Tuesday-ish Reminiscences: Where I Develop a Fear of Cows

We just got back from Idaho and it's environs. While driving, I had a flood of memories from road trips of yesteryear, so instead of talking about Idahoans excessive use of "there" (as in "them there 'skeeters are thick at the crick" (I really did hear someone say this, no lie)), I want to talk about a trip I took to Utah sometime around my senior year of high school.

Andrew at Bryce Canyon

It was my younger brother, my mother, and me. Andrew and I sort of led separate lives, and this was one of the first times since we were little that we spent any amount of time together. We went to all of the national parks around Southern Utah, went rafting in the Virgin River, then up into Provorem and SLC.

Andrew at Escalante Staircase

I actually have 6 or 7 pictures of Andrew in different places: Andrew in the Virgin River, Andrew at Arches, Andrew at Hoover Dam. I'm sure we took regular pictures, I just have no idea where they are.

I was driving along Hwy 12 while my mom napped in the backseat when we came upon some cows in the road, right by the cow sign. (I'm not sure why the picture scanned in black and white, but it gives it an artistic quality, don't you think?) I thought it was pretty funny, so I took a picture. I honked at them, but they didn't move. After a few minutes, Andrew decided he wanted to touch one. He got out and cautiously made his approach. As soon as he got close, the cow lowered it's head and began to charge. In my memory, the cow was gearing up to ramming speed, but it was probably just walking.


Ramming speed or walking, it was menacing and Andrew ran for it.


Tyler always laughs at me because to this day, I'm a little scared of walking close to free range cows. But, I mean, look at that guy; if he had his way, he'd eat you and everyone you cared about.