I have had a bit of an obsession with cows lately. I don’t know why. It used to be all things chickens. Little chickens could be found adorning shelves, tabletops, even a weather vane around our home. I even began to raise live chickens.
I still love my chickens terribly, but somehow I have moved on to cows as my obsession of choice. (Don’t think my husband didn’t break out in a cold sweat over that one.) I told him not to worry, that Bessie wouldn’t be joining our family any time in the near future. Especially, after the run-in I had with some mad cows recently.
There I was minding my own business on a northern California hillside. ( I may or may not have scaled a fence before I found myself on that very hillside.) Anyhoo, so there I was. I was admiring this lovely lady. I will call her Daisy.
I simply wanted to photograph Daisy looking so serene in the pasture. I thought we had a connection. I thought she understood me and my feelings for her kind.
While I was admiring Daisy, two of her friends, Bertha and Petunia took notice of me. They didn’t like me. Talk about a stare down.
Great! You know how peer pressure is…now that Bertha and Petunia decided they didn’t like me, they were going to convince Daisy that I didn’t belong. I was having flashbacks of being the uninvited new kid at the lunch table all over again.
So, Daisy starts coming at me from the left. Great…chick fight, but I have a feeling scratching and pulling hair will not be involved.
Thoughts are racing through my head. Aren’t cows supposed to be peaceful, docile animals? Are cows somehow different in India? Have they been enlightened there? They sure are big!
Aren’t cows supposed to be vegetarians? Apparently, Daisy didn’t get the memo, because she was trotting towards me, licking her lips, like she wanted to eat me for lunch.
Holy mad cow! I was now afraid that I would not escape with all my parts, but I couldn’t leave yet. This was the money shot!
Meanwhile, remember Bertha, she’s coming at me from the right. She looks like a “mean girl” if I ever saw one. More thoughts start racing through my head. Do cows bite? Do they kick? Do they head butt you like bulls in a rodeo? They sure are big,… and aggressive,… and angry. I have no phone. How embarrassing of a eulogy would this be?
Bertha starts galloping (I’m not kidding, galloping) towards me. I have no photos of this because this is the part where I decided to re-enact the running of the bulls. I may or may not have scaled a fence to escape. This is Bertha’s reaction to the near miss.
Maybe I’ll just go hang out with my chickens for awhile.