Frailty, Thy Name is Bessy

[yes, this is a different cow]

My next cow photo shoot did not turn out so well. Not only was neither cow interested in coming up to me when I crouched down, but my weekend model udderly spurned me—literally: she kept her rear end facing the fence, where a woman with a toddler and I were standing.

Not only that, but suddenly, the cow let out a jet, a super-powered stream, of urine that shot over the fence towards us and cascaded to the ground like a mini Niagara—we barely escaped being struck or splattered by it.

And there I was, betrayed. I will never trust cows again.

{A note: I do write all text and take all pictures. Please do not reproduce either without my permission.}