Granted, much of the ongoing challenge is rooted in nurture, not nature. We'd paid for both cow and calf, and only the first half of the duo was delivered (long, painful story that we may or may not get to later). Needless to say, after a rocky, 12-hour truck ride, separation from her not-yet-weaned calf and the new, unfamiliar surroundings, she was not impressed. The ominous, ear-splitting bellow that accompanied her transfer from truck to field would resonate in our hollow little brainpans for the next 3 months. Why, you may ask?
Because this bovine Houdini somehow broke through our painstakingly well-fenced Fort Knox within hours of her arrival (leaving not a trace of damage) and proceeded to tour the region on hoof, eluding our exhausting daily retrieval attempts for the next 11 weeks. Within hours of her escape, we'd received a phone call from a neighbour, telling us that a black cow was seen floating in the river. I can't even put into words the sense of grief, dread and guilt that tore through us at that moment. Kurtis rushed to the fire department to get the details, and much to our relief, it wasn't her.
Soon the entire town knew about her escape and everyone would ask for updates or call with cow sightings that turned out to be other people's cows (all subsequently safely reunited with their humans). It was the most community involvement we'd seen or taken part in since having moved here. It would actually have been fun if the whole ordeal hadn't been tarnished by blistering heat and runaway bovine.
A friend's generous loan of his quad enabled Kurtis to cover more ground in his daily searches, but that's when he found most of the other people's cows. Still, the gift was most appreciated.
Raven's self-styled summer vacation was not without carnage, of course. She'd damaged a neighbour's fence and took up temporary residence in other neighbours' yards as she made her way to the river for some sun and water sports. How she crossed the highway is anyone's guess. She was once again spotted by the river, but this time it was a spa day of dipping her hooves into the water and lounging in the sun. Which reminded us that WE hadn't had a vacation in, like, forever.
One day in September, when making our weekly milk haul across the border, one of the customs officers alerted us that a cattle rancher on the Washington side had reported a rogue cow he'd found mingling with his herd. Was it ours, by any chance? A call to the RCMP to confirm her reported tag number, revealed that indeed it was.