My Daddy and I used to "count cows" every evening. We'd drive into the pasture in Daddy's pick-up truck with the windows rolled down. He'd call the cows - "coy-up, coy, coy, coy" and they'd come running. We'd stop the truck, hop in the back and just watch. Sometimes they'd get close enough to the truck where I could stroke their face.
They were beautiful. The Mama's shiny black coats and long eyelashes. The wild red calves bucking and frolicking through the pasture.
If I close my eyes I can still smell the clover, feel the warm breeze and hear the calves calling to their Mamas.
I still don't know if we really needed to count cows every day or if it was just something for me and my Daddy to enjoy doing together.
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