Suddenly, Copper stopped short. Off in the distance, to our left and no telling how close or far away, we had heard a bellowing. Knowing there was a dairy in that general direction, I told myself it was only a cow and urged Copper forward. We had only walked a few more steps when the bellowing came again. This time Copper turned quickly and started to head back to the safety of his herd.
I pulled him around and squinted into the fog (for whatever reason, it seems that squinting is a logical exercise that will make seeing beyond dense fog easier). With significantly less gusto, I urged Copper on, slightly less convinced that that noise came from a cow.
By the third bellowing I decided that now was not the time to throw caution to the wind. The horse wants to go back, let the horse go back. Clearly he's thinking a noise like that can't come from a harmless cow, so best to hightail it out of there before things get bad.
After a safe return, I recounted the bellowing story to my friends. Instead of sympathy for my plight and support that I did the right thing, my uneasiness was met with guffaws. "You let yourself get scared by a cow?! Bahahahaha!"
"It wasn't a cow! It was a bellowing!" (snicker snicker).
I sighed and gave up, knowing only Copper and I would know what we really heard. That night as I drifted off to sleep, the door cracked open to the outside for a breeze, I heard the sound of cows from the dairy . . . mooing.