Something
to Beef About
Fudgie’s story
Ooh, I miss my Mummy! I’m not even a week old yet, and I’ve been sent here, there and everywhere. All on my own, without my Mummy. It’s not fair. Moo-o-o-o!
Well it’s not true that I’m all alone. Far from it. The lorry that took me away from home where I was born was packed with cattle - other babes snatched from their mothers like me, some old maids and several grown up boys. Show-offs they were! Think they’re so smart and know it all, they do. Well they didn’t impress me.
Then we were all let out and put into pens. Loads of cattle here, there were. And hundreds of people, too, all milling round, prodding us all. I didn’t like it there at all. Back into another lorry with a different bunch of cows. A few were dropped off here and there until there were just two of us left. Then we got dropped off, dumped in this miserable cowshed and fed. Now we’re on our way goodness knows where. Where will all this travelling end? Urgh, I feel sick! We’re in this enormous lorry, just me and another pathetic little calf. She looks worse than I feel.
Oh, hello, we’re stopping now. And, yes, I think we’re going to be let out. Again! What now?
Hello, this place seems a lot quieter than anywhere else they’ve taken us. How long will we stay here, I wonder. Where will we be tomorrow? They’ve put us in a loosebox together. It’s much nicer than anywhere else I’ve been. Nice, clean straw, and plenty of room. But still no Mummy!
We seem to have two keepers here, a male and a female. They’re rather sweet, really. Trying to pet us. They seem to like having us, not like those other humans who just seemed to want rid of us. But I don’t trust them. After all that’s happened in my short life so far, I don’t trust humans. But I don’t say ‘no’ to their milk, even if it is from a bottle - not the same as from Mummy’s titties. My companion’s even more cautious than I am. So long as I’ve got a bottle to suck I’ll let them stroke my head a bit - but she won’t.
These two have given us both a name. Me, they’ve named Fudgie, and my mate’s now called Angie. Funny names - what’s wrong with Daisy and Buttercup? Or Primrose? I think Primrose would have suited me quite well. Seems we might be staying here a while. I suppose we’d better think up names for them, too. How about Tom and Barbara? Angie doesn’t seem bothered, so Tom and Barbara it is!
In fact, Angie seems pretty disinterested in almost everything. A bit of a depressive if you ask me. She doesn’t seem to be drinking enough. And she looks awful! Now she’s got the squits. Rather smelly stuff. Oh God it’s revolting. Tom and Barbara are getting worried. They called the doctor out for her yesterday, but it doesn’t seem to have made any difference. Ange doesn’t seem to want to drink or nibble the beef nuts they’re trying to get her to eat. She looks quite thin.
T and B are very worried now. The doctor’s been out twice again; different one each time. Their medicine doesn’t seem to be making her any better. Tom’s so desperate he’s tried some homemade concoction. Don’t know what good he thinks it’ll do. Come on, give us me bottle, mate. Never mind all the fussing over Ange. Hey, what this? Ange wants the bottle now! T and B can’t believe it. And what about my bottle, you two?
Well, seems the panic’s over now. Little Ange is picking up nicely now, thank you very much. She’s quite a bit smaller than me, though. It’ll be great to have some company, even if she is rather timid.
Another panic the other day. I got all bloated and was finding it difficult to breathe. Luckily for me Barbara found me in time and gave me some foul tasting oil, and then she called out the doctor. He was a brute. Stuck something pointed in my guts, he did. Ouch! But at least it let all the gases out. What a relief. I was feeling like a balloon. I wonder if a cow’s life is supposed to be so eventful.
I wish I could see out of this stable. I’d love to see what was going on out there, but the door’s too tall. Maybe as I grow I’ll be able to see out. Hey, that’s amazing! Just as I was thinking that, along comes Tom and puts a log by the door for me to stand on. Perhaps there is such a thing as telepathy after all. I still can’t see much yet, but it’s progress. I can just get my pretty little pink nose over the door - well, okay, it’s not so small, but it is pink. And pretty.
