short, but also converts what she has eaten into milk?

Later during the music lesson, Jill noticed that Trixie had come up to the door. Jill went out and asked her: "Have you had enough? Do you want to go back?" And the cow mooed an assent.

"We have an arrangement," Jill explained to me. "Trixie is free to walk around and graze all she wants, and when she is done she goes back and feeds the calf."

But the animals are not the only  magic I observed at the Dabney Farm yesterday. Even their flag seems to furl and unfurl in response to the music!

When I came home to relieve Lawrence, Bow was happy and content, and I was thoroughly refreshed.

Don't Be a Stranger

People sometimes ask me what it takes to maintain a good relationship with Bow. I think the old adage "don't be a stranger" is the key. People say this to each other, and what they mean is: "Don't forget to drop by. Don't stay away so long that by the time you come back again we won't recognize you, or will feel funny around you."

Human society right now is very confused about this issue. We tell our children not to talk to strangers, and yet we expect them to interact with strangers every day. People send their children to preschools where the caretakers are expected to be interchangeable. They go to schools where if the teacher is sick, on leave or in state mandated programs for self-improvement, another person that the children have never seen before in their lives can step in at a moment's notice and expect to get the same level of obedience and trust as the previous teacher. So we tell them not to talk to strangers, but require them to talk to strangers all the time. It's just one of many, many double messages that we send.

Yesterday afternoon, I went to an event at my daughter's school. I sat on the bleachers among a sea of strangers, and we watched one of those rituals that help to weave communities together: a basketball tournament. A hoop queen crowning. Families and children packed like sardines together, and nobody minding that strangers were touching them on all sides.

Nobody made a display to say "I am stronger than you are, so watch out," because that display was ritualized in the form of basketball. And nobody went around saying "I am the alpha female," because that competition was also ritualized.

Meanwhile, in order to leave early to attend this event, I had to have Lawrence come on Thursday to sit with Bow, even though he had just been here on Wednesday. And guess what? Even though on Wednesday, just like every other Wednesday, Bow made a powerful display of his might that lasted a full five minutes before Lawrence was allowed to go in, when Lawrence came on Thursday Bow just shrugged, as if to say: "Yeah, go ahead. Come in."

There was no challenge. There was no rattling of the doors, and Bow's hair did not stand on end. Lawrence could go in, because he hadn't been a stranger. If you came over yesterday, you can come today, too. No problem. Stay away for a whole week, and you are a stranger and have to earn your stripes.

I came home wearing my "cool mom" outfit, and Bow was not impressed. I'm no stranger, so it really doesn't matter what I wear. I'm okay.

That is the secret. There's nothing more to it than that. But  in a society where time is money, few people can afford not to be strangers, even to their own children.

The Stranger Outside May be a Cow

This morning there was a commotion among the dogs, and Bow got up on his highest perch that allows him to see best what is going on in the front yard. He seemed concerned that there might be a stranger on our property.

Bow does not like to have strangers anywhere nearby, and it even bothers him if there are people just outside the property line whom he sees as a possible threat to our territorial integrity.

I told Bow I would go out and see what it was. Here is what I saw.

There were cows in the neighboring field, and they were a little closer to our property line than they usually get. That's all.

Fortunately, when I went back in, I was able to show Bow the footage I had shot, and he was satisfied that the cows posed no real threat to our security. All is right with the world!