MOO-ving Day

The ground is still cracked and dry. My lawn still looks pitiful. But things are a bit greener after we got a little rain on Friday and some lower temperatures for the past few days. Hopefully that means some better eating for the cows. It's sure been better for us! The 80 degree temperatures feel downright balmy. I'm thankful that it made for a better moving day for some friends of ours. We helped them unload the moving truck on Saturday afternoon. 

Of course the question on everyone's mind when we returned was, "Where are the cows?" We have this strange compulsion to know where they are. I'm not sure if we're worried subconsciously about having them escape, or if we're concerned about damage they may do, or if we're just silly city-folk mildly freaked by the novelty of cattle in our back yard.

The kids are enjoying the calves. This little guy is only 2 weeks old. (His mama is the reddish brown cow in the back left of this picture.)

My husband mentioned the other day, that just like having a horse in a stall in the barn "felt right," seeing cows scattered in the upper field seemed fitting. Despite not wanting either type of animal for my own, I have to admit that he's right. This place was designed as a cattle ranch and transformed into a horse ranch. It's set up for these creatures and they fit right in here.

It's still a bit unnerving to look out of my kitchen window and see the scene on the right. But there are usually cows there. (That's where the septic tank drains, which means the grass is green there.)

It's also a bit odd to see this staring at you. This is the bull named Ed. By all accounts he's mild mannered. I'm sure he is.... for a bull. But still.... he's a bull with a massive head, a thick neck, and a mildly intimidating stare.

Speaking of intimidating, I was sitting in the screened porch tonight with my husband. It was dark. At some point we realized that we were hearing the cows chewing in the distance. It was a strange tearing sound, accompanied by heavy breathing and exaggerated mastication. But multiplied by about 16 cows, it was a strange noise indeed. It was a bit ominous sounding even after we had discerned the cause. It grew louder as time went by until the musty, sweet smell of cows told us that they had ambled near the fence and were hunkering down for the night close by.

So you're probably sick of cow posts by now. But the alternative is my boring accounts of mechanical trouble with the mini-van, a broken trash compactor, scheduling the new mattress delivery, the selection of living room furniture (finally), the scrambling to prepare for a new year of home education, the failed attempts at teaching my youngest to use the toilet, my gripes as a miserable pregnant woman, etc. None of those would be any better. Believe me.