I Have Questions

Isn’t it odd how occasionally the answer to a strange question results in stranger questions?  You think you’ve answered your bovine conundrum only to find yourself tumbling down the Holstein hole.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

My wife and I took our son on our usual Sunday morning walk today.  We enjoy the outside air, he enjoys yelling at chickens, everyone wins.  Today, however, the barnyard festivities did not end with our feathered friends.  To our surprise, a full-grown cow stood alongside some traffic off the little side road where we take our walks.  It chewed on grass and stared back at us much as I imagine it would stare at an oncoming car. 

Having been around cows sporadically throughout my youth, I immediately took charge of the situation. 

“That’s a cow,” I told my wife, a full-grown human being with a functioning understanding of basic animals. 

“It certainly is,” she replied sweetly, likely rethinking years of marriage. 

Now, this isn’t necessarily the shock it would be in most areas.  Our little town is on the border of where Oahu turns from city to country.  In fact, our walking path had a “Missing Cow” sign posted on it over a year ago.  My first thought went to the missing cow of yore, but this specimen was no hard-bitten renegade living life on the ragged edge after a year on the lam.  No, this cow looked content as it watched us approach.  It also looked like it had a leash on.

This, dear reader, is where my questions began.  I could rationalize away a cow wandering from its field through a broken fence to chew the greener grass on the other side.  What I could not wrap my head around was someone taking their cow for a walk and then…forgetting their cow.  Cows are, after all, rather large. 

Where had the owner gone?  Where did he or she come from?  Why were they walking a cow?  Should we call animal control?  What do you even tell animal control when someone forgets their cow on a walk?  Do cows need walking?  Was I a bad grandson for not walking my grandpa’s cows when visiting his ranch in my youth?  Why was I so worried about the logistics and rational behind cow walking?

The questions kept coming as we passed a few feet from the cow.  The cow, of course, provided no answers.  We continued on our way, and I decided that if the cow remained upon our return, I would call animal control and let them debate the philosophical ramifications of the situation.

When we made the loop back around, however, the situation resolved itself.  As we approached the cow for the second time, a man walked across the small road from a house on the other side.  He waved at us, then moved towards the cow.  I waited for a visceral reaction, much like I would have gotten from my grandpa’s cows. 

This cow apparently had not received the same training as grandpa’s cows.  Instead of bolting for safety, it came up and nuzzled the man’s hand.  I blinked.  This was new information, and it did not mesh with my understanding of the bovine breed.  Clearly, he was the cow walker, answering one train of questions but setting in motion several more.

Why leave a cow standing next to a road with its leash not tied to anything?  Why put out traffic cones?  Were the cones an imaginary fence?  Did he train the cow to stay within an imaginary fence depicted via traffic cones?  How does one train a cow?  Can cows formulate the concept of an imaginary fence?  

Does this cow like being walked?

We turned the corner and lost sight of both man and cow, but the questions still remain.  Maybe one day I will have answers, but I suspect that those answers will only lead to stranger questions still.