Just call me Cow Patty.
I love routine.... I'm happy when every day is the same with no mishaps or disasters. And I always take for granted that when I have to be away from home for a little while, I will return to find everything just as it was when I left.
Not anymore.Sunday morning started out like any other- I woke up early and took Lily outside while Hubby fed the animals; we ate breakfast, then got ready for Sunday meetin' and we left.
While we were gone, we had some visitors.
Of the bovine kind.
Flashback to last summer:
I went to the side windows- once again, nothing out of the ordinary.
Then I went to the front window, and saw 10 or 12 cows in the front yard, meandering their way up to the porch.
To say I freaked out is an understatement.
I called Hubby and frantically asked him if he knew why on earth a herd of cows would be in our front yard and where in the world they came from. He had an idea they had probably escaped from the farm across the road from us, which is heavily wooded and hidden from view.
By this time, they were making their way across the yard and I knew if the sheep saw them, it would be a disaster. I ran outside, (still in my robe, a lovely sight) hopped on the four-wheeler and started playing cowgirl. I succeeded in scaring them back down the hill, but I had a new problem- now they were running down the middle of the road. While not uncommon to see a cow out in the road in a rural area like this, it is highly unlikely you will see a whole herd of them making a break for it. Thankfully about this same time, a police car came down the road and slowed to see what was happening. He stopped to see if I needed help getting my cows put up (I'm still in my robe, remember...) to which I quickly explained they were NOT mine, but were on the loose and I had no idea whose cows they were. He said he thought he might have an idea who they belonged to and called for backup.
(Backup? *squeal* At this point I'm living my fantasy of being in a police drama. In my robe.)
He said this man's cows were notorious for getting out, and they had taken several calls on them being in people yards and gardens in the weeks leading up to this, and to make matters worse, the man didn't even live close by, he was only leasing the property and actually lived in another town.
Veeery nice to know.
The cows were herded back to their home without incident, and the details of that crazy morning were soon forgotten.
Fast forward back to Sunday:
Sunday was shaping up to be a rainy and stormy day... quite a bit of rain had fallen by the time we headed home from church. As we came up the driveway, we noticed a strange sight: large clumps of mud and sod had washed down the hill and onto the concrete. Then, as we pulled up to the house, we saw the worst of it.
Holes. All over the front yard. Some about the size of your hand, some even bigger. In the grass and all in the mulch and to beat it all, even a large set of muddy hoof prints walking through the carport.
It took a minute for us to compute what we were seeing, and then we both said the same word at the same time.
Large cows. Several large cows.
In other words, the Flank-steak Gang had once again escaped and stopped in for a visit, this time with no crazy woman on a four-wheeler (in her bathrobe) to run them off.