The Cows of Town Lake By JD Adams
It is mid-afternoon at Town Lake, not far from Pacific City on the North Oregon Coast. The fish are jumping. Ospreys circle overhead. And on the meadow above the lake, creatures are stirring. With twitching of velvety ears and the rolling of big brown eyes, a plot was afoot.
On the edge of Town Lake, worms were failing us in our quest for trout. Our hopeful casts into the lake had melted into philosophical daydreams while forest reflections danced on the tea-colored water. Suddenly, floating before us, a blob of chartreuse Powerbait appeared. Overhead, lost in the glare of high clouds, an osprey cried.
We understand, Darlene and I thought in unison. It was a sign.
It was clear what we needed to do. The worms were off the hook for now. Add water to our sleek, water-filled bobbers so they would sink, and we could use recycled Powerbait. It was crazy enough to work, and we had a strike almost immediately. At this moment, there was a great commotion of snapping branches and snorting, and something began coming this way down the hillside.
It wasnt until we saw Holsteins peeking through the trees that we knew that the Cows of Town Lake had decided to make their move. Driven mad by thirst, or perhaps just annoyed at all the splashing around, they were ambling with a sense of purpose down the meandering trails. They arrived at the grassy bench and looked at us the droll way that only cows can do. Obviously, it wasnt their first rodeo.
The thirstiest cows plunged into the water on the other side of a cedar tree and drank greedily. The others soon followed by politely stepping around us. We fished, the cows drank, and a good time was had by all in a rare moment of bovine intervention.
The above story was written and submitted to us by JD Adams. You can send him a comment or read other stories by J.D. Adams
On the edge of Town Lake, worms were failing us in our quest for trout. Our hopeful casts into the lake had melted into philosophical daydreams while forest reflections danced on the tea-colored water. Suddenly, floating before us, a blob of chartreuse Powerbait appeared. Overhead, lost in the glare of high clouds, an osprey cried.
We understand, Darlene and I thought in unison. It was a sign.
It was clear what we needed to do. The worms were off the hook for now. Add water to our sleek, water-filled bobbers so they would sink, and we could use recycled Powerbait. It was crazy enough to work, and we had a strike almost immediately. At this moment, there was a great commotion of snapping branches and snorting, and something began coming this way down the hillside.
It wasnt until we saw Holsteins peeking through the trees that we knew that the Cows of Town Lake had decided to make their move. Driven mad by thirst, or perhaps just annoyed at all the splashing around, they were ambling with a sense of purpose down the meandering trails. They arrived at the grassy bench and looked at us the droll way that only cows can do. Obviously, it wasnt their first rodeo.
The thirstiest cows plunged into the water on the other side of a cedar tree and drank greedily. The others soon followed by politely stepping around us. We fished, the cows drank, and a good time was had by all in a rare moment of bovine intervention.
The above story was written and submitted to us by JD Adams. You can send him a comment or read other stories by J.D. Adams