Them Cows is Frins

Monday, August 04, 2008

Current mood: grateful I am gratified by friends who ask me when I'm going to post another entry. Thank you. I am busy here, and the more I learn, the more I enjoy the work. When I finish at the courthouse I usually work more at home. Why not – there isn't much else I want to do. If I want to experience the outdoors, I look out the window. We have a thirty mile drive to and from the courthouse in Stanton, the county seat of Mercer County. The population of Stanton is around 300. It is a charming little town with a railroad stop, a post office, a café, fire station, sheriff, water tower, and a small convenience store. I was struck the other day when I gassed up the car. I did not have to pay in advance. How's that? The clerk thought I was some kind of a nut when I asked her about it. As I've said before, in this state, I suspect if you needed the gas, they'd give it to you. All of the homes and yards in little Stanton are well kept. Outside the post office, which is downtown, there is a loud speaker with music playing for everyone to enjoy. We eat lunch every day in the same café, and it is always good. If you like gravy on fruit, that is a plus up here. These are gravy people, and I am a gravy person. Because it is such a lovely and scenic drive, we all enjoy it. It never gets tiresome. The farmers here don't waste anything. They bale the hay several times during the summer season. They even mow and bale the hay in the areas between the fence and the road. Something is planted on every square foot of every field. Wheat, sunflower, canola, corn, and what I guess is some kind of antelope food. We see the same group of antelope every morning in the same field. They don't seem to mind our intrusion. I have come to believe they own the property, or at least they have an interest in the minerals. It never gets old seeing the wildlife. We see deer so often it is boring. Not really. I never believed a deer could actually jump a fence, but they can. In every field, there is always a large area fenced and set aside for the state animal, the cow. I've been around cattle all my life, and they are cool animals. I wish we didn't eat them, but they shouldn't taste so good. I am amazed at some of the things cows do. For example, they bunch together. It's like a big group cow hug or something. They move and graze en masse. I am not kidding. I need to get a picture of this before they stop doing it. WHY do cows wander about as a group? As a confirmed isolationist, I just don't get it. I've obsessed on this question. I've asked and asked about it, and more than once I've embarrassed a colleague when I asked a store clerk about this cow phenomenon. The clerk looks at me like I'm an idiot, but she does it in a friendly way. One of my friends opined, "in winter, when it is forty below here, the cows bunch together so they won't freeze to death; perhaps it is a habit." I looked at my friend, and then back at the cows we were passing, and it hit me. "Them cows is frins," I said. Once in awhile we pass cows that are spread out across the pasture. Those cows are clearly not speaking to each other. And then there is the horse we pass each day. Without fail, this horse is standing in roughly the same place every morning. It is kind of creepy. He does not move. "Maybe he is stuck," someone said. I don't know, but that horse reminds me of myself. Only I don't stand around; I lie around. I enjoy the drive to Bismarck. On the way, off in the distance, is Mt. Cow. I'm not sure that is the legal name, but there is a hill with a large statue of a cow. In North Dakota, one doesn't often see what we always called "whole" milk. All they have here is 2% or skim. I'm not sure why this is the case. The store clerks don't know either, and they give me the same puzzled look when I ask them. Maybe there is some kind of secret deal with the cows here, and outsiders aren't in on it. Maybe the cows get to keep the whole milk for their own use. In exchange, the cows don't protest when we harvest their milk. We humans agreed that when we milk the cows, we would only take milk from the 2% and skim milk weiners. I don't know. It is entirely possible I am thinking about this too much. I only know there is something special about a lush field ripe for harvest that has ample space set aside for the cattle to graze. There is something special about baling hay all the way up to the roadside so the cows will have enough to eat when it is forty below. And, there is something special about a herd of cows that would rather bunch up together than spread out. Those cows are friends. If I were a cow, I'd haul off to some isolated area of the field and eat all the good grass myself. Real men don't share nuthin'. I look to the west, and sure enough, there is a small herd of cattle bunched together, but it is too far away to make a good picture. Someone forgot to tell them winter is over. Happy Birthday to my dear friend Cindy. From the peaceful, beautiful, Aryan State of North Dakota, Auf Wiedersehen! RPH, Esq. ©2008 Randall P. Hodge, Esquire and Morningwood Enterprises