Martin Hooijmans | Lars de Ruyter
All of a sudden, the grass did not feel that soft underneath my feet. The sun did not shine as brightly. My day, so free of worries, had took a turn for the worse.
The way forward was blocked. Her companions had heeded my calls, had gone off the dyke, but not her. She stood her ground, in all the Friesian glory she could muster, white spotted with black, or the other way around. Her large eyes seemed to challenge me. Go on then, try.
I didn’t know how much a cow weighed, yet my own measley sixty kilograms would certainly be no match. The way down and around was blocked by pride and the rest of the herd. I could’ve turned back, sure, but the option was thwarted by my nature.
“Hoo!” I called out, taking a step. “Hoo!”
It felt stupid. It felt like an idiot move. The signs had clearly suggested hikers should keep their distance. The animals could be unpredictable. But there was no way I was going to let a cow, a domesticated animal, get the better of me.
The beast itself took a step in my direction, but I did not move an inch. Instead, something snapped. Instead, I growled.
“Out of my way,” I hissed.
The cow shook its head wildly, and let out a steaming stream of urine, desecrating the ground I was destined to walk on. It was the last straw. I was out of patience. I charged.
“Move!” I screamed, clapping my hands, heading straight for impact. “Move!”
It seemed like the beast would answer my challenge, but then, obviously seeing the fierceness in my eyes, it backed away, slowly at first, then starting into a run. I got through, my vision red, and didn’t stop until I found myself at my front door.
The rage took a while to fade away. So for dinner I had a steak, raw and bloody, a huge cheese platter and a nice big glass of milk, all enjoyed while wearing my leather jacket.
Serves them right.