the day I found cows in my garden was quite a long time ago now… back in the days of yore perhaps, or back in the day, as they say, either way was truly bizarre and most unexpected, a sight to behold and a moment of disbelief… I didn’t even know they liked gardening… if you asked a cow for their top five likes and dislikes I can’t imagine gardening would be one of the former, nor even one of the latter, though I imagine liking salt would be a like, as would be rubbing their rumps against rusty wire fences, as would drooling, or salivating to give it its more respectable name……. and I surely never planted any cows in my garden and suddenly they experienced a surge of growth overnight like snowdrops can do… nor was it cows of the parsley kind, nor cows of the slip kind, although some one I noticed was slipping and sliding in attempts to clamber the slate steps to the patio but, even though cows have legs, they aren’t that adept at going up stairs, a bit like Daleks, finding themselves at a bit of a loss and disadvantage…… so there they were, munching away, poaching the ground, leaning on shrubs, nibbling leaves, or tongue wrapping and tearing them anyway… I didn’t count them, I didn’t have time too, take my word there were plenty and plenty more cows than anyone might want in their garden… perhaps they had a memory when they were roaming woodlands as originally they would have been and on the continent still habitually do in the domesticated herds, as my garden is part-orchard so plenty of trees, and bounded by a hedge full of outgrown trees…… it’s quite a wake-up call pulling open your curtains to be faced by a cow, or in fact several staring back looking undoubtedly as surprised as I did… where did that human come from?.. where did those cows come from?…… needless to say I rushed out, barefooted as it happened, after pulling myself out of momentary shock and awe on first seeing, to which they, also barefooted, or probably bare-hooved as they would be being cows and all, hot-footed (or –hooved) it out of there like a gang of naughty children who knew they’d done a bad thing, all the time wondering where they got in from the field next door as I knew they couldn’t have just landed there, parachuted in, as I saw no parachutes which I find is a sure sign no such thing happened…… it didn’t take me long to discover their secret entrance of incursion as they all to a cow scuttled skiddingly on the now poached grass headed straight for it to escape this pink-hued, barefooted creature alarmingly waving and flailing its arms in their direction and making noises in a language a cow clearly wouldn’t understand as it wasn’t in cow-speak…. they’d broken through, or sauntered through, a hole in the hedge where clearly I didn’t know there was such a hole but a hole there was, a hole now big enough to squeeze a cow through, in fact a whole herd, and as cows have a habit of following the herd it seemed that it was the most natural thing for them to do…… I never found the ring-leader, tricky identifying the top-dog among a herd as they weren’t dogs, they were cows, cows in my garden…. so that was the day quite long ago now I woke to find cows in my garden.
© 2018 robert greig