"There are two types of vegetarians...Those that have beef with chicken, and those who are too chicken to have beef."

That is a quote by Mokokoma Mokhonoana, one of my favorite authors who hails from South Africa.  He's a brilliant satirist, with a wickedly sharp wit.  I recommend my readers check out his website at http://www.mokokoma.com for a laugh, and some interesting reading that will definately make you rethink the human equation.

As some of you may have read in my previous post, and as many of you have inquired, my father was involved in a terrible bovine-attack.  Many people have images of sharks,

bears,

lions

 and tigers when they envision a crazed attack on a human being.  In fact, this is what happens when a tiger catches you and has their way with you...

Pretty freaking terrifying.  But no one thinks of cattle as being one of the most vicious, vile, vindictive, and a bunch of other v-words animals on the planet.  My dad is like most people.  He thinks of all of his cows as being friendly, simplistic creatures.  You know, sort of like that 'special' cousin everyone has, that's not really quite right.  It dawns on you that they're different usually around the holidays when they're caught licking the ornaments on the tree...

Well, dad had one cow in particular that was a difficult cow. She had a hard life before coming to the farm.  Her feet weren't quite right, and they would curl and require veterinary care every 6 months with corrective trimming just so she could hobble to and from the trough.  We called her 'Sore Feet'.  She was always the last cow into the chute, and the last one to the hay bale.  Cold weather was the worst on her, and the biggest fear was that one day she'd lay down and we wouldn't be able to get her back up.  A down cow is a dead cow.

Every year, Dad takes a cow to be butchered.  One of the perks of living on a farm is, of course, some of the best meat on the planet.  He encouraged 'Sore Feet' to the trailer, and everything seemed to be going really well.  She was keen on the snackage, and everyone was thinking that this was going to be a cake walk.  That's usually when things go catastrophically wrong, and this was no exception.

'Sore Feet' suddenly looked around, and realized she was the ONLY COW getting into the trailer.  In what was seconds, but seemed like minutes, her eyes connected with dad's, and she read his mind.  I neglected to inform you that cattle are really super-alien-creatures with telepathic capabilities... In his mind, she saw steaks, burgers, and roasts... and what happened next is a mixture of miracle and armageddon.

She turned towards my dad, stood up on her sore back feet, and punched the snot out of dad.  Then, once she had him down on the ground, she jumped on him like a trampoline.  Up and down, up and down, reminiscent of the bear jumping up and down on John Candy in the Great Outdoors.  Cow: 1 - Dad: 0

Then, she took off across the field, prancing like a new calf.  Should have named her Twinkle Toes.  She acted like there was nothing wrong with her feet, mooing like a nutjob all over the field.  Dad came inside and his arm was all swollen.  He was covered in bruises.  He couldn't twist his wrist, and we all told him he needed to go to the doctor because we suspected he had a fracture.  He refused.  Instead, he went back down there, where Twinkle Toes had apparently had a change of heart. She felt bad. She went right into the trailer without nary a peep.  Dad then subsequently shot her. *facepalm*  At least he waited until she got into the trailer.  Cow: 1 - Dad: 1

Sad part was, the neighbor's bull got in with her apparently, and she was almost full term with calf.  Cow: 2 - Dad: 1

Dad tried to baby his arm, but it wasn't long before he was out there, feeding the cattle.  He slipped on some ice, landed on it, and what was a fracture became a full blown break.  Being the insane-ex-navy-guy that he is, he set it in the field, and drove home before heading to the doctor's.  End result, surgical placement of a steel plate in his arm.  Cow: 3 - Dad: 1

Shortly thereafter, my Aunt Cindy asked me what sort of shape the cow was in.  I informed her that she was roughly steak shape...

What lessons can be learned from this?  Well, first of all, cattle are not stupid ruminants.  They are incredibly intelligent hell-beasts.  Secondly, the minute something seems to be going exactly to plan, expect total and complete chaos to ensue.  Thirdly, nothing good ever comes easy, and I guess fourth-ly . o (Is that a word?)  is that don't shoot the cow unless you're 100% sure she's not going to calve.

At least she tastes good.