I've been writing this blog for a few years now, but I don't think I've ever mentioned that I also write a human interest (mostly humor) column for the local weekly newspaper as well. They do pay me, but mostly I do it because it's fun and my "fans" get such a kick out life as it happens out on our farm. This week's column seems to have hit the collective funny bone pretty hard so I thought I'd post it for a change. Hope you all enjoy it too ....
THE RESURRECTION COW
By Jocelyn Hainsworth
We are relatively new at this “raising cattle for profit” game - so new in fact that it’s only slowly beginning to dawn on me that maybe the “profit” part of it doesn’t happen all that often. What I have come to understand, though, is that cows eat a lot, and they drink a lot (especially when the water lines freeze up and we have to haul water at forty below zero).
They also fertilize quite a bit. I know this to be true because I just spent my stat holiday hauling huge amounts of this organic type of fertilizer from where they thoughtlessly left it in the barn, out onto the field where it’s going to do us some good.
And then there’s their health care bill. They have hoof problems, and eye problems, and get lumps in their mouths from something they ate. We’ve had cases of pneumonia, calves with scours, and something quaintly referred to as wooden tongue. Our bulls like to feel special (because, being male, they think they’re worth more) so they break their toe nails for the extra attention it gets them. To keep them from having more troubles with their health, we also invest in inoculations for the calf crop and preventative treatments against lice to keep them from scratching themselves bald. Cows are not cheap pets.
But, this past few weeks, I’ve begun to wonder if we don’t know all there is to know about bovine life. I think at least one of our neighbors has a secret formula that we are not aware of - one that can bring a cow back from the dead. Over and over and over again.
It is most fascinating. I can drive to work in the morning and this animal will be laid right out on her side, feet sticking straight out in front of her, head back - one deceased cow, if I’ve even seen one (and I have seen one or two in my time). BUT, later on, on my way home, I will witness her re-birth as a living, eating cow. The next day she might be up eating when I go to town and dead when I get home, but my point is, she is both dead, and alive, on the same day. Day after day. None of our dead cows have ever done that.
Our dead cows tend to stay dead. And thanks to our dogs, the evidence is all over our front lawn. Proud trophy bones, dragged back from the pasture in broad daylight (so that the coyotes don’t them - the dogs, I mean, not the bones) and set in front of the house in defiance of any wild critter coming to re-claim them with humans so close.
I gaze out on those bones and think about the story of the valley of bones in Ezekiel in the bible. Remember, how those dry, white bones were called together and how they fleshed up and came to life again? I wonder how far gone the resurrection cow was before she was put back on her feet and her feed? Out here in coyote country, I don’t think you have to lie still for too long before somebody thinks of you as dinner.
And I wonder how the resuscitation takes place? Is it a magic formula? Do you give it by injection? Does it come in powder form and it is sprinkled over the body like pixie dust? Is it like a voodoo ceremony, with smoke and chants and magic words? Or, is it more scientific, and all that is needed is a good old jolt from an electric fencer?
We obviously have a lot to learn here, and I know which neighbor I want to give the lessons.
