I'm used to hearing cows - they're my nearest neighbors. There's a meadow adjacent to my property where ungulates congregate (I just threw ungulates in to impress you).
Also, far beyond the trees in front of my mountain shack, there are more places where cows congregate. I've never seen these cows, but I can frequently hear their distant moos.
I like the sound of mooing cows around me. It sure as hell beats the agony of screaming children and all the other annoyances of neighbors.
The cow meadow adjacent to my property. I took this photo last fall.
The other day, one particular cow sounded unusually close. It wasn't on my property, but it wasn't as distant as they usually sound. I didn't pay much attention - until after sunset. It was still persistently mooing, obviously in the same place. I went outside and tried to discern the exact location, but it was too dark with too many tree clutters to see anything.
As the night progressed, so did my anxiety. The moos were unnervingly loud and urgent, sometimes sounding more like a moose than a cow. Despite my Sissy City Boy mentality, I knew the creature was in trouble.
I went to bed and tried to read, but the persistent moos coming from my window were extremely upsetting. My rampant imagination pictured a cow stuck in a hole, or with a broken leg, or half-eaten by coyotes.
My only consolation was that it didn't really sound like it was in pain. It sounded frustrated. Perhaps it got outside a fence and couldn't get back in?
By 4:00 a.m. it started getting foggy. I got dressed and went outside. That's when it began pouring rain. There was no way I could go out in a foggy downpour, in the dark middle of nowhere, with a painful back, to look for a cow.
And if I found the cow, what could I do? Bring it home and give it a blanket and a cup of cocoa? There are no neighbors around to talk to.
There is a narrow one-way road that goes past the front of my property (far from my house). The cow sounded like it was near the road. Perhaps after dawn somebody would drive by and see it.
Then I realized that it was Sunday and the prospect of any traffic was remote.
This story is getting far too long and I'm in it like quicksand. Be patient while I try to pull myself out.
I remembered that a few miles up the road somewhere is a little church. A congregation meets there on Sunday. Someone is bound to hear and/or see the cow.
My intuition proved to be right. Sometime around 10:00 a.m. I saw an animal truck going by. I don't know what they're called. I'm a displaced musician, not a farmer.
It was a truck that transports animals.
Shortly after that, the cow stopped mooing. I can only surmise that the poor animal was rescued and brought back home.
Okay, it took me a helluva long time to tell this pointless story - but you've got to give me some slack. I live in the unexciting wilderness. A cow in distress is a big deal - worthy of a blog entry.
Now you know why I so often write about my exciting Hollywood past.
Once - in my flamboyant youth - Rock Hudson was smiling at me.....
Now, I'm smiling at cows in neighboring pastures....life is an ironic piss.
Which reminds me - - I have another critter story which I'll tell next time. This one scared the shit out of me.