It was a beautiful, sunny morning in the Azores, perfect for a hike. I set off alone, following a narrow path that wound through the green hills. The scenery was breathtaking, and I enjoyed the silence and fresh air.

As I wandered, I thought about the strange stories I’d heard about cows in unusual situations. Cows in the city, cows on playgrounds—and then I suddenly stopped. There was a traffic sign by the side of the path. "Caution" and, "a cow on it?" A traffic sign in the middle of a hiking trail? And one with a cow on it? That seemed more than a little odd.

I chuckled to myself, imagining a cow galloping across the meadow like a speedy race car, ignoring traffic rules. The thought amused me, and I kept walking.

Just a few meters further, around the next bend, and there they were: a group of calves and some cows, peacefully grazing in the meadow. The scene was so serene and idyllic that I paused to take it all in. It was a wonderful sight, seeing the animals so relaxed.

I approached cautiously and noticed that each cow had a rope tied around one foot, keeping them tethered to a post in the field. It looked like they couldn't decide whether to stay or go. I imagined the cows being frustrated about being tied to one foot, as if they were caught between freedom and duty.

“Maybe they’re just part-time hiking cows,” I muttered to myself. The idea of cows following traffic rules was simply too funny. I pictured a cow standing at a traffic light, patiently waiting for the green signal before crossing the road.

I continued my hike, but I couldn’t get the image of the tethered cows out of my mind.

The cows tied to one foot had thoroughly entertained me. But as I rounded the next bend, I suddenly understood why the traffic sign was there.

In front of me on the path, several cows were casually wandering around. They seemed to have made it their mission to occupy the road. Some stood right in the middle of the path, looking at me curiously, while others peacefully grazed on the asphalt. It was as if they were having some sort of spontaneous cow meeting.

Taking a deep breath, I decided to carefully weave my way through the cows. Step by step, I moved slowly forward, careful not to startle the animals. Some of the cows only glanced up briefly before resuming their grazing, as if my presence was of no interest to them.

One particularly curious cow stepped closer and sniffed my backpack. “So, you want to go hiking too?” I asked her jokingly and continued on my way. The cow seemed content and trotted back to her companions.

It took me a while to maneuver through the herd. Eventually, the path was clear again, and I could continue my hike. I turned around once more and saw the cows reclaim the road as if nothing had happened.

After my amusing and slightly adventurous encounter with the cows, I carried on. Soon, I reached a new spot: a long, narrow road lined with small, cozy houses. I rounded a corner, and suddenly a variety of thoughts shot through my mind, not necessarily in logical order.

There he was. A large, impressive bull standing in the middle of the road, staring at me intently. My heart skipped a beat. If I were with Marilyn now, what would I do? Marilyn, my fiery red car, would probably honk and rumble, either scaring off or charming the bull.

But I was alone. And I was wearing a red T-shirt, hence the thought of Marilyn. Panic began to set in. Should I flee? Should I run? I looked around frantically, searching for an open door, a hiding spot, anything. The bull snorted and took a step forward. My heart was now pounding in my throat.

I stood still for a while, watching the bull. He was probably colorblind, I thought. That would explain why my red T-shirt didn’t provoke a stronger reaction. Still, I was relieved when a man, clearly the farmer, came out of a nearby building.

The farmer seemed to grasp the situation immediately. With determined steps, he approached the bull and began to herd him back towards the farm. The bull snorted a few more times but eventually complied with the farmer’s firm, yet caring, guidance. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched the farmer steer the bull in the right direction with steady but gentle movements.

“Don’t worry,” the farmer called to me as he finally led the bull into the farmyard. “He won’t do anything; he’s just curious.”

I breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the farmer. “Thank you! I wasn’t sure what to do.”

The farmer laughed. “Oh, it happens more often than you think. Cows and bulls are like family here; they do what they want.”

With a final friendly nod, the farmer returned to his building, and I continued on my way without further incident. The road ahead was now clear, and I enjoyed the rest of my walk through the picturesque village.