Shouts From Down Under

Text written in the clouds; that illustrious dawning

Where I was today, a small gathering took place and while none of the attendees said one word, I felt a loud conversation still took place.
This open meeting began and ended without fanfare but I was left wondering; just what would have been said if anyone there could talk.

No, there wasn't so much as a bellow, but volumes were spoken.

"They", of course, were a herd of fine cattle, contented and at peace.

I drove in their paddock in our van towing a trailer to pick up a load of fire wood, like I related in a previous blog, and they were immediately curious.
They cautiously approached, saw Honey, our dog - the Labrador Beagle cross that's pictured with Romeow the black cat, on the cover of this Book of Web Log entries.
The beasts halted a few yards away and stood staring at me, at the dog, at the vehicle and trailer.

I wondered if there were speech bubbles above their heads, like in cartoons such asThe Far Side ( by Gary Larson), what each one would be saying. Would each one say the same thing? What do they think?

I mean, their demeanour indicated that they wondered if I had brought food in the clattering contraption. Hay or something. Was I another biped who inserted his / her presence into their territory bringing fodder?
And what did I mean by bringing one of those "small calf- like creature that sported a strange wagging limb on its rump. They seemed to fear the dog, perhaps knowing these specie of "calf" possess teeth, and have been known to attack, in the past.

I could almost read what the comic strip text would say above each cow's head as their eyes remained fastened on the dog, and myself, as I began loading the bits of wood.

"Look, Teresa, he's such a knob. He's come back to pick up more tree fragments. Beats me. Why not just eat grass like us?"

"Yeah, Kayla, I'm hearing your moo. His teeth must have a hard time chewing that stuff huh?"

"What a Wally. Know what? I'm over this already. There's better grass over there. I say we just ignore them and their noisy mobile cave, and that gross looking flat cow he's making run along behind. Let's go. Gary! Come on!"

"No. Stuff youse. I'm staying here. I like this spot, it's mine, and I'm not giving it up for no stoopid two legged food bringer, or his furry biter".

"Be that way then Gary. Come on girls."

Honey stops sniffing around the lumps of grass to smirk.
"Stupid cows. What wusses. I showed 'em eh food and pat source?"

If I could have conversed with all these animals, I could have asked them what they thought of politicians, religion or the latest crime figures.
I could have enquired what their opinion was about the meaning of life, if they were aware of Pythagorus or Stephen Hawking.
Maybe asked if they'd heard of Jennifer Hawkins or Barrack Obama.

Or just asked for a bit of help loading the trailer.



Sparky