Call me crazy, but I like the cows. The “natives” (my word for folks born and raised here) are not impressed with the cows or the cow pastures. I am. I have one on every side of my house.
Don’t try to tell me this isn’t scenic. Instead of someone else’s back deck, I see rolling hills, old barns, and cows out my kitchen window.
I like how whenever I take a walk around the “back 40” the cows have to stare.
Maybe I don’t like it so much when the bull stares at me. I am still a city girl, you know.