Monday, May 18, 2009

Happy Happy Cows

Because I know the person who owns the land just next to where the (Twilight) "Cullen's Baseball Field" is supposed to be, I have good reason to be out there fairly often.

And I was out there again yesterday to see how my Edward and Bella plant pots were doing. I am happy to report that both Edward and Bella's painted faces are holding up quite well under Fork's rainfall so far. However, as I drove up, I realized that the "baseball" field was occupied. Not by sparkly vampires, but by escapee cows.

Now these cows are royal, little stinkers. It's a rare day in spring that they don't fly their coop, and wander all about the area, sneaking into people's yards far and wide, sampling strange, new grasses. And this time, they had their new babies with them, and I couldn't help calling out to them, calling them "sweeties" when I got out of the car. Because hey, fuzzy baby cows. How could I not?

They turned to look at me as I did so. Watching me as I wandered over to my pots to groom out the dead flowers. Then suddenly, one cow seemed to become terribly taken with me. It was a lady cow, a big ol'girl, with a very pregnant tummy. She turned joyfully, seeming to practically dance on her tip toes, while making tiny, happy moos at me -- before dashing in my direction, like some gigantic, treat-expectant puppy, seemingly over-joyed to see me.

Now, I don't know a heck of lot about cows. But I do know that they weigh about the same as a small car. And this small car was on a collision course. Would she crash into me? Was I misinterpreting territorial aggression for "joy"? And even if I was right, could she stop in time? How graceful is a cow when her tummy is so large that it's wobbling on each side as she ran?

I paused and considered my options. I had wandered a fair pace from my car. Should I dash behind one of the trees? They are quite big enough to stop a car, and keep standing. This was a possible plan.

Luckily, Cow-Lady seemed to take notice of my fast back-peddling toward my leafy barrier, and stopped. She looked at me with confused brown eyes for a moment, then threw her head up and made three long, loud, mournful sounding moos. And cows came out from behind everything. And then, she turned, and went down the road toward home, with her fellows trotting behind her.

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