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Cow Patties

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In spite of growing up surrounded by farm land and cows on nearly every corner, I’ve never really been around cows much.  Husband’s family has always leased their land out to cow owners so we have watched them meander through the field munching on grass.  Jim’s favorite past time has been chasing them and barking in their big sweet faces.  Husband has had to wrangle one or two that have somehow escaped their fenced in pasture.  But I’ve never actually been in the fence with them or close enough to touch them.
When the last leaser ended his contract and moved his cows out, Husband’s dad decided to buy a few of his own.  I couldn’t wait to name the sweet things but Husband warned me repeatedly that they were not pets, they were meant for the slaughterhouse.
I’ve chosen to ignore him…
Calling the cows to dinner…
See how they run…
Run cows run…
Hello boys!
Dinner time!!
When the food gets low they start head butting head other for the last little morsel.
The cow handlers…
A storm was brewing, and a sure sign of rain is when the cows lay down.  Well that and oppressive heat I suppose.

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