How Now Loud Cow?

Ho hum. Another boring ol' hour long hack on boring ol' Maxo Relaxo without incident.

He just can't seem to work himself up into a fizz about anything, and is all co-operative and laid back, like a comfy armchair parked, with a pouf, in front of the telly with a bucket of hot buttered popcorn and some soporific film to nod off to with a vague smile and feeling of comfort and good will.

Well, mostly that. It wouldn't be a Max story if there wasn't a comedy pony incident to throw into the mix.

It came almost at the end of our hack, as we negotiated our way between two fields of grazing cows. One side the dairy herd, the other, a few isolated babies and their mommas.

Max grew up in a field with cows, so they don't really bother him generally, but there was one momma on our right side with a straining full udder. She had one quite young calf on one side having a go, and on the other, well Max could not work it out. A bigger calf, who had to kneel down on his front knees in order to reach the low slung, heaving full udder of plenty.

He stopped and looked for quite a long time, trying to work out what manner of creature was kneeling calf.

"Where his front legs go, eh? How does he walk? What the heck is he doing?"

At this point, one of the dairy herd cows came over to have a look at us and have a moo.
This started a moo off, between all the dairy cows on the one side, and the isolated cows and calves on the other.

Moo! Moo! MOO!

Then I started to moo back at them from the saddle. Max mooved off, but I kept mooing, and so did the cows. Max got cross with me.

"Cease and desist!" he snorted. "So rude! You're encouraging them and they're talking absolute gibberish. Something about the quality of butter drips off toasted crumpets. It's crazy talk! Stop it now, they're following us. Be told!"

He shook his head with indignation and trotted on.

That's when one lone sheep in another paddock chose to show itself and bleat, and Max did a Riverdance. Well, not so much the flailing legs of Flatley but perhaps more of a Bambi on ice all four legs out and splayed as Max finally lost his cool.

But hey, it was just for a second. He collected his cool back, gave one last snort of derision to the bold and talkative farm critters, and trotted for home.

I seem to have created... a happy hacker?!

And tomorrow is another day. He may yet show me his Arab mist again. I am wondering if the timing of hacks whilst on morning yard shift is helping me? He's a little drowsy in the morning, so perhaps that is a good and helpful thing. Whatever it is, it's good! We'll ride the wave while it's there to be ridden, and deal with the rest when it comes up.