Not all happy cows come from California

6/7:
Even when the curtains are drawn I still know they're there because I can hear the soft munching next to my window. The tender grass around my trailer is all being pulled out at the moment by the 130 cows that make up the Gubbeen herd. I'm nibbling on some oak smoked cheese of theirs as I write this, looking out at the happy cows chewing away at the buttercup-covered field. I'm thinking about the story Giana told me yesterday:

It all happened a few years ago when the Irish drug trade was doing very well (as it still is to this day) in a small inlet just a few miles away from Gubbeen. The drug traffickers had brought a particularly large shipment in to one of the many hidden coves along the coast but just as they were about to reach shore their small dingy capsized, setting huge table-sized bales of cocaine afloat on the Atlantic. After one of them mistakenly called for help, the guards (police) intercepted the call and arrested two of the men. The other men however were nowhere to be found. (This of course is not surprising considering the sprawling countryside with endless shrubs and ditches to hide in.)
Anyway, it was not until about two days after this incident at around eight in the morning that Tom let out the cows as he does every single day. The herd filled the road just in time as two strangers came walking up the road. The men wore funny clothing, hats and wellies, the sort of all-weather gear that sailors would wear.
But luckily, being surrounded by country people here at Gubbeen, a suspicious neighbor had already called in the guards when he saw how clean their wellies were, for these were certainly not farming folk. Within minutes, the guards arrived and the two men who were by now completely surrounded by Gubbeen cows had nowhere to go.
Now that's what I call a civil arrest!!