A Pastoral Scene

Taking a ride in the country is always a pleasure, showing us a combination of peaceful new sights and familiar ones. One familiar one is the sight of a large meadow dotted with cows, be they Hereford or Jersey. Regardless of the size of the meadow, from a square acre to 50,000 acres, the cows who pass their days there are always to be found in that section closest to the road.

This fact was never assigned much import until it created a problem for William Woolsey, a dairy farmer in Wisconsin. In 1952, Mr. Woolsey purchased a large parcel of land that covered 125 acres, all of it cleared pastureland, with small copses of trees scattered throughout that offered shade from the summer sun. It was an ideal place to raise cattle, and Mr. Woolsey had amassed a herd of 200 head, give or take a few.

The cows spent all of their time crowded in that area of pasture close to Highway 319, which passed directly adjacent to Woolsey’s land. In a short time, they exhausted the supply of wild grass and oats that were growing in that area, and yet they refused to move to a more fertile area. Soon Woolsey was becoming concerned. He hired a team comprised of a veterinarian, Robert Mums, DVM, and a scientist, Dr. Harold Albright, to uncover the reason for the cows’ affinity for that particular section of land.

Mums and Albright investigated and researched many possible reasons for the cows’ behavior. They took soil samples to see if the grass was richer in that area; they traced rainwater drainage for conclusions based on the moisture content of the soil. They timed the duration of sunlight on that section of land, as well as the duration of moonlight. They did extensive testing of the remainder of the land as well, searching for insect infestation, snakes, or other deterrents. They brought in Guernsey cows to see if the preference was breed-specific, but the Guernseys preferred the same area--if anything, they remained even closer to the bordering fence than the others.

And then one Sunday Mums and Albright were taking a break from their studies. It was a cool fall day; they were sitting on the ground not far from their subjects, enjoying a root beer. The air was still; the cows were searching the ground for any small sprouts they may have missed. Suddenly, in unison, they stopped feeding and raised their heads, almost expectantly. Mums and Albright caught this at the same time and sat up straighter. What was it? What had caught the cows’ attention? Why, there was nothing noteworthy--as a matter of fact, there was nothing at all, except for the Ford Fairlane passing by, a family out for a drive in the country. And yet, when the Fairlane had passed, the cows returned to their food hunt. Mums and Albright looked at each other incredulously. There surely could not be a connection!

The next day Mums and Albright made arrangements to have several cars driven across the pasture, one after the other, at a distance ¼ mile from where the cows stood. Within fifteen minutes of the commencement of this experiment, the cows had begun to migrate toward Mums and Albright and the cars.

Mums and Albright published their results in American Cattle Farmer Monthly, but the experiment went largely unheralded. No one seemed interested in why the cows were drawn to the sound of car engines; no one cared that the cows seemed to prefer Fords to Chevrolets (or Volkswagens to Pontiacs). William Woolsey purchased an old Ford with no wheels but with a working engine. He positioned the car in varying places in his pasture. He runs the engine for hours at a time, drawing his cows to fresh grass. And Sunday drivers throughout the country continue to enjoy the sight of cows congregating near the fence that divides the pasture from the road, never realizing that the cows are enjoying their passing as well.