The Cows are Out
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It happens every year. They push their way through the fence, noses full of the scent of fresh green spring grass. They know it’s there somewhere.
Our family cows, all three of them, spent the winter in their spacious pen across from the driveway. They have a cozy shed, which they rarely use, ample water, and all the hay they can eat. Daisy is a Randall Lineback, a heritage breed cow with a black ridge down her woolly back and a wild temperament. Nellie is a Holstein, a fine specimen of that dairy breed, and Amey is her calf, half Holstein and half Jersey. Amey was the first one to break through this year, which surprised no one given her history of that activity. But spring is in the air, and wandering is inevitable.
We’ve kept dairy cows of our own for eight or nine years now. It was originally part of a crusade to save the Randall Linebacks, a breed native to Vermont. We still keep them, in theory, for that rich fresh milk they provide, but they’re really mostly pets – big, friendly pets who break through the fence every spring.
They are our family cows. I forgive them.