Here's the Beef

I would have to say I am more of a city girl than a country girl so the eventual move to Westcliffe has me both excited and a little apprehensive.  I have been known to jump from chair to sofa to chair for days after a mouse is seen; at least until it's caught.  So dealing with wildlife seems a bit more intense than a measly mouse.  If a mouse can creep me out, how will I handle skunks and bobcats and bears, oh my!

So far, on our ventures out to the land, we have seen no evidence of any wild animals, unless you count rabbits and an occasional antelope.  Oh and don't forget the COWS!  The cows and I are officially at war.

My only experience with cows is my metal cow that I have fun putting decorations on and signs like Happy Moo Year and Trick or Teat.  I have not really been up close to any cows that I can remember unless you count the longhorns that resided behind our RV in Austin.  There was a fence and they looked pretty friendly but Joe assured me that they were not and that they could gore me faster than I could say Nice cow.  I had visions of playing ring toss on their horns.  Once I even moved my metal cow close to the fence to see what happened.  They were definitely curious, sniffing it and bumping it with their horns.  I never got too close though and so there was never any issue.

All in all, I would say I liked cows.  Or at least I thought I did.

Fast forward to last week.  We went out to the land to take our Christmas stuff to store in the container.  We are pretty shut down as far as working on the land, at least until the ground thaws so we can have the piers set and the containers moved.  Coming down the road, there was a bunch of cows on the land but with 30 acres they were pretty far away from our "cabin".  Pablo was not pleased but all in all I think I remarked on how cute they were.  Fluffier than I would have thought.

Imagine my surprise and utter despair when we pulled up our road and discovered that they had apparently had a party at our place.  Piles and piles and piles of poop.  Poop as far as the eye could see.  Carefully stepping around the poop which was no feat in itself, though Pablo seemed adept at not stepping in it (smaller feet than mine) I made my way to the cottage.  When I got close enough to the path, I discovered it was no more.  The mulch was either scattered to the wind or covered in cow poop.  The rocks that lined the paths were covered in cow poop.  The picnic area I so carefully constructed was surrounded by cow poop.  The trim board on one side of the cabin had been broken off apparently as they used it as a scratch pad.  The threshold to the cabin was covered in poop.

If there had been a non pooped in place to sit, I would have sat and cried.  I was distraught.  I was near hysterical.  How would we ever get rid of all the mess?  How would I  ever manage to live where the cows roamed free.

Joe wasn't quite as upset as I was.  He had been worried about one of them falling into one of the holes we had dug last summer until hitting rock stopped us and determined that we would need something bigger than a shovel.  We had even checked into fencing to put around the holes in case, but I had vetoed that because I didn't want to spend money to fence holes that would not be there forever.   Joe, ever positive, said we can scoop it and use it in the garden.  OK, uh Joe?  We don't have a garden and even if we did, cow poop is gross, it's stinky. I'd rather buy fertilizer at Lowes when we do have a garden.  OK, apparently that is what's in the bag at Lowes.  Still, I'd rather buy it in the grounded up, not recognizable form.

Sort of like my outlook on meat and poultry.  As long as it doesn't look like the body part of the animal, I can eat it.  For example, I don't like chicken on the bone.   It looks like a chicken part.  Bacon on the other hand doesn't look like a pig and therefore, I can pretend its a great tasting non animal thing.

I don't like ribs for the same reason as Chicken.  Fish, I'm allergic to which is just as well as crabs look like crabs and lobsters look like lobsters and shrimp look like shrimp. As weird as that sounds, my sister and brother Garry have the exact same aversion to chicken on the bone, etc.

My brother Jimmy, was a lifelong vegetarian.  So maybe something happened in our childhood to create this aversion.  I once asked him why he didn't eat meat.  He said the didn't like the way it smelled.  And that he didn't like that animals were killed.  Ever the peaceful soul.

I remember going to my Aunt Lyla's as a kid and they would bring in fresh cow's milk for breakfast and I wouldn't touch it.  Something about seeing where it came from creeped me out.  LOL

At Arthur's birthday party last Sunday I was telling my cousin Roxeanne about those wretched land destroying cows.  She laughed and told me a story about when she was growing up in Wyoming that she would have to make her way through scores of Black Angus gathered around their house to get to the car even.  Shooing them away with her hands.  Not to mention avoiding the cow patties and the smell.

I was reading a periodical novel yesterday and it mentioned stacking cow patties to use as fuel in the winter. Didn't that smell?   I remember working in Checotah and thinking that the annual Frontier day celebration's cow patty bingo was nuts.  Who would want to stand around waiting for a cow to poop, hoping that it was in their square?

Next's week adventure to Westcliffe will involve trying to get posts into the solid frozen ground and putting up solar powered electric fence, at least around the cottage and well, the freaking holes.  That's all I need is a dead cow in my yard.  I'd be scarred for life.

I'm sticking to my metal cow.  He doesn't poop, is always smiling, doesn't chase Pablo and keeps me amused.

I'll leave the real cows to the professionals.