By Ed Kabanuk – Surrey, B.C.
I’d been given the task of bringing the cows home for milking. This meant going about 3⁄4 mile to the pasture at the end of our land. It wasn’t an onerous task except for one thing: we had a cow called ‘Bossy’ and bossy she was.
My folks told me the herd was to be brought home at a slow pace. Running was forbidden, they warned. There would be less milk available if the cows ran.
I learned early on as a farm kid that animals have a hierarchy. I had often seen Bossy ‘boss’ the other cows by lowering her head and pushing them. That scared me. Perhaps she sensed my fear, or, looking me over, maybe she’d decided I was just a puny 6-year-old. Whatever the reason, Bossy was not about to leave the pasture.
I tried to round up the other cows but they paid little attention to me and kept grazing, all the while casting an eye on Bossy, who just stared at me. Suddenly, she lowered her head and began to move toward me.
Frightened, I did what I wasn’t supposed to. My faithful dog, Rover, was with me and so, in self-preservation I yelled: “sick ‘em Rover!” He did.
Adversaries circled each other
Bossy immediately turned her attention to this pesky dog with whom she was not yet acquainted. For a few seconds they circled one another warily, but Rover was too quick for her and when she didn’t respond to his warning bark he nipped at her.
Being the boss and stubborn, she lowered her head and tried to chase him. On the third or fourth nip, however, Bossy suddenly took off running for home at full steam. The other cows joined in.
I was relieved the cows were finally moving, but remembered my parents admonishment about running. I was sure punishment would be forthcoming. Fortunately, Bossy slowed right down and so did her followers, and the milking turned out well.
After this, I had absolutely no problem getting the cows to come home, as Rover became the head of the herd!
