WHEN COWS RULED - Opening Segment (Scroll down for earlier chapters)

Growing up in a small town surrounded by dairy farms, I was well acquainted with cows that had their own agenda, and rarely listened to reason. 

     With cows far outnumbering the townspeople, farmers did their best to keep order.  But it didn’t take me long to learn that cows ruled.

     They left a lasting hoofprint on my life.  I’ve tried to get it removed on several occasions, without success.  

  

    In the nearby hills, Gramps had a big ranch with a large herd of attack cows. It was there that I learned one of the most important lessons in life---never trust a cow.  You could never be sure which ones suffered from serious behavior disorders, such as kicking and butting, and an overwhelming desire to run over you.  That’s why I didn’t like working with any cow unless I knew his complete work history. Was there any butting, kicking or stomping in his past?  Was I dealing with an easy-going, level-headed slobber-master, or a cow that should be in lockdown?

     As a kid, I often heard of contented cows, although I don’t recollect ever meeting one in person.  Growing up around cow gangs on the back forty, I was more acquainted with bovine malcontents, who were always grumbling and complaining about some perceived injustice.  Gramps said they had probably spent too much time listening to Lester and me. 

     Sure, we may have whined occasionally about having to herd cows, but that was only because Gramps didn’t require a criminal background check for any of his herd. You never knew when a cow would lead a breakout, and the whole herd would stampede over your body and through the valley, with no thought of stopping at grandma's house.  We were putting our lives on the line.           

    

To be continued...check back soon