The other day, I was feeling slightly adventurous. So I rounded up my family and we all went for a good old fashioned drive. We were all having a fantastic time enjoying the peace and quiet and serenity of the countryside when lo! Out of nowhere, or perhaps everywhere, or nowhere, or my mind skull (haha), came a strange oblong, cream colored object. A closer inspection yielded quite satisfactory results- a skull. At the moment, my only objective was to obtain decent pictures (how'd I do?). When that was accomplished, we continued our drive and had a lovely time of it. When I arrived home feeling refreshed and invigorated, I turned to a closer inspection of my pictures. It was then I began to notice something a little funny about this skull. At first, I had assumed it was an ordinary bovine skull, but the cows around here do not have horns growing into their skulls, like this one did. You can even see it got shaved off a bit around the edge! Poor bull (or cow; apparently, both can have horns), but thankfully he was well cared for. I have heard it hurts the cows to remove the horns like that, but there isn't really a choice with a situation like this. It's known as an ingrown horn. The solution to this seems to be prevention, i.e. the breeding of hornless cows, but when it does occur it's simply chopped off a little. Personally I would be curious to investigate the genetics behind the ingrown horn. Anyway, I wonder how that cow skull made its way to the metal fence post? I would love to have any cow/bull skull especially a skull with horns. They are really cool. Unfortunately or fortunately, I do not know any dead cows or anyone with a dead cow. The only dead cow that I have ever met is the one above and that one seemed pretty happy where it was. Unless it is not happy, is it? If anyone has any information on the story behind this deformed cow, I would be interested in hearing about it. I am pretty sure it is the cow with the crumpled horn, that tossed the dog, that worried the cat, that chased the rat, that ate the malt, that lay in the house that Jack built, but who knows. At this point, I can only imagine. When I was out there searching for a good photo a prairie man went past us driving like a bat out of a cave. I call him a prairie man because I surmised that he lives on the prairie. Let no offense be taken at the term. It's meant to be endearing. If he lived in the mountains I would have referred to him as a mountain man. Regardless of all that, the driver looked pretty serious. A look that said, he did not take kindly to outsiders. I always want to explain to folks that I meet that I am not an outsider and that I live just down the road, a bit. I guess the fact that I have to explain that to someone proves that I am an outsider, to them at least. Which brings me back to the original remark that I am not taken kindly to by insiders. So needless to say the rough looking prairie man didn't wave or even tip his hat in our direction. As we passed I could see his long silver hair wrapped tight to his stern face. He was not looking our way he gazed forward, as if in a trance at the wheel. I suppose that it is a good thing for him to pay attention to the road as he was moving at a good click. I did wonder where he was off to so quickly and why he wore the stark look of madness, as he drove wildly down the prairie road. His oversized pickup truck was roughly tossing ice and snow as we drove past one another. I felt I had to slow and move to the side because prairie man had no desire to share the road. Maybe it was because the yellow lines on the road were so compacted by the snow, they were hard to make out. The outcome of it all was that I did have to slow down further and move closer to the edge of the road. Outsiders never speed. I know this because I grew up in a tourist trap and the tourist always drive s-l-o-w. Anyhow, I experienced a moment that will be frozen in my mind forever, prairie man's silver hair and his deranged expression, as we both passed by one another. But the drive continued and we went on and, he did too. I was not bothered. Neither was he. He appeared to be going so fast that he probably drove off the road further on. I hope that did not happen. He was very far from the skull though, so no worries that he ended up alongside it in the bales of hay that were nearby. Altogether, the trip was very interesting and we all had a good time. However, I was glad to get home. I do look forward to another day at Coteau Valley Farm.
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