There was one wreck that did not make it into the Tues., Nov. 1, edition of The Star-News.

It happened over on Harmony Church Road and involved a man, a Saturn (the car, not the planet) and a cow.

I don’t know all the specific details, but apparently, Mr. Man was driving along, minding his own business when – Pow! He hits a cow.

From what I can gather he was OK. I’m not sure about the cow.

I feel for him. You see, I too, was almost a cow casualty Saturday.

For about the last month or so, there’s been this herd of about 15 or so of cattle milling around at the bottom of the hill on Shiloh Cemetery Road. The group looked like it had at least one bull – with horns, too, mind you – 10 or so heifers and a couple of calves.

The first time I saw the group, I called the non-emergency 9-1-1 line and told them to send a deputy. It was about 8 p.m., nearly dark and a very dangerous situation for both the cow and driver.

A week later, my brother and his friend nearly ran one over in an attempt to go to the end of the road to get some ice.

On Thursday, I noticed the one with horns looking at me funny when I passed by, so I stopped to warn the neighbors who were out walking, armed with a stick and a baseball bat.

Looking back, all I can figure is that there must have been words exchanged and threats made between Mr. and Mrs. and the horned one, because by Saturday the cows had decided to turn the tables. No longer were they going to be the hapless victims. Instead, (and pardon the puns) they had elected to “take the bull by the horns,” and “man” a revenge attack.

For us, Saturday was jam-packed with events.

Quick-like and in a hurry, we were in the car at about 8:20 a.m. and headed down the dirt road when the ninja cow launched the attack.

With disbelieving eyes, I watched as the medium-sized black cow charged through the side brush along my driver’s side window. The whites of its eyes glowed with the anticipation of the fight. All of its fellow cow-spirators waited.

We all braced for an impact that never came, as the cow stopped just short of contact.

The girls screamed; I screamed, and I swear to you, the cows laughed.

As far as execution goes, the plan was done flawlessly. On the other hand, as far as execution goes, all of us up on the hill are pretty close to having steaks every Saturday night if something is not done about the homeless cows.

There’s been an unsuccessful Facebook campaign to find the owners of the cows.

So, I say that to say this, Mr. Saturn-driving man. If the owners aren’t found soon, I might call you up in the next week or so to come on out to an old-fashioned cookout. On the menu? Steak and all the trimmings.