Well, it’s not as dramatic as Mrs. O’Leary’s cow who reportedly kicked over a lantern and started The Great Chicago Fire. It is a good quick read, however.

So how did Princess wind up on my property despite the neighbor’s being fully fenced?

As the sun set – if I hadn’t by chance looked out my window – I might not have observed her change of scenery. She could have easily gone out on the road and been killed by a car. Darkness was quickly setting in. [It is also Antique Weekend in nearby Round Top and dicey overflow traffic does find its way here to Fayetteville.]

While the very pregnant heifer calmly enjoyed uncut spring grass on my side, I had to contact the neighbor; it helps to have their telephone number. Without it I hopped on my bicycle and darted over. In a few minutes the mother got a call through to son Patrick, family manager of all things bovine.

Princess, my heartthrob, continued to enjoy lulling alongside a couple of prodigious patches of wildflowers, occasionally snatching a few mouthfuls of interspersed fresh grass. It gave particular meaning to the expression the grass is always greener.

Once Pat arrived we needed to figure out how to get her back home despite an intact fence? Cutting the wire was an easy option, but that would mean working tomorrow morning to restore it. If only we could get her focused to walk parallel to the road, and drive her west, we – or she – would be home free.

The to-be-Mom initially wanted no part of that. Would she take a bribe?

While Patrick watched for traffic I quickly ran up to The Shack and got a small bag of cow treats: cubes.

High stepping through the grass, outstretched hand dangling, I managed to keep Princess off the road by enticing her with goodies. We stopped for brief instants to let her keep them. [I pictured Lucille Ball voraciously eating candies on an episode of I Love Lucy.] At the driveway entrance she made a right turn while still focused on the hand that was feeding her. Mooed on by Studley, Big Girl, Big Girl Two and Blondie, Princess arrived home. The gate closed.

Not bad work for a greenhorn drover, eh?



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