Ringing the Dinner Bell For the Cows

Psalm 104:14 King James Version (KJV)

14 He causeth the grass to grow for the cattle, and herb for the service of man: that he may bring forth food out of the earth;

In the late afternoons around 7 or 7:30, I like to walk out in the pasture and watch the sinking sun.  The cattle egrets lazily fly back to their roosting places. Upon seeing me in the pasture, the cows all look at me approvingly.  While not smart creatures, they know what is about to occur.  I am  about to pick up the reel and roll up the electric fence in order to open up a brand new paddock of fresh grass that has not been eaten in a week.  As I start cranking the reel, it makes a noise.  To the cows, that noise is like Pavlov's bell that triggers a response.
 

At that sound, the cows come walking and sometimes trotting to the fresh paddock of grass of which they will be dining on tonight.  Of course Daisy, the herd matriarch is first in line.  She's the boss and by-golly, she'll have her pick of the most tender grass she can find.  The other cows follow her lead.

The bull, Chuck comes next, followed by Luna, Clarabelle and Rosie brionging up the rear.  If you look closely, you might notice that Rosie's girth is a little wide. While I know that is never a polite thing to say to a lady, I know for a fact that Rosie is pregnant and will calve in 3-4 months.

Rosie is eating for two and I watch her as she selects the organic, non-GMO, no antibiotic, hormone free, locally grown grass for her supper.  

New grass must be tender and sweet and delicious, because the cows that were previously wondering what I was up to walking out in the pasture to observe them, now pay me no mind.  I was a tool, a pawn, in their quest for a tasty meal.  Now they all have their heads down.  I wish I could show you an audio of the loud, "Crunch, crunch, crunch...." as they reach out their long tongues, grab a bunch of grass and pull in a bite of bahai / bermudagrass mix for their entree.

I could stand out here until nightfall watching them eat, soaking in the sights and sounds, but you know what?  Like Pavlov's dogs, I hear MY dinner bell ringing.