A bovine love story

This was written for cafe three zero as a bit of an excercise, don't ask where it came from I have no idea.


The silty streambed pulls at my feet, I have to pull hard against the vacuum to keep moving. It feels as though the ground itself is trying to stop me getting through. A loose strand of barbed wire snags my shin, pulls a deep cut but the only thought I have is to get to her, look into her eyes and know I am loved.

I use the term love so you can understand some of what we feel. I heard the Man and his Mate talking about love a few moons ago. They had been by the gate, on the other side. She had stopped her car and stood, a defeated look about her. The bond between them had been growing steadily weaker over the last few weeks, you could see it in the way he didn't follow her with his gaze any more. You could see it in the way she followed him with hers but it was his back that bore the heavy weight of her silent need. Sometimes the soul becomes too heavy for one person to bear on their own, she longed for some lightening of her load but he didn't see it.

She stopped the car and stood waiting, he finally acknowledged the power in her stare and was drawn to her, she said something and it was as if the weight she had borne was transferred to his back. She wasn't happy yet but she was unburdened. She drove slowly away down the hedged lane, his eyes never left her.

Since then he has treated us differently. The care has gone from his heart, replaced by that image I think. She had said 'You don't love me any more. You say you do but... but I don't think you still know how to, or why.' Love was what she had called the bond they used to have. We don't name it, we just know it.

She had arrived the day after the Man's mate left. She'd stumbled into our field from the van, already pregnant and obviously terrified. I'd run over to her to give her the usual tour; 'That corner has the sick grass, this bit of the bank by the stream is slippy, the farmhouse up there at the top of the stream is where the Man lives. This is where our food comes.' but as I reached her I looked into her eyes and was lost. We were sistermotherdaughterloverfriend. I took the weight of her fear and she looked back into me, thanking me silently. From then on we were together. We ate, lowed, played and slept together. Her children were mine and mine hers, we were the same cow and our lives were so much the lighter for it. The others understood. It is rare for this to happen but it does and no-one could be unhappy for us. Except the Man. I think he felt it and was jealous. Over many months he treated us gradually more and more differently to the others, we were always the last to be fed, first for tagging. Finally he seperated us. Put us in adjacent fields. If anything it strengthened our bond. All we ever needed was to be able to look into each other's eyes and we were bouyed up again.

This afternoon he took her.

He came for the Annual collection and took her. It wasn't her time. They only take the old ones but he couldn't live with the love we had and he took her. We all know where they go. The shed by the stream. We hear them lowing until we don't hear it any more. This time he left them for hours. I could hear her over the others. My one spark of hope. One by one the other voices stopped. All the while I ould hear her, comforting me. I called back. Eventually hers was the only voice left. He came out and looked over the fields and I know he was looking for me. I called to let him know where I was, to tell her we would always be joined. He turned his back and walked to the shed.

Now I'm walking up the stream, calling, calling so as not to hear the silence. The others watch silently knowing I only see her eyes.