An Afternoon Concert for My Cows


“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here!”
~ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone


The first time I heard Albinoni’s Oboe Concert #2 in D Minor I was seven, a little girl sitting in the music room of her primary school, eyes closed as instructed by the teacher who placed a record on a turntable. Suddenly magic was in the room.

Somehow I knew that music. I knew the sound of the oboe. I thrilled with recognition. The way the strings sang and danced their sweet rhythms up and down my skin. The reedy tone of the oboe with its jaunty clarion call. I wanted to dance, to slide and twirl along sprung wooden floors, toes pointed and skirts swaying. The pictures it brought to my imagination!

But I’m sure I’d never heard that music before. Not in this lifetime anyway.

After our class I determinedly stayed behind to ask the teacher what the strange and beautiful music was, and she obligingly wrote it down for me on a scrap of paper. Years later, as a young adult, it was one of the first music CDs I ever bought for myself.

Yesterday afternoon I played that same Albinoni concert again. I cranked up the stereo, and let the music seep deep inside me.

Shortly after the music began, the cows all looked up. Transfixed they came closer. Closer.

After which they settled themselves down and for the next hour we all sat together, quietly listening to a selection of Albinoni’s music.

sit in

When it was over they all stood up again and wandered away.

What a magical sharing we had.

I never knew that my cows were fans of Albinoni too. 🙂

And I wonder – thinking back to my first encounter with the music of Albinoni which left me with tears streaming down my cheeks in a class full of seven-year-olds who were all otherwise fidgety, bored and bothered, – has that ever happened to you? That you’ve heard music, or eaten a particular dish or gone to a certain unfamiliar place and thrilled with recognition at a soul level when by rights this thing should be strange and unknown? I’d love to hear from you!


Here’s a little snippet of the music we enjoyed yesterday:

A happy dancing tune…

A reflective and deeply emotive piece…


Hi! I'm Nicole Cody. I am a writer, psychic, metaphysical teacher and organic farmer. I love to read, cook, walk on the beach, dance in the rain and grow things. Sometimes, to entertain my cows, I dance in my gumboots. Gumboot dancing is very under-rated.
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25 thoughts on “An Afternoon Concert for My Cows

  1. I heard no music growing up and was introduced to it as a teenager when I went to live with grandparents. I heard country music and rock and roll there. Never a classic of any kind. A little music in the few movies I saw that stuck with me. But I play music as much as I can now. Plants and animals like it but only if it’s peaceful. There is so much music (if you want to call it that) that irritates my nerves. I’d prefer quiet to that. I loved how the cows came to sit to it. What a lovely experience. One of your readers introduced me to the song by Elbow (One Fine Day) that has become an ear worm. I love the melody.

  2. Art works from the Italian Renaissance 1400-1500, I can’t even describe the feeling I get: it’s so intense and there’s pride in there and passion and a sense of worth at what it stands for

  3. That was one piece of Music that I m so joyful to have been introduced to. You are just riding waves after waves of joy and bliss when you listen to music. Literally you can feel pulsations all over you. My current music fav is Hindustani or Sufi music. Its mostly devotional and each note hits a chord within you. I feel if Mother Nature was given a voice , it’d be Music.

  4. It happens with those kinds of classical pieces ..a little visit with the divine. I also find the music of Leonard Cohen particularly inductive. It seems that any piece of music that is inspired can lead me to these places it seems that it is obvious when an artist has touched the saced space it moves people even if it is Jimmy Hendrix you can tell when it comes from the heart. Now I am going to go and play Renne Flemming for my two little Brittish Whites that I got just today . We will all bask in the sun and enjoy the voice of an angel.

  5. I am so glad you included the Adagio in G minor. That is one of my most favourite reflective pieces of music. I find it uplifting even though it can seem a touch mournful. It brings me to tears but still leaves me feeling hopeful for the future. Funny old thing that the cows loved it too

  6. Ah, I remember having the exact same response to pieces of music when I was a very young girl. Tears, shivers – the whole box and dice. Because I wasn’t shy, I’d get up in class and just SING because well, CARLY 😉 I’m not surprised the cows loved it – they’re the smartest animals ever! XO

  7. Your second clip, Adagio in G Minor is on a compilation CD I play when I am drawing or painting. It is beautiful and one of my faves. I often get up, crank the sound up and replay it. When you said about tears when you were a 7 yo, that took me back to Anzac Day when I was about 8. We were in the classroom facing the loudspeaker and standing up next to our desks listening to the last post. I was the only one with tears, however hard I tried not to cry. Perhaps empathy more than anything, as the music was so sad, and it still does it. Last time was Menin Gate, Ypres oh and right now 🙂 xx

  8. Callas Went Away, Enigma. When I first heard it my belly nearly came through my throat and I had an immense compulsion to stand with my head back and call out with every cell. It was a disturbing experience.

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