Yesterday we undertook a delightful jaunt into the dark mysteries of Central Florida, near Orlando on a splendid cool winter’s day. Part of the Florida Trail System (many trails set up by volunteers marking trees in the forest) loomed up in a Wetlands area. We could not resist, so we sauntered forth on our latest adventure.Odd, but the trail seemed to start by a gate. Cattle stood nearby. Where was the trail? We saw a sign saying “Take Care of Cattle.” Do we enter this field?
A knotted rope fastened the gate and I undid it, we shuffled though, and tied it shut behind us.
I suddenly realized we were right in the cattle field, and several huge bovines were ambling nearby. I spotted the sign for the Trail across part of this field past a number of cattle, so it meant you are to join them briefly in their pasture to get to the Trail! I have never been in a cow pasture before with the occupants prominently present!
My daughter Babs sang out, “Sprint over to that cowie over there- she’s posing most swimmingly for a photo.” So I foolishly shimmered over toward the cow. It was almost taller than me and outweighed me by many times, at least. It looked formidable. My progress was so slow my daughter admonished me to walk faster right up to the cow. I quaked a bit-I saw the whites of her eyes rolling (which Babs blithely explained away, “Oh she’s just trying to figure out what on earth this double-camera-ed creature is, as well as keep an eye on you, in that peculiar outfit with those lemon-trim shades, at the same time, Sir, don’t worry about it!”). Nonetheless, great images of bullfights with matadors being charged danced in my head. I tightened up my courage and again started to the cow while daughter got pictures. I got close, but the cow wriggled and then backed up away. I kinda hoofed it out of that spot myself!
We strolled past several other fine bovine specimens and into the Trailhead. Some munched grass, another munched part of a palm tree torn down; they just were rooted in place and we floated by without a sound or movement.
On our way back we entered their world at late dusk. Two large hulks were nearby. Babs deadpanned “They’re Bulls”, and indeed they were-fine young creatures barely out of calfhood. I sped by to the gate, untied it and quickly tied it back up. Babs slowly sauntered without a care behind me. Years later, she arrived. Safe at last, but really, none were aggressive to us.
Babs chimed out we will be going back there for more photo ops, so more adventures await.