Maybe they’ll let us out into the paddock this summer. I’ve seen the lovely green grass when Barbara takes me out for ‘walkies’. She puts this halter on me and walks me round and round in the farmyard. Seems a funny thing to do, but I’m not complaining. I rather like T and B. We’ve been here some while now and they’re very sweet to us both. I think they like me best ’cos I let them pet me more than Angie does.
There you are. I knew if I thought about it hard enough they’d let us out into the field sooner or later. Mind you, they’ve made this complicated enclosure for us. Rather a small area, and the sheep have all the rest of the paddock. Wotta cheek. It’s lovely grass. Much better than that dried stuff we get all the time. And they move the enclosure every day so we get fresh grass.
’Ere, what’s going on? I wonder why Ange is all twitchy this afternoon. She’s not usually like this. It’s making me nervous. And them sheep don’t look too happy either. Barbara’s come out to see what’s going on, and she’s looking rather nervous, too. What are you running round and round for, you silly cow? Keep still, you’re making me dizzy. Now what? You’re not! She is, you know! No, I can’t look. Oh my gawd. She’s only gone and jumped the enclosure. Well, that’s not strictly true. Attempted to jump it, and she’s pulled down part of it in the process. Oo er, what shall I do? If I’m very careful I can ... just ... s-t-e-p over it. There!
Hey, it’s great to be free. What a good idea this was of mine. What? Oh, no, it wasn’t my idea, was it? Well it could have been. It was my telepathy got us outside in the first place. What are those sheep all huddled together for? Probably think we’re going to chase them. Well, I for one am more interested in this lovely grass. I’ll save chasing them for another day.
~ ~ ~
They’re loading Ange into that cattle box they got a while back. That’s crafty, wait till my head’s in the manger and hope I won’t notice. Where are they taking my friend and companion? Hey, bring her back! It reminds me of when I was taken away from my Mummy. Now I’m going to be lonely again. Just me, them there sheep and a couple of funny old goats.
~ ~ ~
This morning they’ve tied me up inside the stable. I don’t care for that much. Seems we’re getting a visitor, but I don’t know why that means I get tied up. Maybe it’s someone important.
Well that was a fine thing, I don’t think. They tied me up so’s this strange man could molest me. Started fondling my private parts he did, and then plunged this long bit of plastic into me where no man, let alone a bull, has ever set foot! And Tom and Barbara seemed pleased about it. Funny sort of sport!
I’ve been putting on a bit of weight lately. At first I hoped they wouldn’t put me on a diet, thinking perhaps they hadn’t noticed. But then it must have become obvious, and they seemed pleased and started talking about me eating for two. There’s funny things going on inside me, like there’s something alive and kicking in there.
And now this little calf to look after. Don’t know where it came from; it just seemed to plop out from my rear end somehow. Quite a surprise, I must say. It’s a bit of luck me having some milk for her; I’m sure she could do with a drink. I know I could.
~ ~ ~
You know, I think I’ve been getting a bit forgetful of late. It can’t be old age, I’m only five-and-a-half - a whole future ahead of me. Barbara’s stopped milking me. Says I’m too dangerous and unpredictable. I know I kick out sometimes for no real reason. I don’t mean to, it just happens.
They got the doctor out the other day. Tom looked mighty worried and the doctor just kept shaking his head. Then another doctor came and she just muttered a lot under her breath. I didn’t like it. Made me feel all strange. Well, even more strange than I have lately.
That last doctor came back again today. Took another look at me and shook her head. It made my blood run cold. T and B looked all pale and ghastly, too. All three of them came into the stable, like the Three Musketeers, and the doctor produced a big needle. Now, I may be getting forgetful, but I do remember I don’t like needles. She only had to come near me with it and I was off. Gee, what a commotion. Next thing there was this other guy, firing a dart at me. What did he want to do that for? And now I’m feeling ... a little ... sleepy ...
~ ~ ~
Fudgie is one of the characters in the book A Farm of Our Own. She was sadly put down with BSE - what is commonly called mad cow disease - on 19 January 1995.