When I was a child, my grandfather planted himself in front of me and asked, “did I ever tell you about the time that I witnessed a cow wedding?” No. “I was driving along on the highway in rural Kansas. There weren’t any other cars around. To the right of me, I saw a group of cows sitting under a tree. It took me a few moments to realize that there was something off about the gathering. I promptly turned around and got myself a better look. Over a dozen cows were sitting on the grass in fairly neat and tidy rows, all of them looking in the same direction. Two cows were standing in front of them, looking towards each other. A third cow was standing between them, but off to the side, looking towards the crowd. It was the strangest thing I had ever seen. As I walked closer, most of the cows looked over to me with disinterest before putting their attention back to the matter at hand. The cows didn’t say anything, as you would expect. But the betrothed did occasionally moo at each other. When it was over, the cows sitting in the audience mooed in unison, and then they all dispersed.” When I asked him if that was a true story, he leaned in real close, gave me his most serious face, and said “every word.”
Years later, I was driving in rural Kansas, and saw my own cow wedding, just like he had described it. He really hadn’t been lying.
Years later, I was driving in rural Kansas, and saw my own cow wedding, just like he had described it. He really hadn’t been lying.
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