After a week of rain rain and so much rain (woohoo! and oh shit! all together), we have a dry weekend. Not sunny, not really, just a bit of blue and thin sun through the clouds. I woke up tired. The Kid woke up late and tired. But we dragged ourselves out, with Kid’s bike and my feet, and drove up the hill to our Grass Valley Trail.
Right. We saw a sign recently that they were bringing cattle back to the valley. Okay. New sign.
We expect mud. After all, it’s been raining this week. But that’s not just mud. And those aren’t just bike tracks and dog tracks. Or horse tracks.
Oh look! We see cows! And calves! That’s so neat! Gosh, they make a lot of noise. And it’s pretty funny to see a big black cow emerge from the bushes where I’m used to seeing jays and maybe somebody’s dog.
Uh oh. Cattle on the trail. What did that sign say?
They didn’t disperse. They didn’t move. I lived in Wisconsin on a farm, but I grew up with sheep and goats. Even as a kid, I was taller. How the hell do you move cows off the trail? They looked at us. And looked at us. And continued to not move.
Fine. It’s kind of a pain to deal with this muddy dug up cow pattied trail anyway. So we turn around and head back, defeated by the damn cattle.
Cow nursing calf on the trail. Of course. At least there was enough room for us to go off trail and around.
We made it back to the car. No cows charged us. We warned all the people we met walking dogs that yes, there really are cattle here right now.
I’m pretty sure that’s not just mud on the bike.
It was a good little excursion, if unexpectedly interesting. I laughed most of the way.
Damn cattle. Cows. Whatever.