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Thus, Bossy came to understand the
realities and tragedies of her life.
Bossy realized that she and the other cows were there to make
milk for the farmer. Male cows gave no milk; neither did cows
that failed to have a calf; and old cows began to give less and
less milk. Though Bossy did not know her age, she knew for certain
that eventually, her milk production would also lessen and eventually,
the farmer would send her away on the truck. Was there nothing
she could do about it? Was there no way to prevent her eventual
trip to Who Knows Where?
It seemed hopeless. Still, Bossy was only
a cow and could not stay depressed and worried constantly, especially
since her day to day experience was so pleasant. But Bossy's thoughts
turned to Who Knows Where far more often than any other cow in
the herd.
Bossy's problem had a slow but inevitable
effect on her. She began to pay closer attention to the details
of her life, trying to understand everything about her. And as
she developed a deeper understanding, she found herself inevitably
drawn to taking responsibility for things around her. When other
cows got irritated with each other and squabbled, Bossy was the
one who went over and made them stop fussing. Bossy was the one
who always realized first that it was approaching time for the
farmer to come out to the pasture and lead them back to the barn
for milking and so Bossy went first to the pasture gate to wait.
And thus it was that Bossy became the boss cow who led the herd.
One beautiful spring day Bossy way lying
near her favorite tree in the pasture, chewing her cud and enjoying
the weather. There weren't many flies to annoy her yet. The grass
had that wonderful rich flavor it gets in late spring, when it
grows the fastest and makes cows feel brimming with energy. The
air was cool, the sun warm, and the big old oak tree only slightly
leaved out, allowing a dappling of warm light to reach the ground
below.
I don't for certain know why it came to
her on this particular day except to assign responsibility for
the insight to her persistence at figuring about it, but that
day in the pasture was to change her life and that of all the
other cows. That was the day that Bossy had her big realization.
What she suddenly understood was that if her purpose in being
there was to make milk for the farmer, that if she was there expressly
and solely to help the farmer, that if the farmer took care of
them in exchange for that help, perhaps, if she could figure out
some other way to be of service, the farmer might keep her when
her milk production lessened, as it inevitably must. Not that
she felt old or poorly mind you, especially not on that wonderful
day with that wonderful rich spring grass in her stomach.
I hope you appreciate what a wondrous
cognition this was for a cow to have. And Bossy was as properly
excited about it as she should have been. Not that the idea solved
her problem in and of itself, but the possibility of being able
to find some other service to perform besides giving milk gave
her new hope and she was happier than she had been in ages.
Bossy patiently set out to figure on this
new insight. She watched everything, considered every aspect of
her life, looking for some possible opening or opportunity to
establish a new relationship with the farmer. It took her several
years to reach the next step on this road, and it was a good thing
she was an intelligent cow who could cogitate rapidly, for by
the time she had figured her next move she was beginning to age
and her milk production was dropping.
It was that point in the year's cycle
when she was at her physical peak that Bossy made her move early
in summer, after the grass had reached its peak and had begun
to decline, when her milk's butterfat level was just beginning
to drop and the butter the creamery was making was starting to
lose its deepest yellow color and richest flavor. Her plan was
very clever in its simplicity, effectively matching her limitations
to her need.
As usual, the farmer came to the barn
at dawn and milked all the cows. Then, he opened the stalls, starting
with Bossy's. The cows were all eager to go to the pasture and
enjoy the rich grass, so they all backed out of their stalls and
ambled over to the barn door. As was his usual practice, the farmer
put a halter around Bossy's neck, to lead her out to pasture,
knowing that all the other cows would follow. As usual, Bossy
placidly permitted this and when the farmer had secured the halter,
he opened the barn doors and began to lead Bossy toward a narrow
lane between two fenced corn fields which led to the pasture gate
about a quarter mile away.
However, things did not go as usual. Right
outside the barn door was a huge manure pile, smelling ripe with
ammonia and buzzing with flies. Every few days the farmer would
load this pile into his spreader and take it out to a field which
was fallow. Today the pile was at its largest and ready for hauling.
As the farmer walked by the pile, Bossy quick stepped up next
to him and nuzzled his armpit, which was often her practice. The
farmer stopped a moment to give her a scratch in her favorite
spot right behind the left ear, but as he reached over Bossy's
head, she gave him a vigorous shove with the side of her head
and knocked him ass over teakettle right into the manure. The
farmer was undamaged though out of wind for a few minutes and
quite surprised at this very unusual behavior from a very well
behaved and placid cow. Naturally the farmer lost hold of the
short halter rope.
Bossy took advantage of her freedom to
lead all the cows at double time, right where the farmer would
have taken them anyway. By the time the farmer had collected himself,
Bossy had trotted the herd to the pasture, and was standing guard
just inside the open gate to prevent any cow from leaving not
that any of them would have wanted to get away from all that fine
green grass in any case. Just then, the farmer came panting up
to the gate. He looked at Bossy somewhat warily, but Bossy merely
eyed him placidly and mooed, turning her head in that special
way she had when soliciting a scratch behind the ear. The farmer
then came over and removed the halter, and locked the pasture
gate.
