July in Northern England

I stood at the wooden fence, the English summer sun beating down on me. Despite the sunshine, it was a brisk morning. I was wearing gray sweatpants tucked into Steph’s Wellington boots. The dirt path through the countryside was muddy from the drizzle the night before.

As far as my eyes could see, there were rolling, green hills. They never ended; it was like looking at the ocean. The horizon was completely green. I wasn’t used to this sort of scenery in my suburban, east coast town back in the States. Steph, Rosie, and I had just walked through the countryside to the old church set on the highest hill. We stood at the fence and debated whether we should cut through a huge field of cows to take a shorter route home.

“We do this all of the time, Amy,” Steph said, rolling her eyes. Despite only having visited the tiny Northern town two previous summers in a row for an exchange program, I was hesitant to listen to my English friends.

“There are like, hundreds of cows in that field. You guys just traipse through it?” I asked incredulously.

I’d never really seen a cow up close before, but they were huge. I felt strangely intimidated, as the nearest cow munched on some grass, watching us closely.

Steph and Rosie dissolved into giggles at my use of “you guys”. They always laughed at my American phrases.

“Do you think they’re going to attack you?” Rosie asked, still laughing. “They’re just cows!”

“Come on, Yank.” Steph said as she started to climb the fence.

“But how do you know if they’re all cows?” I asked, still hesitant to start climbing.

Rosie replied, “We just walked through this field last week.”

I watched as Steph climbed over the fence, jumping down on the other side. She started briskly walking through the cows. A few mooed in the distance. Rosie started to climb, straddling the fence as the mooing got louder. The entire mood in the field changed. The cows seemed on edge. And it wasn’t just my imagination.

A few of the “cows” had locked eyes on Steph, and were making their way towards her. She kept striding, oblivious to their agitation. It seemed that in a matter of seconds, the entire field was aware of Steph’s presence.

Rosie noticed too. “STEPH!” she called out.

Steph snapped her head up at the sound, and finally noticed the danger. Two "cows" were making a beeline for her. We all collectively realized that they weren’t cows at all. They were trotting towards her, snorting at her in warning.

As Rosie still straddled the fence, a bull near her started stamping its feet, preparing to charge.

“Run!!!” I screamed at Steph, who had already turned towards us. She was sprinting and weaving her way in and around the cows. They started shuffling and moving in order to get out of the bulls’ way. The two bulls that had zoned in on Steph started running immediately when she did.

Rosie quickly jumped off of the fence, landing next to me in a panic. The bull that had locked eyes on her had charged the fence. It was glaring at us and continued to stamp its back legs.

“Steph, turn left, turn left! There’s a bull here in front of us!” I cried out when I realized she was running directly at the bull that had just charged Rosie. She ran around the cows, the two angry bulls still in pursuit.

As she veered left, a cow slowly stepped in front of her. She didn’t see it because her head was turned, making sure the bulls behind her weren’t too close. A thud echoed throughout the field has Steph crashed into the side of the cow. The impact made her ricochet as if she were a rag doll. The cow she slammed into mooed in protest. Steph’s body crumpled into a pile of limbs. The bulls were catching up to her.

Sensing the danger, I climbed up on the fence and started waving my arms. “HERE BULLS!” I screamed, hoping to distract them from Steph, who was slowly getting up off of the ground. Rosie followed suit. We both started yelling. I was about to hop the fence to run to Steph, when the bulls changed course. They ran toward us, as Steph made her way to the fence as quickly as possible.

The nearest bull who had charged Rosie before started to run at us again. As Steph climbed the fence, Rosie and I hopped off just in time. The nearest bull slammed his entire head into the fence where we were standing. The two bulls that had been in pursuit of Steph halted, and loped around through the field, burning off energy.

We ran over to Steph, who was doubled over and panting heavily.

“Are you okay?!” I asked, visually scanning her to make sure she hadn’t broken any bones.

She looked up at me, and her face split into an exasperated grin.

“How did you know?” she exclaimed, still panting. “How did you know there were bulls?”

The three of us started nervously laughing.

“I have no idea, I was just being cautious,” I replied, thankful I hadn’t followed her lead.

Steph laughed as she stood up straight. “Well, I guess we’re not taking the shortcut today.”

We looked out across the field and laughed as several bulls started mounting cows. Intense mooing followed. We walked back to town, and I made a mental note that July in England meant mating season for cattle.