Posted June 27, 2015
- A field of cows in Alajuela, Costa Rica
- One of my neighbor cows, who I see every morning through my bedroom window.
If you know me in real life, you probably know that I have a semi-joking, semi-genuine fascination with cows. It started when I went away to college. You see, in suburban New York, there are no cows. For the earliest years of my life, the cow I knew best was the silhouette on a Dairy Barn convenience store. Driving up to New Hampshire with my family, I remember seeing cows in distant fields along the highway, but that was about it.
That all changed when I got to Tennessee. I remember driving down a small road somewhere outside of Nashville, and rounding a corner, there was a cow. Right up next to the street, behind a fence. RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. When you’ve never seen an animal in person, regardless of what it is, spotting it for the first time in the “wild” can be pretty shocking. So of course I pulled over, stopped the car, and got out to look at it. Then I called my parents. “Mom, Dad, there’s a cow. Like, right here. Like six feet from me. I was driving, I had to pull over. It’s just standing here eating. Right in front of me. I could probably pet it.” (This was before the era of cell phone cameras, or you can be sure there would have been pictures).
- I walk past these cows every day. According to someone in the community, they’re Holsteins, which is a breed that has high milk production but with lower milkfat.
Later in the school year, I was invited to dinner at a friend-of-a-friend’s house, and it turned out that he lived next to a dairy farm (again, an experience with which I was completely unfamiliar at this point in my life). As dusk fell and we sat on the back porch, the cows started mooing. I had never before in my life heard a cow moo; I didn’t even know what it was at first. “Uh, guys, what was that?” “What was what?” “That weird groaning sound.” ” … You don’t mean the cow, do you?” “THAT WAS A COW?”
- Another view of my neighbor cows, through my kitchen window one morning as I was eating breakfast. The one on the right posed for me.
I called my parents the next day. “Cows. There were cows last night. I heard them moo! It doesn’t sound the way I thought it would sound” (which was basically like the Fischer Price wheel of barnyard animal sounds I’d had as a toddler–it didn’t sound like that at all).
- Cow of Monteverde
My parents, understandably, thought this was hilarious. Our conversations began to include questions like, “Have you seen any cows lately?” and “How are the cows of Tennessee?” My parents also began buying me cow-themed gifts: for the holidays, for my birthday, for no occasion at all. Off the top of my head, I am the proud owner of a cow apron, two pairs of cow socks, cow pajamas, a cow wine bottle holder, a marble cow-shaped cheese board, at least three books about cows, a cow-shaped serving bowl and accompanying mini cow dishes, three cow figurines, and at least four stuffed cows, including a giant one that is about two feet long and which arrived under the Christmas tree one year with a blue ribbon hanging around her neck. I named her Annabelle.
All this is to say that, somehow, cows became a bizarre and unexpected recurrence in my life–a motif, if you will–and I can’t quite help but take pictures of them wherever I travel. Monteverde is the dairy-producing region of Costa Rica, so I’ve had my pick of cows to photograph. As you can see, I’ve collected rather a few.
- I tried very hard to get this cow’s attention. After ensuring no one was nearby, I called out, “hey cow!” a couple of times, but the cow didn’t respond. Of course, I then I realized that the cow was not likely bilingual, so instead I called out, “¿vaca, qué pasa?” But still, I was denied the portrait shot.
Kelly Wanders 