The theme of today was “The Cows Would Not Get the Fuck Out of My Way.”
It started this morning when a cow parade decided to camp in front of my path. Keep in mind that I’m driving a four-wheel drive pickup, which is how many tons? These cows were clearly worried.
For some reason, I talk to the cows as if they have human reasoning skills. I cajole. I plea. I try to be nice and friendly before resorting to the curse words and threats. I will say thank you if they decide to move. I had to drive around a couple who blew me off.
This happened not once, not twice, but three times. The third time I was blocked by cows, it was afternoon and my patience had all but evaporated. I’d had a long day. It was getting warm outside, I had already hiked about three miles, and I had been stopped by a game warden for trespassing (that’s a story for another post.) The cows were blocking a gate I needed to drive through, and I had no alternative means of exit. All I wanted to do was finish my work, drive home, sit on my couch, and stuff my face with food, and this newest set of insolent cows were preventing me from fulfilling my dreams.
“Guys,” I said. “You need to get out of the way.” Then I honked. I had figured out this morning that cows do not respond to simple honks. You have to keep your hand on the horn for at least five or ten continuous seconds for them to budge.
But these cows? They just stood and stared at me. I inched my truck closer to them, hoping that they would assume that I would run them over and then flee from imminent death. No. They clearly did not give a fuck, as they did not move their plump selves at all from their resting positions.
Exasperated, I climbed out of my truck and pointed fingers. “Cows,” I said with the most authority one could muster when speaking to a herd of mute animals, “you need to move the fuck out the way.”
A calf moved maybe half an inch to the left.
And they just stared. Have you ever been stared at by a cow? I swear those assholes are judgmental. They do not respond with any other emotion other than judgment and indifference. One was staring at me with what I could only interpret as Cow Hatred.
“Fine,” I snapped, and climbed back into my truck. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Keeping my hand on the horn, I inched my truck slowly forward. I honked and honked and honked and honked, and finally, FINALLY, with many angry MOOOOOOOOs, the cows got up and left.
The last laugh is on me – as I was taking a nap on my couch, I drifted off to sleep and dreamt that I was driving into a herd of cows. I woke up with my foot pressed against the couch as a brake.