Wednesday, September 21, 2016


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 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. 


  1. She might have enjoyed a blanket and a cup of cocoa

  2. she may have enjoyed a back rub and a piano sonata by chopin.

  3. What an udderly moo-ving story!

    Now, meatloaf and milk for everybody!



  4. Jon
    "Distant Moos", sounds like a name of a rock group. Well, maybe not (smile). I loved this story Jon! I too would have been much concerned with a cow in distress but, like you, what would I do? Bring the cow home? Probably call animal control. I cannot bear to hear of a critter in distress. I know you're a good person and this story just confirms it.

  5. Frightened cowws can be quite dangerous. They're huge and approaching it in the dark might have scared it witless. I'm glad it was rescued. I would have been quite distressed to listen to the poor thing all night, too! Was definitely worth the telling. If it was important to you it is important to us. :)

  6. Before we had all our fences up, one cow or another would wander into our yard, get lost, lonely and start crying. Sometimes the other cows would come collect her. Other times, not. I only went out to help when her cries went un-herd.

  7. Ungulates ... I had to look that one up ( smile ). Having cows as neighbors sounds pretty good to me. I hope they're dairy cows. You could post about a mosquito and make it interesting. By the way, that's a great photo of the meadow ... really looks nice.

  8. We don't live in a remote area, and people don't bother us only a lot of traffic I think one family around the circle has to go somewhere ever hour. I wouldn't have got out in the dark either you could have fell down the mountain. Glad someone did come help her I know you would have if you could. Take care. Jean

  9. OK, a couple places there you had me on the edge of my seat. He/she had to be seriously frightened! Anyway, I'm pretty happy for the outcome; grinning, remembering Billy Crystal's character (City Slickers?) when he rescued Norman-the-calf.

    I should be ashamed to admit it, but some days when I drive past the miles of feedlots and see those sweet faces I'll 'moo' out-loud. (Doesn't take much to amuse me .....)

  10. I agree with Ron. I would have been running in my underwear out to the pasture with a First Aid kit. I can't stand animals in distress.

  11. Well we knew you had a big heart!!!! I have the feeling the cow was probably awal. That would most definitely drive me nuts in the night, but probably better then hearing the couple next door going at it like cats in heat.

  12. Cool post, and some very punny comments. I halfway expected you to venture out into the foggy rain to hold an umbrella over the poor ol' gal.


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