Two anecdotes about cows from my experience:
1) When I was a kid and visiting my grandfather's farm, cows were coming home in the evening. Several of us were there, and among us a guest, woman, and city-dweller. We were completely accustomed to the event and unfazed by the approaching cows. She, however, was so scared of the cows that were still about 50 yards away and moving slowly (as cows proverbially do when coming home) that she tried to hide behind a wooden fence. To do so, she pulled apart two parts of the fence, joined by a rusty nail, to squeeze in-between and get behind the fence. Got punctured in the tummy by the nail in the process.
2) Me visiting Dorset from London. Checked into a hotel late in the afternoon and was heading toward a nearby hill to get a view of the ocean from above. The receptionist asked me to fill in a form before I leave. I said "later," she insisted. That took some time. Not too much, but those few minutes extra proved crucial in the end. There was still daylight as I was climbing up the steep hill, so I noticed a bunch of cows in the distance. By the time I reached the hilltop, the sun was already down. I noticed a lovely small island across, which by then formed a silhouette against a backdrop of deep purple sky and deep blue water. A perfect square composition I envisaged for my Hasselblad (film).
Then it occurred to me: by the time I set up the tripod, measure the light, set up the lens and camera, take a few shots, it would get pitch dark by then. I did not have a lamp with me. I glanced to my left and noticed that cows, previously away from the path, are now slowly crossing it to get down. The prospect of returning down a steep, narrow, downhill path and potentially bumping into the cows in total darkness did not appeal to me at all. So, I just turned around and started going back while there was still some light in the sky. Defeated by cows. And darkness. Cursing.