In 2016, Swedish blogger/photographer Jonna Jinton posted a video of herself to YouTube. In the clip, she practices kulning (pronounced “cool-ning”); an ancient Scandinavian singing technique used to call home herds of cattle that had scattered into the mountains. As the singer’s voice resonates across the countryside, cows begin to appear; their bells clanging ever louder to announce their approach.
The practice of kulning has medieval origins and was developed out of necessity. Without modern technology like GPS to track livestock, or four-wheel capable vehicles to go after them, families needed a way to keep their cattle – literally their livelihood – from wandering off. Left to their own devices, the animals were at risk of theft from competing farmers or slaughter from wolves and other prey.
After seeing Jinton’s video, I looked further into the idea of kulning and I was fascinated by what I saw and heard. In video after video, cows, goats, and even birds are drawn to the voice of the singer (typically a female since kulning relies heavily on high-pitched tones). The sound is haunting. It transports me to a far-off place and time.
It also reminds me that we each have our own siren call; or at least we should. Given the incredible number of choices that customers have at their disposal, and the ease with which they can move their business; it’s essential that we identify our own unique means of connecting with them – of calling them home.
Kulning involves a series of familiar tones. Families would pass down basic sounds specific to their flock. Often these included the names of lead animals or specific combinations that alerted the animals to a specific family’s call. Yet, each member of the family would incorporate these common themes into their own song, improvising and adding their own elements. In this way, individual expression turned the root expressions into unique compositions. Likewise, we must identify core elements that customers can identify with us. Elements that can then be incorporated into the individual delivery styles of our team members.
The high notes prevalent in kulning are used because they are strong and carry over long distances. Studies have shown that these tones can be heard up to six times farther than other types of calls, making them perfect for penetrating deep into the mountain forests of Sweden and Norway where some families still practice kulning. In the same way, our brand must be a strong one. Our competitive advantage is of little value unless we deliver it in such a way that the message carries farther than we can see. It has to reach its intended audience, no matter where they are.
Even those who aren’t specifically the target of a kulokk (the term for a particular song), the melody is attractive. Rather than simply announcing the presence of the caller, kulning resonates deep within your soul. It creates a draw that’s almost irresistible. Like the kulokk, our own message has to not just grab the listener’s attention, but penetrate their heart. We have to communicate in such a way that those we are trying to reach feel compelled to respond.
Just like great service, kulning is a dying practice. Only a handful are even aware of its power and even fewer get it right. Perhaps that’s why, once you encounter someone who’s mastered the art of it, you can’t help but answer the call.
Opportunity is defined as “a set of circumstances that makes it possible to do something.” The word first came into use during the 14th century, and was derived from the Latin phrase “ob portum veniens,” or “coming toward a port.” The implied imagery is of a ship taking advantage of favorable winds to approach and enter the harbor.
Howard Tibbals began playing with dioramas around the time he turned seven, back in 1943. You’re familiar with dioramas, right? They’re three dimensional models depicting a scene, often used in grade school classes to help kids learn about history or nature. At some point, each of my three children came home declaring their need for a shoebox so they could build a diorama of the coral reef, or the old west.
The story goes something like this…
Are you familiar with the Big Red Gravel Run? No? That’s OK, I hadn’t heard of it either until this week. The Run is a 100 kilometer (62.1371 miles) bicycle race held each August in Harrington, Quebec. This race only came to my attention because of the man who won it this year. It was Kyle Messier, a bicycle mechanic from Waterloo.
According to a Timex survey conducted last year, Americans spend an average of 32 minutes waiting each time they visit the doctor. We spend 28 minutes waiting in security lines at the airport, and almost as long (21 minutes) waiting for our significant other to get ready for an evening out. We spend 13 hours each year on hold waiting for a customer service agent, and 38 hours annually waiting in traffic – that’s actually closer to 50 hours for those of you in big cities.
It was 1903 and French scientist Edouard Benedictus, reaching across his desk, accidentally knocked over a flask. It was empty, but the glass bottle fell to the floor shattered. Rather than breaking into thousands of jagged pieces though, this flask kept its form. It was broken, but retained its shape. Upon further investigation, Benedictus discovered that the bottle had previously contained plastic cellulose nitrate. The substance had dried and coated the inside, forming a film that held the broken pieces together. Thanks to the Frenchman’s clumsiness, the world was introduced to safety glass.
The 2018 Tour de France concluded yesterday. The multi-stage race, first held in 1903, always promises tons of drama and this year’s event didn’t disappoint. From tear-gassing by police to fisticuffs between riders, there were enough headlines to interest even non-race fans. But in the midst of so much news, there’s one story you might have missed. It involved cyclist Lawson Craddock.
For the past several years, I’ve taken a week of vacation in July to attend Boy Scout Troop 157’s Summer Camp in Ardmore Oklahoma. Both of my sons earned the rank of Eagle Scout as part of this troop and I have many friendships that began as a result of my involvement. Over the years I’ve helped out by teaching various merit badges during this camp and am proud to have played a small part in the development of many young men.