By late afternoon, when it was time to
bring the herd in, the farmer had forgotten that morning's adventure,
assuming that whatever had gotten into Bossy was only temporary.
He was not correct. Following his usual procedure, he entered
the pasture, put the halter on Bossy, and led her to the gate.
All the other cows followed. He then opened the gate and began
to lead Bossy back to the barn. Again, she nuzzled him, and again
she shoved--this time dumping him into the ditch. Speeding up,
she trotted to the barn, and when all the cows were back inside,
she stood at the barn door and wouldn't let them leave not that
they wanted to anyway, because it was milking time and the herd
needed to be relieved from the pressure in their udders.
The farmer came panting up and was very
relieved to find that all the cows were in the barn, most of them
already in their own stalls, with Bossy standing guard by the
barn door. Without protest, Bossy permitted herself to be let
to her stall, the halter was removed and milking proceeded as
usual.
Next morning, the farmer was a little
more cautious. He stood back after haltering Bossy and sure enough,
she yanked the rope from his hand and proudly led the herd to
pasture without his help, and stood guard at the pasture gate
until he came to shut it. That afternoon it was the same. Within
a few days, the farmer came to count on Bossy to perform her "trick"
as he thought of it, and no longer bothered with the halter. In
fact, he no longer had to rush out to shut the pasture gate, because
he knew Bossy would guard the gate until he came to secure it.
So the farmer began to enjoy a late cup of coffee with his wife
before closing the pasture gate.
Thus, the farmer gained a new helper and
Bossy gained a new lease on life.
As years went by, Bossy's milk output
dropped and dropped. One year she failed to birth a calf and her
milk dried up completely. But still the farmer did not call for
the truck to take Bossy to go to Who Knows Where.
With increasing years came increasing
experience. Bossy became the oldest cow not only on that farm
but on any of the neighboring farms as well. Though cows on dairy
farms tend to be rather isolated from other cows, there was occasional
contact across the pasture fence from one farm to the next, and
slowly the word of Bossy and her wisdom spread. Neighboring cows
would make it point to speak to her over the fence about their
problems and confusions. Though aging and slowing down, no cow
in her own herd ever challenged Bossy's leadership because of
the kindliness and compassion Bossy felt toward all her sisters.
Age treated Bossy well and graced her with a shining light and
caring that made the whole herd feel good just to be in her presence.
One day, things came to an end, as eventually,
all good things must. It was fall. The grass was bland flavored
and not very satisfying. The cows had to brush aside the leaves
under the pasture trees to find the taller stalks. Soon there
would be no more trips to pasture until spring came again.
On that fateful day, Bossy was feeling
very strange. She was a bit dizzy and felt weak-legged, so she
lay down under the big oak tree and did not browse for grass.
Then, she lay on her side as though sleeping, then turned over
on her back, put all four of her legs up into the air and moved
no more.
Bossy stayed that way the rest of the
afternoon, making absolutely no motion. None of the cows knew
what was happening. They had never seen anything like this. They'd
seen cows go off to Who Knows Where in the truck but never seen
one simply stop moving and hold perfectly still, as though they
had left their body. Finally, when afternoon milking time was
long overdue and the cows had not returned from pasture, the farmer
came rushing out and led the nervous herd back to the barn. He
seemed a little saddened.
Next morning, the farmer came to the barn,
selected the biggest young cow in the herd, tied his halter around
her neck and led her to pasture. Out of habit, the rest of the
herd followed. When they got there, they remembered Bossy and
trotted over to where she had lay on her back the day before,
but Bossy no longer lay under the tree. Where had she gone?
Had the truck come unbeknownst to them?
Had Bossy done something else unusual? Her wisdom, understanding
and kindness were legendary. Talking amongst themselves, they
decided that Bossy must have attained an unusual state and simply
disappeared herself. The herd had come to admire Bossy and depend
on her help with their lives and personal problems. They missed
her and wished to replace her and wanted to become like her themselves.
And they too worried about Who Knows Where.
The other cows did not know what to do
to become more like Bossy. But they remembered the quiet, unusually
placid and patient way she had, and tried to imitate that themselves.
They remembered the heartfelt concern that Bossy developed as
age and experience increased her wisdom, and tried to copy her
personality, as best they could understand it. And especially,
they remembered the unusual thing Bossy did on her last day at
the farm.
So the other cows began to practice rolling
over on their backs and putting their feet in the air without
moving. This was a very difficult trick, and one that none of
them could achieve for very long without being stung intolerably
by a fly and having to swish their tail, or losing their balance,
or becoming distracted and forgetting what they were attempting.
But they kept trying, because the cows were convinced that if
they could only roll over, put up all four feet and hold still
for long enough, that this exercise would cause them to attain
a state of being like Bossy, and like her, they themselves might
then not be taken away to Who Knows Where by the truck.
From that day to this, much to the mystification
of people, the cows in that part of Wisconsin roll over on their
backs and play "dead," especially when the weather is
fine and a breeze blows the flies away. And the cows from that
part of the state also have a reputation for being particularly
gentle and better natured than cows from anywhere else.
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