is actually what happens when a territorial cow living in Spanish Fork canyon turns into a straight up gangster when innocent Honda Civics filled with bright-eyed hotspring-seekers encroach on his hood. His hood in the woods. A potential rock slide to our left. An abyss of forest to our right. Gangster cows straight ahead. To make Homer's expression more appropriate to Utah geography, we were "between a red rock and a hard place."
Gangster Mama cow was ready to throw it down, out of protection for Gangster Baby. We were so close I could see the evil gleam in her eye, the spittle frothing at her mouth, the knife tucked into her sock. I was fully expecting home girl to charge head-on into my car, smash the windshield, then pop a cap in all our heads.
Fortunately, enough screaming on my part and moo-ing on everyone else's part was enough to keep the Moo Thug at a relatively safe distance.
At least 12 other members of her gang were spotted on our way to the hot springs. Most likely a lucrative business set up by these rabid bovines to prey on unsuspecting adventurers and traffic them into their hood in the woods. Never again to return. Let this serve as warning to all those who ever plan on hitting up the Spanish Fork Hot Pots.