A Moo for You
I can’t remember when I started talking to cows—it just seemed to come naturally.
I’ve always been a country boy at heart, even though I was raised in the city. My dad spent his early years on a farm, so maybe some of that rubbed off.
At the California State Fair in Sacramento, I would walk by the cows and if they mooed, I’d moo back. Likewise, as a young man living in the country, I couldn’t pass a herd without offering some moos—and the bovines would often look at me and answer.
I once entered a mooing contest at the Colorado State Fair. Pushed in front of a camera by my eager friends without a moment to warm up, I blurted out an ornery bull call that failed to impress the judges. Apparently, they were more interested in a contented cow for their milk commercials.
One chapter in my memoir Groovin’ involves a stand-off with a assemblage of imposing bulls, inspiring my most ferocious bull impersonation. That was a few decades ago, and my recent attempts at bull talk lack adequate vocal authority. So I offer you my cow impression instead.
I hope you are udder-ly entertained.