“Where are we going?” I call after him as I struggle to keep up with his long strides.
“Moving the cows from one paddock to another.”
I pause. “Cows?”
He doesn’t stop. “Keep up, the longer you take, the longer you’re going to be out here.”
I jog to catch up. “Are the cows nice?”
He pauses now, turning to give me a quick unsatisfied glance. “Are the cows nice?”
“That’s what I asked,” I mutter.
“No, they’re not. They get the shits when we move them and they will make it known.”
That sounds .... terrifying.
“So how, dare I ask, do we move these cows?”
“Wave your fuckin’ arms around until they move.”
I blink, confused. “Don’t you use horses?”
“We usually do, but this paddock is easy and the cows move without too much fuss.”
Without too much fuss.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Don’t get in their way and you’ll be fine.”
We reach a paddock full of cows, and there are about five other guys with dogs moving around. I don’t recognize them and guess they’re just ranch workers. The dogs are all running, noses to the cows’ legs, letting them know they’re more than ready to have them move the second they’re given the command. The cows make a loud, groaning sound which I’m assuming is supposed to resemble a moo. I have no idea who came up with such a cute sounding word for the noise these beasts are making.
“Go and stand by the gate,” Lake orders. “When I give you the signal, open it and keep it open no matter what happens. The cows will come through quickly, occasionally one will try to leave the pack. If that happens the dogs generally pull them into line, but if they don’t, you’ll need to wave your arms and try to get it back in.”
I stare at him, eyes wide. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“We’ve been over this,” he mutters, waving a hand so the guys know it’s nearly time. “Gate.”
I move to the gate he points to and find myself shaking just a touch as I hold the latch, ready to open it. Lake gets everyone working, and in seconds the dogs have the cows ready to move into the next paddock. Whistles travel through the deep groans of the cows, and when I see Lake give me the signal, I open the gate and push it out as far as I can so that the cows can start moving through.
They do, mostly without drama.
In a large group, they travel into the next paddock. I hang onto the gate, even though it seems to be holding itself open. So far, everything is going to plan and the cows are playing nice, which I’m sending a prayer of thanks up for, because I’m not ready to take on one of these animals. They’re bigger than me, and quite frankly, not at all cute and squishy.
Then it happens.
A brown cow separates from the group, right near me.
It runs out, grunting as it tries to make its escape. It moves toward the fence where I’m currently standing, gate in hand, and stops in front of me, snorting and huffing. I freeze, confused, as the large animal stares me down. It looks pissed off. What did Lake say to do again? Oh, wave my hands. I release the gate for a moment, take a deep breath, and wave my hands. “Go, get back into line, go.”
The cow doesn’t take kindly to my little show and begins pawing at the ground, its head down.
The mother fucker is going to charge.
With a scream, I move behind the gate just in time. The cow comes charging toward me and hits the gate with such force it shoves me backward into the fence behind me, a little space I’ve closed myself into hoping it would protect me from the angry beast that just tried to kill me.
My back slams against the railing and, because of that, the gate swings out of my hand and toward the cows still moving through it, leaving me exposed to the animal that doesn’t look like it’s done. I put my hands up, panting as I see it train its gaze onto me once more. “Nice cow, nice cow. Moooo.”
My failed attempt at reasoning with it only seems to bring on more rage.
It begins pawing the ground again.
It’s just about to charge at me when Lake appears with something in his hand, he presses it to the cows behind, and it immediately backs off and darts away where the dogs quickly round it up and get it back into the group.
I press a hand to my chest, feeling a little dizzy.
“You good?” Lake asks me.
“That cow tried to kill me,” I breathe, still in shock.
“That wasn’t a cow, that was Barry. He’s a bull. He doesn’t like being yelled at.”
“Barry?” I gasp. “Barry? That was fucking Barry? Oh, well now you say that I feel so much better. You told me to yell at them.”