COWS

Lying in his hospital bed Flor could think of nothing but his cows,except of course they weren't his cows anymore they were sold and scattered and in some cases butchered. Ten years hard work down the drain, back-breaking work, he laughed out loud at the irony of the words and spasms of pain racked his body causing his laughter to change to shrieks of agony. The nurse came into his room, a side ward containing only three beds the other two being empty, "More painkillers", she enquired? He nodded and waited as the injection did it's work. "You mustn't start exerting yourself", she scolded him gently, "Your back is a long way off better yet, bed rest is the only cure".

Bed rest, well plenty of time for that now he thought, no more early milking, no taking the milk to meet the tanker, no feed bills, no vet's bills, no reps calling to sell him feed, insurance and a thousand and one other things that hindered his dairy farming efforts. No more cows, no more milk, no more farming, no more debts. The farm sale had been a great success according to his wife Julie prices were buoyant and all his neighbours had bid up well to support him, financially he had no worries for the immediate future but for himself he saw no future. Sure a man has to have a goal in life he had been told that often enough by his father and it had been his own ethos. He wanted the best herd of cows in the county, not just in milk production but in looks, the way they were turned out, the prizes they won at shows, the cleanliness of the farm. It was the last point that had been his undoing. The yard was always clean but Flor wanted it spotless, the ridge of muck the yard scraper had missed annoyed him and in anger he was climbing back into the tractor cab when he had slipped and fallen. It was only when he stood up that the pain hit him like a hot gloved hand gripping his spine and twisting it then compressing it until he screamed and fainted.

Julie had found him when she came home from collecting the children from school and being unable to lift him had called the ambulance. The first prognosis was a slipped disc but this was later shown to be far more serious; he had also dislocated two vertebrae and torn muscles and tendons at the base of his spine. No more lifting or heavy work he had been told. No more farming he told himself bitterly.

What a waste of time, the years at agricultural college, the time served on a large dairy farm as cowman then head cowman then his own farm inherited from his father.

"Well son it's yours now to do with as you please, but you must work with it not against it". His fathers words came back to him across the years. "Remember it was here before you were born and it will be here when your gone. We don't own land we only look after it for a while, it can be a good servant or a hard master depending on how you treat it."

" It must serve me well," Flor answered thoughtfully. "For Julie is soon to be having our first child and I must have something too pass on to my children just like you've done for me Da. Cows is the thing.I always told you to build up the herd, inseminate with the best bulls, sell the poor producers, go for top quality, high yield.............."

"Will you stop with the lectures on farming", his father interrupted. "It's like sitting at a Teagsc meeting once you start on with your yields and quality and all that. You have the farm now, you must run it as you want it, I won't interfere. If you want advice ask, but please no lectures on farming or what I should have done, didn't do,or could have done. Or is that too much to ask?"

"No Da, of course not and thanks, "Flor grinned. They had had this talk before and would again before the old man passed on some five years later. Flor could see his model farm in his mind and he single mindedly set about making his vision a reality. Then just when he had it right, just when he reached the winning post, poof bang, all gone. It wasn't fair, he writhed in frustration and shouted as his contortions set off another wave of pain in his back. Alarmed by his shouts the nurse hurried in and administered an admonishment for getting over excited.

"Now you just be calm and stop worrying about your farm, the more you fret the longer it will take to get you out of here," she said busying herself making up the bed next to Flor's. "You've got company coming," this by way of explanation as she finished the bed.

The new patient was an old man who carried his things in a small battered cardboard suitcase.

"Grand day," he announced as he proceeded to change into his pyjamas. "What's the grub like?"

"Good,"s aid Flor, "except the soup,that's not so hot." The two of them laughed at his little joke and Flor reflected that this was the first time he had allowed himself to be amused since his accident. It was good to have company especially in hospital, looking at other patients and their problems should make me less resentful about my situation he argued.

"What brought you in here?" asked the newcomer.

"An ambulance." Flor chuckled and the old man shook with laughter.

"An ambulance, that's a good one,an ambulance," he spluttered and commenced such a fit of coughing Flor became concerned for the old man's health. "I'll be all right son, don't fret" he choked ", it's me dammed allergies. That's why I'm here, me allergies. I keep coughing and coming up in great scarlet patches itching and burning and coughing all because of me allergies!" Seeing the concerned look on Flor's face he added hastily , "Don't worry they're not contagious thanks be to God, couldn't give 'em away and wouldn't if I could, not even to my worst enemy. What about yourself", he inquired?

As Flor told him his story his disappointment and bitterness at his situation poured out, the old man listened in silence before saying, "Well if you ask me you've had a lucky escape."

"What do you mean," asked Flor incredulously.

"Cows are stupid,clumsy, nervous beasts," the old man said slowly. "They need constant attention, bringing in for the winter, putting out in the summer, cost a fortune to feed, tread on your feet, kick you at milking time, insist on dropping their calves in ditches, break out of the fields at the drop of a hat, get sick, cost a fortune in vet's bills and just when you think you've got a half decent animal it ups and dies on you the day before market!"

"My herd wasn't like that," Flor answered flatly.

"No?" said the old man laconically. "None of those things ever happened to you I suppose?"

"No. Well yes, some of them anyway but that's farming", Flor countered quickly.

"Hens is easier, just as stupid but smaller". The old man looked at Flor smugly.

"Sure there's no money in hens", answered Flor.

"Says you", this with a wink and a smile. Flor was then treated to a crash course in poultry production, rearing, feeding, egg production, grading and selling. His neighbour only used free range methods and charged premium prices for his products. As he talked he radiated enthusiasm and Flor found himself suggesting new outlets for the sales of eggs and table birds, outlets much farther afield than the local markets that his companion traded in. As he entered into the spirit of the debate he realised that here was an answer to his need to remain in farming but with less risk to his back.

As the days passed Flor found himself needing less pain killers whilst his room mate was subjected to a range of different tests to isolate his allergy. Finally Flor was told he was to be discharged but he would have to rest and avoid heavy work, as he waited for Julie to come and collect him he told his companion of his desire to start rearing chickens, and asked for his advice on where to buy in suitable stock. The old man who had been strangely quiet that morning looked at him quizzically, cleared his throat and then rising to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at Flor he shouted, "Are ye after seeking to take the rise out of me, or are ye feeling sorry for me or what"?

"I don't understand", said Flor. " All I'm asking is for your advice, that's all. I want to start a chicken farm and I wanted the benefit of your experience, if you see me as competition and don't want to help sure I understand that but there's no need to be shouting at me like that".

"I'm sorry son, of course you were seeing the physio-therapist when they told me and you wouldn't have known. You can buy my birds, my grading machine, my packer, everything it's all over for me now".

Flor sat on his bed stunned "I..........,I'm so sorry", he stammered . "I didn't know, I thought you were just in for allergy tests, I didn't realise it was this serious".

"What are you blathering about, I'm not dying,at least not yet", chuckled the old fellow. "It's me allergies, they've finally solved 'em . I'm allergic to feathers"!

Cows. copyright Nick O'Keeffe 1989