Category Archives: Learning

Are We Driving or Communicating?

So, at least in theory, I recently learned how to work with an oxen team. I’d been saying that I was going to learn to drive oxen. Among my many discoveries was that working with oxen is more about communicating with them than driving them.

“Whooooa, Boys!” Notice I am moving the goad in front of them.

I heard one of my instructors say more than once. “You’re confusing them. They don’t know what you want them to do!” Staying focused on communicating was a bigger challenge than it might seem. And at times, it was funny. Mostly though, it was frustrating!

In brief, trained oxen receive information from the teamster in three ways. The first is (or at least should be) spatial—the body position of the teamster. Second is the “goad” or stick and where and how they are touched. The third is verbal. There is some indication that they hear vowels best. So “whoooooa” works better than “whoa.” The best example of confusing them was when I’d say, “Whoa!” but keep walking. (In my mind, it made sense because I wanted to get in front of them. In their bovine minds, I was sending mixed signals.)

Instructor Rob is a school teacher. We had lots of fun making comparisons. One was the comment, “What you’re doing shouts louder than what you’re saying.” You don’t have to work with kids for long before you realize “Do as I say and not as I do” doesn’t work well.

While a 2,000+ pound ox doesn’t engage in what we call “higher levels of reasoning,” the basics are the same. That said, two of the teams I worked with were extremely well-trained. One team of Devons would stand and let me walk some distance away. I could then raise my goad and call, “Right here, boys,” and they would walk to me and stop with their heads on either side of me.

We students had to learn a bit about herd instinct and survival from predators. Rob occasionally reminded us that building trust with the beasts was important. “You may have to convince them you’re not trying to kill them.” Herd instinct requires they accept you as the top ox.

Here’s an interesting comparison. My Ram pickup truck weighs about the same as a large pair of oxen. During Road Trip 2024, I drove that truck over 3,600 miles, mostly by pushing pedals, turning the wheel, and flipping switches. (I’m purposely omitting occasional arguments with the voice feature of the GPS.) The truck doesn’t have a mind of its own or any instincts. It just does what you tell it to do.

Oxen require a bit more understanding and communication than my truck or your car. You can’t just drive them. One of the things I found challenging is the amount of attention required with oxen, particularly when pulling something. There is no cruise control!

Of course, all analogies break down if you press them, but in addition to the joy of working with these large animals, it was great to be reminded of some of the basic truths about effective communication. I’m still processing, but a few important lessons can be learned.

Don’t send mixed messages! If you say “whoa,” stop moving. Remember: “What you are doing is shouting so loud I can’t hear what you’re saying.” Let’s get everything aligned.

Use multiple communication strategies! Oxen expect to be told and shown by position and the goad. With humans, say it, write it, demonstrate it. I’m not suggesting you email someone and ask if they got your text. Texting serves a different purpose than emailing or calling. Chose wisely.

Speak the language of the listener! With oxen, “Come here!” is not the same as “Right here!” Be conscious of buzzwords and implied meanings. Do you want me to do something, or do you need me to do something? Also, oxen can’t talk back. Humans can. Take advantage of that by asking humans what they heard or read.

Use the listener’s name freely! To make a team of oxen turn sharp left, one has to slow down and perhaps stop completelyit’s like driving a bulldozer. You’ll need to tell one ox (by name), “Haw!” and the other (by name), “Whoa!” (The goad and your body position are important. Use multiple communication strategies!)

When we want a team of oxen to do something, good communication is effective. “Driving” is not. Picture grabbing a 2,000-pound animal by the horns and making him stop. It’s not likely to happen. Picture yourself being dragged in the direction the team chooses. It might make for a funny video to post on social media, but it’s not likely to achieve the desired result.

When done correctly, communication is powerful. It beats driving any day once you get the hang of it.

Rachel’s Right–Again!

Instead of counting minutes, maybe count priorities.

Being in Lancaster County always feels a bit like being home again. We made this year’s visit towards the end of Road Trip 2024 somewhat intentionally to aid us in the “re-entry” to life as we usually practice it.

This sign on a Pennsylvania Bank serves as a reminder that we’re in Amish Country. Maybe I should have brought “my” oxen! (Yes, I’ve seen buggies at the drive-up window.)

One of our first stops was to see our young Amish friends Katie, Hanna Rose, and Rachel. All three are wise beyond their years, and their years are increasing. I was especially curious to talk with Rachel. We had a shared interest in teaching–what fun it was to compare notes! But last year we learned that she’d stopped teaching–Katie spilled the beans, explaining, “She’s in a relationship.”

After some friendly teasing, Rachel explained that it’s possible to have too many priorities and that, while she enjoyed teaching, her relationship and future family would be her focus. (Read last year’s story here.

When we arrived this year, one of the young boys was sent to get her—she was helping her mother make and can ketchup. After a few preliminaries, I was not surprised to learn that she’s getting married on October 29th. She was glowing, and it was not just from the hot work of washing dishes.

Most conversations with the Amish I find are very mutual. She seemed equally interested in what I was doing and planning. At one point, I reminded her of our age difference and said, “I’m told that at my age, the two most important words are ‘comfort’ and ‘fun.'” She interrupted.

