I was walking back from yoga this morning, up the green, winding path that leads to town. The river roared by on the left, and an ancient stone wall rose up on my right, covered in yellow-flowered vines. I whistled to myself happily, and feeling strong and limber.
Then I heard a shout.
I looked up and saw three huge cows hurtling towards me. The path was narrow, barely wide enough for two people to walk side by side. Before I had time to think, I threw myself at the stone wall and clung to the side, standing on high, high tiptoes, praying I wouldn’t fall backwards into the oncoming melee. The cows thundered past me, nearly pushing each other into the river as they ran.
I let out a huge breath when they passed, and extracted myself from the wall. Up ahead, two other students were pointing at me and laughing. I had to laugh, too, but I was dizzy with relief. I had been spared a surprise trip into the river, or a trampling. Neither was an option I welcomed. It was remarkable that I was standing upright and dry.
When cows get the hankering to run, pedestrians DO NOT have the right of way.