So I’ve been working on dairy farms for the past six years or so, and whenever someone asks me about my worst experience, I always think of this.
About three years ago, I worked for a really great guy named David. Pay was good, cows were excellent, and the farm was well set up. Except for this one paddock.
I still don’t know what it was about paddock No. 47, but I’d get the worst case of heeby-jeebies (that’s the best way I can describe it) every time I went in there. Only in the dark, though, being in there in the light wasn’t a problem.
It’d start off with a simple shiver, and my brain telling me, “something isn’t right here.” Usually just after I’d opened the gate and patted the first few cows heading up to the dairy. Riding into the paddock, I’d get this feeling of unspeakable dread, and the further I got, the worse it would get.
Usually, I ended up freaking out and racing around the straggling cows, moving them at a faster pace than their regular ‘we’ll get there in our own damn time human’ waddle.
I still don’t know what caused it. That paddock was past of a seven-week pasture rotation for eight months of the year so I wasn’t in there very often. But I still remember that feeling of wrongness, and I haven’t felt anything like it since.