Bovine Encounter

We live on a quiet road. Except for the occasional resident speeding by too fast, and the days when the farmers are working the field behind our house, our street lives up to the name Still. Sunday mornings especially, like so many areas of the country, are serene. Thus you might imagine my surprise when, sitting down a few Sundays ago to a cup of coffee and my devotional reading at 7:15am, I heard lowing. Lots of it. I stood up, looked out the window, and saw this:

My first thought was that Winsor Acres, the local big dairy, was driving a herd up to the field behind us. We'd seen this before: cattle ranchers use roads to drive their livestock all the time. Of course, if that were happening, I would expect humans to lead up the herd and bring up the rear. Who was at the rear of this herd? Just these two:

I watched them all go by the back porch, camera in hand, of course:

Finally, the herd got up to our neighbor's property. You have to know that Merv manicures his lawn like a professional. He keeps the grass short, the rock walls trimmed, and the pond clear of muck. This Sunday morning, though, he had about forty head of cattle wandering in circles around the yard. And a couple of the cows looked like their udders were ready to burst. I think the poor man had some cleanup to do that day.

When I asked my neighbor (who had come out to see the commotion) how often this happened, he said, Never before. The cows were clearly lost, because they drifted for the next thirty minutes or so, lowing forelorn tones into the dewy morning. After a couple of phone calls, we found out that the cows were in fact Winsor's, but had broken through a fence. In short order they had a proper cattle drive back down our road, and it became still again.

I guess this is why, at closing for the house, we signed paperwork acknowledging that we live in an agricultural community. At least the bovines didn't go after our tomatoes.

~emrys