I’ve often wished my folks had made me twins, one of me to quest and roam, the other me to stay at home. Yesterday afternoon I changed that to the other me to save me from myself.
I set out for a walk knowing there would be lots of mud after all the recent rain, so I wore my old, old shoes that are usually saved for lawn mowing. It was a lovely day, some sun, some cloud … and quite warm.
Above the paddocks down by the creek I saw something I’ve never seen before. I was on the lookout for the resident pair of Paradise Ducks hoping they were still around as it is still duck shooting season.
They flew into my shot as I was taking a photo of the poplars looking so silvery against a blue patch of sky.
But at the same time I heard more sqwarking and honking behind me and there was another pair, flying much lower.
Then I found myself a spectator in some form of aerial combat. The higher flying pair were definitely trying to send off the other pair. I’d like to say they dived out of the sun but stealth didn’t play any part in it. I think it was more about maintaining the height advantage and making the most threatening noise. All four disappeared from sight but I could hear them for a long time as I continued on my walk.
A couple of minutes later I found a beautiful cow pat. Call me nutty if you will, I thought it was lovely, almost a perfect shell shaped.
So the signs were looking good for a great walk. Should have known it was about to turn to custard. I should have turned around and gone back home the way I’d come when I saw the herd all milling around the gate when they saw me approaching. No, cows, I’m not coming to move you to another paddock. Look closer, I’m not the person who does that around here.
But what did I do? Instead of taking right hand turn, I went to the left thinking I’d take a photo of them from that little rise behind them, knowing they would probably follow me along the fence line.
But I always think this is a pretty part of the farm and I rarely take a photo from here. However, having taken my photo I actually thought for a minute. If I walked back that way the cows would march along with me back to the gate and then the other way when I turned left. And I realized they would make a mess in the paddock. It’s very wet underfoot and my son will not want his grass trampled into the mud even further.
So I decided to take a bit of an across country path. Could I get from here to that track going up the hill over there without disturbing the cows even further and without falling into a drain or being zapped by an electric fence? I could see two drains and lots of marshy ground but decided to give it a go.
I very nearly did. I thought if I walked half way across this swampy part on that old rotting log, I’d make it the rest of the way easily. I’d forgotten about momentum, I went too slowly. Didn’t make that mistake at the next hurdle, I plotted my course, took a deep breath, and hoppity, jumped my way across. Only to trip and fall flat on my face on the other side. So now I had a wet foot and a very muddy front. But my camera was OK. I put it in it’s case before taking the leap.
Looking on the bright side, when I finally got back on the track I was already half way up that hill and the cows at the bottom of the hill look as if they have forgotten about me.
I was quite pleased with myself really. After all, I hadn’t touched an electric fence. I managed to do that when I was almost back to the cowshed. And it was a darn good jolt, too, let me add. That little mishap ended up with my already wet and muddy foot looking like this:
And, guess what? Deep down I think I enjoyed every minute of it. Guess I will continue to leave the sensible half of me at home.