Picture it. Thursday night, 2016. There I was, busy chopping and slicing and dicing. Trying my best to get supper made before everyone came into the kitchen whining about being hungry. When suddenly, my daughter came bursting through the backdoor and shouted…
COW IN THE LAWN!!!
Those of you that live on a farm with cows know that these are about the most dreaded words you ever want to hear.
For those of you that have never dealt with beef cows, “cow in the lawn” is the equivalent of shouting FIRE in a crowded room. You immediately and instinctively drop all your crap and RUUUUNN!
But, I digress…
Instantly, panic set in. How many cows? Was it a bull? How close are they to the road? Oh, sh*t, where are my boots?!?!?!?
With no time to waste, I jumped into a pair of my daughter’s shoes (which she always conveniently leaves at the bottom of the steps for me to trip on and almost kill myself), and ran out into the middle of the backyard. I did a quick scan of the field and spotted her… a first year heifer, standing in the lawn with nothing between her and the road, but me.
I make a quick play to the outside, and set up my defensive strategy. If she was going to make it to the road, she’d have to go through me first (which, in retrospect, was fairly easy). She zigged. I zigged. She zagged. I zagged. I was like professional defensive tackle Mean Joe Greene, matching her move for move. Unfortunately, all this carrying on only seemed to be getting us closer to the road.
Time was running out. It was fourth and goal with five seconds left on the clock. It was time to blitz.
Our eyes locked…
She pawed the ground…
And took off like a shot, straight toward me. I anticipated her buttonhook route and veered to the left. UNfortunatley, I hit a frozen puddle and went a*s over tin cups and came crashing to the ground. I let out an ungodly shriek as my tailbone was forced up into my brain.
FORtunately, my most ungraceful mishap was enough to stop her in her tracks and spin her around in the right direction. In a fit of rage, I took off my daughter’s ill-fitting shoe and flung it at the cow, clipping her on the haunches. She turned, sneered at me and trotted toward the barn gate, where she stopped and stood like a pretentious teenager who didn’t get her way.
I hobbled up to the gate and let her through to rejoin the rest of the herd. I swear as she walked away, I saw her turn up her nose and stick her tongue out at me.