Grandpa and the hardworking cow

If life means death, then death means the arrival of a new life. Life is only a reincarnation, originating from nature and belonging to nature.   People are like this, all animals are like this.   Time flies, and in a twinkling of an eye, more than 30 years have passed, and the shadow of my yellow bull still remains in my heart today.   In my childhood, in my dim memory, a yellow bull was kept in my family. It was swollen with tendinous flesh, shiny hair, thick neck, legs like pillars, long tail, and was very cute.   This yellow bull can be called grandpa’s good friend. When grandpa was young, he was a famous tailor in the local area. In his later years, he had sewing machines in the countryside, and his manual way gradually narrowed.. All the year round, except for some old people who made some leather clothes, grandpa was basically idle at home and no one asked him to do sewing work.. Father brought the yellow bull back from the production team, probably to find some work for the elderly grandfather, or let the yellow bull be his companion.   Since the yellow bull entered the door, grandpa had just turned pale in the east every morning, and the genius was now bright. he got up and led the yellow bull up the hill. grandpa often said, ” the cow is full, so he can work hard.”. During the day, whether it’s summer, winter or hot, grandpa carried a basket and waded through the mountains and mountains, cutting cattle and grass and preparing a hearty lunch for the yellow bull..   In the evening, the team stopped working. The afterglow of the sunset shone long on the path. Some villagers were carrying hoes and holding sheep. Some carried firewood and hurried home with the children.   At this moment, grandpa took back the yellow bull who had finished his day’s work in the production team from the farmer’s hand, took it to the river to drink water and washed the yellow mud off the cow with water.. Then, driving the yellow bull to walk along the river, the yellow bull seemed to be afraid of the silence of the day and night at this moment, munching the grass on the side of the road into his big mouth, ruminating and chewing it carefully, and slowly coming home until dark..   Grandpa can be careful with the yellow bull. It snows in winter. Grandpa will give the cow the forage he has already cut, and he will also stew warm boiled water for the cow to drink.. Every time grandpa wants to go out, the task of cattle herding naturally falls on my head, and grandpa always tells me this and that as if he were not at ease.!   In fact, after school at that time, I would rather be the latter of the two household chores of finding pig grass and herding cattle at home.. Because cattle herding can not only be combined with reading, but also be fun. The yellow bull was tamed by his grandfather, so long as you call out, ” ah Huang,” it will stop eating grass and look at you with its ears open and its blue eyes open.. Every time I touch its curved knife-like pointed horn, it will twist its pointed horn to touch me and itch. As soon as I put it on the mountain, I saw its tongue rolling around in the grass like a sickle and never running all over the mountain.. At this time, I will leisurely lie on the big rock and read my favorite books.   There is an old saying in the countryside: ” More cattle till more fields.” In fact, it is not. At that time, the rural collective work quota, docile and obedient cattle, so that cattle, people are competing for use, resulting in the phenomenon of’ good cattle plow more fields’.   The yellow bull in my family has a gentle temper and is good at communicating with others. Whether it’s sunny, rainy, windy or snowy, it’s the same as working hard at work.. Every time the tiller pulls it into the ground, it will take the initiative to stretch out its neck to let you put a yoke on it and trip the shoulder rope. You call out, ” Go,” it immediately raises its head, gathers its hooves, and moves forward vigorously, as if stepping on the mountains and clouds, making people feel comfortable.. When it comes to the end of the field, it will take the initiative to stop and watch the tiller and never pull the crops. All you need to do is shout, ” Come here,” and it immediately turns around without saying a word, straightens up its waist and pulls the plough to the utmost.. Even if it is sometimes too tired to gasp for breath and foaming at the mouth, it still pulls the plough relentlessly and never steals half a step of laziness. Anyone who uses it to plow the field, catch up with the ground and rake the ground will boast that the yellow bull is obedient so that it can work well..   Spring ploughing, summer sowing and autumn harvest, crops are planted year after year and harvested again. The yellow land that has been ploughed, raked and raked by yellow cattle grows green and luxuriant on a slope of corn and small sorghum. A fan of rice green, rippling like a green sea with the wind, all thanks to the yellow bull. The garden is full of grain and fruitful results, which all have the dedication of yellow bull.   In the middle of last century, nightmarish poverty hung around our countryside, where poor mountains, poor water, poor land and poor people did not escape the unfortunate fate of our yellow bull..   I remember that one morning in the deep winter, grandpa took yellow bull to the back mountain as usual at dawn. the temperature was very low and the ground was covered with a layer of white frost and the road was slippery..   Grandpa took the yellow bull to eat grass and walked forward. Unfortunately, when the cow’s feet slipped, the yellow bull fell down and fell to a stone ridge more than 10 meters high. Grandpa hurriedly jumped off the stone ridge and pulled the bull’s nose hard. The yellow bull was limping and limping to its feet. When I came home, I asked the veterinarian to come over and have a look. Huang Gunniu was diagnosed with a fracture of the back thigh.. From then on, I can no longer work as a ploughman and become a waste cow..   Grandpa was very regretful and hurt for this.   It was also because of poverty at that time that only at the festival in the countryside did the production team kill a few pigs and give them to members for a festival. The team had a population of several hundred and a few pigs turned to a family of only a few catties of meat.. Members can’t eat meat several times a year, so they used to call eating meat a’ bruising sacrifice’. ‘ The production team saw that the yellow bull in my house was disabled and raised again, and the team also had to post work points.. Therefore, the team committee decided at a meeting to kill Huang Gunniu and let the members make a sumptuous food.   The next day, my sister and I went to school, and the captain brought two butchers into my house. grandpa pleaded with the captain with tears: ” can I not kill this yellow bull, I don’t want the team to work and feed it?”. Obviously, grandpa’s words are useless.  Later, it was said that when the two butchers entered the cow stall, Huang Cuan seemed to understand everything. A pair of front legs’ plop’ kneel down to grandpa, and long tears flow out of his eyes.   Grandpa said that tears had already filled his eyes and thought, ” Huang, listen.”. ‘ but his mouth seemed to be blocked by cotton and he could not say it after all.   On that day, the team divided beef and gave my family ( cattle feeders ) an extra two catties to split the flesh and blood.. In the evening, the mother put the beef and the basket on a big pot of stew, and the children all scrambled to eat, but grandpa did not move a chopstick, and the rice was only stripped twice, without even washing it, and went to bed..   At that time, we were young and thought it was grandpa’s body that day, or what was wrong, and we didn’t know that grandpa was blaming himself for breaking the leg of the yellow bull.!   Since then, grandpa, who has always been open-minded and optimistic, has been unhappy all day and has since become silent..   In the autumn of the next year, grandpa, who had passed more than 80 years of the Spring and Autumn Period, had never taken a medicine or hit a stiff plate with a needle, and finally fell down. Once he fell ill on the bed, he never stood up again..   After grandpa’s illness, he still read Huang Cuan in his heart, and until his old man’s death, he still intermittently and vaguely read the name’ ah Huang’.   Many years later, in the sealed memory, every time I think of grandpa, I will think of yellow bull and the sad tears of bull..   Now, it seems that the tears of the bull sang for life, and it interpreted life so beautifully. Because this life is like the wind, dancing lightly. Life is like rain, penetrating everything. Life is like a wisp of clear spring, watering people’s impetuous heart.   Even if the earth-shaking changes have taken place in our life today, I will never forget the yellow bull, because we cannot live without it in the past, nor can we live without it now, and more importantly, this wonderful world cannot live without it..   In my mind, the Yellow Bull’s River of Life is flowing into the sea, but the land it flows through was once the land it cultivated, and its life still extends over that land -.