Bee Tree Farm

After a: very hot shower, 2-hour nap, third meal, coffee, several moments of kicking and screaming – we went back. After all, my car was still, you know, stuck in the mud, and I had left the halter on Boo which is not safe when the little guy is running through the tangled trees and brush. We returned just as the storm passed through the area which took several hours, as it turns out.

Upon return we found the donkeys calmly munching hay and no cows in sight. Just as I un-clasped Boo’s halter, we heard three drawn out “MoooorOOOOooommmmm”‘s in the distance (We knew this was Seamus as he distinctively ends his moo’s with a closed mouth which leaves you with a “mooom.” Am I the only one who finds this charming?). This was followed by the sound of galloping hooves and at the bottom of the hill emerged three tiny cows running at full speed towards the gate, kicking their back legs, and shaking their heads all at once. Frolicking. They appeared at the fence, drenched and hopeful for treats (no luck).

We chalked their oddly enthusiastic behavior up to the refreshing rain and decided to inspect the damage that 15 acres worth of river might impart. Our first stop was to the dusty pit at the base of a densely covered path. The pit was, if we’re being honest, the reason Jeremy ever even considered the land. He has unfulfilled dreams of fishing off of a small pier situated near his front porch. The dusty pit offered a hope that someday, this might be possible. However, we’ve been out to the land in the aftermath of some nasty storms and only found the pit to be slightly less dusty.

As Jeremy walked up the lip of the pit, he spun around and shouted “WATER!!!!” which I assumed was a joke, because he is hilarious in that way. Turns out, it was no joke, and the pit had finally found its purpose. We had, if only for a few days, a legitimate pond.

While we surveyed the pond in shock, we heard the same little galloping hooves from a few minutes before, followed by Seamus’s low and close-mouthed “MoooOOOOmmmmm!!” What ensued is nearly impossible to explain (Lucky you! I will try). The cows again came hurtling towards us, this time slipping and sliding down the path, tearing past us and sprinting three full times around the pond with intermittent back leg kicks. This ended with a very calculated maneuver on Seamus’s part in which he skidded to a stop at the deep end of the pond and paused (This part happened in slow motion. I promise.), before bending his knees and gracefully launching himself into the middle of the pond.

And then he was gone, horns, tail and all, completely submerged, and only a million bubbles in his place.

Jer and I simultaneously gasped, grabbed each other, and cursed, knowing that a tiny-cow-water-rescue was likely in our immediate future. And just as we pictured the entire ordeal involving Dwayne, the tractor, and a lot of rope, Seamus sprang from the water, galloped up the side of the pond, and tore away into the woods.

You see – they had already discovered the pond, that much was obvious. This discovery had caused a joy so great that our tiny, round cows could not stop running happily (Frolicking. There it is again. Sorry.) around the property.

Needless to say, I couldn’t speak for several minutes due to uncontrollable laughter and self-loathing because I had no camera to capture the only truly noteworthy event that had occurred at the land thus far.

Obviously, the water looks unappealing and puny but the theme of our entire story boils down to squinting and imagination. The pit/pond is no different. The point is that, like the whole place, it seems to have potential.

As for Seamus and his posse, they were only slightly less excited today about the prospect of a pond for swimming or, actually, diving. Instead, they chose to spend their time on land for some nice face scratches.