Goodbye, Sweet Cowbert

You were one terrific, radiant, humble hero of a cow.

(Enjoy this essay as read by your stalwart writer, instead of AI.)

Party Cow (Cowbert) Copyright 2024 MARGOT POTTER STUDIOS ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Hello, Friend,

I’m taking a break from WTF Wednesday this week to mourn the untimely passing of a sweet friend.

Today I want to tell you about my friends Cowbert and Cowbert Jr. You might have deduced from their names that they’re cows. These days, I’ll take my friends where I can find them.

We live on a farm, but it is not our farm. We rent the small apartment above the barn. There are lots of sheep and horses and a smattering of extremely annoying peacocks here on the farm and, until yesterday, there were two cows.

My SIL owns the farm. On occasion she raises a cow or two for free range beef. As far as cow lives go, they have a pretty good life here compared to a factory farm. I’m not a vegetarian, though I find myself less and less inclined to eat meat these days. I cannot eat any animal I’ve gotten to know, because I don’t eat my friends. This is where I draw the line. The horses here are bored and are, subsequently, assholes. They can be downright cruel to the other animals. I’ve seen a them do a couple of things that left me traumatized. I don’t like violence. I can’t even watch violent movies or TV shows (except for Dexter and Criminal Minds, which is weird and I can’t explain why.)

Did you know that cows can be heroes? Cowbert was a hero. He was a hero cow. The last time the horses were brutally attacking a sheep, Cowbert intervened. He stood up to multiple horses that day, big, mean, cruel horses who would have killed the sheep they were torturing just for fun if it weren’t for Cowbert. He put his big cow body in between that sheep and those horses and it was incredible. I cheered from the hayloft where I’d been yelling at the horses to stop. I don’t fuck with horses, they’re big and dangerous. Cowbert heard me yelling and he came running to the rescue.

Hero cow.

I never got to give Cowbert a pat or a hug. When he first came to the farm I tried to be his friend, but he would stare at me, lift his tail, and let me know exactly how he felt about that idea. I loved him from a distance. Sometimes I’d moo to him from the porch. He’d look up and nod and go back to grazing. Cowbert was lonely, the two cows who had taken him in when first he arrived were sent to the butcher eventually and he was left to fend for himself. Cows are very social animals. They mourn when they lose a friend. Did you know that? I think we pretend that farm animals have no feelings, but they do. After Cowbert’s friends left, he was very depressed. I felt awful for him, and so happy when a new little cow arrived and they bonded immediately. I named the new cow Cowbert Jr. (I realize these are ridiculous names, but I’m sometimes a ridiculous human.) Cowbert Jr. was a gift to my SIL from another farmer. He will never be a meat cow. This makes me happy.

Yesterday, though, his best friend in the whole world, Cowbert, left in a trailer to go to the butcher. I knew this day was coming. I kept asking my husband to convince his sister that Cowbert was a hero. Did I mention my favorite book as a child was Charlotte’s Web? If only I could have found a spider to write about how special Cowbert was.

I did not find a spider.

I did not save Cowbert.

After he left, Cowbert Jr. was distressed. I felt awful, but neither Cowbert ever let me close enough to give them pats so what could I do? I spent a good part of the day yesterday sobbing and looking out at Cowbert, Jr. who was sitting by the fence waiting and calling out for his friend.

This morning, I took a freshly scrubbed carrot down to Cowbert Jr. I mooed at him and tossed it in the grass. He took a couple of nibbles, and then he came over to the fence. I gave him a tentative pat. He bent his head down and I gave him more pats and some ear scrubbles and I scratched where his horns are coming in because he is always rubbing them on the fence so they must be itchy. I told him I was sorry about his best friend. He looked at me and I saw a tear rolling down his cheek. He was crying. (Though cows are not supposed to be able cry.) I wiped his eye, gave him more pats, and told him that I would be his weird human friend. He seemed cool with that idea.

I guess we’re friends now.

Empathy is a super power. Compassion is essential. Kindness is everything. We live in a cruel world, but we can’t let the world make us cruel. Cowbert may have only been a cow, but he was a hero. He was a better cow than most humans are at being humans. He could have let those horses kill that sheep, but he put himself at risk to save that sheep’s life.

We can’t sit back and do nothing in the face of injustice. We can’t allow cruelty to go unchallenged. Yes, it’s risky to put our bodies and our security on the line, but we do it anyway because it is the right thing to do. We are all on this planet together and we need each other to survive. When I get tired or discouraged or afraid, I’ll remember Cowbert.

He was one terrific, radiant, humble hero of a cow.

Fare thee well, sweet Cowbert. I’m so sorry. You deserved better. I promise to take care of your little buddy.

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