Visiting the cows at lunch time

In preparation for the MMRF 5k, I walked today at lunch time. My usual routine involves driving off school property in my pickup truck. Instead, the truck rested today and my legs took me where I wanted to go.

Very close to where I work was the site of one of the last working dairies in the County. It is now in the process of becoming a housing development (albeit an UPSCALE housing development). Across the street from the section that is under development, cows still live in the pasture (for now). My uneducated guess tells me that these are beef cattle, as the young calves stay with the herd and the cows don't have udders the size of those on dairy cows.

When my children were small, we visited a working dairy (now also developed into housing). We learned that the calves are separated from their mothers at birth and often do not make it. Dairy cows are not even allowed to nurse their calves after birth to give them the benefit of colostrum. The calves were so little they would suck on our fingers. It was heartbreaking to see them.

Isn't there a saying about the cows coming home? Previously, there were cows in the pasture behind the house at Robbins Lodge. When I was a stay-at-home mom, my kids and I would sometimes go to Robbins Lodge in the afternoon. I’ll never forget watching the cows come home. No one was leading them, they just all started making their way back to the barn. It was as if they had punched out for the day and were heading home from work! Just that slow trudging "it's been a long day" kind of a pace.

For a citified girl like me, it sure felt like a country girl moment. Today’s visit with the cows was like that. Took me back to the visits we used to make to state agricultural university to see the horse barn and the cow barn and the pig barn and the sheep barn.

The cows today congregated near the gate where I stood feeding them (essentially weeds) that grew outside of the fence where they could not reach. Their tongues felt like course sandpaper when they reached out to grab the “treats” I offered. Some allowed me to pet them. One did not seem to appreciate my touching her and almost had an “I am the boss and who do you think you are” type of attitude. She was bossy towards the others and acted like the head matriarch.

The bull kept his distance and was more interested in sniffing the females butts. He made a funny face as he curled his lips up after smelling one particular cow. Typical male, easily distracted by the girls!


When I moved to this area, University Drive was the western boundary of civilization. Now, I hardly spend any time east of University. The rural way of life is disappearing right before my very eyes. It’s nice to know there are still cows around town, (even if they only exist to garnish an agricultural zoning property tax rate for the land on which they live).

Before horses lived at RWFarm, MT Bee and MO Paul had Mary Jane and then also her baby, Jonah. I can remember visiting in the summer and finding fresh raw milk in the refrigerator.

My mother and my aunts can tell many stories of the cows they had when they were growing up on the farm (the "Big House" as it was known).

Each generation gets more and more in tune with the ways of the city and less and less experienced in the ways of animals and nature. Despite living in the city most of my life, there is still a part of me that yearns to explore in the woods or down by the river, to listen to the birds rather than the radio, to lay on a blanket in the grass in the shade of a maple tree, to eat grapes right off the vine, to pick blackberries, to eat freshly picked blueberries and strawberries.

By the time my grandchildren are pre-teens, will there be places left where they can feed the cows? Or will cows be just an animal they visit in the zoo?