no good reason

Chris and I have an ongoing battle over how many heifers ought to be grazing the pasture in front of, to the side of, and behind our house. 

Ok, so it's not really a battle. 

It actually goes like this.

Him: I'm taking 20 heifers out of the pasture and back to the dairy today.

Me: Nooooo!

Him: ??

Me: Who's supposed to keep me company out here?

Him: There's still 20 in the pasture.

Me: But . . . but . . . 

So last week, when he said, "I'm taking 20 heifers out of the pasture," and my mouth started to form the word, "Nooooooo!" he quickly interjected, "But I'm bringing 40 more back."

That's more like it. 

A man after my own heart. 

He showed up after lunch with a trailer, the same trailer--I might add--that carted all of my Pyrex and scrapbooking stuff and clothes from the city to the farm.

We're dual purpose people 'round here.

And then the cows started walking out. 

Walking. 

Taking their sweet time.

{I would like to take this moment to address a certain video that's made its way around the Internet. It's the one with the title about cows frolicking in the pasture after being penned up all winter, and when you watch it, you see cows kicking up their heels and jumping over daffodils and seemingly enjoying life to the fullest. You know the one.} 

I (actually don't) regret to inform you that cows kick up their heels and jump over daffodils and seem to enjoy life to the fullest even when they have been in the pasture all winter. 

They do it all the time. 

And for no reason. 

Watch them long enough, and you'll see one cow decide to start running. And then all her friends decide to start running too. 

And even though there's no good reason, they all join in. 

"Look at us! We're running! We are so running!"

Then the leader stops. And so they all stop. 

For no good reason. 

Herd mentality, meet your definition. 

Side note: America, meet your dairy farmers. 

Or farmer. 

Really the best dairy farmer, in my opinion. 

I'm definitely biased, but I'm pretty sure I'm not wrong on this one.

Once the heifers were out of the trailer, they walked away and got busy eating. 

And sniffing.

But mostly eating. 

Then they headed off over the hill to do a little exploring. 

What they didn't know was that there was another small herd on the other side of the hill. 

That's when the REAL frolicking began. 

And by "frolicking" I mean, the two herds ran at each other, skidded to a stop, stared at each other like the bovine version of the Hatfields and the McCoys and then went back to eating. 

It was pretty anticlimactic for those of us watching. 

Ok, for me.

Then Chris loaded up another trailer of heifers and took them to a different spot in the pasture. 

The spot by that gate that I drove past in the dark. 

You know the one. 

While he wrote down some of the cows' numbers, I took pictures of grass because hey, it's spring and I'm just glad it's not snow. 

Then the girls sauntered off the trailer,

saw their friends, and were off to the races. 

Or just to the side of the hill to see what all those trees were about. 

Hey, it's the little things in life. No one said they had to have a reason.