THE RED COW 



time she bawled she humped her back and moved her 

 tail up and down like the handle of an old-fashioned 

 wooden pump. But I paid no attention to her. I 

 could not see where her feelings were being lacerated, 

 and I kept right on picking up the calf and setting 

 him on his wobbly legs and pushing him towards the 

 drive-shed. But just as I reached the door and the 

 calf had gone down again I was startled by a yell 

 behind me. I turned hastily, just in time to see the 

 farrow cow in the act of shredding herself through 

 a tight barbed wire fence. I was too late to head 

 her off, and, as I watched her struggles, I felt that 

 when she got through she would be of no use for any- 

 thing but Hamburg steak, and I reflected with some 

 satisfaction that the new onions in the garden are 

 ready to be used for a meat garnish. But when she 

 got through she did not sink on the earth in a pile of 

 little pieces as I expected, but ran like a deer, bawl- 

 ing like a fog-horn, to where a calf that had been 

 weaned the day before was bleating for its mother. 

 By this time the red cow had become excited and 

 was threatening to follow her fool daughter through 

 the barbed wire fence. And the cow whose calf had 

 been taken the day before also went into hysterics. 

 I don't believe there was ever so much noise and ex- 



46 



