What a Day

It was a beautiful autumn day today, and we started off with a walk and some shopping in Puigcedà (the pic).  Then we had lunch at home, and a brief siesta.  All good so far, but then things started to become "interesting":

The Cowboy and the Horny Cow (a true story)
This afternoon, just like any Saturday, I decide to take the mountain bike for a spin in the rural environment we live in. The terrain is ideal, and it’s kind of nice to blend in with the local fauna; sheep, goats, horses, the odd groundhog, and cows, lots of cows.
I’ve never had an issue with cows, and frequently I offer them compliments like “bonita”, “guapa”, “estás como un tren”. We’re in France, but very close to the Spanish border, so I’m sure that they are at least bilingual.
I didn’t think that cows had any issues with me either, more like indifferent, judging from the looks that they usually offer. It struck me however, that rumours might have spread about my lunch. Two hamburgers.
Anyway, back to my bike adventure. I approached a fenced-in field with some 50 cows and a few calves, grazing away and chewing as if there was no tomorrow. I made an assessment of the situation, and felt moderately comfortable that it was safe to cross the field. One thing made me hesitate though. That was one cow, a seriously large one with horns, who kept on staring at the possible intruder (read me). After a couple of minutes of consideration, I decided that I was not going to be intimidated by a cow!
Sporting my brand new, totally red, mountain bike jacket, I opened the gate in the fence, pushed my bike through, and closed the gate behind me. Point of no return. I got in the saddle and confidently pedaled along the path through the herd of mostly uninterested cows. However, the aforementioned staring cow, kept her gaze on me unflinchingly. She was some 50 meters away, and I was getting closer; 40 meters, 35 meters, 30 and... with amazing agility she lowered her head, pointing her horns at her target, and came chasing towards me.
There was no time to consider my options or to take a more philosophical stands, considering what a pathetic way this would be to go... My reaction was totally intuitive, and consisted of making a sharp right turn throwing the bike and myself into the brook that runs alongside the path, and then crawl out of the water and throw myself through the wires of the fence to the relative safety of the neighbouring field.
I will never know how close the mad cow came with her horns, but this must be considered a close shave. Whether her intention had been to finish me off, or just to give me the biggest scare of my life, she certainly succeeded at the latter. As a bonus, I’m sure that she took pleasure in seeing that all her cow-friends moved in to look at me with amusement in their eyes (not easy to achieve in a cow) while I recovered my bike from the brook.
I have to admit that I’d rather have been without this experience (bruised ribs included), but given that this isn’t an option, I have to be grateful for having learned something new: “Las vacas tienen muy mala leche”