A cappella cow sonata in B flat minor.
View attachment 117057
Every year in late fall the cows come home from the community pasture to spend the winter in the farmyard and barn. Perhaps, not coincidentally, this occurs at the start of deer hunting season. These are the young ones born this past spring. After spending all summer in the relative freedom of the vast open range area this new captivity in a barn and farmyard comes as somewhat of a shock. In addition they have been separated by age from the rest of their herd, who are housed in a similar way just diagonally across the road at the other barn.
For the first few days the cows make a lot of noise protesting their newfound confinement and calling back and forth with their compatriots. This mournful song goes on night and day making it hard for us to sleep, but as the cold weather sets in they begin to appreciate the shelter of the barn, not to mention food being delivered by some unknown catering service. No tipping required.
Their song strikes me in different ways, at different times. Ranging from “they doth protest too much, methinks”. After all, there’s not much food to be found in the frozen snow covered fields, let alone shelter. On the other hand, cows being herd animals don’t like being separated from the rest of their herd and I can’t help feeling sad for those who have been separated from their mothers for the first time in their lives, as their young calls are answered by deeper bellows from across the road.
Gradually their songs die down after a few days and I wonder if they can no longer remember what they were mooing about or if they have begun to adjust to their new situation. Hey, there’s no adults here telling us what to do.
Naturally the cows became shy in their singing when I stood nearby. Stage fright, no doubt.