You know those post-apocalyptical movies where the main character journeys across countrysides without another human soul in sight? Well, because I flew into the Aran Islands (arriving 90 minutes before the ferries), I easily assumed that role of Sole Survivor. The vast emptiness was filled me with awe, and also creeped me out a little.
I soon came upon some survivor cows, sitting so peacefully and chewing their cud. "Oh, fellow inhabitants of this lonely planet! How good it is to see another face!" I thought to myself (because let's be honest, it'd be weird to say that out loud). I remembered my past interactions with friendly cows, where they seemed to have a sense that I was a kindred spirit, and I also thought back to my days growing up on a farm when we had a few kind cows. These were very reassuring memories that brought warmth to my soul, otherwise saddened by the knowledge that I'd never see another human again.
One of my friends mentioned that if you lay in the middle of a group of cows, that they will approach you to inspect this foreigner, and that maybe they'd like you for good luck. Well, they were already laying on the ground, but I thought that perhaps I could approach them and cuddle with them à la the triceratops in Jurassic Park.
One of my friends mentioned that if you lay in the middle of a group of cows, that they will approach you to inspect this foreigner, and that maybe they'd like you for good luck. Well, they were already laying on the ground, but I thought that perhaps I could approach them and cuddle with them à la the triceratops in Jurassic Park.
I crossed the fence and was in my own little world as I walked slowly towards the cows... and then I snapped back to reality. Stopping mid-step, I realized that the field was at the base of a hill, on top of which stood houses--probably the farmers' houses--from which I was likely being observed. I thought about how odd it must have looked, seeing a tourist ride up on a bike, do a double take at the cows, and have some internal monologue about greeting the cows. Then this tourist shook the gate and realized that it wasn't suitable for climbing before scaling the rock wall. Finally, the tourist inched carefully toward the bovines with an expectant expression on his face, and suddenly froze mid-step. I could almost hear "Honey, get my shotgun!" (I don't know how many Irish farmers do own guns, but 80% of them think they should!)
Having been shaken out of my little daydream and into fear that I may have been watched and within cross-hairs, I swiftly turned tail, hopped the wall and took off down the road.
But someday, cows of Ireland, we will have our meet-and-greet. Just somewhere out of eye-shot (and gunshot) of others.
Having been shaken out of my little daydream and into fear that I may have been watched and within cross-hairs, I swiftly turned tail, hopped the wall and took off down the road.
But someday, cows of Ireland, we will have our meet-and-greet. Just somewhere out of eye-shot (and gunshot) of others.
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