“And peace,” she said. “Don’t forget peace.”

The interruption surprised me, but the suggestion didn’t. Making peace a priority makes sense at any age. It’s one reason I try to keep my worry box small, so there’s not a lot of room for things to worry about. The peaceful pace is one thing that attracts me to the Amish. Rachel isn’t the only one who counts priorities instead of minutes and hours.

Sure, it’s possible to have too many priorities. But it’s also possible not to have enough or to miss an important one. It almost goes without saying that we should constantly check our priorities against our values. When I talked with my new Amish friend Roy in Ohio, he expressed some concern over the proliferation of e-bikes among the Amish. He’s not sure how that will change their communities over time. Questions like that are often more important than the answers. Our priorities should be driven by our values. We have more control over our values and priorities than we often exercise or even realize.

Thanks to Rachel, I’m adding “peace” to my package of priorities. I explained to her that I’ve always worked towards what I call “positive apathy.” It showed up last night when we stopped for ice cream at an Amish farm.

Grandma had a spray bottle and cloth and was eyeing the outside tables. I glanced heavenward and joked that it was likely to rain soon and the tables would wash themselves. She smiled and said, “We really need the rain.” (Rain should be a priority!) So, while I’d hoped to walk some with the camera, the rain is needed by the farmers and the earth. So be it. There is no need to worry or get upset. Peace, comfort, fun.

It may seem ironic that I’m adding to a package that is getting smaller, but I think it works that way. As the saying goes, “Less is more.”

Rain can be calming.

And Four to Go!

It’s just about a half-mile from our house to the paved road. As we settle in our seats, that half-mile is an opportunity for us to clear our heads and remember something we either forgot or didn’t do. At the risk of bragging, we rarely find it necessary to turn around and go back.

Our first break will likely be in Gardiner, where we’ll recycle some coffee. Following the wisdom of serious road trippers, our first day is our most ambitious with a goal of Danbury, CT. It’s all familiar territory, and if we get an early start, the traffic on 495 should be tolerable. Note that we didn’t plan to leave Maine on Sunday.

Are we ready? A common answer is, “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” So there might be a theory of relativity on readiness. I just remembered a few minutes ago that I need to pump up the EZ Pass. I wasn’t as ready as I thought I was! (Yes, it does so automatically. But depending on technology is not without hazards. A few years ago, I went through two tolls close together. The balance ran out after the first one, and I didn’t have time to replenish before the second. A $2 toll became $30.)

Have we left? Well, not physically. But in our minds…

So many things are relative. That might mean there are more processes than events, and that’s worth considering.

Many years ago, I attended Berkshire Community College. The first president, Tom O’Connell, was justifiably proud of our motto. “To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.” I remember him talking about it during a “President’s Hour.” I think he planted the seeds of my belief that life is an “unfinishedness.” For that matter, arriving may be relative as well. While planning and goals are important, we live in present moments.

Simple. This trip started months ago. When will it end? Maybe, in the truest sense, it won’t. Those present moments create change.

This portion of life’s journey begins with rereading “The Brook” by Alfred Lord Tennyson.

And out again I curve and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

Two for the Show!

In the previous post, I mentioned the possibility of “coincidence or Karma” influencing some of our decisions. We were initially planning a “Road Trip 2025.” How that became “Road Trip 2024” might be a matter of coincidence or Karma.

My uncle was a dairy farmer. I blame him for my interest and love of all things cow. As a kid, I “helped” put up hay bales (rode on the baler), stood in the silo while it rained silage, helped with the milking… Our only difference was that he loved to watch horse pulling at fairs. I prefer ox draws. The competition is fun, but I just enjoy watching a good team being driven by a skilled teamster. Somewhere along the way, I realized I’d love to be “in the pit” and closer to the oxen.

For the uninitiated, an ox (singular) is a bovine trained and used as a draft animal. They are usually castrated bulls and fairly docile and safe to work with and are best trained starting as calves. The vocabulary is potentially confusing. In simple terms, oxen are castrated mature males. Cows are mature females that have been bred.

“The cow is of the bovine ilk; one end is moo, the other milk.”

Ogden Nash

I stumbled on to the Tillers International Website and learned they offer workshops (“hands on”) teaching how to train and drive oxen. It took some rationalizing, but I signed up, at first thinking it might be one of the most useless things I’ve done. It didn’t take long for this to morph into Road Trip 2024–visiting simplicity and tradition. The trip will include some time with Amish Communities and serve as research for a book on hope to write.

For a preview of “the show,” I can offer this video of a previous workshop held in June, 2024.

Can’t wait to smell some hay!

We’ll also spend a week in Holmes County, Ohio where the Amish flourish, visit a young Mennonite Friend in Indiana, and see some Amish friends in Pennysylvania. Three to get ready!

Previews of Coming Attractions

When I talk (every chance I get) about the workshop I’m going to attend this summer, my listening victim often orders, “Take pictures!” Well, someone did at the one held in June.

I’ve also received the “curriculum” for the workshop. The primary instructor also happens to teach high school, so my educator mindset is comfortable with how things will unfold. At the risk of bragging, I was also pleased at how much of the content I’m familiar with after years of watching ox pulls.

Stay tuned!