Black Angus in the Dark Woods

I was picking through the remnants of devoured (the bulbs, by voles) tulips, making them into a nice bouquet, when The Sea of Unconditional Love alerted me to ... are those Newfoundland dogs?  No?  Black ponies?  (No no no I mean the animal kind of black ponies!)  No?  

Aha!  Black Angus.  

And here I thought I'd have a quiet evening sipping Navan and writing.

I'd tried to get goat feed earlier but the feed store was closed by the time I got there, a fact that's particularly annoying because I had nothing, no alfalfa, no grain, nothing that would appeal ... well, now that I think about it, I do have peanut butter and also rabbit feed.  D'oh!  But I didn't think of that.  I went out to try to herd the cows toward our neighbors' place.  Whether or not they belong to the neighbors is moot.  They needed to be contained so the rightful owners could eventually locate them.  Right?  So my good Sam butt got run ragged trying to herd them when finally I called 911.  What's my emergency?  Cows.  

The officers are on their way.

I figure, if we can't herd them, maybe we can have a nice roast?

Anyway, as I get to know the animals, I notice that there are two cows, two nice calfs, and a young not-very-big (read young, but no longer a calf) bull.  They're nice, docile animals that like to kick up their heels when they run away laughing mockingly at the two legs trying to keep them from either running down into the woods or onto the road.

I meet two of my neighbors at the road, and they join in the happy hijinx.  I'd thought, earlier, that maybe late tonight I'd go work out.  I decided, while gasping as I climbed the hill behind my house for the fourth time, that that would be overdoing it.  As time wore on, I wondered if there was good karma coming out of me chasing someone else's livestock.  Maybe someday someone will chase my livestock for over an hour, keeping them out of harm's way and trying to contain them so I'd have a better chance of finding them.  Wouldn't that be nice?  I knew of at least two other fools, er, I mean, neighbors who, like me, were willing to slog about in snow, mud and blackberries to tend to someone else's problem, so I guess it's in the realm of possibility that someone might return the favor someday.  

In the end, though, the bull kicked up his heels one last time and danced, laughing, into the woods.  We called it a night.  I called 911 back and told them not to bother anymore.  We'd never get the cows out of the woods in the dark.

The Sea of Unconditional Love still barks, though sadly, toward the woods where the cows roam (or are probably bedded down by now) all alone in the Ravine of Doom.  The dogs remember the Ravine of Doom well.  They spent several days lost down there.  Poor cows!  Come home, cows, come home! the dogs call.

Soon I'll feed the dogs and they'll forget all about the sad (not!) cows dreaming in the dark woods.  The real sadness is that the liquor store closed while I was running around with the herd.  No Navan for Kami.  But at least we had beautiful, unusually late snow to adorn the Land of Mocking Livestock.

Anyone missing some disrespectful cows?