Cows

I watched a delightful video yesterday of a mob of cows swimming through floodwaters. It wasn’t delightful that they were in that situation in the first place, but wonderful how it unfolded. The cows’ owner, a woman on the bank, was calling out to her animals, and as one watched the video, one could see the cows change direction and swim towards her voice on the shore line. Instead of being at the water’s mercy, the cows now had somewhere to aim towards and as we watched, they came closer to where the woman was standing. It must have been terrifying for the cows, not knowing where the waters would take them, but with this woman’s prompting they had a familiar voice to guide them and a direction in which to swim. It was amazing to watch. We heard a man’s voice in the background, willing the cows to find land ahead of a group of trees, but not all of them made that point. However, those that didn’t wouldn’t have been far away.

Having been a farmer myself, I know how dependant animals are on the people in charge of them, to provide water, grass and safety. This was an extreme situation and one probably not anticipated. It must have been quick thinking on the owner’s part, to go downstream of her cows in order to call them to shore. And we don’t even know if the place she was standing was her farm. It could have been the neighbour’s or even a kilometre or two away. The cows were strong swimmers, but I am sure they couldn’t have kept up that pace forever, had they not reached the shore when they did.

Farmers can develop lovely relationships with their animals and watching this video, I would assume that this woman called her cows to milking. Her voice would have been a wonderful ray of hope for those animals.

It reminded me of a house cow we had once. At the time, we were living on a five-acre lifestyle block and used to graze our cow on the roadside, putting up an electric fence to keep her in. There was always long grass in this area and a welcome change when grass was short on our block. One day, a neighbouring farmer took his mob of Friesian cows (the same breed as our cow), down the road to a paddock further away. Somehow, our cow must have got swept up with the mob, because when I looked out later, she was nowhere to be seen. There was however, a large paddock of cows grazing happily in the distance.

I guessed that that was where she was, but how does one identify their cow amongst so many similar looking ones? Simple. I went closer to the paddock and yelled out ‘’COW’’ at the top of my voice. That was what we called her, in fact, that was what we called all our house cows. That was a dead give-away. All the cows continued eating, while one, solitary animal lifted her head and pricked her ears. Got you. She was also used to being called for milking.

Cow happily accompanied me out of the paddock and back to the roadside.

When I was writing Who Is Me? I initially included a page or two about the love that cows exhibit for their offspring, but edited it out as I felt it didn’t really belong in the story. However, one day, in one of these blogs, I might write about it, as it is truly amazing. Love is not just confined to the human species.

Before I end this blog, I just want to acknowledge all those who have been affected by Cyclone Gabrielle. Some horrendous stories are emerging of people’s battles to stay alive and we have heard that more people didn’t make it. Our hearts are with you all.