Cow Outing

It’s April. It’s been a long winter, with the last snow falling earlier this month. We have already been outside staring at the cheery daffodils and the early blooming forsythia. Last week we got up early to drive to Seven Stars organic farm in Kimberton, PA to watch some 70 Jersey and Guernsey cows let out of their barn for the first time since the fall.

An annual ritual, the farmers wait for the exact right day each spring, when the grass and clover have grown and taken root and the ground isn’t too soggy. Otherwise the cows' hooves will tear it up, leaving them with nothing to graze on all summer. Finally, the “right” day came (after twice weekly phone calls to confirm, I got a “Yes! Tomorrow is the day! 8:00 a.m.!”) And so we went to watch along with some local kids who had the day off for Good Friday (and it was Earth Day – perfect!).

When we got there we wandered around until a farmhand pointed out the route the cows would take. It was a long trip out of the barn, down a lane, around some farm equipment and then around three sides of the 10 acre cooperative farm next door before they would get to their regular grazing pasture. We waited outside in the field a good distance from the barns and 20 feet back from the lane the cows use, as we were warned not to stand too close because the cows were shy and might stop moving when they see us, thus causing a big backup for the other cows coming from behind. So we stood out in the field waiting, our sneakers wet in the dewy grass, listening to the birds’ singing, rubbing our arms against the morning chill. Finally, in the distance, some of the cows appeared outside of the barn, collecting in a little group. One of the farmers standing in the field with us called out to them in a high voice. A bit confused, they stopped, mooing, not sure what they were doing outside. The farmer called again, and this time they looked over at us. Suddenly realizing they were free and recognizing the moment, they began to trot and then run down the lane, hesitating only once or twice, each stopping abruptly to look at the same black plastic pipe sticking up out of the ground. They made it all the way around the next-door farm, maneuvering three turns in the lane without a herding dog, without cowboys or prods or shocks, directed only by that early call of encouragement.

One cow limped a bit with a sore foot, another moved slowly with a stiff hip, but who doesn’t on a cold morning after being stuck indoors all winter? I am still warmed by the image of their first exit from the barn, their first gaze as at the green grass, their first realization that their new freedom was just around a few corners to greener pastures that they remembered from better, pre-winter days, and the skip in their step to get there. Happy Spring!