"Psst. Wake up. Wake up. And shhh, be very quiet," HB whispered to me as I lay dozing on the couch at 11:00 last night.
"What? What's going on?" My sleep-fogged brain scanned the reasons HB would be encouraging me so excitedly to get up and be quiet. Perhaps one of the dogs was doing something cute, I thought ... or something bad.
HB was motioning me towards the kitchen. As I staggered in, he told me to look out the door.
"See?" he asked insistently.
Frankly, I didn't, so I took another look, and saw pale, yellowish horns, gleaming ever-so-slightly in the streetlight.
"A cow in the road!" I shouted, as HB tried, fruitlessly, to shush me.
It was, indeed, a cow in the road. We scrambled for the cameras, but to no avail. It was dark. There would be no pictures of the road cow. Startled by the camera flash, the cow, and we now saw, her attendant calf, started moving on up the road, lowing in complaint at our intrusion.
I'm sure, for many Midwesterners, a cow in the road is not such an unusual occurrence. For me, it is one of the charms of island life. I see livestock on a daily basis here, and it isn't stuck out in giant fields, far away from human establishments, munching quietly on grass.
Cows wander complacently down major thoroughfares. Goats scramble up and down mountains, and live in small yards, penned against apartment buildings. As on many Caribbean islands, chickens and roosters lay claim to most public areas. And if I look out my front window at 8:15 every weekday morning, I will see a gentleman riding his donkey to work.
I'm not sure whether it says more about me, or the British Virgin Islands, that one of the happiest moments since I've been here, was last night, watching the cow mosey on down the road.
EDITED TO ADD:
Ha! One of the pictures did turn out. Here are the roadcows: