Cow Ruminations

Cow Ruminations

         Men are idiots and insane. I was not very old when I decided that.

         For one thing man-creatures crawl up on the backs of four-legged animals and sit on top of them. I could understand that, if men were legless, but I have seen that men are capable of walking about on just two legs. The fact that they do not exercise this ability with regularity leads me to believe that their soft-soled feet are the reason for or the result of such negligence.

         I first began studying man from behind my mother’s rather large body. Even as a baby, I was an excellent observer, and I pondered the things I saw. This depravity of enslaving animals to do what man could already do was only one of the idiosyncrasies I saw.

         I noticed quickly that man was ashamed of his deformities. He hid behind his lack of proper hooves by slipping covers over them. This artificial creation he'd created pounded the ground agreeably but still was not an efficient hoof. When man removed it, he grunted and groaned and sometimes even fell down.

         At the heart of man’s decadency is the fact that he has low self-worth. I think much of that inadequacy stems from his jealousy of us cows. Most cow psychiatrists know that a “superiority complex” is actually a mask for an “inferiority complex,” ergo, man’s constant put-downs in calling us “little doggies.”

         In the afternoon, when the prairie was so still you could hear the cry of the hawk singing its hunger song, man would whoop and holler for no other reason than to keep us cows from hearing that lovely melody. To feel such antipathy for a bird’s right to be heard is the height of self-indulgent selfishness. I should have seen the full face of man then . . .

         Still, I believe that man’s shortcomings are due primarily to his inability to think deeply. Man takes almost no time to ponder or reflect over his actions. It is my hypothesis that this stems from man’s lack of a chambered stomach. Since he is unable to regurgitate his food for the appropriate and necessary chewing and meditation, man is forced to function in a predatory and combative manner, which keeps him at a far lower cognitive state.

         I can recall when I used to masticate the prairie grasses in the calm, beautiful peace of the morning. It was a ruminating pleasure, and my mother’s presence beside me added much to my contentment. Her tail lashed against such tiresome critters as flies, gnats, and bees which might otherwise have disturbed me, and I, in turn, did the same for her. From such pleasant, collaborative efforts, we cows learned how to foster better community relations. Poor man does not have that opportunity for he is without hooves, three-chambered stomach, or even the comfort of a tail!

         I suppose it is possible that man's inability to think may also be connected to his propensity for making strange noises. In the morning on the prairie, he would often bang heavy metal sticks against pans. Then he used his mouth to vibrate obnoxious noises into the air. Throughout the day, we cows were forced to endure his inept attempts to recreate our refined moos. But although he practiced repeatedly, even varying the pitch in what he called “song,” he was unable to communicate at our high level.

         As if all of these characteristics were not reflection enough of the deficiencies of man (and of what was to come), I discovered early that mankind was unstable. He became irked whenever we stayed too long in one area. Almost every day, he screeched dreadful noises and swung snakes into the air which fell and stung our flanks until we were driven forward, although the grass was still green and plentiful.

         My herd and I became stoics to such perversions and to man’s primitive need for domination. We centered inward, dwelling on our thoughts, solving the problems of the world. A young calf, one of my peers in fact, examined the essence of “being” and delivered a remarkable lecture on his findings. My mother urged me to make a presentation of my understandings and observations of mankind, but I had not yet finished my deliberations. Even today, I am still compiling . . .

         A mounted cowboy began hee-hawing for us to move on. I recall that day as if were in front of me, happening again. I snapped at a fly, swallowed my cud, and walked forward. I had already made a grave decision that day. I had decided that it was not enough to study the inadequacies of man, but that I must take such data and pave new paths. Oh, had I only started sooner. Could I have prevented what ensued?

         We cows have always been peaceful, yet within us was rising, even then, a cowchip of despair. There were those among us who had begun to discuss the possibility of war. We had endured the tyranny of mankind too long. That day as we walked, I debated within my mind whether peace should be maintained no matter the consequences, or whether it was true that sometimes one must fight a battle for freedom.

         Before we noticed, our minds too busy with such depth of thought, we were driven into a fenced-in corral. Gun explosions banged against the warm, gentle currents of the air. The whooping and hollering of men we ignored – having grown accustomed to their constant impinging on our thoughts, but there was a smell to the air that liquidated our bones into fear. The scent was of death.

         With our deliberations and ruminations, we had waited too long. One by one I saw my herd being taken off into a man-made construction from which they never returned. I cowered at first, but then I grew enraged.

         I rammed the fence and brought it down, but men caught me with their slender snake-ropes. I pawed and bellowed. With all my strength, I fought them. For the first time, my horns yearned for blood with the full throttle of my rage. Yet, despite the feebleness of the soft body of man, I was defeated. The snake-ropes strangled off my air.

         Strangely because of that battle, my life was saved, but my herd was decimated. I alone lived.

         I have grown famous throughout the land. It is my picture that announces rodeos. It is convenient for my purpose that man travels me about. For everywhere I go, I speak of the “uprising.” And one day, when mankind least expects it, the cow battle will commence.

         I still chew my cud in the morning’s sun and listen to the sounds of air whishing in and out in the daily breaths of the living Earth. I contemplate the role of peace and the essence of life, but I have come to realize that man does not.

         Down with tyrants!

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