“Okay,” said Jill. “But what about that herd of wild cows over there? Do you think if we go in their pasture, they’ll stampede us?”
Jack looked toward the middle of the pasture at a herd of some 20 Herefords. Their white faces were up, ears forward, looking directly back menacingly. “Um… naw,” he said, unable to mask a sudden flicker of anxiety. “There’s no such thing as wild cows, they’re just curious, I think. But just in case, why don’t we stay close to the fence.”
Said Jill, her voice quavering slightly, “Jack, do you think it’s a good idea to split up? I know that cheapskate Tim likes to save time that way, but, you know, with the wild cows and all?”
The cows had now started to amble toward our two engineers-in-training. One mooed.
“You might be right,” said Jack, shooting his eyes about nervously. “Yeah, let’s stay together; in fact, why don’t we walk just outside the fence. We can see fine from out here. You never know about cows, they could be hostile.”
And so they spent the next six hours hacking and slashing their way through the thorniest blackberry thickets imaginable, even though clear, easy walking lay five feet away on the other side of the fence. The potentially hostile cows walked to within 20 feet or so, sniffed a few times, and lost interest.
Later, said Jack, applying many Band-Aids, “Well, we’ve been around the entire perimeter, but there’s still that darned creek running through the middle. Think Tim would mind if we dry-lab that?”
Said Jill, “You mean skip it and guess? No way. Just our luck Tim would find out and make us come back. Probably dock our pay for the second trip.”
“Yeah, you’re right. He is such a hard-butt. I wonder if the cows have forgotten about us?”
“Kind of looks that way. They’re just grazing off in the distance. I bet if we’re real quiet…”
“Okay, I’ll lift the barbed wire and you go through.”
Jill shimmied through the rusty strands, then lifted a wire for Jack. But as she did, the fence let out a blood-curdling squeal. The cows looked up. Several mooed ominously.
“This place is jinxed,” Jack whispered. “Let’s do it… quick!”
Off they bolted toward the creek.
The potentially hostile cows advanced, slowly at first, then sensing the panic in their victims, broke into a run.
“They’re stampeding us!” shrilled Jill, now sprinting wildly.
“I see that,” hollered Jack, pulling away like a quarter horse. “Head for the creek… run for your life!”
Mooing like war drums, the cows thundered onward, closing the gap at a frightening pace.
A little later, my office phone rang.It was farmer Dobbins. “Say, Tim, d’you know whar yer two greenhorn engineers are?”
“Well, they’re supposed to be at your place, Dobbins, doing a storm drainage study.”
“Yeeeah. They’re here all right. But, they ain’t doin’ no storm study.”
“Hmmm, that’s funny. What’re they doing?”
“Well right now, I’d say they’re studying how they’z gonna’ pizzerve their hides.”
“What!?” My mind reeled at the perils young, green field engineers could get in to. “Did they fall down a ravine? Did a pack of dogs get them…?”
“Nope. Not ‘zackly. Seems they had a little run-in with my herd. Treed ‘em, they did.”
“…. Treed?”
“Yeeeah. S’what I said. I was out in the barn an’ I heard this gawdawful schreechin’ an’ hollerin’. So I looked yonder down by the crik, an’ there they was, 20 feet up in the ol’ maple, my herd o’ Herefords circlin’ aroun’ below like vultures. Y’want me to go pluck ‘em down?”
The humor of the situation finally struck me, and after a minute or two of laughter, I regained composure and said, “Yes, please do. And Dobbins, be gentle if you don’t mind.They’re city folk.”
“Ain’t no doubt about that! Anyone with a lick o’ sense would’a knowed them cows was jes lookin’ fer a little hay.”
Tim K. Garrison P.E. of ConstructionCalc.com has authored books and short courses and lectures on topics relevant to builders. Got a technical or management issue? E-mail buildersengineer@constructioncalc.com. Tim reads every one.
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