Why, after thirty years, did my husband William and I decide to sell all our cows back to the farm from which they came? No, ask rather, why we ran those cattle for thirty years? One becomes fond of them. One enjoys being out in the great outdoors, in the heat and the sleet, baling hay, feeding hay, seeing the calves born, herding them to different pastures. Plus, there is always the chance that, while tending to your chores, you will run into that random family of skunks who will brighten your day immeasurably.

Anyway, the cows: one must remember that dealing with large bovines can be dangerous, and never let one’s guard down. I recall a few instances when I could have been hurt worse than I was.

Once we were in the hayfield and William had to return for something he had forgotten. I stayed behind, and decided to take a nap on the warm tarp that was covering some round bales. I backed up to the stack, and leaped up and stretched out on my back. But, I had landed on the crack between two bales, and the tarp and me slid down in the pit. Clunk! Clunk! The poles on either side that were weighting down the tarp landed on top of me.

Another time, I drove the truck to where I would be dumping a round bale for the cows. It was a simple matter of backing the truck up to the ring and pushing it off. I didn’t realize that the bale was sitting on a piece of plywood, and the plywood was sticking out over the edge of the tailgate. I was standing on the plywood at the other end, and when I rolled the bale off, the plywood went too, and I swan dove over the tumbling bale. Fortunately, cattle yards are always soft.

When time to send calves away to different farms with better fences who will raise them to adulthood, one must really be careful. I was in the cow pen encouraging the calves to go up the chute, when one ran into the gate, and jerked the corner up into my head. I was thrown over backwards, but as I have mentioned cattle yards are soft and I wasn’t hurt from the fall. However, when I got up I felt a steady rain on my collar. I simply pulled my tight hat band over the cut and went on encouraging the calves.

One must make sure that everyone, including one’s dog, is on the same page and understands the plan to load the calves. Once our dog Cosette, affectionately known as “Sausage Wolf”, positioned herself under the back of the trailer, and when the calves approached up the chute, she came roaring out at them.

The last summer we had the cows was very difficult, and someone seemed to be telling us something. There were difficult births, and few of them. Once younger daughter and I were able to pull one successfully when the mother had given up. We figured the time had come to go on to other pursuits, and the original owner was glad to have them back. Horses now roam where cows were. One improvement is that horses are not escape artists like cows. Indeed, horses frankly prefer the paddock (and sometimes take a deal of catching).

Besides being homebodies, horses are also more easily intimidated than cows, especially when confronted by (for example) a phalanx of baby skunks. Case in point:

A mother skunk and her babies were crossing the pasture late one afternoon, headed for the woods. As a unit, the little family flowed along the ground in a straight line, black and white fur rippling. The horses were very curious and charged over to see. The mother knew they were not a threat, so she ignored them and continued on into the woods. But the five babies were scared, and lined up in a row facing the horses. All together, they cast their scent into the muzzles of the curious horses. Snorting and blowing, the horses raced away and the triumphant little skunks joined their mother in their nighttime foraging.

Somewhere, my sister Evelyn assures me, is a legal document on hand, ready to declare our incompetence, should she hear rumors that cows might be coming back!