Some people do most of their fishing on lakes or the ocean, where cows are seldom if ever encountered. Most of my fishing is done in cow pastures, the natural habitat of cows.

Even when I plan a fishing trip forty miles back in to the wilderness a herd of cows will usually get wind of it and go on a forced march to get there before I do and turn the place into a cow pasture. Sometimes the cows get the word a little late, and I'll pass them on the way. Invariable a few of the poor losers will gallop along in front of the car, still trying to get there ahead of me and do what they can on short notice and empty stomachs.

...

My wife insists that I've become paranoiac from overexposure to cows. She tries to tell me that the intricate and near-impenetrable patterns of cow spoor laid down around my favorite fishing holes are a result of nothing more than random chance. Even granting high probability from the number of placements per square yard, which is altogether ample, I remain unconvinced that these bovine mine fields are not the product of conspiracy and cunning. There's probably a small island in the Caribbean where cows are given a six-week course in the design and manufacture of mine fields before being turned out to pasture alongside find trout streams...