When I bought Brownie at the sale four years ago, she was a young heifer and so wild, I could barely keep her in the corral. When I would get in the corral with her, she would run to the other side and try to jump out; I often wondered about her previous owner and what that person may have done to make her so afraid. When a cow is that jittery, she can often be dangerous; I contemplated selling her a few times, but gut told me to stick it out.
So now, after four years, she is as gentle as a lamb, and as tame as any family pet. She has given me two beautiful baby calves, and is a terrific Mama Cow, often "adopting" calves that I put with her out in the pasture. She loves to have her ears scratched, and tries to mother my four year old…not that the four year old appreciates the feeling of a cow’s tongue running across the top of her head.
I also have a herd of goats out in this same pasture, and if you know anything about goats (and sheep), you know they will find any knothole in a fence to possibly sneak out of; mine are no exception. So, yesterday, I went to feed, and I noticed four of the sneaky little creatures were on the wrong side of the fence.
Now, I don’t care what anyone says…goats are far smarter than they are given credit for. The minute these guys saw me, they looked at me like, yeah, we know; we’re in trouble. Now go get us some grain.
The wind was blisteringly cold yesterday, so I told the four year old to stay in the truck while I fed and put the goats away. Unfortunately, she listens as well as the goats; so when I opened the gate to let the goats back in the pasture, she picked that exact moment to yell out the window that the puppy needed to go potty.
Not only did the goats not go in the open gate, but my big, brown cow went out the open gate, along with another goat. I had a brief conversation with my child, telling her to keep the pup, and herself, in the truck until I put Brownie back in. I called my cow and she started back toward the gate…that is until my well behaved, well mannered child opened the truck door and plopped the puppy out right in front of the cow (in my daughter’s defense, the pup really did have to pee). Brownie looked at the pup, looked at me as if to say, "What the hell is this thing?", and took off back around the haystack.
And I knew the goats were laughing at me.
So I waited for the pup to finish his business, and I put him back in the truck, at which time, I had the: "You had better mind your mother or else!" conversation with my child. I grabbed the grain bucket and shook it (I had already put one bucket of grain out, so I was hoping she thought there still might be a tidbit in there for her). It worked on the goats, who all finally went in, but she knew better. She didn’t budge.
So I trapsed all the way back across the pasture to the shed where I keep the grain. She followed me on the outside of the fence and watched me pour the grain into the bucket. Once she was satisfied she was going to get a little more grain, she beelined for the gate. She didn’t follow me, she didn’t wait for me; she ran full speed for that gate and then stood there and bawled for me to let her in so she could have her special grain.
I opened the gate, and she walked right in. She waited for me to pour her grain; as I did so in a neat little pile, I got a big brown cow nose right on my cheek. I just shook my head and gave her ears a good scratch as she munch on her special pile of grain.
Just then, the four year old yells out the window, "Mom! I have to go potty, too!!!", and I knew everything was normal with the world.
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