You know when you wake up to the sound of mooing that you are not in Los Angeles anymore.
I’m in Connecticut, just a country mile from Severson’s dairy farm, and after this morning’s bovine wakeup call, I went to visit.
What’s always intrigued me about old man Severson’s seventy-five cow is how they are named. Severson’s wife, Karen, does the calving and the naming, and depending on what’s going on in her life on a given day has made some pretty whimsical choices.
We strolled down there at feeding time, when all the cows’ massive heads are bent low over the trough so it’s easy to read the name tags stapled to their ears. There’s Panda, Iris and Tortilla, sharing hay with Marbles and Blast Off. Next to them is a couple that are white with black spots, like Dalmatians. Their names are Skittles and F.B.I.
Okay, so Skittles I get, but what’s up with FBI? What inspired Karen to name a cow that? Since I’m on vacation, I took some time to develop a few theories.
Maybe the calf was born on a day when a body part was discovered in the silo and the feds stepped in to investigate. Or maybe Karen was using the acronym to secretly describe her husband’s personality (Fun But Irritating). Maybe she had a visiting nephew (Frank’s Boy Izzy), or she was commemorating an extra-marital sexual liason she had on her way to Staten Island (Ferry Boat Incident). Maybe she’s a fan of Bill Murray (Funny Balding Icon) or was referring to a prominent politician who shall remain nameless here (Fatuous Boring Idiot).
If you have any thoughts on this intriguing mystery, please share them.