COWS.

Southland Times, Issue 21662, 26 March 1932, Page 18

COWS.

’ A TRUE STORY OF A COW. THE CONTRARY JERSEY. One of my earliest recollections is of going to a clearing sale with my parents, where my father bought six cows. One particular cow-, the prettiest little Jersey you could hope to see, -with large, gentle eyes, he secured, after keen competition, for 15 guineas. He drove the cows quietly home to our farm, Mum and I following in the gig. All went well until we reached the township, where they had to cross a bridge. The trouble commenced then. That Jersey would not cross the bridge. Tire other five cows crossed over and commenced eating the grass on the roadside, but the Jersey stood, snorted and then turned tail and bolted back the way it had come. A man on horseback galloped after it, and headed it back. Then that township woke up. Men waved their'arms, threw sticks at it, and gave my father dozens of different pieces of advice how to make that Jersey cross the bridge. Suddenly an open door caught its attention and it calmly walked into a fruit shop. The proprietress promptly fainted behind the counter. Ignoring her, the Jersey walked right through the shop and back room, and out into a yard when it jumped a fence and once more faced the bridge. By this time a string of a dozen cars had joined the crowd. Standing still for a while it suddenly gave a spring and jumped clean over the side railing of the bridge into the river beneath. “Now,” thought Dad, “it will be all right, as it will swim out on to the other side where the bank of the river isasandybeach.” That contrary Jersey, however, swam about half a mile down the river and landed on the township side again.

Then the fun began again. Finally, Dad got a rope over its head, and with the assistance of some men tied it closely up behind a dray and team of horses, and got it over the bridge, and it joined the other cows and quietly followed them to its new’ home.

When we reached home w’e found an urgent business message for Dad, and he had to leave at once and go to Wellington. The question arose: “Who would milk the new cows?” Mum was very nervous with strange cows, but my aunt .who was living with us said she would milk them.

That evening after Auntie had milked the rest of the cows she came to the Jersey Walking to her head in the bail Auntie stroked and petted her, then thinking she had sufficiently introduced herself, proceed to wash her udder. If ever a thing was "possessed” that little Jersey was. In a twinkling, stool, bucket, water and auntie were all in a heap on the ground with the little vicious Jersey dancing on top. No footballer ever kicked with greater precision. She kicked and kicked, scarcely missing an inch of Auntie’s body. Auntie at last managed to roll clear. I ran for Mum who had not heard the commotion. She came quickly and was shocked to see pjoor Auntie so knocked about so she sent me for a neighbour to come and milk the Jersey.

Mr Rose promptly arrived, and gave the poor little Jersey a few strokes of the leg-ropfe, and warned Auntie “Never to milk a Jersey without a leg-rope on it.” Strange to say it stood perfectly still while he milked it.

Next morning Auntie went to bring the cows in from the big paddock, and after going a short distance was pleased to see all the cows coming towards home. They evidently sighted her, for up went tails and heels and away they went in all directions. Auntie followed, sometimes running, sometimes walking, sometimes tumbling over rabbit burrows, but she did not succeed in rounding even one cow. At last she gave up in despair, and slowly made for home feeling half-dead. “Oh, dear,” said Mum, "after you had gone some time it occurred to me the reason you had so much trouble with the cows. You know a woman has never had anything to do with them, only the men. You will never be able to get them.” Suddenly a bright idea came to Auntie. "Lend me a pair of dungarees and Tom’s hat, and I’ll bluff them. And she did. She donned the men’s garb and valiantly setting off again, succeeded in yarding them. Even Jersey, after one sniff at the “pants” stood meekly chewing her cud.

But our troubles with her were by no means over. On getting up one morning Dad found her standing forlornly by herself holding one leg up. On examination, he found it was broken. She was a valuable cow and he tried to save it, so he got the veterinary surgeon and had the leg set in splints. He built a fence around a couple of acres of young grass and for eight weeks we fed her and milked her in her own yard.

At last Dad decided the leg was well enough to take the splints off and he let her out. Not one hour later my sister ran in to tell us Jersey was in the creek. Dad got horses and pulled her out. That Jersey must have been tired of life for she got into that creek no less than four times in different parts of the farm. We kept her through the winter and early in spring she came into the yard one morning with a dear little fawn calf. Dad milked her a few times, and then she got milk fever and in spite of all our efforts to save her, she died. —Prize of 2/6 and 4 marks, to Cousin Margaret Henderson (14), Mataura.

THE GOOSE GIRL’S FRIEND.

