Some friends of my wife are out of town and asked her if she’d drop by their farm and feed their animals and just check and make sure everything was okay. Being a good person and a good friend, and also someone with a degree in agriculture, she said yes and asked if I’d come along. Being a good spouse, I hope, anyway, I said yes. And also there was nothing else going on and it would be a chance to get out of the house. I’ve been to their farm several times and I like it in spite of the cows.
It’s not that I have anything against cows. They seem nice enough that it’s a shame they make such good hamburgers, and I actually like them as long as they’re on the other side of a very strong fence. Getting up close and personal with cows is something I do my best to avoid. It’s not that I believe they’re suddenly going to turn into snarling, murderous beasts. I know cows are pretty well domesticated and ones that are used to being around people can be quite gentle. They’re just very large animals that could easily knock me aside without a second thought even if they don’t mean to. Also in the back of my mind there’s this fear they might suddenly turn into snarling, murderous beasts.
So of course when we arrived the cows had somehow escaped from their enclosure.
Fortunately my wife, with the degree in agriculture, was able to do most of the herding of the cows, although I helped a little, mostly from a distance. Then I carried the buckets of feed out to the cows who stuck their heads in the trough before I could put the food in.
“Slap ‘em on the nose if they won’t get out of the way,” my wife yelled. Easy for her to say. She’s got a degree in agriculture. I was convinced slapping a cow would turn it into a snarling, murderous beast. Because there were two food troughs I was able to distract the cows by going to one and then the other and managed to only dump some of the food on cows’ heads.
Then I turned around and I was completely surrounded by the sheep who’d also gotten out of their enclosure. It’s completely irrational but being faced down by twenty-seven thousand hungry sheep was funny to me, whereas a single loose cow would make me want to get back in the car and lock all the doors.
The sheep were also easier to deal with. Unlike the cows, who are distinct individuals the sheep would move collectively. Get one doing in the right direction and the rest follow.
Then we had to collect the eggs even though I would have preferred to hang out with the sheep some more. Chickens may be small but I know they can be snarling, murderous beasts too. So my wife collected the eggs. After all she’s got a degree in agriculture.
And yet you have huge dogs that could, if they were so inclined, turn into snarling, murderous beasts.
Our dogs may be huge–well, one is sixty pounds, one is about forty pounds, and one weighs in around twenty pounds–but they’re not as big as cows which can weigh a ton.
I love cows and sheep a lot. I’ve not spent enough time around chickens, at least uncaged, to have an opinion. My husband once took photos for a wedding as a favor to a friend. The place where they had the wedding was a friend’s estate in Franklin -they had cows. One of them was as friendly as a dog, and came when you called her. She was beautiful. That was my favorite part of the wedding, to be honest.
Did you say your wife has a degree in agriculture?
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I might have mentioned that my wife has a degree in agriculture. And one of the cows seemed to take an interest in me in a friendly way, coming up to the fence and looking at me. Once they were on the other side of the fence I was fine with the cows. The sheep, on the other hand, were so damn funny I was kind of sorry to put them in their pen.
this is so funny, and you clearly had so much fun. joy to read.
I’m glad it was a joy to read. Once I got over my fear of the cows it was fun.
No horses? I bet you sleep soundly after counting twenty-seven thousand sheep. I’m glad your wife has a degree in agriculture. 🙂 Mona
There are horse stalls on the farm but no horses currently. That’s a good thing too. I’m almost as scared of horses as I am of cows.
I’m still giggling ????. After all, she has a degree in agriculture! I grew up around cows, farmers in my family, and I do understand the fear of a large cow going “mad”!
I would think if you’d grown up around cows you’d be used to them so it reassures me that you can understand my fear of cows. Even if I didn’t think they’d turn into murderous, snarling beasts I have a fear they might step on me.
It takes a brave soul to deal with murderous cows, especially when they’re running AT you!
Fortunately the cows never ran in my direction, but getting them to go the way we wanted wasn’t easy.
You just need to carry the bucket and the cows will follow you anywhere (same with the sheep). BUT … standing next to those huge beasts I can assuredly say: “Cow Tipping” … not a thing!
I’ve never believed “cow tipping” really was a thing, but then I couldn’t imagine getting close enough to a cow, even a sleeping one, to try and tip it over. And even if someone tried it wouldn’t the effort of tipping a cow wake it up?
Tim – why do you think all the sheep had surrounded him while he was feeding the cows? And don’t let him fool you – the sheep had him a bit unnerved, too. I could tell. I have a degree in agriculture, you may have heard.
Being surrounded by a bunch of anything, even puppies or kittens, can be unnerving, but I could also laugh at the sheep.
This post would turn any snarling, murderous beast into a smiling, grateful human, Chris. I’m speaking from experience, even if I don’t have a degree in agriculture.
I’m always comfortable around you, Ann, because I know you won’t turn into a snarling, murderous beast.