Why do cows graze facing the same direction?
By Historian Clineff
Like the "Good Times" virus, Tweety Bird email chain letters and Chevy Chase’s career, things you once thought were dead have an annoying habit of reappearing. And like spicy Mexican food, Christmas fruitcake and Dick Clark’s Rocking New Years Eve, they leave a bad taste in your mouth each time they repeat. As more and more people discover I am a SPONGE historian they come to me with their concerns regarding evil, real or perceived. Conspiracy theories abound, but none more so then the question consistently raised to me:
Hey, why do cows graze facing the same direction, anyway?
Many theories have been explored and debunked in various research papers, all of which can be found at www.bovinedefication.gov. Another theory that is about to be debunked is the idea that all cows are Muslim and face Mecca when they graze. This is also not true, as there does not seem to be one prevalent religion among cows. Although many do support Hinduism, thereby avoiding the unpleasant experience of being slaughtered and eaten, cows are divided equally among the major and a few minor religions.
It may seem that I am an expert in cows, however; given the complex social and spiritual nature of that which we refer to as cow, no one can truly call themselves an expert. I could conceivably have more insight to the cow collective due to my past experience. What most people do not realize is, before she became famous working for National Geographic studying chimpanzees, Jane Goodall and I spent quite some time studying cows for How Now Cow, an industry leading publication on all things bovine. The commission was given to us to determine this very question, "Why DO cows face the same direction while grazing." We began by studying the cows from behind as they graze. Trying to determine if perhaps they were staring at something close by. After being treated and released from the hospital, we discovered and published two very important observations.
- A grazing herd produces a large amount of Methane Gas.
- Never light a match behind a heard of grazing cows.
We returned to the herd and remained careful to stay upwind. After four weeks of unsuccessfully trying to gain the cows trust, we had a break through. In her diary Ms. Goodall writes:
"Success!!! I was finally able to infiltrate the herd and be accepted as one of their own. It was another disappointing day, I was making my way back to camp when I slipped and fell face first into a worm infested Pasture Patty. My stomach, associating the patty for the spaghetti I had earlier, began to expel the contents of said dinner. The cows in the area mistook my activity as my trying to "chew my cud" and seem to have accepted me as one of their own."
This was the breakthrough we had been looking for. We were now able to mingle among the cows and observe their behavior closely. We were soon able to tell them apart and began naming them things like Bob, Jim, and Snookies. Our next big break came when we realized that, during the night, the cow we had named "Boy, he’s old, I wonder if he is going to die soon" was missing. We tagged the one we had named "He’ll be the next to go" and waited. The next morning he was gone. We turned on the tracker and, after a few days and a journey of over 500 miles, we followed it to a McDonalds. It was at this point we realized we were using the same tags the slaughterhouse used for choosing the next cow. With moral low, and the magazine pressuring us for results, we changed tags and attached one to the cow we named "No, that one over there." The next morning, the cow was gone. We turned on the tracker and began our final journey. After three days and two states, we were beginning to fear another visit to McDonalds, but then the tracker showed the cow had stopped moving. We turned down a dirt road and drove as far as we could. We had to go back to the last town we passed to get camping supplies, it looked like we were in for a long walk.
After two days of climbing, we found ourselves deep in the uncharted mountain ranges of Kansas. After a hard day of hiking, we sat down to a meal of beef jerky and water, each lost in the despair of the seemingly hopeless quest upon which we had embarked. Fortunately for us this quest ended the next morning. We had just broken camp and had begun our trek westward. Jane slipped on a narrow ledge and, pulling me with her, we slide down the side of a steep hill and came to rest on the valley floor. We both stood, speechless at the sight before us. What we had taken for the whiteness of daisy petals was, in reality, the sun shining off the bleached bones of a billion dead cows. We had found it, the Graveyard of the Cows. And there, taking his last shuddering breath, was the cow we named "No, that one over there." Pulling out a map, we realized we had traveled in an exact straight line in the direction the grazing cows were looking. They were paying homage to the millions of cows who had gone on before them.
After a night of feasting and passion, Jane and I began our return home secure in the knowledge we had finally solved that age-old question of the grazing cows. As you well know, Jane continued her career as a naturalist. My career was cut short when embarrassing photos came to light involving me and one of the cows. Dismissing my explanation of alcohol and mistaken identity, I was fired from How Now Cow and was unable to find work in the field ever again.
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