开云体育

Mooove Over Mama Bear. It's Mama Cow.

In the spring of my sixth grade year, my grandpa sent four of his pregnant cows to my family’s little farm in town. These cows had had difficulty calving in the past, so by putting them on our farm, my dad, who was a veterinarian, would be able to help them right away.?

My sister and I got to see one of them being born in the morning before school one day. It was gross and messy, but the newborn calf was so cute and we liked watching it nurse. That day, as my sister and I walked home from school, we wondered when the others would be born and if it would happen while we were at home or at school. We said to each other, let’s hurry in case another one is born this afternoon!?

It was a little more than a half mile home from school by the streets, but we didn’t like to walk along the highway for the last part. So we always went to my aunt’s house on the way first. We walked down her big hill and took a path she’d made for us to cut through the holler. That brought us to the railroad tracks between our house and hers. ?

There was no more path cut for us on that side, and the trees and black raspberry canes were thick there, and there was a rusty old barbed wire fence to get past. We could have followed the railroad tracks for a bit and come out in a clear area that would take us up our driveway and past my dad’s veterinary clinic. But we wanted to hurry to the barns to see if there were any more calves. ?

And we knew there was a rickety old wooden stile in one spot that would help us get over the barbed wire fence. So we carefully picked our way through the black raspberry canes and then carefully climbed over the stile, trying not to get poked by thorns, barbed wire, or splinters. ??

Now we were at the bottom of the pasture and started up the hill. We had only gone a few steps when we saw a weird, bloody mess on the ground. We didn’t know what it was, but it made me think of “The Blob.” It looked scary and so we went around it and hurried up the hill. ?

I looked up the hill and at the top was one of the cows. She raised her head and gave an alarmed and angry sound, and suddenly started charging down the hill right at us. I yelled to Susan, “Run!” and we ran for our lives back down the hill and practically dove right over the stile. We paid no mind to splinters, barbed wire, or thorns. The cow charged all the way down the hill to the fence and bawled at us. We tore through the trees to the railroad tracks, ran down to the clear area, and ran up the hill and into the clinic, gasping. ?

Mom said what’s wrong? I told her a cow chased us. Then Mom noticed Susan’s leg was bleeding and we realized she’d cut her thigh badly on the barbed wire. She hadn’t even felt it yet.?

All’s well that ends well. The bloody thing we had seen was the afterbirth from one of the cows. Another calf had indeed been born that day and the new mother was not going to let two little girls get near it. Susan and I felt that perhaps my parents could have warned us about the possibility of mama cow attack. We would have taken the long way in the first place. We stayed out of the pasture while the cows and calves were with us. Susan still has a scar on her thigh from the barbed wire to remind her.?