—Highly Commended. —

Long, long ago, there lived a little girl, Brenda the Goose Girl. All day long she tended the geese in the fields, and as the sun sank inxo his bed of rosy clouds, she drove them through the gathering dusk. Now, the only triends Brenda had, were her geese, and.some cows that chewed the sweet grass, or nibbled tender herbs. One especially, Blossom she was called, was a great favourite of Brenda's. When Brenda had finished her lunch, she would sit under a shady tree, and Blossom, who was a pretty black cow, would be beside her. One day Brenda was lying under a tree, and fell asleep. While she slept, a fairy came to her in a dream, urging her to leave her geese, and go in search of the Prince, who had been lost, three years before. In her dream, Brenda saw a grim, grey castle, and as she looked, the door swung open, and there was the Prince, kneeling at the foot of a maiden, wondrously beautiful, but with a cold, proud face. Then the scene faded, and Brenda awoke to find Blossom nudging her softly, and the shadows were beginning to fall. Hastily Brenda drove the geese home, pondering in her mind the strange dream. That night when all the palace was quiet, Brenda crept from the little room which she had in the servants quarters at the palace. She had no parents to say goodbye to, so she wrapped her few clothes in a bundle, and crept out of the palace, for she had decided to obey the promptings of the fairy in her dream. A little tear, trickled down her cheek at the thought of leaving Blossom, for, strange as it seems, Brenda and Blossom loved one another dearly. Like a little grey ghost she crept down the road. She did not know where she was going. Her feet seemed to be just leading her on. She had not gone very far, when she heard a thudding of hoofs behind her, and lo! there was dear old Blossom, who had come after her little friend.’ Brenda was not a bit surprised, somehow, when Blossom said, “Hop on my back, Brenda.” With some difficulty Brenda did so, and found it was very comfortable, sitting there holding on to Blossom’s horns. Over hill and dale they travelled, eating berries and sweet herbs, and asking a meal in a village as they passed through. Everyone stared at the quaint picture of a goose girl riding on the back of a black cow. Always Brenda kept before her the image of the Prince, kneeling at the foot of a cold maiden.

After months and months of journeying, searching, ever searching, they came to a wide river, on the other bank of which was a dark wood, 1 which to Brenda seemed to be impregnated with evil. As they came to the edge of the river, Blossom said, “Put your feet up on my back Brenda, I am going to swim across.” Brenda did so, and the little- cow plunged in, and swam to the other side. As they stood peering

into the gloomy depths of the wood Brenda felt tempted to draw back, but something seemed to be urging her on. No light could penetrate through the thick, overhanging tops of the trees, except a faint glimmering which seemed like twilight, even when the sun was shining. Then night came on, and they could see no sign of habitation. The darkness seemed to cling like an enveloping mantle, and the trees gleaming faintly white in the starlight that filtered through the leaves, seemed like grim ghosts, stretching out long arms, as if in an effort to capture them. Brenda sat on Blossom’s back, terrified at the intense blackness, and almost unnerved by the thoughts and imaginings that swept through her brain. She almost cried aloud her heartfelt thanks when she saw a winking light in the distance. The brave little cow with Brenda still on her back made straight for the light. Within a short distance of the place where the light still shone, Blossom slowed down to a walk. Brenda slipped off her back, and they moved cautiously on, deciding to investigate before they made themselves known. They seemed to be right under the light, when Brenda nearly banged into a granite wall. Feeling the way, they moved along the wall, until they came to a massive door. At length, after some hesitation, Brenda plucked up courage to pull the bell, and felt herself trembling as it pealed away inside somewhere. Slowly the door swung open, to throw into tho eyes of the two wanderers a blaze of light, such as Brenda had never seen before. Gazing ahead, Brenda saw at the end of the huge hall, a wonderful throne of crystal, on which was seated a maiden, clad all in white. But it was her face that impressed Brenda, for it was the face of the ice-cold maiden of her dreams, and yes, there was a figure kneeling at the feet of the strange maiden. Surely it must be the Prince. The kneeling figure rose, and turned as Brenda came in, and she could almost have cried with disappointment, for it was not tho Prince. Oh no, there was no doubt about it, for the person who now’ faced Brenda, had a long black beard, and queer, restless eyes. The strange maiden spoke, and her voice was like clinking ice, as she asked who they were, whence they came, and whither bound. Almost unwillingly, Brenda thought, she offered them her hospitality, and a bed for Brenda and Blossom for the night.

