My friend, Dena, and I were in Saratoga Springs visiting friends of hers in the summer of 1995, and she and I decided to go for a walk before dinner. It was quite the bucolic scene around us, as we strolled up and down the rolling, gentle hills on roads flanked by dairy farms in the late afternoon on a blue-skied summer day. As we walked along, I noticed that the herd of cows to our left was held in their field by an electric fence. Now, when I was small my family lived in a farm-ish part of southern California, our neighbors had goats and sheep that also were held in a pen by an electric fence. And, as kids will, we found the adult-touted danger of the electric fence an unending source of amusement. One of our favorite things to do was to hold hands in a line, with the two end people holding onto the fence. This created another outlet for the electricity, and you could actually feel the current run through you.
In any event, lulled into a peaceful sense of nostalgia by the lovely scene around me, I told Dena about this and suggested we try it on the electric fence to our left. She was nervous and reluctant at first, but I pointed out that I and several other small children had done this on more than one occasion and had lived. Fortified with that information, we held hands and grabbed the fence.It was almost like I remembered…a tingling in the hand and forearm, a hum in the chest. We hung on for a few seconds and then let go with a scream that startled the herd of cows who stood gazing in our general direction. We laughed and turned to walk back to the house for dinner. We had gone about ten yards when I realized the cows were following us. I pointed this out to Dena, and she voiced disbelief. So in an effort to prove it to her, I suggested that we start walking faster and see if they increased their pace as well. We did so, and I noted to Dena that the cows were walking more quickly. We then passed another fence that ran perpendicular to the fence along the road, thereby halting the cows’ ability to follow us any further. There was much mooing and rustling within the herd at this discovery, so much so that we turned around to look at the cows.
We turned just in time to witness the biggest cow walk back along the road fence about ten yards, back up away from it a bit, run and jump through the fence so he was standing, much to his disbelief and to ours, in the middle of the road, looking intently at Dena and myself. Then, as though he’d raised a leg and swooped it over his head with a cheery, “C’mon, guys,” the rest of the herd followed him through the now broken fence onto the road.
After a brief huddle to discuss our thoughts and feelings about being faced with fifty loose cows, Dena and I decided the best course of action would be to ignore the cows and continue home.
Have you ever been followed down a dirt road by fifty cows? It's not something that is easily ignored, as cows cannot, it seems, step lightly. Nor do cows refrain from mooing and snorting when stalking their prey, I might add. We were going along pretty well until Dena stole a look over her shoulder and saw that the cows were much closer to us than the original ten yards. She suggested we pick up the pace. I concurred, and we started trotting.
Did you know cows trot quite effectively? I had no idea. As a matter of fact, I had no idea how agile the little buggers were until Dena and myself four ourselves at a dead run, pivoting around lawn furniture in the yard of the house next to ours, snorting, puffing cows hot on our heels. We made it into the house without incident and collapsed on the floor, panting and laughing. Her friends thought we'd found some funny mushrooms on our walk, until we advised that they take a peek out the kitchen window.
There, milling patiently on the lawn, were the cows. It was as though they wanted Dena and I to come out and address them. I suggested Dena stand on the upstairs balcony and sing “Don't Cry for Me, Lovely Holsteins” in an Evita-esque style, but she flat out refused. The cows hung around for a while, and then walked back to their field and let themselves in. When we left the next day we drove by the cows in the field not at all tempted by the broken fence.
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