Just Cows . . . .

 

~~Dedicated to my sister-in-law Mary~~

Only cows in the neighborhood were used to illustrate the poems and stories. 

The Cow

The friendly cow, all red and white, 

I love with all my heart;  

She gives me cream with all her might,

To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there, 

And yet she cannot stray,

All in the pleasant open air, 

The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass

And wet with all the showers, 

She walks among the meadow grass 

And eats the meadow flowers.

                  Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894)

Cows in Trouble

by Steve Martin

Cruel Shoes

Press of the Pegacycle Lady, 1977

Putnam, 1979

These were not the average "contented" cows. They were cows born for trouble. They were not cows who could stand by and let people call them "bossy." They were cows who could not hang around all day lowing. They were cows who could be just as happy chewing someone else's cud as their own. 

They were renegade cows.

My first experience with the renegade cows began one day as I was admiring a particularly attractive cow at Johnson's Weed Farm. As I stood there watching her sultry body moving lithely through the rushes, I noticed several other cows staring at me through the weeds, giving me that look that only a cow can give.

Later that night, I was at home thinking over the day's events. The Rubber Duck Throwing Contest, the parade that followed: bands and floats and baton-tossing girls all marching down the middle of the Missouri River. I should have been analyzing the glare of those cows I'd seen earlier that day.

The doorbell rang. I opened the door, glad to have a visitor, but found myself face to face with three renegade cows. I could not see their eyes behind the dark glasses. They ambled in and I did not try to stop them.

That night they just stood around my bed and watched me sleep, much the same way my potatoes do, and I guess you might say I learned my lesson: Don't fool with renegade cows.

Cow Encounter with Lily

by Marianne Love for "Slight Detour"

circa 2009

Well, I was riding my horse Saturday afternoon, admiring golden larch trees and hoping the dark, billowly clouds above would not drop rain on my head. I decided to take a side trip down Jim Road, figuring my friend Edna might be home.

Lily was confused because she had never gone down "that" road before, but she obliged. She was clipclopping along at a nice pace as we passed by Tess Swenson's lovely farm, which is for sale. All was calm; all was bright until we moved past a shed in Tess' yard.

Mysterious, big, black creatures scurried around the back of the shed so fast, Lily shied. My first inclination was to believe that we had encountered a moose taking up residence in the place where no people currently live.

Curiosity got the best of me. I turned Lily around, and we cautiously retraced our steps. Arriving at the other side of the building, I looked into the yard and saw one large black cow with one large black calf issuing me a stern stare-down.

"Hello, Cow Boss," I said. She made no comment, nor did her calf. They simply stood, frozen like statues.

Once I determined we had no moose on the loose, I continued up the road, only to remember that Edna was probably at the University of Idaho Vandal Homecoming game. So, I turned around and headed back for the ride down North Kootenai Road.

By that time, Mother Cow and Mother Calf were grazing in Tess' yard and probably leaving a few nice pies for potential buyers to trod through.

I was tempted, since nobody was around, to test out Lily's herding skills but then remembered I am well into the "age of reason," and it would not look good for Mother Love to show up in the records column of the local paper with a trespassing charge.

Later, when I saw the Libbys on the road, I asked if they had any idea who owned the pair.

"No," Bob told me. "They were at our place a couple of days ago and we called the Hoffmans." Apparently, they didn't belong to the Hoffmans cuz I saw them again the next day in a big open field along Selle Road---same one the tractor folks plowed up earlier this year.

Apparently, this pair had become the cows of the neighborhood. I figured they might even make it over to the Lovestead one of these days.

Well, their owners did yesterday. While I was out picking up leaves in the yard, a big 4 by 4 pickup rolled in the driveway. Two young men got out and walked over to ask if I'd seen some loose cows.

"Well . . ." the story was told in detail, even the part about trying to herd them somewhere.

The young guys are part of the McNall family of Grouse Creek. The cows they sought are part of their herd which resides at Arnie's place further down North Kootenai Road from what I had ridden on Saturday. These cows had traveled a couple of miles from home.

Seems the calf is crazy---and renegade, of course. When it escaped an attempt to be loaded up about a week ago, Mom followed suit. Yesterday all neighbors were alerted as to the ownership of the pair. I don't know if they ever rounded up old Bossy, but I do know that they might not have as much help as the McNall family had about 50 years ago.

It was county 4-H picnic day at the old fairgrounds. I think the McNalls had brought a cow or two in from their Grouse Creek farm for the annual livestock judging contest. 

One of their Shorthorns went renegade, and when it did, this cow was not looking for available real estate. This was August, and this cow was hot and sweaty, and the fairgrounds was right next to the Pend Oreille River.

This cow was not stupid.

So, she ran to the river and went for a swim. I don't even remember how they ever rounded that one up, but I know the McNall's occasionally have problems with renegade cows. Actually, anyone who has ever owned a cow could tell similar stories.

I remember when one, about to meet its maker, went ballistic over at Gooby's Meat Co. (what cow wouldn't?), and we came out of the house just in time to see the Gooby's crew headed after it with a rifle. That cow didn't get far. We hid in the house to avoid the bloodshed.

We also had a bull named Billy who went ballistic when my dad was going to try to sell him at the annual February bull sale. Those were held at the old saleyard on Kootenai Cutoff Road. When Billy arrived at the yard, rather than going in the sale ring, he took off. I think they caught him about a week later, and he got sold by the pound.

So, the tales of renegade cows go on. Not too many entering apartments these days, but with all the empty homes around this area, I think there are good pickings for them until the snow flies, at least.

In the meantime, I'm glad the McNalls had some more renegade cows because I sure did enjoy my visit with their family members yesterday. Can't wait to hear the end of this bovine escape saga.