While I was married, my then-husband felt it was his duty to improve me, often telling me how to talk, dress, cut my hair, pick my friend - and how to walk! He criticized me for walking with my head down. Yes, he was right, I often did that. I really did try to keep my head up and look straight ahead, but it didn't feel natural to me.
One evening we were at my mom and dad's farm, and when we left, he criticized the three people in the car because he could smell manure. "Who has manure on their shoes?" he queried. We all looked. We were all clean. Then my daughter quietly said, "Have you checked your shoes?"
Since all of us swore our shoes were clean, what could he do but stop the car and check his own shoes? There, on the bottom of one shoe, packed neatly from the front of the heel all the way through the arch, was dog poop! We tried hard not to laugh. I don't think we succeeded.
I said, "Now you know why farmers walk with their heads down."
Here's another case in point. This evening, the milkers told me that they saw a goose in Paddock #17. I headed down there with some bread. I want the gander to stay here, and I'm not above bribery. Still only one of the pair is to be found. And as I said, I was pretty sure it was the gander.
He didn't want the bread. He half flew, half walked away from me, out of the pasture and into the pond. I watched him swim away from me. He wasn't tempted by the pieces of bread that I threw his way. I turned to leave, with my head down, of course.
Obviously, the one that is left isn't a gander! Androo has a goose and two ganders, so I may be buying one of his ganders, but I continue to hope the old boy is going to come back home.