Moon over Martinborough

Dry paddocks and olive grove - March 2007

Podcast available.

Because we lease our paddocks to a stock agent, we’ve seen a variety of cattle and sheep come and go on our property.

Being city boys, one animal has always seemed the same as another to us. One cow, however, has been a standout. She not only made an indelible impression on us, but she left Rick with an ongoing remembrance in the form of a dull ache in his side when it rains.

We named her Evil Cow.

Local farmers say cattle are smart. One farmer once told me he’d actually seen a cow push another cow into an electric fence just to see if it was on. Before I’d met Evil Cow, I didn’t believe that such calculated bovine treachery was possible.

Let’s just say that I believe it now.

New cattle arrive

It was a bright summer day almost two years ago when Hamish, the stock agent, showed up with what he called ‘five new cattlebeast’.

At first they seemed the same as all the other Black Angus cows he’d brought before. But later that day we noticed that one had unusual markings. Her head was entirely white except for two large, black circles around her eyes and a black triangle just above her nose. The effect was a little spooky, because it looked alarmingly like a skull.

We commented on the cow’s markings but didn’t think any more of it until one day when Rick and I were walking through the top paddock down towards the olive grove to prune.

Before I moved to the country, I didn’t understand that cows watch people. Whenever a human walks by the paddock they’re in, they look up and stare, as if it’s the most interesting thing they’ve ever seen. Cows, it turns out, are curious.

On this day, walking past the five new cattlebeast Hamish had brought, it became clear that the cow with the skull markings was watching us even more closely than your average cow. She didn’t just stare. She lowered her head and leered.

Peach tree

The other cows grew bored with us and looked away, but Evil Cow maintained her cold, steely gaze. She appeared more cognizant than the others, more shrewdly and deviously aware.

“There’s something creepy about that cow,” I said. “Like she’s calculating a plan for the annihilation of the entire human race.”

“Nah,” Rick said. “That’s just your imagination.”

After we’d spent a couple hours in the grove pruning the trees, we wandered back up to the house. There she was again, watching us as intently as before.

That time Rick noticed it too. “Okay, you might be right,” he said. “That’s an evil cow.”

Drought

Around that point in time we’d had several months of no rain. The ground was hard and the grass was brown. Olive trees, however, don’t mind a bit of drought, and their leaves were still a bright silver-green.

The cattle were in a dry, brown paddock next to the grove. Occasionally we’d catch them looking longingly over at the fence at the green olive trees, like children staring at candy behind glass.

Then, one day we looked out to see Evil Cow standing in the middle of the olive grove, merrily munching on some branches.

This was in the early days in our life on this property and we still didn’t know Farming Rule Number One: when you’re moving stock, don’t run.

So, we immediately sprinted down to the grove, opened the gate, and began, tearing around – chasing the cow like complete and total idiots. We had tried this approach earlier with some wild sheep in the bottom paddock.

We have almost 500 trees in our olive grove, so there are plenty of places for a cow to hide. Nevertheless, we ran around after Evil Cow for about 20 minutes, yelling and screaming the entire time, before she finally took off out the open gate.

Mowing the grove the first time

Unimpressed by our amateur theatrics, Evil Cow waited all of one day before breaking into the olive grove again.

Rick was home alone that time, so he did the Mad Cow Chase on his own. That was when he learned that cows in a panic usually run out of a paddock the same way they broke in. Evil Cow took off at a gallop, straight towards a particular stretch of fence.

Clearly she’d pushed her way in through a gap in the wire there, but now she was running too fast to push her way back out. So instead, she tried to jump the fence.

Rick said she leaped up into the air and, when her body was almost entirely on the other side, her back feet hit the top wire. She spun and fell to the ground on the other side of the fence and then rolled once more.

Fortunately she got right up unharmed. Then she turned around, leered, and walked slowly away.

From then on you could almost hear her muttering under her breath as she chewed her cud. “I’ll have revenge, stupid humans. Just you wait.”

She bided her time patiently for two whole weeks and didn’t break into the grove once. Every day the grass grew browner and the ground grew harder with lack of rain.

Rain comes

Then, one day, the skies opened up and rain fell fast and hard. It was exactly the opportunity Evil Cow had been waiting for. She knew we hadn’t fixed the weak patch of fence.

After it had rained for most of the morning, she pushed her way into the grove. Once inside, she began defiantly chewing on juicy leaves in full view of the house, just below a small, steep slope.

Meanwhile, Rick and I were in the front room. Rick saw her in the grove and yelled. “Evil Cow’s in the grove again!”

His jandals were by the front door, and he quickly slipped them on.

“It’s muddy,” I said. “I’ll grab our gumboots.”

But Rick just shouted out, “I’m not waiting. I’m going now!” He was so mad at that cow.

By the time I had gone to the back door, put on my gumboots, and walked around the house, Rick was already tearing across the top paddock towards the olive grove in his jandals. Then, when I next looked up, he was gone.

He’d disappeared over the edge of the slope.

“Rick?” I called out.

There was no answer. “Rick?!” I shouted again, and started running towards where I’d last seen him.

Then I heard a long, low moan come up from over the edge of the slope.

When I got to him he was still lying down, covered in mud. He was holding his side. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Right,” I said.

The morning’s rain had made a layer of slippery mud on top of the hard-as-concrete ground, and Rick had come down hard.

Evil cow stood in the olive grove, munching and sneering, no doubt chuckling to herself in great satisfaction. Her plan had worked.

I helped Rick back up to the house. The entire way he was saying he was fine and didn’t need any help.

We left Evil Cow in the grove. She had won.

Evening light in freshly mown grove

Rick continued to insist he was fine until two days later, when he was in so much pain we had to take him to the emergency room in Masterton. Turns out he’d broken a rib clean through and popped it out of the cartilage that holds it in place. Fortunately there was no other damage, and it would just need time to heal.

In the end I made the mistake of telling our neighbor Jim what had happened. He’s the mad Welshman who helped us fix our pump. When he heard, he just laughed and laughed and laughed.

For months after that, every time Jim saw Rick he said, “Look, it’s the winner of the Golden Jandal award!”

Suffice it to say some things have changed around here since then.

We no longer chase cows, or sheep, or even chickens for that matter.

Both of us always make sure we’re wearing gumboots when doing farm work.

And although Evil Cow has long since been sent to the meat works, Rick thinks of her every time it rains.

____________________

Podcast

Click the ‘play’ button below to listen to ‘The triumph of Evil Cow’ online, or download the MP3 for this podcast and others over in the podcast library.

Related posts

Read other posts about sheep and cattle.

Or read the next post: Running up Te Muna Road.

This entry was posted on Saturday, January 9th, 2010 at 11:03 am and is filed under New Zealand, Paddocks, Podcasts, Sheep & cattle. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.