I’ve spent nearly all my life here in Wyoming, on the plains. And every year that goes by, during the spring, when the grass is still green over the rolling hills, I look out the car window with wide eyes and say “Ohhhh!!!!! Look!!! Baby cows!!!!”
This weekend after shooting kiddos for days on end. I stopped along side the road, in mock force winds, sat in the grass next to the fence and waited for them to come visit me. And they did. All of them. I’m not foolish enough to jump the fence and mess with mama cows, so I let them come to me. My grandparents raised cattle, so I spent time around cows growing up. And smelled the smells of manure and brandings. And…I still never tire of it.
