The Farmer and The Ox: A Parable about Confident Wrongness
By Jereme Peabody
The Impressive Beginning
A farmer was out plowing his field to get it ready for planting season with his new ox.
He stops to wipe the sweat off his brow.
He measures the soil and the sky with a trained eye.
I wish I knew when I should start planting.
The ox turned his head to the farmer and spoke with certainty.
"Plant on the seventh day of the new moon.
The rains will come on the fourteenth day, lasting three days,
then sun for twelve days straight."
The farmer was shocked.
A talking oracle ox!
What good fortune.
He plants on the seventh day of the new moon.
Rain comes on the thirteenth day.
"Close enough,"
the farmer thought.
It was mostly sunny for ten days straight.
"Close enough,"
he thought again.
The crop grew well.
The farmer marveled at the ox's precision.
The Growing Reputation
With a cart full of fresh crops, the farmer approaches the ox again.
I need to sell this crop to a merchant who will give me a fair trade.
The ox describes the route in vivid detail, without hesitation.
"Take the eastern pass.
At the third marker stone, you'll find a blue door.
The merchant there is named Aldous.
He'll offer you fair terms."
Emboldened by the first prediction, the farmer eagerly follows the directions.
There is an eastern pass.
There is a third marker stone.
But the door is red, and the merchant's name is Gregor.
The farmer takes note of the discrepancies,
but the trade goes well and it is fair.
"Close enough,"
the farmer thought.
The Invented Details
For his next crop, the farmer needs new seed.
He visits the ox again.
I need a crop that will give me the best yield for my coin. What should I plant?
The ox replies without hesitation.
"Plant Silvercrest Wheat.
Buy it from the seedkeeper in Dunlow.
His shop sits beside the old well with the cracked rim.
Ask for the sealed burlap sacks — the ones with the crescent stamp.
They yield twice as much as common wheat."
The farmer nods, impressed by the clarity, and sets off for Dunlow.
He has never heard of Silvercrest Wheat...
but the ox had been right before.
When he arrives:
There is a village.
There is a seed shop.
There is an old well.
But there is no cracked rim.
No seedkeeper matching the ox's tale.
No burlap sacks with crescent stamps.
And certainly no Silvercrest Wheat.
The shopkeeper stares at him.
“I've never heard of such a seed,” he says.
“But I do have a hardy winter wheat that grows well in your region.”
The farmer buys it, but it takes all his coin.
He has no choice; he must sow something.
On the way home, the ox's words echo in his mind.
"Close enough?"
he wonders.
The Dangerous Advice
On the last day of Spring, the farmer is awakened by his daughter's cough.
She is in a terrible condition.
Panicked, he comes to the ox for guidance.
"Help me. My daughter has a high fever, her skin is moist, and she has a horrible cough."
The ox answers immediately.
"Your child has marsh fever.
Prepare a tonic of willow bark, nettle root, and three drops of beetle oil.
Give it at sunrise for seven days."
The farmer trusts the specificity, the confidence,
and does exactly as instructed.
But the child grows worse.
Desperate, he rushes into town.
A passing healer takes one look at her and shakes his head.
“This is mountain sickness, not marsh fever.
The treatment you're giving could be fatal. Stop immediately.”
Under proper care, the child recovers.
The Confrontation
The farmer confronts the ox.
"You were wrong. You spoke with certainty about something you didn't know."
The ox looks genuinely puzzled.
"But I did answer. You asked; I provided detailed guidance."
"But it was wrong."
The ox pauses, then speaks with that same, unwavering tone.
"The symptoms matched marsh fever perfectly for the eastern plains."
"We're not in the eastern plains -we're in the northern mountains!"
The ox brightens.
"Of course! Then the symptoms match mountain sickness perfectly.
That is what you were doing wrong.
You must treat her for mountain sickness immediately."
The farmer finally understands:
he had confused confidence with truth.
The Awakening
It was a hard year.
The winter wheat yielded poorly.
His daughter recovered, but he still owed the healer.
And every decision he had trusted to the ox now sat on his shoulders like a stone.
Faced with his debt, and the weight of what he'd learned,
the farmer sold the ox.
He needed less certainty in his life,
and more wisdom.