Bovine Courage

Note: I grew up in Suburbia. Living in Maine for 10 years taught me important lessons. Like this one: Consider different perspectives in life.

Hoofbeats in the Maine Night!

It’s Sunday, 7:45 am, and my wife’s phone rings with a message that will change my way of thinking about livestock forever.

Her tone sounds serious. My in-laws are out of town; is everything okay?

“Get up. Dad’s cows are loose.”

“What?”

“Jim from up the way told Walter he saw Dad’s cows over on the Roundabout Road.”

“Well—who—what—how did they get there?”

She sighs as she steps into her slippers. “What are you talking about, Mike?”

“So, um…why did they go?”

She has no time for my philosophical questions. “It doesn’t matter! Get dressed. You and the boys need to go get them and bring them back.”

Well.

How do I begin to tell you what’s going through my mind at this point?

I grew up in a land far, far away. Sure, occasionally I’d SEE a cow, but, like, on TV. And even though my father-in-law Roland owns cows, I have never once moseyed on down to the farm to see how “the girls” were doing.

Ever.

So, why in the world would my wife think that I have any knowledge in how to “bring the cows back”?

I throw on some clothes—none of them matching—and follow Heidi downstairs. I gently try to learn some bovine information. “How—um—how does one go about…getting cows back?”

My wife is distracted. “What?”

I picture the challenge ahead of me. “Can you reason with cows?”

She gives me The Look.

The one when she thinks I’m joking and it’s not funny to her. But, I am not joking. I am deadly serious. Because, cows are big. Bigger than you think. And I’m supposed to “get them back.” Why would they listen to me?

In the car, my son Zack and I try to imagine what happened the night before. We toss around a few burning questions:

Why did the cows make a run for it? Did one turn to the others and say, “I can’t go on like this. I need a new life!”
Was it like Shawshank? Were they planning the “prison break” for a long time? Did one sidle up to the others and whisper in a Maine accent, “The wahden’s gone. Tonight’s the night. Ayuh.”
Did they wear camouflage?
They had to cross a pretty busy road. How did they do that? Did they go single file, or all scurry across at the same time? I picture it, and hear a xylophone playing as they scamper.
Which of the cows knew to look both ways before crossing?
And, how many cows are we talking about here? Is it like, a herd? Are we going to have to do a City Slickers-type of thing?

A surprise

We pick up Alex, my young brother in law.

He tells me it’s only five cows—two bulls and three, um, girl cows. Alex tells us about the newest bull. He’s the biggest, and he seems to have a thing, not for the girls, but for the other bull. “You, mean, like..” I trail off, not sure how to say it. Alex nods his head.

“Yep. He’s a homosexu-a-bull.”

Bread crumbs

As we drove, we were able to track the cows pretty easily. There was a trail of dung all the way. And I wondered...did one of them try to leave us a way to find them? You know, kinda like large, smelly bread crumbs?

I start thinking about what my wife has gotten me into. How in the world can I get these massive walking steaks back to the barn? How can I even get their attention?

The key, I decide, is to walk up to the cows with authority, and put the rope around their necks, like I know what I’m doing. But, what if I suddenly have a second of doubt? Would they charge me? A stampede never turns out good in the movies. Ever.

I picture the five of them huddled together as I walk towards them. I imagine them all looking over their shoulders at me with their big cow eyes. Maybe the homosexu-a-bull makes some comment about my mis-matched outfit, and all of them laugh their rich cow laughs.

An opportunity missed

Well, I never got the chance to find out what would happen.

Tim, a relative of my wife, actually passes me going the other way, pulling a trailer. And in it are the cows. Yes, Tim has already managed to corral all of them. We turn around.

Back at the barn, my brother-in-law puts a rope around one and leads it out of the trailer. I wonder, Could I have caught them? I’d like to think I could.

I watch the big bull, who comes out last of all. I imagined it was his bravery that inspired the herd to leave the safety of their home, out of the field in the dead of night, across the busy road, to greener pastures. What leadership. I felt a real surge of respect for him. As he passed, he looks my way.

I do believe it might have been a wink.