An attendant led - them. to the kitchen, and gave them supper. Brenda felt suddenly very weary, and without any -wish to go on. She could hardly bear her disappointment because she had not found the Prince. That night .as she lay' asleep, the fairy came again, and this time if was a strange thing she said to Brenda. “If you give the ice-maiden a cupful of fresh milk, all will be well.” K

The next morning Brenda went to Blossom and told the little cow about her dream, so Blossom gave her some sweet milk, and. she asked the kitchen maid if she could give it to the maiden, as some return for her kindness in lodging them. Doubtfully the maid said she could take it into the maiden, who was at breakfast. The ice-maiden,' to the attendant’s surprise, accepted the milk, and then, the warm milk seemed to melt her heart, and she turned to the bearded man and pointed to the door. “Go!” she cried. “You are the Prince!”, turning to Brenda. “Yes, take him away, he is your prince.” Wonderingly the Prince stepped down towards Brenda. “I took him away when I passed the castle in my chariot, and kept him here. When he cuts his beard he will remember,” so saying she motioned to an attendant, and the Prince’s beard was cut. A flood of remembrance swept over him, and Brenda saw that it really was the prince, who had been lost.

"We will. go home, Brenda,” he said. “Will you come back with me? I don’t know how to thank you. Come.” Then, with Blossom they went back through the wood, and somehow it did not seem half so dark as the day before, the birds sang, and earth seemed to hold forth a new promise.

“It’s really Blossom we’ve to thank,” said Brenda, "If she hadn’t brought me all this way, and if I hadn’t had her milk to melt the ice-maiden’s heart, I should never have found you, dear Prince.”

—2 marks to Cousin Dorothy Fox (16), 94 Earn street, Invercargill.

—Highly Commended. — (Late Contribution). One cold winter night, many many yeara ago a small girl slowly wended her way across the fields with a pail of water. She crossed the lawn and entered the barn on the opposite side passing through a herd of goats she stopped and holding the bucket to one at the further end slowly bent down and stroked the poor beast’s « head. A few minutes passed in silence then rising from the animal she hurried from the building to her hut. The clock showed that the time was ten o’clock as she undressed and was soon fast asleep in bed. Pat awoke the next morning and rubbed her eyes; the sun was shining through the window sending its bright sunbeams full upon her face. For a moment she lay idly among the warm blankets, then thoughts of the night before came to her and springing out of bed, she was soon on her way to the barn. The night had been very hot and Pat knew fit once that the goat would need water, so taking a pail she started for the river. On reaching its low banks she slowly dipped it into the cool water and was about to draw it up when, lo! a hand fell lightly on her shoulder, and turning round came face to face with an old lady dressed in a long black cloak. “Why do you come to the water so early?” she asked. “It is my work,” Pat replied. “Mother is very ill in bed and cannot work. I have tried to carry on her duties and have been quite successful until a few days ago when one of the animals took ill. I have come to bring it water.” “Nay, my child, let me draw it for you. You are a very kind girl and will be rewarded for your good work. To-night I will give you another animal which will give you rich warm milk to make your mother well.” Pat thanked the old lady and hurried back to her work.

Night found her once more at the water’s edge awaiting the old woman's return. It was a few moments before she appeared driving before her a strange animal. “Here is your reward,” she said. “It is a gift from the water fairies Clara, Olive and Winnie. They have called it after their names and have given it to you for your kindness. It is a cow.” For a moment Pat stood spellbound, but the surprise soon passed and she was on her way home. The rich milk made her mother well again and gave them enough to sell for money to buy their food and keep them happy ever after.

—Cousin Hannah Skerrett (13), Pahia (2 marks).

On my first visit to Cousin Isohel's farm at Mataura, I wjis introduced to her favourite cows, Matilda, Beauty and Pansy, and two little calves named Priscilla and Chrissie. There were nineteen other cows on the farm but as they were rather “standoffish,” I was not presented to them . Matilda was the oldest and most sagacious cow on the place, and would line Up the other twenty-one like a model platoon under a sergeant-major. She would then let down the slip-rails and stand at attention until the last of the herd, had passed through, then bring up the rear herself, and hustle along any stragglers that would dawdle on the way. On arrival at the cow-byre yard (the gates of which were always open) Matilda would shepherd them through, line them up once more and appear to count them, for should there be any missing she would be off in pursuit and almost invariably return with the loiterers.

After marshalling the first six into their respective byres, she would approach the gate nearest the house and give three legato moos, which was her signal that the stage was set for milking operations. On the return to the grazing paddock the same procedure would be gone through, excepting that she could not replace the slip-rail, try as she might. As the hour approached for the evening milking session, Matilda would give four staccato moos, for her sixth daughter Priscilla, who would go through the performance as an understudy under the critical eye of her aged mother. .

In a recent letter from my Cousin Isobel, she informs me that Matilda is still halo and milking, and that the aforesaid sixth daughter Priscilla is in command of tho parade with the exception of taking down the slip-rail, as it is still rather high for her to reach.

—2 marks to Cousin Vincente Brown, (13), Ocean Beach.