Friday, 20 August 2010

Dancing with Dolly

About two months ago I mentioned I had a run in with the cows in Port Meadow and promised to write about the full story.

Yeah, didn’t quite get around to that, did I?

Since I don’t have much of interest to say about things of late, I thought I would regale you with that story. It’s the least I can do since I know you all crave my witty words and are still reeling from the loss of Ian in the running blogosphere.

Or else you’re just bored and want to procrastinate at work.

Either way, it’s all good.

So here goes...

Port Meadow is public pasture land. When the weather permits, it’s a beautiful place for a stroll, run, picnic or boat ride on the river. When I lived in Retardia, it was the location of my regular four-mile out and back route.

So early on that long ago Wednesday morning, I headed out to the Meadow for a relaxing run. As I passed through the last of the three cow gates, I noticed a large herd of cows in the field to the left of the trail. By the time I was heading back after the turn around point and approaching the cow gate again, the cows had decided to migrate to the trail and were congregating in front of the gate.

The cows and horses in the Meadow are quite used to humans being in there midst. I run by and zigzag around them all the time. However, I’ve never had them completely block off my exit before. The herd was four cows deep in front of the gate.

And their asses were all pointed at me.

The fence isn’t climbable and I really didn’t want to take a fully-clothed swim in the river to get to the other side. I had to get the cows to move.

After assessing the situation, I slowly walked towards the cows. The ones on the periphery could see me approaching and calmly moved out of the way. When I was two rows of cow butts away from the fence, things got a bit more difficult. The cows in front couldn’t see me and if they did, there was nowhere for them to go since they were hemmed in by their fellow cows.

That’s when I felt a cow nose at my back.

I was surrounded.

I had a moment of insanity and confused cows with goats. I thought the cow was going to start eating my shirt off, but then realized he/she was only trying to figure me out. Either that or it really liked the smell of my sweat.

Ew.

So at this point I’m completely surrounded by cows and I have a firing squad of cow asses between me and the gate.

With no other option, I started to dance.

Shuffle, shuffle, left. Shuffle, shuffle, right. After each shift, the cows in front could see me and then move to the right away from the river. One of the cows right in front of the gate turned its head and gave me a look of total fear which in turn freaked me the fuck out since its ass was right in my face. I backed up as much as the cows behind me would allow until the scared cow was able to amble off with its friends.

Finally, after five minutes of dancing and projectile poop avoidance I made it to the gate and slipped through intact and untainted.

The cows immediately crowded back around the gate giving me curious looks. I thanked them for not shitting on or trampling me and then headed back home.

I sure do miss those cows.

Okay, that’s it for me. Have a fabulous weekend, everyone.

Later gators.

13 comments:

Lily on the Road said...

Riveting!!

So glad you made it out unscathed...

LOL,

Have a great weekend!! *muah*

Glaven Q. Heisenberg said...

Wow. This is without a doubt the third-best cow-related story I read this morning. Actually, tied for third, so technically fourth. If you'd just gotten a little BIZ-ZAY with those cows, it would've been second. (You don't want to know what you'd've had to do to those cows to be the best cow story of the day plus I get the feeling that you're just not that flexible, both in the physical and ethical sense of that word.)

I backed up as much as the cows behind me would allow until the scared cow was able to amble off ...

Funny how sacred cow is a mere two scrambled letters away from scared cow.

Speaking of Sacred Cows .. no, I am NOT reeling from Ian's abandonment of the blogosphere because this morning I went to so-called Ian's so-called blog and there was a weird anonymous comment on there just above the one I was about to make, a comment offering instructions on how to like download Artie Shaw & Carmen Miranda music and of course I couldn't help but make reference to that in my comment and then I go back to so-called Ian's so-called blog so-called later and ...

...he's fucking DELETED the Carmen Miranda/Artie Shaw comment like a total DOUCHE - making MY comment look weird and psychotic and non-sequiturial and it's like, Dude, when I need YOUR help to look STUPID I'll fucking ask, okay? - which I hadn't.

Asked, that is.

Yeah, so I'm reeling, all right.

With righteous anger!

In sum, I totally would have fucked those cows.

Keith said...

Now do that cow dance ----- on a bike. Dodging pre-existing piles of cow poop.

I hadn't realized cows got GQH so excited.

Spike said...

The cows where I love do not mix with the humans...but I guess different strides for different folks. Alas, where I live they just make their way to the gate and run along the fence with me. Cows can be fast if they want.

Jamoosh said...

Didn't dancing solve everything in the 80's too!

Jamie said...

Glad a you avoided getting pooped on, though that may have only added to the story :)

Jess said...

Gotta love a good cow story!

MCM Mama said...

You crack me up!

The Merry said...

That story made me smile.
Also made me glad I wasn't the one doing the dancing around the cow butts.

Good thing you're not a Native American, or Dances With Cow Butts would be your Indian name. Which would not be a good thing.

Viper said...

I'm not satisfied with the ending. You thought you were in trouble and then you escaped? Boring. Couldn't you at least step in a cow pie after trying to avoid direct poopage? That would have been more satisfying. Cheers!

Deb said...

You're a brave woman, X. Cows are even bigger than dogs! DAWGS!!!

The park where I do my Sat. long runs is riddled with Kanadian geese (I blame Keef)and I avoid them as much as possible. Sometimes, though, those sneaky bastards pen me in on a trail and I become absolutely paralyzed with dread. Wild (and even domesticated) animals are not my friends.

Lauren said...

So you entered a dance off with cows and won? Glad we waited months for that nail biter.

My mom is a vet so I grew up around stock yards. She'd always come home and complain that her arms were tired from 'lifting cow tails all day'. That's code for having to hold up a cows tail with one hand and stick your whole arm up the cow's butt with the other. Your story doesn't impress me. And I know we've all heard tell of Glaven's nuts@ck, but I'm pretty sure the cow wouldn't feel a thing, so I say go for it!

Laura said...

All I picture is a Where's Waldo-style image with you in the middle of the cows. Were you wearing brown and white? Gotta make it challenging!