Till the Cows Come Home
The man who owns the land behind our little homestead is a cattleman and a farmer. In the eighty acre plot directly adjacent, he plants peanuts in the spring, winter grass, and in between the rotation of each crop, he turns his cows loose. The other day, he did something unusual. He let the cows out into the field of full grown grass before he harvested it. Usually, he will harvest, then turn the cows into the pasture to graze on the leftovers for a few weeks before he plants again.
This time, both the llama and the longhorn are with the cows, mostly Black Angus, with many young calves, yearling steers, one or two bulls, and the mother cows trying to ignore their still nursing babies to feed on the grass which is belly high.
We sit for hours on our back porch watching the cows migrate between the upper and lower fields, crossing through the small patch of trees that lies in a low pint between the two open fields. Sometimes they march slowly in a long parade close to the fence, and it takes a long time for them all to pass by in single file.
I have tried to get decent photos of this silent bovine parade, but the camera on my phone doesn’t zoom close enough. Yesterday, it was sunny and hot, and they all gathered in our woods and lay down for a morning siesta. Today, it rained and I only saw glimpses of them.
UPDATE: The cows paraded past, and so this time I caught them on Video.
This was last year’s llama. I don’t know if the one we saw this morning is the same one. The llama is aloof rather than shy, and avoids the cows when possible. The longhorn is particularly impressive, with horns stretching out several feet. I don’t know how he traverses the woods, but he does.
When the cows come home to us twice a year, we are fascinated. I am so disappointed by the rain today which kept me from sitting outside to watch them.
Happy Passover. Happy Easter. Happy every day till the cows come home.