Turns out the grass was not greener

Sleep last night was just down right fitful. I worried about the cows, wondering where they could be, if they were safe. Linda was awoken (thus me) by pain in her arm (blind kitty attack, more on that later) and what made matters worst was the dang mocking bird out side the window going on like a damn banshee. The repetitions were maddening.  I tried to breathe, to hear the chapel bells in the songs but I was simply ready to go out and start shooting that frikin' bird. But I know gun safety and going out groggy in the middle of the night shooting at something you cant see proper is just not wise or a Buddhist thing to do, so I put a pillow over my ear and head.

Woke up around seven had a cup of coffee and headed out for the search. I found a gate to the neighbors pasture and invited myself in.  Me on the 4-wheeler with a bucket of grain scouring the pastures and creek beds. No cows. I was just about to give up and head back to the make shift barbed wire gate until I realized I had lost the grain bucket. How. in. the. hell. could that have happened with out me noticing? So I followed my tire tracks back looking for the white five gallon bucket. Then I saw it, not the bucket but thick wide tire prints. I followed them. Heart beating and very nervous. I tried to look closely at them to try to determine when they may have been made. Was it yesterday? last week? last month? this morning? They looked fresher than I wanted them to.

I came up on a pond. the tracts ended. There was a cow patty, one, wet and fresh. I knelt down and looked at it. I did not touch it even though I wanted to badly, like by touching the sticky mess I could gain insight to the whereabouts of the cows. No I just looked and decided it was fresh maybe 4 hours old. Were they taken??? I stood in the open looking around at this foreign secret, too quite of a place. I felt very alone. A hawk screeched up above, an unwelcoming sound. I got back on the 4-wheeler and headed back. They are gone. There are no cows.

I made some phone calls, arranged a posse for later that day. I needed people, I needed to find the cows. Gathered phone numbers, sheriffs office, sale barn, vet, hoping I would not have to dial these numbers. It was 10:30 I was famished Linda and I went to The Rock for breakfast, I had two. We tried to change the subject, tried to think of other things. Back home we went about our business. I was scheduled to have a friend help with transplanting at 2, and the posse would be here at 1:30 or so. I tried to act normal. Then Linda who had started to drive up to the cabin to get something honked! THE COWS!! she got out of the car before she was even at a full stop. I jumped on the 4-wheeler, grain bucket in hand and went to get my babies! they were on the other side of the fence. I lead them to and with Linda's help finally through the washed out fence through the creek bed. Poor babies ears were just loaded with ticks I stood there in the creek with them picking one tick after the next off their face and ear. They looked traumatized and very glad to be home.

Once I got them back they got a full bin of grain, fresh clean water and lots of ear scratches. The grass is not greener on the other side. I saw for myself. Things are just fine right were you are cows.
The cows are safe and sound, fence on the creek is fixed until the next big rain and that's how it is here. Transplanting was finished, beer was consumed and a feast was prepared. The day ends well.